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THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK. 


Yv.     W 


.V 


'f> 


DAVID  CARRICK  AND  HIS  WIFE,  EVA  .MARIA  V10LETTE  GARRICK 

(THE  '■  VIOLE1TE "). 

(From  tht  pieturt  by  Hogarth,  p.  302.) 


THE 

LIFE 

of  T  '  c'-  3>iS 


DAVID   GARRICK. 


i 

FROM  ORIGINAL  FAMILY  PAPERS, 

AND 
NUMEROUS  PUBLISHED  AND  UNPUBLISHED  SOURCES. 


NEW     and     REVISED     EDITION, 


CONTAINING 


ADDITIONAL    IMPORTANT    MATTER. 


44  An  abridgment  of  all  that  was  pleasant  In  man."  —  Goldsmith. 

By   PERCY  FITZGERALD,   M.A.,   F.S.A. 

A    — 


LONDON : 

SIMPKIN,  MARSHALL,  HAMILTON,  KENT,  &  CO.,  Ltd. 


1899. 
[Aft  Rights  reserved.] 


F5"5* 


LONDON : 
SWEETING   AND  CO.,    PRINTERS,    DYKRft   BUTLDINOft,   HOI.BORN. 


.3nscribe6 


TO 


THE  RIGHT  HON.  LORD  LYTTON. 


(1868.) 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION 
PEDIGREE 


PAOR 

xi 
xvii 


BOOK   THE  FIRST. 
LICHFIELD. 

CHAPTER 

I. — THE    HUGUENOT    EXILE — SCHOOL    DAYS    (1685 — 

1730) 1 

II. — THE    CAPTAIN     ON    FOREIGN    SERVICE  —  DAVID'S 

LETTERS  (1731—1733)    .  .    '       .  .  .  8 

III. — EDIAL — THE    CAPTAIN^    RETURN    AND    DEATH — 

JOURNEY  TO   LONDON   (1734 — 1737)  .  .         17 


BOOK   THE   SECOND. 
GOODMAN'S  FIELDS  AND  DUBLIN. 

I. — STAY    AT    ROCHESTER — THE    WINE    MERCHANTS — 

LIFE  ON   TOWN — WOFFINGTON   (1737 — 1741)    .  23 

THE  STATE  OF  THE  STAGE  (1741)         ...  32 

FIRST  APPEARANCE   (1741 — 1742)  ...  37 

FIRST  DUBLIN   SEASON   (1742)      ....  59 
REVOLT    AGAINST    FLEETWOOD — QUARREL    WITH 

macklin  (1742—1743)  ....       64 

SHERIDAN — QUARREL   WITH    WOFFINGTON    (1743 

—1745) 74 

VII. — SECOND  DUBLIN   SEASON   (1745 — 1746)  86 

VIII. — THE  VIOLETTE  (1746 — 1747)         ....  96 
IX. — QUIN    AND    GARRICK,    THE    NEW    MANAGERS    OF 

DRURY   LANE  (1746—1747)      ....  103 


II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. — 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   THE    THIRD. 
DRURY  LANK 

CHAPTER  PAliB 

•       I. — THE  OPENING   SEASON   (1747 — 1748)    .  113 

II. — MARRIAGE  (1748 — 1749) 119 

III. — HOGARTH — FOOTE — THE    RIVAL   ROMEOS    (1749 — 

1750) 127 

IV. — PANTOMIME — FOREIGN   TRAVEL — MOSSOP  (1750 — 

1752) 138 

V. — THE  BEDFORD  (1752) 147 

VI. — THE   CHINESE   FESTIVAL — WOFFINGTON'S    RETIRE- 
MENT (1755—1757) 160 


BOOK   THE  FOURTH. 
THE  MANAGER. 

I. — TATE  WILKINSON — THE  COUNTRY  TOWN  THEATRE 
— THE  MIMICS  (1757 — 1758)   . 

II. — ARTHUR  MURPHY  (1759)  .... 
III. — THE  PLAYWRIGHTS  (1759)  .... 
IV. — HAMPTON   AND   ITS  CIRCLE  (1759) 

V. — FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES  (1759) 
VI. — A    MODEL    FARCE — SHERIDAN    RIVALRY — COLMAN 

(1759—1761) 

VII. — "THE  ROSCIAD" — DR.    BOWER  (1761 — 1762) 
VIII. — STAGE   REFORM   (1762)  .... 


167 

180 
185 
196 
209 

222 
229 
237 


BOOK   THE  FIFTH. 
ACTOR  AND  TRAVELLER. 

I.— A   ROUND   OF  CHARACTERS  (1763) 


248 


BOOK   THE  SIXTH. 

I. — ON   THE  GRAND  TOUR  (SEPTEMBER,    1763) 
II. — PARIS   (1764 — 1765)    .... 


282 
292 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


BOOK  THE  SEVENTH. 
THE  MAN  OF  SOCIETY. 


CHAPTKR 
I. 


69) 


-RE-APPEARANCE — "THE  CLANDESTINE  MARRIAGE" 

(1765—1766) 

II. — COLMAN  AND  COVENT  GARDEN   (1766 — 1768) 
III. — DRURY     LANE  —  GARRICK     IN     SOCIETY    (1768 — 

1769) 

IV. — THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE  (1769) 
V. — SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON   (17< 
VI. — THE  ADELPHI — COUNTY  VISITS  (1770) 
VII. — THE  GREAT  ACTORS  (1772) 
VIII. — IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM  (1772) 
IX. — MOSSOP'S    END — GOLDSMITH — HENDERSON 

—1775) 

X. — THE  LAST  SEASON   (1775 — 1776) 
XI. — THE  LAST  ACT  (1776) 
XII. — THE  GARRICK  CIRCLE — CHARACTER  (1776) 
XIII. — ILLNESS  AND  DEATH  (1778 — 1779)      . 


(1772 


PAOB 

302 
312 

319 
328 
339 
357 
371 
386 

401 
417 
426 
432 
451 


APPENDIX. 
number  of  nights  that  garrick  acted  . 

Index  


469 
473 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  has  been  often  said,  that  great  as  was  David  Gar- 
rick's  fame  as  an  actor,  the  story  of  his  career  as  an 
English  gentleman,  in  private  life,  would  be  no  less  re- 
markable. The  result  of  a  careful  examination  of  his 
eventful  life  will  be  found,  I  trust,  to  establish  this  view  in 
the  most  extraordinary  degree,  bringing  out  the  portrait 
of  a  singularly  noble,  generous,  and  well-trainea  mind, 
with  a  complete  reversal  of  the  popular  judgment,  which 
supposed  that  "  little  Davy  "  was  knowing,  shrewd,  avari- 
cious, and  self-interested.  The  kindly  reader,  who  will 
follow  me  through  this  narrative,  will,  I  think,  be  in- 
duced to  accept  this  view  to  a  degree  for  which  he  was 
scarcely  prepared,  and  to  own  that,  to  use  the  words  of 
the  strange  Percival  Stockdale,  the  actor  was  "  as  great 
in  Garrick,  as  in  Lear"  Apart  from  these  two  points  of 
view,  a  third  interest  will  arise,  in  the  simple  study  of 
human  character  under  conditions  rarely  to  oe  met  with 
— under  conditions,  too,  of  the  most  curious  sort.  A 
mind  that  directed  a  great  theatre,  at  a  time  when  it 
was  an  institution  of  the  country — a  manager  who  was 
in  command,  not  of  actors  merely,  but  of  a  whole  corps, 
all  great  captains  and  officers — who  was  wealthy,  and 
thus  attracted,  the  needy — who  had  great  influence,  and 
drew  the  ambitious — who  had  great  power,  and  thus 
surrounded  himself  with  those  who  wished  to  share  in 
it;  a  mind  which  came  in  contact  with  every  sort  and 
shape  of  humanity,  with  hosts  of  playwrights,  authors, 
poets,  men  of  wit,  men  of  learning  and  of  genius ;  who  was 
sought  by  lords  and  commoners ;  beset  with  hacks  and 
Grub  Street  scribblers ;   threatened,  slandered,  courted 


Xll  INTRODUCTION. 

obsequiously  and  even  slavishly,  patronised  and  despised, 
laughed  at,  praised  as  man  was  never  praised ;  harassed 
and  comforted  alternately — a  mind  that,  under  such 
trial,  remained  calm,  equable,  gentle,  generous,  just, 
neither  raised  too  high  nor  cast  down  too  low,  may 
surely  furnish  a  rare  and  useful  lesson  for  study  and 
interest,  and  help  us  to  a  liberal  education. 

Within  a  very  short  period  after  the  death  of  David 
Garrick,  there  appeared  two  accounts  of  his  life  and 
career.  These  were  written  by  persons  who  could 
scarcely  claim  to  be  capable  or  impartial  witnesses,  for 
both  had  been  inferior  players  at  his  theatre,  and  both 
entertained  a  special  grudge  and  hostility  towards  him. 
But  in  the  respective  treatment  of  these  Memoirs  there 
is  a  yet  more  curious  feature.  From  Arthur  Murphy, 
the  clever,  lively  Irishman — the  jovial  barrister  and 
companion  of  wits — the  man  of  all  professions,  so  scorn- 
fully described  by  Churchill  as — 

"Auditor,  author,  manager,  and  squire." 

— the  dramatist,  whose  comedies  are  full  of  a  pleasant 
vivacity,  of  spirit  if  not  of  wit — from  this  Protean  spirit 
came  a  dull,  turgid,  heavy  performance,  astray  in  nearly 
every  fact  or  date,  ludicrous  in  its  pomposity,  and 
almost  supporting  the  hint  of  the  bitter  satirist,  that 

?>rudent  dulness  had  "  marked  him  for  a  mayor;"  while 
rom  "  Tom  Davies,"  the  other  biographer — a  tenth- 
rate  actor,  third-rate  bookseller,  and  sober  Scotch- 
man— came  an  agreeable  narrative,  written  in  clear, 
pleasant  English,  interspersed  with  shrewd  remarks,  and 
lightened  with  many  an  anecdote,  picked  up  from  every 
quarter,  but  principally  in  the  back  parlour  of  his  shop, 
where  every  little  story,  that  seemed  at  all  hostile  to  the 
actor,  was  duly  retailed.  He,  too,  is  inaccurate  as  to 
dates,  and,  like  Murphy,  strangely  incomplete.  Neither 
were  on  terms  with  the  family,  and  were  not  privileged 
to  consult  the  vast  stores  of  papers  and  letters  which 
Garrick  left  behind  him  ;  so  that  the  knowledge  of  both 
on  many  matters  was  pure  speculation.  Above  all,  the 
eyes  of  both  seemed  to  have  settled  on  that  one  side  of 
Garrick's  life — the  theatrical  portion,  quite  ignoring  that 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 

other  remarkable,  and  no  less  interesting,  view  of  his 
own  personal  character. 

Long  after,  came  Boaden,  with  a  little  memoir  pre- 
fixed to  the  two  great  quartos  of  Garrick's  letters.  This 
gentleman  was  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Garrick,  and  heard 
from  her  a  few  interesting  matters.  A  few  more  short 
memoirs  exhaust  the  list  of  what  has  been  officially 
written  about  the  life  of  Garrick. 

I  have  now  been  induced  to  attempt  what  has  been 
thus  so  often  attempted  before — led  to  the  task  by  the 
real  fascination  of  the  subject,  and  being  in  possession  of 
special  advantages,  in  materials, which  may  atone  for  many 
snortcomings  in  the  execution.     The  bulk  of  Garrick's 

Srivate  papers — a  vast  collection  of  letters  that  passed 
etween  him  and  the  leading  men  of  his  time — were  in 
the  possession  of  my  friend,  the  late  Mr.  John  Forster. 
They  are  of  the  highest  interest,  not  only  for  the  life  of 
Garrick,  but  bear  on  every  subject  of  Ins  time.  They 
fill  some  thirty  volumes,  and  comprise  those  curious 
early  letters  of  the  boy  David  to  nis  father,  Captain 
Garrick,  at  Gibraltar,  of  which  Mr.  Forster  has  given 
some  specimens,  in  his  enlarged  Life  of  Goldsmith.  These 
have  been,  in  the  kindest  way,  placed  at  my  disposal ; 
and  the  reader  will  see  how  mucn  the  following  Memoir 
has  been  enriched  by  such  valuable  materials.  At  the 
same  time,  the  collection  and  the  details  are  so  numerous 
that  I  could  do  little  more  than  select  what  seemed 
most  striking,  leaving  behind  a  vast  mass  of  what  seemed 
equally  attractive. 

One  great  difficulty  met  me  at  the  threshold:  that 
many  of  the  dramatis  personce  were  already  so  familiar. 
The  many  figures  which  move  round  Garrick,  and  the 
stories  associated  with  them,  are  well  known  to  every 
reader,  through  Boswell,  Johnson,  and  many  such  writers. 
Mr.  Forster's  enlarged  edition  of  his  "  Goldsmith  " — that 
model  biography— nad  told  everything ;  had  told  a  good 
deal  about  Garrick  himself;  and  indicated  much  more, 
where  it  passed  by.  If  what  familiar  was  omitted,  the 
story  would  be  incomplete ;  if  given,  it  might  become 
tedious,  and  one  too  often  told.  Whenever  I  had  occa- 
sion, therefore,  to  go  over  old  ground,  and  turn  these 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

well-known  faces  to  the  reader,  I  have,  as  far  as  possible, 
tried  to  introduce  them  under  new  conditions,  and  have 
taken  care  that  the  details  shall  be  tolerably  new.  Thus, 
in  sketching  the  great  actors  of  Garrick's  time,  whose 
history  Dr.  Doran  has  so  recently  told,*  I  have  carefully 
presented  them  from  the  recollection  of  those  nearest 
our  own  time,  passing  by  the  familiar  stories  from  the 
memoirs,  and  searching  little  out-of-the-way  corners  for 
short  touchings  and  descriptions.  On  this  account  I 
hope  the  chapter  which  deals  with  these  great  artists 
will  be  found  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  bo6k. 
So  with  characters  like  Foote,  Boswell,  Johnson,  and 
many  more — what  is  given  will  be  found  new  to  nearly 
all,  if  not  to  alL  The  account  of  Woffington  has  never 
been  presented  before.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
same  principle  has  been  the  guide  through  every  chap- 
ter. Thus,  with  an  abundance  of  original  MS.  material, 
and  a  no  less  abundance  of  curious  printed  detail, 
hitherto  buried  in  scarce  books — and  books,  too,  not 
likely  to  come  in  the  general  reader's  way — it  may  be 
hoped  that  a  certain  air  of  freshness  has  been  attained. 

As  to  execution,  some  indulgence  should  be  extended 
to  the  writer  of  the  history  of  a  theatre  or  of  an  actor. 
The  actor's  calling,  like  that  of  the  painter,  is  made  up  of 
details  for  the  most  part  professional.  An  actor's  life  is 
made  up  of  performance  after  performance  of  character ; 
a  manager's,  as  Garrick's  was,  of  the  production  of  play 
after  play.  In  such  a  record  there  is  the  danger  of 
tediousness  and  monotony,  and  of  the  story  falling  into 
the  shape  of  a  mere  catalogue.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
such  details  are  cut  down  or  suppressed,  the  book  loses 
value  as  a  work  of  reference.  After  much  deliberation, 
the  plan  was  adopted  of  throwing  the  various  incidents 
of  Garrick's  life,  as  it  were,  into  groups.  In  one  depart- 
ment was  to  be  brought  out  specially  the  management 
of  his  theatre,  in  full  detail ;  in  another  will  be  found 
considered  a  miaute_aggount  of  hisjiistrionic^gifts,  in  all 
his  characters ;  m  affiird,  his  social  life  ;  in  a  fourth, 
hir%eH3i;  h^enggSSTEg^t^:  -TE5-se  departments 

#  Written  in  1868. 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

have  been  made  to  fall  in  with  the  advancing  course  of 
his  life,  and  are  each  presented  at  the  period  when  its 
subject  might  be  considered  best  developed.  This  plan, 
it  is  hoped,  will  remove  that  chief  difficulty,  and  was 
adopted  with  the  advice  of  the  kind  friend  before  men- 
tioned, who  has  assisted  me  so  substantially  with 
materials,  and  whose  eye  has  watched  every  sheet  as 
it  went  to  press. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hill,  of  Richmond — Mrs.  Hill  descend- 
ing from  Garrick's  nephew — I  have  to  thank  for  many 
curious  family  papers  and  traditions,  and  for  much 
kind  assistance.  Mr.  Bullock,  of  Sevenoaks,  who 
has  collected  much  about  Garrick  and  his  actors — 
original  letters  and  tracts,  newspapers,  &c. — I  have  to 
thank  for  placing  them  at  my  service,  and  for  much 
trouble  taken  in  transcribing.  The  Reverend  John 
Graham,  of  Lichfield,  has  procured  me  all  kinds  of  local 
information  and  traditions,  with  a  zeal  and  good-nature 
for  which  I  most  heartily  thank  him.  One  of  the  plea- 
santest  features  in  explorations  of  this  nature  is  this 
genial  and  earnest  co-operation  and  sympathy  on  the 

Eart  of  those  who  may  be  strangers  to  the  explorer,  but 
ave  sympathy  with  his  subject.  I  have  also  to  make 
my  acknowledgments  to  Mrs.  Protheroe,  a  lady  of  the 
Garrick  family,  for  some  curious  letters. 

Such  was  the  preface  to  the  original  edition.  Since  then 
the  kind  and  trusty  friend,  owing  to  whose  substantial 
aid  the  book  was  produced,  has  passed  away.  In  that 
introduction  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  mention  the  full 
incidents  of  his  extraordinary  act  of  kindness  in  handing 
over  his  valuable  papers  to  another.  He  was  himself  an 
admirable  dramatic  critic,  with  a  wonderfully  cultured 
taste  for  the  stage.  As  is  well  known,  he  was  an  ex- 
cellent actor.  For  writing  a  life  of  Garrick  he  was 
specially  fitted,  and  for  this  purpose  he  had  long  been 
collecting,  at  considerable  cost,  all  the  necessary  books, 
letters,  &c;  yet,  with  a  generosity  and  cordiality  that 
can  never  be  forgotten  by  me,  he  one  day  announced 
to  me  that  he  would  give  up  his  plans,  and  hand  over 
all  his  materials  to  me.    All  through  he  gave  me  his 


found  nowhere  else.  The  whole  has  been 
vised,  all  errors  that  have  been  pointed  out 
and  others  have  been  corrected,  redund 
have  been  pruned  down,  and  any  new  an 
information  has  been  worked  in.  The  diffici 
to  make  a  selection  of  what  is  really  esser 
mass  of  Garrick  letters  and  papers  is  literal 
I  hope,  therefore,  that,  in  its  new  shape,  the 
found  acceptable. 

Athenceum  Club,  1899. 


Pedigree,  from  the  Heard  Coll.,  College  of  Arm 

revised  by 


DE    LA    G 


David  Garric 
of  Bordeaux, 
mar.  Apr.  1682 ; 
ob.  Oct.  1694. 


Jane, 

ob.  1094, 

buried  at  St. 

Bartholomew's, 

near  Royal 

Exchange. 


Peter  Garric, 

ob.  4th  August, 

1696. 


Magdalene, 

died  unmarri< 

May,  1701. 


Garric.  = 


Peter  Garric, 
Captain,  born 
1685;  ob.  1736-7. 


Arabella  Clough, 
ob.  circa  1737*. 


I 

Jane, 

born  Sept.  1686 ; 

married  Louis 

La  Conde, 


Stephen  Garric, 
born  Sept.  1687 ; 
ob.  April,  1689. 


David  Garri 

born  Jan.  26, 1 

ob.  cir.  1731 


\ 


I 
Peter,  born 
Juno  24th, 
1710;  died  un- 
married, 1779. 


David  Carriole, 

born  at  Here- 
ford, Feb.  29th, 
1716;  ob.  Jan. 
20,  1779. 


:  Eva  Maria  Vio- 
lette,  born  at 
Vienna,  Feb. 

29th,  1721 ;  ob. 

Oct.  16th,  1822. 


v         William, 

Captain  in  the 
/  army,  1736,  died 
'       unmarried. 


1st  Wife, 

Elisabeth  Car- 

ringtou. 


boi 
17 


Carrington, 

ob.  May 
13th,  1787. 


Christopher 

Philip,  born 

1784. 


Elizabeth  Arabella,  =  Col.  Frederick      David, 

Batti*combe.       ob.  1819.     I        Brydges         ob.  1795, 

Schaw.  iet.  41. 


Frederick 


crick.    William.    John. 


I 


William.    Edward.    Frederick.    Garrick.    Arabella. 


Emma  Hart, 

m.  1778. 
born  1759. 


Evs 
Prothf 
alive: 


Louisa  Wylde, 
married  1809. 


I 
Emma,  died  at 
Hampton. 


married,  1819, 

to  William 

Garrick  Bridges 

Schaw. 


1.  Carrington,     2.  David,  Christopher  David,       Elizabeth: 

born 4th  July,     born  7th  Philip,  born  1819;      Louisa, 

1811 ;  ob.  11th    Aug.ISM;  born  1817;  ob.  1821.     born  28rd 

Oct.  1811.         ob.  18th  ob.  1843.  Mar.  1810. 
Apr.  1816. 


:  Canon 
Trevor. 


I 
Albinia, : 
10th  Oct. 
1812. 


Henry 
Hill. 


a 

i 
j 

b 


Tudor.      Frederick.    Herbert 


— Also  from  the  Beltz  and  Pulman  Coll.,  ibid. ; 
h*>  Family. 


LRRIGUE. 


=  Peter  ,Fermignac. 


I 
.=  Niece  to  David 
Garric,  married 
Peter  Nouat. 


»; 


Stephen  Garric, 
born  Aug.  26,  1690 ; 
ob.  Jan.  18,  1691. 


Mary  Magdalene, 
Sept  21,  1691. 


Stephen  Garric, 

born  1692 ; 
ob.  July  4, 1693. 


deorge, 
i  Aug.  22nd, 
S ;  ob.  Feb. 
«rd,  1779. 


2nd  Wife, 
Elizabeth  Tetley. 


I 
Magdalene, 

b:  Apr.  29th, 

1715. 


I 
Jane, 
b.  Apr.  1st, 
1718. 


Eli  rat  Merrial, 

b.  Dec.  19th, 

1724. 


I 

Merrial  =  James  Stisanna 
Patton. 


Patton,  = 
daughter  of 
Winalbe. 


Thomas 
Dockaey. 


*-<«*.=  .. J 


=Dodaon. 


i  Nathan, 

•e,     ob.Jun. 
19.        1788. 


Martha,  da. 

of  Sir  Eger- 

ton  Leigh, 

living 

1822. 


Catherine,  =  Payne, 
mar.  1781. 


George,  ==  Sarah  Jane, 
b.  June, 
1775. 


■*an  Egerton,: 
»»rn  1781. 


Emma  Vaughan 
Blunt, 
married  1808. 


George  Alexan- 
der David. 


Sarah  Jane 
Amelia. 


Elizabeth 
Sidney. 


I 


*»ne, 
«*»7th 
"-  1820. 


Dr.  Henaley.        Eva, 

born  1*23 ; 
ob.  1855. 


bhs 


Nathan  George,  Percival,  David,    Caroline, 

David,  Sept.  July,         Dec.         1812. 

b.  June,  1810.  1813.          1814. 
1809. 


Charlea, 


David.     Caroline.     Jessy. 


ft*th 


nr.    Harry.    George.    Gertrude.    Blanche. 


THE 


LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK, 


boos:   the   ifissi?. 
LICHFIELD. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE  HUGUENOT  EXILE — SCHOOL  DAYS. — 1685-1730. 

Early  in  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  sixteen,  a  lieu- 
tenant in  command  of  a  party  belonging  to  Colonel  James 
Tyrrell  regiment  of  Dragoons,  came  to  Hereford  on  recruiting 
service.  He  put  up  at  the  Angel  Inn,  an  old  timber-framed 
house,  in  Widemarsh  Street,  close  to  the  Leominster  road.  The 
lieutenant's  lady  was  near  her  confinement,  and  on  the  19th  of 
February  brought  into  the  world  their  third  child,  afterwards 
to  be  celebrated  as  the  famous  actor,  David  Garrick,  whose 
history  we  are  about  to  pursue.* 

The  recruiting  officer  was  Lieutenant  Peter  Garrick,  son  of 
a  French  gentleman,  having  been  brought  to  England  from 
that  country  when  a  mere  infant.  In  his  memory  might  have 
lingered  indistinct  pictures  of  a  hurried  flight,  of  fierce 
soldiers1  faces,  and  miserable  tossing  on  the  sea.  His  father 
and  mother  had  been  forced  to  fly  their  country,  almost  the 
first  victims  of  the  Revocation  which  banished  the  French 
Huguenots  from  France.  The  family  was  a  noble  one — De  la 
Garrigvt — connected  with  the  Houses  of  Perigord  and  De  la 
Rochefoucauld.  They  were  established  near  Saintonge,  and 
were  flourishing  down  to  the  Revolution,  signing  a  contract  of 
marriage  in  company  with  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
names  in  the  district  of  Saintonge. 

*  The  Angel  Inn  was  burned  down  over  a  hundred  yean  ago ;  though 
visitors  to  Hereford  used  to  be  shown  a  jeweller's  shop,  and  an  oak  room, 
as  the  place  where  the  actor  was  born. 

B 


2  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1685 — 

• 

David  "  Game  "  was  living  at  Bordeaux,  most  likely  in  the 
wine  trade,  when  the  storm  broke,  and  by  the  end  of  August, 
1685,  with  difficulty  got  to  St  Malo,  where  he  embarked, 
having  to  leave  wife,  child,  and  property.  He  reached  Guern- 
sey, where  he  remained  for  a  month,  and  finally  got  to 
London  in  safety  on  the  5th  of  October.  Being  thus  safely 
arrived  in  London,  they  had  to  wait  nearly  a  year  and  a  half, 
for  the  son  they  had  left  But  happily  on  the  22nd  of 
May,  1687,  "Little  Peter  arrived  in  London,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  in  the  ship  of  John  White,  with  a  servant,  Mary  Moug- 
nier,  and  paid  for  their  passage  twenty-two  guineas." 

In  London  he  found  friends  and  kinsmen,  countrymen  and 
exiles,  like  himself.  These  were  the  families  of  Sarrazins  and 
Perins,  the  Fermignacs — one  of  whom  his  sister  had  married 
— the  Mouats,  Soulards,  Cazalis,  and  Pigous,  names  still  found 
over  the  kingdom.  Meanwhile  children  came — Jane,  Stephen, 
David,  and  Mary  Magdalen ;  their  baptisms,  godfathers,  and 
even  hour  of  birth  and  death  being  set  out  with  a  minute 
and  devotional  exactness.  Thus:  "The  26th  September, 
1692,  at  10  o'clock  at  night,  God  was  so  good  as  to  deliver  my 
wife  from  her  lying-in  of  a  boy,  who  was  baptized  the  Wednes- 
day following,  being  the  30th,  at  the  Walloon  Church,  by  Mr. 
Basset,  minister.  Godfather,  our  cousin  Stephen  Soulard,  who 
gave  him  the  name  of  Stephen,  whom  God  bless  and  preserve 
for  many  years  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  his  own  eternal 
happiness."  This  prayer  was  not  to  be  answered.  For :  "The 
4th  July,  1693,  God  took  to  himself  the  little  Stephen,  who 
died  at  10  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  5th  buried  at  night 
at  5  o'clock,  at  Wandsworth,  in  the  new  churchyard — the  whole 
cost  34s."  There  is  a  certain  simplicity  and  pathos  in  this 
entry.  "  The  little  Stephen  "  was  the  third  of  his  children  so 
named,  but  who  were  all  carried  off  in  succession.* 

But  more  trials  were  to  come.  "God  hath  afflicted  me,"  he 
writes,  "  and  taken  from  me  my  poor  wife  the  2nd  December, 
1694,  Sunday,  at  10  o'clock  at  night,  and  given  her  to  me  in 
April,  1682.  Buried  in  Bartholomew  Lane,  behind  the  Koyal 
Exchange."    Two  years  later,  a  brother  and  sister,  Peter  and 

*  The  charge  of  funeral  for  the  second  little  Stephen  in  thus  set  down — 

Coffin 10  shillings. 

Gloves  3        „ 

Coach 8        „ 

Three  bottles         .        .        .     .     4        „ 

Minister 17        *, 

Sexton  •        .        .        .    .  10        „ 

62  shillings. 


1730.]  THE  HUGUENOT  EXILE.  3 

Magdalen  Garrick,  came  over  to  the  widower  from  Rotterdam.* 
The  brother  died  only  the  month  following  after  his  arrival,  t 
And  in  May,  1701,  his  sister  Magdalen  followed,  and  left  the  old 
exile  with  his  three  children — Peter,  David,  and  Jane.  He 
soon  provided  for  them.  David  went  into  the  wine  trade, 
and  found  his  way  to  Portugal,  where  he  prospered.  Jane 
married  another  exile,  bearing  the  illustrious  name  of  Louis 
La  Cond6,  and  Peter,  now  about  twenty  years  old,  was  put  into 
the  army.  J  Presently  his  regiment  was  ordered  away  to  Lich- 
field, where  the  Huguenot's  son  was  to  be  quartered  a  long 
time,  to  become  known  and  esteemed  in  the  society  of  the 
place.  He  was  considered  an  amiable  gentleman,  of  quiet  and 
agreeable  manners ;  one  that  was  good  company,  and  could  tell 
a  pleasant  story. 

In  the  cathedral  choir  was  a  certain  Rev.  Mr.  Clough,  who 
had  a  daughter  called  Arabella.  It  will  be  seen  later  what 
virtues  she  possessed;  how  sweet  was  her  disposition,  and 
how  almost  passionate  was  the  attachment  she  bore  her  hus- 
band. She  fascinated  the  young  ensign,  and  on  Novem- 
ber 13th,  1707,  a  little  more  than  a  year  after  he  had  entered 
the  army,  this  rather  imprudent  marriage  took  place. 

A  year  and  a  half  later  came  promotion,  and  the  newly- 
married  officer  found  himself  a  lieutenant.^  Not,  however, 
until  June  24th,  1710,  was  their  first  child,  Peter,  born.  The 
vicar  choral's  wife  was  an  Irish  lady,  so  that  in  the  future 
actor's  veins  was  to  flow  a  rather  mercurial  stream,  compounded 
of  French,  English,  and  Irish  blood, — perhaps  not  the  worst 
mixture  for  dramatic  talent  The  vicar  was  then  living  in  a 
house,  which,  about  thirty  years  ago,  was  still  standing,  and 
where  the  officer's  son  Peter  was  to  live  all  his  life,  and  die 
nearly  a  century  later.  ||    Five  years  after  arrived  a  daughter, 

*  The  old  merchant  thus  writes  to  Lord  Hatton,  1694: — "My  Lord — I 
have  received  your  letter  of  the  12th  curant  with  the  enclosed  letter  fr  Paris, 
which  I  forward  last  post,  and  recommend  unto  my  brother  at  Rotterdam. 
M.  Isaac  Cazalis  is  my  good  friend  at  Amsterdam.  I  know  vere  well  Mr. 
Oeraais  of  that  City,  Frenchman,  and  my  good  friend.  If  you  desire 
remit  to  the  Lady  your  sister  any  Bills  of  Exchange,  I  may  remit  unto 
her,  ye  Exchange  is  now  very  eigh,  at  55J  per  crowne. —  I  am  yr  obedint 
and  hmble  servnt,     "D.  Garrick. "—{MS.  Brit.  Mua.) 

t  "Having  suffered,"  writes  David,  "like  a  martyr  with  a  retention. 
God  preserve  us  from  the  like  distemper.     Amen." 
*    X  The  Commission  is  dated  April  12, 1706. 

§  Commission  dated  23rd  November,  1708. 

D  The  house  was  pulled  down  in  1855,  to  make  room  for  the  new  Pro- 
bate offices.  Many  traditions  of  the  Garrick  family  have  been  obtained 
from  Lichfield ;  and  there  is  extant  a  sort  of  house-book,  kept  by  a  great- 
grand-niece  of  the  actor,  who  had  long  lived  with  David  Garnet's  sister, 

B  2 


4  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1685 — 

Magdalen,  known  to  her  family  as  Lennie,  or  Nellie ;  and  a 
year  later,  the  recruiting  party  arrived  at  Hereford,  and  the 
birth  of  David  took  place,  as  we  have  seen,  on  February  19th.* 
The  officer,  as  we  have  seen,  was  at  Hereford  when  David  was 
born;  but  he  lived  at  Lichfield. t  When  his  father  was  on 
foreign  service,  little  David  copied  out  of  the  family  Bible  the 
exact  dates  of  all  their  births,  &c,  and  sent  it  away  to  him  at 

Gibraltar.J 

The  lieutenant's  alliance  with  the  vicar-choral's  daughter 
had  brought  him  new  connections  and  friends.  One  of  her 
sisters  was  Mrs.  Kynaston;  another  married  one  of  the  Days 
— a  name  hereafter  to  be  always  associated  with  Lichfield. 
Here  also  was  Mr.  Hector,  the  physician  who  attended  Mrs. 
Garrick  and  her  children,  with  L)r.  James — then  an  obscure 
country-town  doctor,  who  had  not  introduced  his  famous 
powders.  At  the  street  corner,  opposite  St.  Mary's  Church 
and  its  ancient  clock,  was  the  shop  of  that  remarkable  book- 
seller, Mr.  Michael  Johnson — an  old  framed  house  hanging 
heavily  over  the  pathway,  supported  by  two  clumpy  pillars. 
When  the  lieutenant's  son,  David,  was  a  mere  infant,  the  book- 
seller's famous  son  was  just  entering  the  Lichfield  Grammar 
School,  and  had  already  attracted  the  notice  of  one  of  the  most 
influential  persons  of  the  place — Mr.  Gilbert  Walmesley,  the 
bishop's  registrar — an  elderly  and  wealthy  bachelor,  and  good 
scholar.  The  bookseller's  son,  considered  a  remarkable  and 
promising  boy,  was  much  encouraged  by  the  Herveys,  the 
Levetts,  the  Swinfens,  and  by  Lieutenant  Garrick  himself. 
There  was  about  seven  years  between  his  age  and  that  of 

in  which  has  been  carefully  collected  every  floating  tradition  about  the 
family. 

*  He  was  baptized  eight  days  later  in  the  church  of  All  Saints,  as  appears 
from  the  following  note,  extracted  November  8th,  1866  : — "  David,  son  of 
Mr.  Peter  and  Arabella  Garrick.  Baptized  February  the  28th,  1716.  " 
Davies  makes  the  20th  of  February  the  day  both  of  his  birth  and  baptism, 
whereas  the  birth  was  on  the  19th,  and  the  baptism  on  the  28th.  Boaden, 
pointing  out  Murphy's  mistake,  falls  into  mistake  himself,  and  gives  the 
20th  ;  and  Murphy  gives  both  a  wrong  date  and  place,  changing  the  church 
into  that  of  All  Souls. 

t  "  This  is  a  curious  town,"  said  the  elder  Mathews  to  the  waiter,  when 
staying  at  the  inn."  "  Altogether,  Mr.  Garrick  ought  to  have  been  born 
here."  "  To  be  sure  he  ought,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  you 
say  that.  It  was  too  bad  of  his  father  to  go  to  Hereford,  when  his  wife  waa 
so  near  her  time  ;  but  we  claim  him  for  all  that" 

t  From  a  letter  of  David's  to  his  father,  I  take  the  following  list : — Peter, 
born  June  24,  1710;  Magdalen,  born  Apr.  29,  1715;  David,  born  Feb.  19, 
1716;  Jane,  born  Apr.  1,  1718;  William,  born  Mar.  8,  1720;  George,  born 
Aug.  22,  1723;  Merriall,  born  Dec.  19,  1724;  Daniel,  Arabella,  Anna- 
Maria,  died  in  infancy. 


■WW 


1730.]  SCHOOL  DAYS.  5 

David,  so  that  it  could  hardly  have  been  until  Johnson  had 
come  back  from  Stourbridge  school,  and  was  "  lounging  about " 
Lichfield,  uncertain  and  purposeless,  that  any  serious  intimacy 
could  have  commenced.  One  was  a  youth  of  seventeen,  the 
other  a  boy  of  ten  years  old.  One  had  passed  through  the 
Lichfield  Grammar  School,  and  was  dreaming  of  Oxford;  the 
other  was  just  about  being  put  to  the  grammar  school  which 
Samuel  had  left  David  was  already  known  as  a  gay  and 
sprightly  lad,  who  could  put  an  odd  question  in  company,  and 
make  a  smart  answer,  that  almost  amounted  to  a  repartee. 
Mr.  Walmesley,  in  particular,  was  often  amused  by  listening  to 
his  sallies,  and  encouraged  the  mimicries  and  other  antics, 
which  were  part  of  the  boy's  little  accomplishments.  It  was 
time  now  to  think  of  some  schooling;  and  like  another  lieu- 
tenant's son,  Laurence  Sterne,  he  was  sent  to  the  free  school  of 
the  town  where  he  was  living. 

That  school — a  low,  long  building  with  four  gables — was 
then  directed  by  a  Mr.  Hunter,  who  had  been  young  Johnson's 
master  also.  This  man  was  of  the  line  of  old  cruel  school- 
masters, who  were  savage  and  eccentric,  and  thought  the  birch- 
rod  the  grand  agent  of  education.  In  after  life,  Johnson  spoke 
of  him  almost  with  horror.  "He  was  a  brutal  fellow,  he 
said.  He  would  scourge  his  boys  on  the  old  unreasoning 
principles,  beating  a  lad  for  not  knowing  the  Latin  for  candle- 
stick, a  word  which  might  not  be  in  the  day's  lesson.  He  did 
not  distinguish  between  mere  want  of  knowledge  and  neglect 
of  knowledge.  When  the  birching  was  going  on,  the  unhappy 
lad  had  rung  in  his  ear  such  comfort  as  "  This  I  do  to  save  you 
from  the  gallows."  He  was  very  fond  of  shooting,  and  any 
truant  pleading,  in  arrest  of  judgment,  that  he  could  point  out  a 
covey  of  partridges,  was  certain  to  be  reprieved.  Under  the 
care  of  this  half-savage,  David  did  not  apply  himself  to  his 
books  with  much  studiousness,  but  his  "  sprightliness "  and 
vivacious  quickness  must  have  taken  him  out  of  the  category  of 
mere  dull  and  idle  boys.  His  remissness  was  not  to  be  placed 
to  the  attraction  of  games  or  the  seductiveness  of  school  sports. 
His  idleness,  it  was  remarked,  was  occasioned  by  the  charms  of 
the  lively  jest,  the  pleasant  story,  and  odd  dialogue.  But  the 
classical  knowledge  and  refined  tastes  he  was  to  exhibit  all 
through  life  show  that,  even  under  such  discipline,  a  sound 
foundation  had  been  laid. 

One  of  his  schoolfellows  here  was  son  to  a  wealthy  gentle- 
man named  Simpson,  near  Lichfield.  He  afterwards  grew  up 
— turned  out  a  scapegrace  and  mauvais  sujd — married  against 
his  father's*  consent,  lived  a  dissipated  life,  and,  as  of  course, 


6  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1685 — 

fell  into  difficulties.  He  thought — perhaps  for  the  first  time 
— of  his  schoolmate,  now  a  wealthy  manager  and  actor,  and  to 
him  he  wrote  a  piteous  letter,  asking  his  influence  for  recon- 
ciliation with  the  father,  and  also  for  a  gift  of  a  hundred  pounds 
— for  what  the  spendthrift  calls  a  loan,  is  in  truth  always  a 
gift.  His  old  schoolfellow,  who  was  then  styled  a  shrewd, 
money-scraping,  "stingy,"  miserly  creature,  at  once  sent  off  the 
money,  wrote  down  to  Lichfield  a  charming  appeal  to  the 
offended  father,  but  received  back  a  gruff,  surly  answer.  The 
actor,  not  to  bo  rebuffed,  wrote  again  with  admirable  tem- 
per, and  actually  had  the  satisfaction  of  softening  the  angry 
father,  and  reconciling  him  to  the  son,  and  his  own  old  school- 
fellow. 

He  was  always  ready  to  divert  his  companions  by  a  burst  of 
spirits,  or  by  "  taking  off"  some  oddity.*  The  talent,  of  which 
this  was  a  rude  symptom,  was  to  be  stimulated  by  other  causes. 
There  was  in  Lichfield  a  sort  of  taste  for  the  drama,  and 
some  young  ladies  had  proposed  getting  up  "  The  Distressed 
Mother  "  at  a  private  house,  for  which  young  Johnson  had  sent 
them  an  Epilogue.  But  there  was  a  more  seductive  allurement 
still.  The  strolling  players  sometimes  called  at  Lichfield, 
playing  "Alexander"  and  the  established  round  of  dramas, 
pouring  out  the  usual  stilted  declamation  and  "paviour's  sighs," 
which  were  then  the  mode.  The  bookseller's  son,  then  unde- 
cided as  to  what  course  of  life  he  should  adopt,  was  still  loiter- 
ing about  Lichfield,  and  with  his  young  companion,  used  to 
attend  these  performances.  He  was  delighted  with  these 
efforts,  without  regard  to  their  degree  or  quality.  Once,  when 
a  very  ordinary  player  was  Tanting  Sir  Harry  WUdairy  and 
tearing  the  part  to  tatters,  Johnson  was  charmed,  and  grew 
rapturous  in  his  praises.  "  There  is  a  courtly  vivacity  aoout 
the  fellow,"  he  said.  But  even  then,  the  nicer  instinct  of  the 
schoolboy  could  see  that  there  must  be  a  higher  standard  than 
this  noise  and  fustian,  and  he  felt  that  the  artist  his  friend  so 
much  admired  was  "  the  most  vulgar  ruffian  that  ever  trod  the 
boards."  Long  after,  when  the  old  moralist,  now  close  upon 
seventy,  found  his  way  back  to  his  native  city,  these  recollec- 
tions poured  back  on  him,  and  he  made  a  confession  to  his 
faithful  henchman  and  admirer.  "  Forty  years  ago,  sir,  I  was 
in  love  with  an  actress  here,  Mrs.  Emmet,  who  acted  Flora  in 
'  Hob  in  the  Well/  "    And  it  may  have  been  on  a  night  when 

*  In  Mr.  Upcott's  collection  was  a  school  book  of  David's  in  which  is 
this  inscription  :  "  I,  David  Garrick,  lend  George  this  book,  and  desire  him 
not  to  abuse  it :  if  he  does,  I'll  fag  him.  David  Garrick,  ejus  liber.  Anno- 
Domini,  1729." 


1730.]  SCHOOL  DAYS.  7 

his  favourite  was  playing,  that  a  characteristic  scuffle  took 
place.  He  and  David  were  both  present,  and  Johnson  had  a 
chair  on  the  stage.  Going  out  between  the  acts,  he,  on  his 
return,  found  his  seat  in  possession  of  a  stranger.  This  fellow 
declined  to  give  it  up,  though  Johnson  explained  the  matter 
very  civilly.  On  which  he  took  up  the  chair  and  its  occupant, 
and  flung  both  into  the  pit.  Mr.  Walmesley,  however,  inter- 
fered and  composed  matters.* 

It  was  natural  that  the  presence  of  these  players  should 
kindle  in  the  schoolboy's  mind  an  eagerness  to  appear  on  some 
shape  of  stage.     Full  of  spirit  and  gaiety,  he  was  presently  to 

g*ve  a  hint  of  what  was  to  be  the  guiding  passion  of  his  life, 
e  set  on  foot  a  little  scheme  for  the  diversion  of  his  friends, 
enrolled  all  his  companions  in  a  company,  drilled  them  care- 
fully, and  put  Farquhar's  "  Recruiting  Officer "  in  rehearsal. 
The  young  manager,  only  eleven  years  old,  took  Sergeant  Kite 
for  himself,  a  part  of  fine  fresh  humour,  and  gave  the  Chamber- 
maid to  one  of  his  sisters.  Johnson,  not  yet  gone  to  Oxford, 
was  applied  to  for  a  Prologue  for  the  little  performance,  but 
for  some  reason  is  said  to  have  refused — though  he  had  volun- 
teered one  for  another  occasion.  The  little  piece  went  off  ad- 
mirably, and  the  spirit,  vivacity,  and  perfect  ease  of  the  young 
player  were  long  remembered  in  Lichfield.  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Garrick,  the  pleased  father  and  proud  mother,  sitting  among 
the  audience  in  "the  large  room,"  little  dreamed  that  they 
were  unconsciously  contributing  to  their  son's  fatal  adoption  of 
that  "  degrading  "  profession.  For  such  was  then  considered, 
indeed,  the  calling  of  the  unhappy  vagabonds  who  played  in 
the  Lichfield  barns,  and  who  only  escaped  the  stocks  by  the 
tolerance  of  the  magistrate.  This  childish  performance,  there- 
fore, may  be  considered  David's  first  appearance  on  the  stage, 
and  has  been  placed  about  the  year  1727. 

To  the  children  these  pastimes  were  welcome  enough,  but 
the  "  captain-lieutenant "  must  have  been  carrying  on  a  weary 
struggle.  Only  a  few  months  before,  on  the  day  after  Christ- 
mas-day, 1726,  he  had  exchanged  from  the  Dragoons  into  a 
inarching  regiment,  a  step  that  seems  dictated  by  a  prudent 
economy.  This  new  corps  was  Colonel  Kirk's,  afterwards  to 
be  known  as  the  2nd  Foot.  It  was  time,  too,  to  think  seriously 
of  providing  for  the  children,  now  fast  growing  up  about  him. 
Peter,  the  eldest,  was  put  into  the  navy  and  sent  away  to  sea. 
And  presently  arrived  from  Portugal  a  most  opportune  pro- 

*  Garrick  told  this  story  to  Mrs.  Thrale ;  when  she  retold  it  to  Johnson, 
•the  sage  complacently  owned  that  his  friend  had  not  spoiled  it  in  the  telling 
and  M  that  it  was  very  near  true,  to  be  sure." 


8  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1731 — 

posal  from  uncle  David,  now  a  flourishing  wine  merchant  at 
Lisbon,  that  his  nephew  and  namesake,  David,  should  be  sent 
to  him,  and  established  in  the  house  out  there.  This  offer, 
equivalent  to  a  provision  for  life,  was  at  once  accepted,  and 
David,  then  but  eleven  years  old,  despatched  on  this  distant 
'expedition.  Even  in  this  step  we  see  a  certain  character  and 
sense ;  as  it  was  not  every  lad  of  his  years  could  be  sent  off  in 
those  days  of  difficult  travel  on  so  long  a  voyage. 

He  remained  a  very  short  time.  Such  a  course  of  life — the 
dry  routine  of  a  counting-house — could  not  suit  his  vivacious 
temper.  Davies  hints  that  he  was  dismissed  as  too  volatile  for 
the  business.  The  English  merchants  delighted  in  his  company, 
and  would  put  him  up  on  the  table  after  dinner,  to  declaim  whole 
scenes  and  speeches  from  plays.  Noble  Portuguese  youths  patro- 
nized him ;  and  he  was  often  heard  to  tell  how  he  had  been  in 
the  company  of  that  unfortunate  Duke  d'Aveiro,  who,  just  as  the 
actor  was  meditating  his  first  appearance  at  Goodman's  Fields, 
was  put  to  death  for  a  conspiracy.  This  glimpse  of  foreign  life — 
the  change  from  the  tranquil  stagnation  of  a  country  town  to  the 
coloured  scenes  and  manners  of  a  new  country — the  novel  shapes 
of  character  and  humour,  must  have  given  an  almost  dramatic 
tone  to  his  mind,  and  furnished  him  with  an  early  glimpse  of 
the  world  more  valuable,  and  more  official,  than  any  training. 
That  this  step  was  taken  calmly,  and  without  displeasure  on 
the  side  of  his  uncle,  is  plain  from  the  fact,  that  on  the  latter's 
return  to  England  the  nephew  was  well  received  by  him,  and 
handsomely  provided  for  in  his  will. 

On  his  return  he  was  once  more  sent  to  Mr.  Hunter,  whose 
stern  discipline  was  to  repair  his  deficiencies,  which,  with  inter- 
ruption and  idleness,  now  began  to  look  serious.  His  father 
had  gone  on  half-pay,  a  step  he  may  have  taken  to  avoid  the 
expense  of  travelling  about  with  the  regiment ;  but  there  was 
presently  to  come  an  important  change. 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  CAPTAIN  ON  FOREIGN  SERVICE — DAVID'S  LETTERS. — 

1731-1733. 

It  was  now  the  year  1730,  when  it  was  determined  to  re- 
fortify  and  strongly  garrison  Gibraltar,  after  its  defence  of  1727, 
in  which  that  other  marching  lieutenant,  Sterne's  father,  took 
part ;  and  news  came  down  to  Lichfield  that  Captain  Garrick's 
old  regiment  had  already  embarked.    Perhaps  his  heart  went 


1733.]      THE  CAPTAIN  ON  FOREIGN  SERVICE.  9 

with  them.  An  officer  at  Gibraltar  wrote  over  to  propose  that 
Captain  Garrick  should  come  out  on  full-pay  and  take  his 
place.  This  was  not  to  be  resisted — perhaps,  too,  he  was  not 
sorry  to  be  free  of  the  Lichfield  tradesmen,  to  whom  he  was 
now  sadly  in  debt ;  or  was  not  disinclined  to  taste  camp  life 
once  more,  which,  to  the  retired  soldier,  looks  charming  in  the 
distance.  In  July,  1731,  he  was  on  full-pay  again,  and  had 
presently  gone  up  to  London  with  Mrs.  Garrick,  to  embark. 
After  that  parting,  her  tender  heart  was  cruelly  wrung,  and  she 
fell  into  miserable  fits  of  despondency  and  illness.  The  child- 
ren were  left  in  Lichfield,  and  she  had  to  remain  long  in  town 
with  friends,  until  she  grew  better.  But  the  captain  left  be- 
hind him  a  useful  comforter,  a  boy  of  surprising  sense  and 
spirit — the  most  zealous  and  affectionate  of  children — who 
seemed  now  to  take  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  family  on 
his  childish  shoulders,  with  a  tact  and  ardour  surprising  in 
one  who  was  barely  sixteen. 

With  every  mail  the  exiled  soldier's  eyes  were  gladdened 
with  long,  long  letters  from  the  affectionate  David,  full  of  gay, 
amusing  Lichfield  news ;  full  of  genuine  love  and  filial  warmth; 
and  showing,  too,  not  the  unconscious  selfishness  of  the  school- 
boy, who  cannot  help  writing  of  himself  and  his  concerns,  but 
a  careful  selection  of  such  matters  only  as  would  please  and 
interest  the  dear  father  he  was  addressing.  Even  the  gayer 
portions  seem  inspired  by  the  gaiety  of  a  man,  and  everything 
was  chosen  with  almost  a  laborious  anxiety  and  the  nicest  tact, 
to  cheer  and  amuse  the  lonely  officer,  who,  he  knew,  would 
have  to  wait  months  for  the  next  mail.  The  father  took  care 
to  put  by  this  remarkable  series,  well  worthy  indeed  of  being 
preserved;  for  they  gave  certain  promise  of  a  ripe  wisdom,  a 
true  affection  that  would,  later,  attach  friends,  of  a  wit  and 
gaiety  that  was  sure  to  win  success  in  any  profession.*  It  is 
hard  to  give  an  idea  of  these  engaging  letters,  which  are  as  wise 
as  they  are  affectionate,  and  have  a  shrewdness  far  removed 
from  the  almost  pedantic  wisdom  of  common  schoolboys,  show- 
ing also  a  quaintness  that  might  be  looked  for  in  the  letters  of 
grown-up  people.  It  was  curious,  certainly,  that  all  these  gifts 
should  have  centred  in  David,  and  that  the  six  others  of  the 
captain's  family  should  have  had  dispositions  of  a  more  homely 
and  home-spun  description. 

The  captain  had  embarked  in  due  course  for  Gibraltar;  and  it 

*  Mr.  Forster,  in  the  second  edition  of  his  "  Goldsmith,"  gave  a  few  ex- 
tracts from  these  early  letters.  By  his  kindness  I  am  now  allowed  to 
present  some  fresh  and  highly  characteristic  extracts,  hitherto  unpub- 
lished. 


10  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1731 — 

would  seem  that  nearly  a  year  passed  away  before  his  first 
letter,  announcing  his  safe  arrival,  reached  Lichfield.  It  was 
answered  with  affectionate  enthusiasm.  The  boy's  letter, 
written  in  all  the  delight  at  the  arrival  of  this  news,  is  very 
characteristic,  and  overflows  with  affection.  It  is  dated 
January  21,  1731-2:  "It  is  not  to  be  expressed,"  he  writes, 
"  the  joy  the  family  was  in  at  the  roceipt  of  dear  papa's  letter. 
Mama  was  in  very  good  spirits  two  or  three  days  after  she  received 
your  letter,  hut  now  begins  to  grow  moloncholy,  and  has  little  ugly  faint- 
ing fits  ."*  "My  mama,"  he  goes  on,  "received  the  30/.  you 
was  so  good  as  to  send.  She  paid  101.  to  Mr.  Eider,  one  year's 
rent,  and  10/.  toy*  baker;  and  if  you  can  spare  a  little  more,  or 
tell  her  you  will,  she  is  in  hopes  of  paying  all  y°  debt,  tlwi  you  may 
have  nothing  to  fret  you  when  you  come  home.  My  mama  staid 
six  weeks  in  London  after  you  left  her  there,  for  she  was 
very  much  out  of  order.  Mr.  Adair  there  was  prodigiously 
obliging  and  civil — and  begged  her  to  send  him  some  ale.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hervey  came  to  see  my  mama  as  soon  as  she  came  to 
town,  which  she  deigns  to  do  very  soon.  She  is  a  very  fine 
lady,  and  has  returned  very  few  of  her  visits"  There  is  a  naivetd 
about  all  this  very  charming.  But  later,  in  a  very  short  time,  his 
faculties  open,  and  he  takes  a  more  manly  tone.  There  were 
indeed  the  little  local  topics,  which  would  be  welcome  to  one 
whose  heart  was  with  his  family;  and  the  attentions  of  the 
Herveysf  and  other  great  people  when  down  at  Lichfield,  were 
what  the  boy  knew  would  gratify  the  absent  husband. 

*  In  Mr.  Law's  sale  of  autographs  was  a  letter  addressed  to  Captain 
Garrick  by  his  five  children,  in  which  the  third  son  complains  of  the  con- 
duct of  his  sister,  which  he  says  is  now  "  all  hony,  now  the  reverse."  In 
the  first  edition  of  this  work,  I  only  gave  some  specimens  of  these  engaging 
letters.     I  now  give  nearly  the  whole,  which  have  never  been  published. 

+  "  We  have  but  little  news.  Doctor  Hector  is  married  to  Miss  Pop 
Smith ;  and  Mr.  Laurence,  who  is  at  London,  is  married  to  ye  lady  who 
you  saw  at  Captain  Goddard's,  a  very  pretty  woman,  only  she  squints  a 
little  (as  Captain  Brazen  in  y*  Recruiting  Officer).  Captain  Weldon  has 
parted  with  his  commission,  and  has  half-pay  as  lieutenant  of  a  man-of- 
war.  Everybody  loves  and  likes  Mrs.  Weldon,  but  he  has  quarrelled  with 
most  of  the  people  in  this  place,  which  gives  the  poor  woman  a  great  deal 
of  uneasyness.  And  they  are  both  highly  civil  to  our  family.  I  am  a 
great  favorite  of  both  of  them  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hervey),  and  am  with  them 
every  day.  Mr.  Walmesley  has  had  a  very  great  quarrel  with  Captain 
Malone,  who,  I  think,  considering  his  being  always  so  civil  to  the  officers, 
used  him  very  ill  But  at  present  all  is  over,  but  they  don't  visit  one  another. 
I  have  been  to  Mr.  Otley's,  who  sent  a  man  and  horse  for  me,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hervey  and  Mr.  Walmesley,  were  I  got  acquainted  with  his  two  sons, 
who  are  fine  young  gentlemen.  Mr.  Walmesley  gave  me  slyly  half -a- crown 
for  y"  butler,  and  then  for  the  groom  and  for  myself,  which  made  mc  look 
very  grand.    All  your  friends  are  very  welL     We  had  a  letter  from  my 


1733.]  DAVID'S  LETTERS.  11 

While  the  captain's  lady  was  in  town,  David  was  left  in 
charge  of  the  family.     They  were  all    depressed  and  very 
"moloncholy,"  writes  the  boy — scarcely  with  credit  to   the 
Lichfield  Grammar  School ;  and  the  sick  lady  returning  home 
had  to  face  dons  and  difficulties,  and  economise  in  sore  straits. 
Their  clothes  were  in  sad  condition :  she  found  their  "  accoutre- 
ments," as  he  pleasantly  called  them,  "more  like  those  of  beggars 
than  gentlemen  soldiers,"  and  there  was  a  "great  deal  of  mend- 
ing and  patching "  to  be  done.     So,  when  Johnson  said  that 
his  friend  had  learnt  his  thrift  in  small  things,  from  being  bred 
in  a  half-pay  officer's  family,  where  "  the  study  was  to  make 
fourpence  do  as  much  as  others  made  fourpence-halfpenny  do," 
he  was  nearly  right ;  only  the  captain's  lady  had  to  strive  and 
make  her  little  fourpence  stretch  as  far  as  another's  eightpence. 
By-and-by  the  young  fellow  writes  that  "my  mamma  has 
cleared  all  the  debts,"  except  that  of  the  most  important  of  all 
creditors — the  butcher.     He  had,  however,  accepted  something 
on  account,  and  would  wait  for  the  rest.     The  opinions  of 
"Kent  the  butcher"  and  of  "Webb  the  baker"  are  often 
reported.     These  little  shifts  and  struggles   he   tells  to   his 
father  in  a  pleasant  vein  of  humour,  and  in  a  very  hopeful 
tone;  so  that  the  captain  should  know  what  their  struggles 
were,  and  at  the  same  time  be  cheered  by  hearing  of  their 
success.     For  himself,  he  has  to  inform  his  "dear  pappa,"  that 
he  is  now  quite  turned  a  philosopher ;  but  yet,  to  show  that 
he  is  not  vain  of  it,  protests  he  would  gladly  get  shut  of  the 
philosophical  character — especially  as  he  has  had  lately  a  pair 
of  silver  breeches-buckles  presented  to  him.     The  only  way 
would  be  for  the  captain  to  send  him  some  handsome  materials 
for  a  vest  and  breeches.     "  They  tell  me,"  says  his  son,  slyly, 
"velvet  is  very  cheap  at  Gibraltar.     Amen,  and  So  be  it!" 
But  it  is  not  likely  that  the  captain — a  careless  and  easy-going 
officer — attended  to  this  modest   commission.     Three   mails 
would  come  in,  each  with  a  letter  from  the  faithful  son,  before 
an  answer  would  be  sent  back  to  Lichfield :  and  we  can  hardly 
accept  David's  affectionate  excuse  for  this  failure  of  acknow- 
ledgment ;  viz.  "  that  the  winds  and  waves  seem  more  favour- 
able to  the  captain's  letters  than  to  his."    The  mails  brought 

uncle  Day,  who  says  that  Mr.  Lowe  preacht  a  sermon  which  was  thought 
by  everybody  one  of  the  best  they  had  heard  for  a  long  time.  My  grand- 
mother sends  her  blessing,  and  would  fain  live  to  see  you  once  more.  My 
brother  and  sister  send  their  duty,  and  Ann  in  a  particular  manner. — Your 
ever  dutiful  son,  D.  G."  Another  letter  ran  : — "  Dear  Sir — If  you  could 
possibly  send  Mr.  Walme&ley  a  little  wine,  lam  sure  he  would  take  it  as  a 
particular  favour." 


12  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1731 — 

the  absent  father  some  charming  tributes  of  affection  from 
both  wife  and  son — which  must  have  dimmed  his  eye,  as  he 
read,  and  made  the  paper  tremble  in  his  fingers.  That  of  the 
lady — ill,  shattered  in  health  and  spirits,  has  a  sweet  earnest- 
ness and  almost  passion,  which  recalls  Steele's  tenderness. 
The  paper  has  a  little  break  in  the  middle — from  the  seal  being 
torn  away ;  but  only  a  word  or  two  is  lost  "  I  must  tell 
my  dear  life  and  soul,"  she  writes,  nearly  two  years  after  his 
departure,  "  that  I  am  not  able  to  live  easy  longer  without  him; 
for  I  grow  very  jealous.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  I  do  not 
blame  my  dear.  I  have  very  sad  dreams  for  you  ....  but 
I  have  the  pleasure  when  I  am  up,  to  think  were  I  with  you, 
how  tender  ....  my  dear  soul  would  be  to  me ;  nay,  was, 
when  I  was  with  you  last  0 !  that  I  had  you  in  my  arms. 
I  would  tell  my  dear  life  how  much  I  am  his ! — A.  G." 

About  this  is  a  ring  of  quaint  and  ancient  pathos — the  yearn- 
ing of  a  "sweet  wife,"  and  all  the  bloom  of  new  affection, 
though  after  some  five-and-twenty  years  of  married  life.  Her 
son  testifies  to  this  longing.  His  own  fondness  breaks  out  de- 
lightfully ;  he  turns  off  suddenly  into  praise  of  "  one  piece  of 
Le  Grout " — a  miniature  painter  of  the  day — which  he  valued 
above  all  the  pieces  of  Zeuxds.  He  would  sooner  have  one 
glance  at  it  than  look  a  whole  day  at  the  finest  picture  in  the 
world  !  Nay,  it  had  this  effect  upon  him,  that  when  he  looked  at 
it,  he  fancied  himself  far  away  at  Gibraltar,  and  saw  the 
Spaniards,  and  sometimes  mounted  guard.  The  portrait  was 
then  in  his  hand,  yet  he  could  not  satisfactorily  describe  it 
"  It  is  the  figure  of  a  gentleman,  and  I  suppose  mititary  by  his 
dress.  I  think  Le  Grout  told  me  his  name  was  one  Captain  Peter 
Garrick :  perhaps,  as  you  are  in  the  army,  you  may  Know  him. 
He  is  pretty  jolly,  and,  I  believe,  not  very  tall."  A  charming 
little  picture,  and  described  with  admirable  justice  as  "  a  bit  of 
comedy  itself — a  piece  of  character  and  feeling  such  as  Far- 
quhar  might  have  written."  But  there  is  yet  another  touch  to 
complete  the  domestic  scene.  "  My  poor  mamma  sighs  when- 
ever she  passes  the  picture.  My  mamma  sends  her  most  tender 
affections  ....  She  says  your  presence  would  do  her  more 
good  than  all  the  physicians  in  Europe." 

Mr.  Gilbert  Walmesley  was  living  in  the  Bishop's  Palace, 
where  Mr.  Seward,  the  Prebendary,  was  to  live  later.  Lichfield 
at  this  time  was  gay :  soldiers  were  quartered  there,  and  there 
was  lively  society  enough,  to  which  David  contributed  his 
share.  Gay  as  they  were,  the  Lichfield  people  did  not  come  up 
to  the  extraordinary  panegyric  of  Johnson,  uttered  in  all  the 
effusion  of  one  revisiting  his  native  place.     "  They  were  the 


1733.]  DAVID'S  LETTERS.  13 

most  sober  decent  people  in  England/'  he  said ;  "  the  most  or- 
thodox, the  genteelest,  in  proportion  to  their  wealth,  and  spoke 
the  purest  English."  Their  orthodoxy  may  have  been  merely 
the  dull,  stolid  orthodoxy  of  a  provincial  town,  and  the  "  pure 
English  "  that  of  Johnson  himself,  who  pronounced  "  fair  "  like 
the  word  fear,  and  "  once  "  like  tuoonse.  Long  after  it  became 
one  of  Garnet's  pleasantries  to  exhibit  his  friend  squeezing  a 
lemon  with  strange  contortions  into  a  bowl,  and  calling  out 
"  Who's  for  poonsh  ?"  Yet  Garrick  himself  was  often,  remarked 
for  saying  "  shupreme  "  and  "  shuperior." 

"  I  was  near  recruiting  myself,"  the  boy  writes ;  for  Mr.  Her- 
vey,  who  was  cornet  in  Lord  Mark  Kerr's  regiment,  had  pro- 
mised, if  his  brother-in-law,  Sir  John  Aston,  should  die,  to  give 
him  the  vacant  cornet's  commission.*  His  regiment  was  quar- 
tered in  Lichfield ;  but  he  had  a  house  in  London  where  John- 
son was  made  welcome,  and  met  genteel  company.  Where,  too, 
Captain  Garrick's  son,  when  he  came  to  town,  we  may  be  cer- 
tain, was  also  introduced. 

Happily  for  the  English  stage,  the  officer  recovered.  Later 
on,  no  less  than  three  colonels  were  each  offering  him  a  pair  of 
colours,  and  his  friend  Captain  Pyott  swore  that  if  he  took 
orders,  he  should  at  least  be  chaplain  to  his  regiment.  With 
such  inducement  and  such  pressure,  it  seems  wonderful  that 
the  boy  had  not  been  dazzled  by  the  gold  and  scarlet,  and 
had  not  marched  away  out  of  the  place,  after  the  drum.  Some 
of  the  recruiting  officers  interfered  a  little  with  young  David's 
successes — bright,  gay,  and  gallant  as  he  was — and  he  writes 
to  his  dear  "  pappa  "  a  comic  account  of  one  coxcomb,  who  had 
sent  verses  to  a  lady,  who  had  of  course  shown  them  to  him. 
The  officer  had  led  off  by  saying  he  was  not  like  common 
soldiers,  but "  a  lover  of  the  Muses."  David  is  very  sarcastic  on 
this  pretender.  "  By  y*  lover  of  y*  Muses,  he  means  himself : 
which  is  one  of  the  vainest  things  1  ever  read.  Indeed,  I  doubt 
not  but  he  loves  y*  Mouses,"  adds  he  in  his  scorn,  slipping  into 
a  little  careless  spelling,  "  but  I  doubt  much  whether  he  is  be- 
loved by  them."  Then  he  tells  of  a  mysterious  "  answer  "  in 
verse,  that  was  sent  to  the  coxcomb,  ,and  which  he  takes  the 
trouble  of  copying  out  to  the  length  of  some  fifty  lines ;  a  most 
cutting  and  withering  exposure,  as  he  thinks  it.  The  author- 
ship of  which  his  father  will  guess: — 

"  So  half-filled  butts  of  new-brewed  beer, 
Top-full  of  something  oft  appear  ; 
When  vent  is  given,  soon  you'll  find 
The  great  production — froth  and  wind." 

*  This  was  to  Mr.  Hervey,  of  whose  kindness  Johnson  spoke  with  %  for- 
cible warmth — "  If  you  call,a  dog  Hervey,  I  shall  love  him." 


I  «     ll  llljl 


14  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1730 — 

Which  was  rather  hard  hitting ;  as  was  his  description  of  the 
same  hero :  "  Some  squires  hunted  all  the  morning,  and  drank 
all  night ;  but  this  officer  drank  all  the  morning,  and  hunted  all 
the  night." 

But  with  all  the  gaiety  and  light  trifling  they  did  not  lose 
sight  of  what  was  the  grand  object  of  the  faithful  family  exist- 
ence. Some  years  now  had  gone  by,  and  everything  was  being 
turned  to  the  one  central  purpose  of  getting  leave  for  the  cap- 
tain to  come  home.  They  were  unwearied  in  this  pious  office, 
and  there  was  no  end  to  the  variety  of  their  affectionate  little 
plots.  Mr.  Walmesley  was  to  go  up  to  town  and  there  get 
leave;  but  the  same  hope  of  Mr.  Walmesley  "going  up  to 
town  to  get  leave,"  was  repeated  in  nearly  every  letter.  But 
as  it  appears  from  Walmesley's  letter  to  his  friend  Colson,  he 
never  did  leave  Lichfield ;  so  the  chequered  topics  of  this 
wonderful  series  of  letters  pour  out,  and  we  assist  at  all  the 
secret  and  eager  hopes,  fears,  joys,  and  sorrows,  of  the  trusting 
Lichfield  family,  whose  eyes  were  ever  fixed  wistfully  on 
Gibraltar : — 

"Mar  18,  1733. 

"  Hon'd  Sir — We  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  two  of  your 
letters.  I  can't  but  tell  my  dear  pappa  that  one  part  of  his 
letter  put  a  damp  upon  my  pleasure,  in  which  you  thought  I 
was  neglectful  of  writing.  I  ought  to  be  esteemed  the  worst  of 
wretches  did  I  neglect  what  I  thought  would  give  you  the  least 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  to  one  of  the  best  of  fathers.     If  those 

rjrsons  who  have  not  received  what  tenderness  and  affection 
have,  from  their  parents,  are  /iccounted  reprobates ;  if  they 
omitt  to  pay  all  regard  and  obedience  to  them,  what  can  be 
said  for  him  who  in  every  instance  of  life  has  had  ye  greatest 
indulgence  from  a  most  kind  father.  In  my  poor  opinion,  nature 
seems  to  have  done  her  endeavour  to  have  planted  in  him  all  the 
contraries  to  obedience,  virtue,  morality,  gratitude,  and  what  is 
most  commendable  in  any  young  person,  though  he  had  but 
the  least  share  of  what  fatherly  love  and  goodness  I  enjoy." 
After  describing  the  festivities  for  the  Prince  of  Orange's  mar- 
riages, he  tells  how  "Mr.  Walmesley  treated  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  at  the  assembly  with  rack  punch,  and  presented  the 
gentlemen  with  cockades,  and  the  ladies  with  favors ;  his  house 
illuminated  from  top  to  bottom.  All  ye  town  came  up  to  see. 
Most  of  ye  gentlemen  met  at  ye  Swan.  Poor  Mrs.  Lowndes  is 
almost  constantly  rowling  about  with  the  cholik,  or  has  her  head 
tyed  about  with  a  napkin — for  the  headach — like  one  that  is  a 
victim  for  a  sacrifice."  Most  amusing  are  the  little  bits  qf  Lich- 
field gossip  with  which  he  affectionately  tries  to  entertain  the 


1733. J  david's  letters.  15 

absent  officer.  "  Mr.  Perkins  is  cited  into  the  court  for  drun- 
keness  and  swearing,  by  Mr.  Rider ;  and  Mr.  Shapless  has  lost 
a  tankard  of  twelve  pounds,  which  was  stole  from  him ;  and 
here  is  a  dragoon  in  goal  upon  suspicion.  Mr.  Hervey  had 
lately  come  from  London,  and  has  brought  me  two  pairs  of  large 
silver  buckles,  and  Mr.  Walmesley  a  fine  snuff  box." — 1733. 

He  explains  one  contrivance  for  getting  his  father  leave, 
which  many  joined  in,  that  he  should  return  to  vote.  "  Mr. 
Plummer  has  promised  to  use  his  interest  to  get  you  leave  to 
come  for  England  to  vote  for  him,  and  Mr.  Walmesley  has  got  you 
in  the  list  of  voters,  and  has  made  over  a  burgess  to  qualify  you 
for  voting."  Mr.  Christopher  Lowe  has  brought  news  of  Peter. 
Sir  Chalone  Ogle  wrote  that  "  he  was  vastly  fond  of  him,  and 
that  he  admires  him  for  his  sobriety,  modesty,  and  good  humour; 
so  we  hope  in  a  little  time  to  hear  of  his  being  made  a  lieutenant 
(Cousin  Cazalett).  You  was  pleased  to  write,  when  should  I 
be  fit  for  the  University  ?  I  fancy  in  about  two  years.  I  should 
have  been  ready  now,  only  my  going  to  Lisbon  slackened  me 

a  great  deal. — Aunt  Kinaston,  Cousin  Bailey,  Mrs. ,  one 

night  got  tipsy  here  by  drinking  '  To  all  our  Friends  by  Land 
and  by  Sea/  " 

Feb.,  1734. 

"  My  mamma  is  much  better,  but  very  weak,  attended  with 
a  lowness  of  spirit,  which  compels  her  to  drink  wine,  which 
gives  a  good  deal  of  uneasiness  upon  two  accounts,  as  it  goes 
against  her  inclination  and  pockett."  Then,  as  to  the  great 
business  of  leave,  Mr.  Walmesley  was  going  to  London,  and 
did  not  doubt  but  he  would  put  the  finishing  touch  to  it. 

"  My  sister  Lenny  and  my  sister  Jenny  send  their  duty  to 
you,  and  being  in  great  want  for  some  lace  for  their  heads, 
and  my  mamma  being  very  low  in  ye  purse  by  reason  of  her 
illness,  could  not  afford  them  so  much  money.  They,  with  the 
greatest  duty  and  obedience,  request  a  small  matter  to  purchase 
their  head  ornaments.  Great  necessity  compels  them  to  give 
you  this  trouble,  for  they  have  never  wore  anything  else  but 
plain  head  cloths,  which  hardly  distinguished  them  from  the 
vulgar  madams."  He  then  encloses  a  piece  of  wit — an  impu- 
dent thing  which  he  apologises  for  sending — a  speech  delivered 
at  a  Masquerade  by  a  Harlequin,  and  to  the  King  himself, 
probably. 

Various  letters  having  miscarried  or  being  delayed,  David 
writes  in  this  affectionate  strain : — 

1735. 

"  The  great  pleasure  we  have  at  the  receipt  of  any  of  dear 
papa's  letters  is  so  well  known  that  I  need  not  enlarge  upon 


! 


16  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1734 — 

that  point.  If  any  sorrow  should  appear  amidst  such  transports 
of  joy,  the  miscarriage  of  my  letter  must  occasion  it.  If  the 
sea  was  as  sure  to  carry  as  I  am  to  write,  you  would  have  no 
reason  to  complain  of  my  neglect  The  wind  and  waves  seem 
to  be  more  favourable  to  us  tnan  to  you." 

Captain  Pyott  having  given  an  entertainment,  two  or  three 
days  later  "came  this  piece  of  wit  from  the  Post  House, 
directed  to  Lady  Biddulph."  This  wa& ^description  of  a  horse- 
race, in  which  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  described  by  horses' 
and  mares'  names,  and  probably  David's  own. 

At  times  he  himself  went  to  town — some  of  his  friends 
were  glad  to  give  him  that  treat — and  he  visited  the  playhouses, 
a  true  pleasure  for  the  country  lad.  He  found  the  new  Covent 
Garden  Theatre  and  Drury  Lane  open,  with  Rich  and  Fleetwood 
reigning,  and  even  Goodman's  Fields — where  he  little  dreamed 
he  himself  would  be  playing  in  a  very  few  years.  He  would 
have  noted  an  actor  set  down  in  the  bills  as  Mechlin,  and  who 
was  to  be  his  inseparable  friend  later.  Pinkethman  and  Bullock, 
who  had  played  in  the  last  century,  and  must  have  been  full  of 
stage  traditions  about  Shakspeare,  still  lingered  oil  Mrs.  Clive 
and  Mrs.  Cibber  were  the  popular  Polly  and  Lucy.  Quin — 
sawing  and  grinding  his  words,  pumping  and  "paving"  as  it 
was  called,  according  to  the  old  iron  principles  then  considered 
the  perfection  of  acting — little  thought  there  was  in  the  pit  a 
countrified  youth  who  was  measuring  him  with  growing  repug- 
nance, whose  fine  eyes  opened  as  he  wondered,  were  the  audience 
in  earnest  in  their  rounds  of  applause,  or  were  they  merely 
accepting  this  poor  conventional  stuff  because  there  was  nothing 
better  to  be  offered  to  them  ?  Though  he  might  go  to  plays  and 
coffee-houses  in  London,  and  hear  the  chimes  at  midnight  again 
and  again,  a  curious  little  piece  which  I  have  found  among 
his  papers,  and  which  is  dated  January  31,  1733,  shows  that 
his  talk  and  subjects  of  discussion  at  such  places  were  of  an 
intellectual  sort.  He  and  two  friends  had  had  a  philosophical 
discussion,  and  one  of  them  wrote  to  him  next  day,  with  a  sort 
of  half  satirical  rteumt  of  tne  heads  of  their  argument  The 
parties  were, — "Dr.  Bergmosch,  an  unbeliever;  Dr.  Llaroon, 
a  believer;  and  Dr.  Kircrag  (Garrick),  a  moderate  man." 
Kircrag  is  a  sort  of  anagram  for  Garrick;  Bergmosch  was 
Schomberg,  afterwards  Captain;  and  Llaroon  a  strange  and 
wild  soldier,  who  had  fought  in  the  Flanders  wars,  a  clever 
artist,  and  an  uproarious  boon  companion.  This  was  a  curious 
coterie.  David  always  loved  gaiety  and  pleasure,  but  always 
tempered  his  pleasures  with  refinement,  and  made  them  serve 
the  business  of  life  by  promoting  friendship. 


1734.]  KDIAL.  17 


CHAPTER  IIL 

EDIAL — THE  CAPTAIN'S  RETURN  AND  DEATH — JOURNEY  TO 

London.— 1734-1737. 

Now,  when  Captain  Garrick  has  been  some  two  or  three 
years  away,  reappears  David's  friend  and  companion,  Johnson, 
who  has  been  at  the  University,  and  tried  many  schemes  and 
places,  since  he  has  had  the  usher's  "  hod  "  upon  his  shoulders. 
At  this  crisis  Mr.  Walmesley — the  influential  registrar,  the 
wealthy  bachelor  and  patron — proposes  a  scheme,  which  may 
benefit  his  two  protdgds.  He  points  out  to  Johnson,  that  close 
to  Lichfield,  at  Edial  (or  Edjal,  as  it  was  popularly  pronounced), 
was  lying  vacant  an  old  square-built  house,  with  a  high  roof, 
cupola,  and  gallery  on  the  top,  and  suggested  that  Johnson 
should  take  and  open  it  as  an  academy.  It  was  his  suggestion 
too,  that  Garrick,  then  about  eighteen,  should  try  and  complete 
his  education  in  French  and  Latin,  under  so  competent  and  so 
friendly  a  master.  His  advice  was  taken,  and  David  and  his 
brother  George  became  the  first  pupils.  A  few  neighbours,  no 
doubt  out  of  deference  to  the  high  influence  of  the  bishop's 
registrar,  sent  him  their  sons ;  among  which  was  Mr.  Offley, 
a  young  gentleman  of  condition,  and  Hawkesworth,  afterwards 
the  laborious  voyage  compiler.  But  at  no  time  did  the  pupils 
exceed  seven  or  eight  David  must  indeed  have  been  well 
grounded  there,  for  he  told  a  friend  he  once  was  able  to  repeat 
all  the  Greek  roots  by  heart ;  and  that  on  leaving  Lichfield,, 
his  friend  Walmesley  gave  him  a  copy  of  the  "Racines 
Grecques,"  exacting  a  promise  that  he  would  learn  a  portion 
every  day  by  heart 

The  principal  of  the  academy  had  married,  and  had  now  some 
one  to  direct  his  household — that  grotesque  figure  of  a  wife,  who 
was  much  older  than  the  principal  himself — the  well-known 
"  Tetty,"  with  cheeks  flaming  with  daubs  of  rouge  and  the  use 
of  cordials ;  so  round,  stout,  and  fantastic,  and  gaudy  in  her 
dress.  She  was  an  infinite  source  of  entertainment  to  the  two 
pupils,  and  Garrick  long  after  used  to  divert  his  friends  with  a 
mimicry  of  the  oddities  and  affectations  of  this  strange  lady. 
The  uncouth  fondness  of  her  husband  was  no  less  diverting. 
One  of  Garrick's  happiest  pictures,  with  which  he  used  to  make 
his  friends  roar,  was  that  of  their  master's  going  to  bed,  which 
the  mischievous  youth  observed  through  the  keyhole.  The 
master  was  then  actively  engaged  on  his  stilted,  \mt\ieata\ral 

o 


18  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1734 — 

play  of  "Irene,"  and  perhaps  little  thought  that  the  pupil,  who 
he  fancied  was  fast  asleep  below,  would  one  day  gratefully  bring 
it  out  for  him  at  the  greatest  of  the  London  theatres,  or  lend 
it  the  assistance  of  his  own  admirable  acting.  Every  one  in 
Lichfield  knew  the  grand  scheme  Mr.  Johnson  was  busy  with. 
Peter  Garrick,  the  midshipman,  then  at  home,  was  applied  to 
for  his  copy  of  "  The  Turkish  History,"  to  supply  colour  and 
"properties."  The  work  was  brought  to  the  bishop's  palace 
and  read  to  Mr.  Walmesley,  who  made  a  natural  objection, 
that  when  the  heroine,  even  at  that  imperfect  stage,  was  in  such 
extremity  of  distress,  how  was  he  to  contrive  to  plunge  her  into 
deeper  calamity  ?  The  author  had  a  pleasant  answer  ready  : 
"  Sir,"  he  said,  slyly,  "  I  can  put  her  into  the  spiritual  court ;" 
Mr.  Walmesley's  own  court.  His  liveliest  scholar  was,  even 
then,  busy  working  for  the  stage,  and  instead  of  the  exercise 
which  the  master  expected,  would  produce  some  scenes  of  a 
comedy.  This,  he  said,  had  been  his  third  attempt  at  writing; 
and  with  a  tragedy  and  a  comedy  thus  in  their  hands  at 
the  same  time,  it  is  not  likely  that  much  attention  could  be 
given  to  the  more  solemn  duties  of  education.  Still  the  master 
did  not  allow  the  old  familiarity  to  interfere  with  what  he  felt 
to  be  his  duty,  and  would  enforce  his  teachings  vigorously. 
Long  after,  when  he  had  been  facing  audiences  for  thirty 
years,  he  told  Dr.  Monsey,  he  never  could  shake  off  a  certain 
j  awe  in  Johnson's  presence,  which  he  traced  back  to  a  feeling 
that  the  Doctor  had  been  his  schoolmaster  in  these  old  Edial 
days. 

Still  the  academy  did  not  prosper.  Perhaps  it  was  too  am- 
bitious in  name  or  pretension.  David  had  now  left ;  indeed, 
brought  home  by  the  joyful  return  of  the  wished-for  father. 
The  never-wearying  intercession,  the  affectionate  scheming  of 
his  wife  and  children,  had  at  last  prevailed,  and  now,  by  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1736,  he  was  back  once  more  at  Lichfield. 
Some  forty  years  later,  as  Stockdale  relates,  the  son  recalled  the 
raptures  of  that  return,  and  reproached  himself  for  a  light 
speech,  for  which  his  joy  and  good  spirits  only  were  account- 
able. "I  dare  say,  sir,"  he  said,  slyly,  "I  have  now  a  good 
W"Uiy  brothers  and  sisters  at  Gibraltar;"  a  piece  of  raillery,  in 
the  prevailing  key  of  the  day,  which  brought  fresh  tears  to 
Mrs.  Garrick's  gentle  eyes.  But  there  were  other  reasons  be- 
side those  of  affection,  which  brought  the  captain  home.  His 
health,  shattered  by  travel  and  climate,  was  beginning  to  fail 
him,  and  it  became  therefore  his  first  concern  to  establish  David 
(now  close  upon  twenty),  and  start  him  suitably  in  life.  The 
captain's  means  were  still  scanty  enough,  and  he  was  busy  ne- 


1737.]  THE  captain's  return  and  death.  19 

gotiating  some  means  of  disposing  of  bis  commission,  for  the 
benefit  of  bis  wife  and  children.  Their  neighbour,  Mr.  Wal- 
mesley,  was  once  more  called  into  council,  to  advise  on  Davy's 
prospects  and  choice  of  a  profession.  And  this  seemed  all  that 
the  Garrick  family  might  now  reasonably  look  for  from  their 
old  friend  and  patron,  as  he  had  only  a  few  months  before 
married  the  sister  of  that  "Molly  Aston"  on  whose  charms 
Johnson  used  to  dwell  with  almost  senile  raptures.  This  was 
a  really  heavy  blow :  for  the  family  had  not  unnaturally  looked 
to  his  making  a  provision  for  the  youth  he  esteemed  so 
highly. 

Various  plans  were  proposed.  A  university  education  was 
put  aside  as  too  costly.  The  Bar  was  at  last  finally  decided 
upon ;  though  there  was  a  difficulty  in  the  way  as  to  how  the 
necessary  preparation  was  to  be  secured,  without  attendance  at 
a  university.  Here  Mr.  Walmesley  good-naturedly  came  to 
their  aid.  There  happened  to  be  living  in  Rochester  a  very  old 
friend  and  fellow-townsman  of  his,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Colson,  a 
mathematician  of  reputation,  whose  contributions  to  the  scien- 
tific journals  of  the  day  were  well  known.  To  him  (in  Feb- 
ruary, 1736)  Mr.  Walmesley  wrote  the  "strongest"  and 
warmest  letter,  asking  him  as  a  favour  to  take  David,  and  teach 
him  "mathematics,  philosophy,  and  humane  learning,"  and 
giving  his  proUgS  the  very  highest  character.  "  My  neighbour, 
Captain  Garrick  (who  is  a  honest,  valuable  man),  has  a  son,  a  very 
sensible  young  fellow,"  says  Mr.  Walmesley,  giving  a  little  sketch 
of  his  friend,  "a  good  scholar,  ...  of  sober  and  good  disposition, 
and  is  as  ingenious  and  promising  a  young  man  as  ever  I  knew 
in  my  life."  He  adds  that  he  will  trespass  very  little  on  Mr. 
Colson's  instructions,  and  will  be  found  a  pleasant  companion 
at  recreation.  "  This  young  gentleman,  you  must  know,"  goes 
on  Mr.  Walmesley,  "  has  been  very  much  with  me,  ever  since 
he  was  a  child, — almost  every  day.  I  have  taken  a  pleasure 
often  in  instructing  him,  and  have  a  great  affection  and  esteem 
for  him."  The  captain,  he  said,  could  not  hope  to  send  him  to 
the  Temple,  for  some  two  or  three  years  as  yet  Any  reason- 
able sum  would  be  paid,  "  and  I  shall  think  myself  very  much 
obliged  to  you  into  the  bargain." 

But  this  arrangement,  for  some  reason,  was  not  at  once  com- 
pleted. It  would  be  hard  for  the  needy  captain  to  get  together 
funds  enough  for  so  serious  an  expedition.  Meanwhile  David 
might  have  continued  attending  his  friend's  instruction,  who 
had  now  appealed  for  pupils,  in  the  well-known  advertisement 
which  appeared  in  "  The  Gentleman's  Magazine": — "  At  Edial, 
near  Lichfield,  in  Staffordshire,  young  gentlemen  are  boarded, 

C  2 


20  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1734 


and  taught  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  by  Samuel  John- 


son." 


It  was  at  last  determined  that  David  should  be  sent  to  the 
Eochester  clergyman,  who  accepted  the  charge.  By  this 
time,  Johnson's  Edial  House  business  had  quite  languished  out, 
he  saw  here  an  opportunity  for  going  to  try  his  fortune,  and 
on  the  morning  of  March  the  2nd,  1737,  the  two  friends  set  out 
together  for  London.  Mr.  Walmesley  commended  Johnson  also 
to  Mr.  Colson's  kind  offices  as  "  a  poet,"  and  likely  to  turn 
out  "  a  fine  tragedy  writer."  This  was  only  the  old  pattern  of 
adventure — every  one  with  "  parts  "  as  it  was  called — every 
provincial  light — posting  up  to  the  great  market  with  a  heavy 
poem  or  play  in  his  pocket  Long  after,  they  looked  back  to 
this  pleasant  adventure,  and  often  talked  over  its  incidents. 
Johnson,  whose  little  weakness  was  a  perpetual  discontent  that 
"  a  mere  player  "  should  have  been  more  successful  in  the  world 
than  a  grand  moralist,  was  not  sorry  to  hint  at  their  little 
shifts  on  this  occasion.  In  a  large  company,  the  quick  ear  of 
Garrick  would  hear  the  Doctor  fixing  a  date  by  a  something 
beginning :  "  That  was  the  year  when  I  came  to  London  with 
twopence-halfpenny  in  my  pocket — "  when,  not  without 
surprise  at  such  a  statement,  Garrick  would  repeat,  "With 
twopence-halfpenny  in  your  pocket?"  "Why,  yes,"  roars 
the  Doctor,  "with  twopence-halfpenny;  and  thou,  Davy,  with 
three-halfpence  in  thine ! "  Garrick's  good  humour  could  make 
him  accept  so  disagreeable  a  fiction  without  remonstrance. 
They  made  their  journey,  however,  economically.  "  We  rode 
and  tied,"  said  Garrick,  later,  alluding  to  a  thrifty  mode  by 
which  two  people  could  contrive  to  have  the  benefit  of  ono 
horse  between  them,  for  their  travelling.  But,  as  Boswell 
says,  this  was  a  mere  complacent  embellishment  Thus  they 
got  on  to  London.  They  stayed  together  in  town  a  short  time, 
presently  found  their  slender  stock  of  money  all  but  ex- 
hausted. In  this  extremity,  young  Garrick  recollected  a 
bookseller  named  Wilcox,  of  whom  he  knew  a  very  little;  and 
both  going  to  him,  and  telling  their  story,  simply  and  naturally, 
he  was  induced  to  advance  them  five  pounds  on  their  joint 
note,  which  in  a  very  short  time  they  punctually  took  up  and 
satisfied.* 

David,  however,  contrived  to  save  the  three  or  four  pounds 
necessary  for  his  fees,  and  lost  no  time  in  entering  as  a  student 
of  the  "  Honourable  Society  of  Lincoln's  Inn."    On  the  9th  of 

*  The  story  of  the  loan  ifl  told  by  Sir  John  Hawkins,  who  says  he  had  it 
from  "  an  eye-witness." 


1737.]  JOURNEY  TO  LONDON.  21 

March  his  name  was  enrolled.*  The  "  vivacity  "  and  "  gaiety  " 
which  made  the  young  man  such  a  welcome  companion,  hint  to 
us  a  little  unsteadiness  and  taste  for  pleasure,  which,  in  one  of  his 
"  sprightly  parts,"  exposed  to  the  seductions  of  the  capital,  was 
almost  pardonable.  Bright,  good-looking,  full  of  intelligence 
and  witj  of  "  a  neat  figure  "  we  are  told,  though  short,  he  found 
himself  thrown  away  on  the  dull  society  of  the  country  town, 
where  they  must  have  owned,  in  their  uncouth  dialect,  that  he 
was  far  "shuperior"  to  them.  The  early  difficulties — the 
bookseller's  loan — show  that  he  had  been  sent  up  to  town,  not  so 
much  to  benefit  by  Mr.  Colson's  training,  as  to  look  about,  and 
see  what  might  turn  up,  or  what  his  relations  would  be  in- 
clined to  do  for'  him.  t  But  in  this  short  round  of  trifling,  he  was 
to  be  startled  by  a  fatal  piece  of  news — which  interrupted  all 
these  plans. 

In  the  January  of  that  year  the  captain  had  found  his  way 
to  London,  where  he  was  seized  with  his  last  illness,  and  had 
taken  the  opportunity  of  executing  his  will.  He  had  full  sense 
of  his  failing  health,  and  the  immediate  business  of  his  visit 
was,  no  doubt,  to  try  and  negotiate  the  sale  of  his  captaincy, 
from  which  he  hoped  to  make  provision  for  his  children.  He 
seems  to  have  nearly  succeeded  in  concluding,  for  a  sum  of 
eleven  hundred  pounds,  but  was  not  able  to  complete  the  con- 
tract J  And  it  almost  seems  as  though  he  was  reckoning  on 
this  sum  when,  on  the  first  day  of  the  new  year,  1737,  he  sat 
down  to  dispose  of  his  property.  To  his  three  elder  children 
he  gave  five  hundred  pounds  each :  to  one  son  four  hundred ; 
and  to  the  two  youngest  children,  three  hundred  each.  Last 
of  all  came  this  bequest — "  To  my  son  David,  One  Shilling" 
This  might  well  startle  us  who  have  been  following  the  charm- 
ing and  filial  letters  the  boy  was  writing  to  his  absent  father. 
This  severity  might  be  accounted  for  satisfactorily.  The  Portu- 
guese-wine uncle  had  now  come  over,  full  of  years  and  wealth, 
had  seen  his  nephew,  and  had  taken,  in  the  best  part,  an  off-hand 

*  The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  entry  : — "  David  Garrick,  gentleman, 
second  son  of  Captain  Peter  Garrick,  is  admitted  into  the  society  of  this 
Inn,  the  9th  day  of  March,  in  the  tenth  year  of  the  reign  of  our  Sovereign 
Lord,  George  II.,  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland, 
▲.D.  1736,  and  hath  paid  to  the  use  of  this  society  the  sum  of  three  pounds, 
three  shillings,  and  fourpence." 

t  Davies  seems  to  have  heard  eomething  to  this  effect ;  for  he  says  that 
"  when  Garrick  arrived  in  town,  he  found  that  his  finances  would  not 
enable  him  to  put  himself  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Colson." 

X  From  a  letter  written  to  the  editor  of  "  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  " 
by  one  of  the  Garrick  family,  and  signed  E.  G. — see  "  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine," 1779. 


22  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1734 


appeal  that  he  was  surely  under  some  obligation  to  do  some- 
thing for  David,  after  the  fruitless  Lisbon  expedition,  under- 
taken at  his  wish.  He  therefore,  as  Davies  tells  us,  revised 
his  will,  and  leaving  his  Lichfield  nephews  and  nieces  five 
hundred  pounds  each,  increased  David's  portion  to  one  thou- 
sand pounds.  Thus,  when  the  captain  came  to  prepare  his^ 
own  will,  he  may  have  thought  that  there  was  no  need  to  take 
care  of  David,  already  handsomely  provided  for,  who  was, 
besides,  furnished  more  than  the  rest  with  vivacity  and  gifts 
sure  to  help  him  forward  in  the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
am  afraid  he  was  displeased  with  his  favourite  son's  wayward- 
ness and  want  of  steadiness  in  following  a  sober  course  of  life. 

The  captain's  campaigns  were  now  at  last  to  end.  He  had 
returned  home  to  Lichfield — was  taken  ill,  and  died,  and  was 
there  buried.  This  event  took  place  scarcely  a  month  after  his 
son  David's  departure — about  the  end  of  March.*  "An 
honest,  valuable  man,"  must  have  been  the  hearty  and  grieving 
verdict  of  his  friends.  His  almost  confident  hope,  expressed 
to  his  friend  Walmesley,  of  being  able  "  in  two  or  three  years  " 
to  equip  David  for  the  Temple,  was  not  to  be  fulfilled.  To  the 
affectionate,  loving  wife,  who  had  felt  in  their  temporary 
separation  all  the  bitterness  of  death,  it  may  be  conceived  what 
a  blow  it  was.  Seven  children  were  left  to  her  care ;  and 
though  she  might  rest  with  confidence  in  the  good  sense  and 
affection  of  her  second  son — the  eldest  was  away  at  sea — still 
as  yet  that  "vivacity"  and  gaiety  had  produced  a  certain  un- 
steadiness, which  it  would  take  some  time  to  temper. 

About  this  time,  also,  we  may  place  the  date  of  his  uncle, 
the  wine  merchant's  death,  by  which  he  "  came  in "  for  his 
welcome  legacy.  His  biographers  say  that  now  he  was  enabled 
to  purchase  for  himself  the  benefit  of  the  Rochester  clergyman's 
instruction,  and  fit  himself  for  some  profession.  What  that 
profession  was  to  be,  had  he  been  left  to  his  own  choice  and 
inclination,  there  would  have  been  no  hesitation.  Already  he 
was  being  drawn  to  the  Stage — the  two  charming,  irresistible 
Muses  were  inviting  him  towards  them,  half  coaxingly,half  im- 
periously, just  as  he  was  to  be  painted  later  in  the  most  character- 

*  I  find  that  his  will  was  duly  proved  on  the  7th  of  April  following. 
"Appeared  personally,  Wm.  Morgan,  of  the  Par.  of  St.  Paul,  Covent 
Garden,  Co.  Middx.,  apothecary,  and  Thomas  Goddard,  of  the  Parish  of  St 
James,  Westminster,  said  Co.,  Esquire,  to  swear  to  the  above,  being  the 
last  will,  &c,  of  Peter  Qarrick,  late  of  Lichfield,  Stafford,  and  Captain  in 
a  regiment  of  foot,  under  the  command  of  the  Honourable  Major-General 
Kirk,  deceased.  Proved  7  April,  1737,  by  Arabella  Garrick,  widow,  relict 
df  deceased."  Mr.  Garrick  and  Mr.  La  Conde*  were  the  Executors." — From 
Doctor*'  Commons. 


1737.]  STAY  AT  ROCHESTER.  23 

istic  of  pictures.  But  there  was  a  reason,  which,  to  his  infinite 
credit,  withheld  him — to  the  widowed  lady  down  at  Lichfield, 
it  would  have  been  a  fresh  and  most  painful  trial :  and  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  wring — or  grieve  even — that  affec- 
tionate heart.  He  sacrificed  what  he  felt  was  his  true  strength 
and  success  to  this  pious  motive,  and  set  himself  seriously  to 
embrace  what  was  distasteful,  and  likely  to  be  a  failure. 
Long  after,  he  told  his  friends  that  he  had  found  his  account, 
and  worldly  reward,  in  this  act  of  filial  duty;  for  had  he  gone 
on  the  stage  then,  with  his  powers  immature,  and  nothing  to 
support  him  but  mere  ardour  and  good  will,  he  would  certainly 
have  failed ;  and  the  reader  will  see  that  almost  every  step  of 
"  our  hero's  "  life  is  thus  marked  by  some  gracious  act,  sure  to 
draw  to  him  the  kindliest  sympathies  of  all — as  I  hope  it  will 
those  of  the  reader. 


BOOK     THE     SECOUD. 

GOODMAN'S  FIELDS  AND  DUBLIN. 

CHAPTER  I. 

STAY  AT  ROCHESTER — THE  WINE  MERCHANTS — LIFE  ON  TOWN 

— WOFFINGTON. — 1737-1741. 

To  this  day  Rochester  is  a  quaint  old  town ;  a  long,  serpent- 
like street,  with  timber-framed  houses,  and  patches  of  good 
old,  cheerful,  rubicund  brick;  a  great  carved  and  gilt  clock 
projecting  over  the  path,  the  almshouse  still  standing 
where  the  Six  Poor  Travellers  are  taken  in  every  night.  It 
is  little  changed  since  the  year  when  young  David  Garrick 
came  to  live  there  with  Mr.  Colson.  That  clergyman  seems 
to  have  been  a  dreamy  scholar,  very  absent,  and  had  become 
almost  indifferent  to  his  family  concerns,  from  delight  in  his 
scientific  studies.  His  neglect  Johnson  seems  to  have  resented 
not  a  little,  long  after  making  his  character  point  a  moral  for 
the  readers  of  "The  Rambler. "*  There  Gelidusf  is  found 
neglecting  "  the  endearments  of  his  wife  to  count  the  drops  of 

•  In  No.  24. 

t  That  Gelid  us  is  the  portrait  of  Garrick's  third  master,  Mr.  Colson,  is 
so  stated  by  Mrs.  Thrale,  whose  testimony  there  is  no  reason  to  reject 
Mr.  Croker,  in  his  "  Boswell,"  dismisses  the  notion  with  "  This  is  a  mis- 


24  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1737 — 

rain,  note  the  changes  of  the  wind,  and  calculate  the  eclipses 
of  the  moons  of  Jupiter."  This  philosopher  lived  entirely  in 
an  upper  room  of  his  house,  where  none  of  his  family  dared 
to  intrude.  When  he  came  down,  he  seemed  to  be  walking 
about  like  a  total  stranger.  Such  a  character  would  have  been 
a  subject  for  the  gay  mimicry  of  his  pupil,  and  who  may  have 
described  it  to  his  friend. 

We  have  no  accounts  of  his  progress  under  what  Murphy 
oddly  calls  "  Mr.  Colson's  patronage,"  though  Davies  a  little 
mysteriously  announces  that  "  in  the  company  of  so  rational 
a  philosopher,  he  was  imperceptibly  and  gradually  improved 
in  the  talent  of  thinking  and  reasoning  " — a  description  which 
seems  vague  enough  to  be  mere  speculation.  Such  a  preceptor 
was  not  likely  to  be  a  serious  restraint,  and  accordingly  we 
presently  find  the  young  man  organizing  private  theatricals  in 
the  quaint  little  town;  and  the  local  chronicle  records  with 
pride  that  there  were  many  alive  who  recollected  these  "  early 
dawnings"  of  his  lyrical  genius.  In  the  Colson  family  his 
"  vivacity  "  was  often  fondly  recalled.*  With  this  professor 
he  would  seem  to  have  remained  some  months,  possibly  a  year. 
Then  it  became  time  to  settle  on  something  decisive.  He 
took  leave  of  his  tutor,  who  in  a  couple  of  years  later  was 
appointed  the  Lucas  Professor  at  Cambridge,  and  early  in 
1738  returned  to  Lichfield.  It  was  prudently  determined 
that  David  should  put  to  profit  not  only  the  scanty  knowledge 
he  had  acquired  at  Rochester  and  Edial,  but  such  gleanings  of 
wine  knowledge  as  he  had  picked  up  during  the  flying  visit  to 
Lisbon.  Peter,  his  brother,  had  abandoned  the  navy;  antd 
now  both  set  their  little  capital  together,  and  started  as  wine 
merchants.  One  of  the  partners  was  to  live  in  Lichfield,  the 
other  in  London,  and  extend  connection,  and  thus  it  was  hoped 
a  profitable  business  could  be  carried  on.  Young  David  repre- 
sented the  firm  in  town. 

The  Lichfield  partner  was  in  face  very  like  his  brother 
David;  but  the  large  face  and  heavy  features,  common  to 
both,  were  not  lit  up  by  such  wonderful  lamps,  or  kindled  by 
so  eternal  a  vivacity.     Johnson  always  affected  to  believe  that 

take.  It  does  Dot  appear  that  Johnson  ever  saw  Colson."  This  is  not  at 
all  conclusive.  He  would  surely  have  waited  on  the  person  to  whom  he 
was  so  strongly  recommended.  Then  Johnson,  Mr.  Croker  insists,  became 
acquainted  with  another  Colson  after  the  "  Rambler  "  was  written.  Mrs. 
Thrale  gives  a  whole  catalogue  of  these  "  Rambler  "  characters,  with  the 
names  of  their  originals  told  to  her — as  it  would  seem,  this  one  of  Gclidut 
was — by  Johnson  himself. 
*  By  Mrs.  Newling,  who  may  have  been  Colson's  daughter. 


1741.]  THE  WINE  MERCHANTS.  25 

if  Peter  had  had  opportunities,  or  had  applied  himself  to  so- 
ciety, he  might  have  made  a  social  reputation.  He  had  "  se- 
date and  placid  manners,"  it  seemed  to  Boswell ;  and  he  talked 
about  fishing  with  enthusiasm.'11.  He  succeeded  in  impressing 
his  guest  as  quite  a  "  London  narrator,  "t  To  the  end,  how- 
ever, he  seems  to  have  had  that  sort  of  spurious  "  good  com- 
mon-sense, "  which  does  not  go  beyond  outward  solemnity  and 
gravity,  and  that  foolish  prudence  which  has  been  happily 
called  a  "  rash  caution."  To  the  end,  too,  he  held  to  his  wine 
business,  and,  after  his  more  famous  brother  had  "  come  out " 
at  Drury  Lane,  entered  into  new  partnership — became  "  Gar- 
rick  and  Bailey,  Wine  Merchants  " — made  a  little  money,  was 
left  a  great  deal  more  by  his  brother,  and  died  imbecile.  No 
doubt  it  was  some  such  impression  of  his  solemn  sense  and 
his  "  long  head,"  as  it  is  called,  that  made  Johnson,  who  had 
now  laboured  out  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy,  take  him  to  the 
Fountain  Tavern;  and  read  over  to  him  the  whole  piece,  now 
quite  finished,  and  about  to  be  sent  to  Fleetwood,  of  Drury 
Lane ;  by  whom  this  dull  but  conscientious  work,  the  fruit  of 
much  hodman's  labour,  was  to  be  rejected. 

The  young  wine  merchants  set  up  their  business  in  Durham 
Yard,  where  they  had  vaults  and  offices,  at  the  bottom  of  one 
of  the  little  streets  leading  out  of  the  Strand.  Later,  the 
brothers  Adam  swept  Durham  Yard  away,  and  raised  what 
was  then  considered  a  stupendous  architectural  monument,  the 
Adelphi  arches,  with  the  streets  and  buildings  reared  upon 
them.  It  was  not  a  little  curious,  that  many  years  later  the 
wealthy  actor  should  have  been  living  in  one  of  these  pre- 
tentious mansions,  over  the  spot  where  his  vaults  had  once 
been. 

It  was  said  that  they  contrived  to  form  a  sort  of  theatrical 
connection,  most  of  the  coffee-houses  about  the  theatres  giving 
them  their  custom.  Mr.  Cooke  once  saw  a  business  receipt  of 
the  firm's,  to  a  Mr.  Robinson  of  the  Strand  close  by,  who  had 
given  an  order  for  two  dozen  of  red  port,  at  eighteen  shillings 

a  dozen,  and  signed : 

"For  Self  &  Co., 
October,  1739. 

"  D.  Garrick." 

If  ever  there  was  to  be  a  reminder  of  these  wine-selling  days 

*  Piozad  MS.,  quoted  by  Croker. 

t  Boswell,  in  1776.  He  gives  us,  at  the  same  time,  his  own  idea  of  a 
town  wit,  which  was  "  telling  a  variety  of  anecdotes  with  that  earnestneu 
and  attempt  at  mimicry  which  we  usually  find  in  all  the  wits  of  the  me* 
Lropolis." 


26  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1737 — 

wanted,  there  was  one  quarter  whence  it  was  certain  to  come. 
When  the  actor  was  rich  and  flourishing,  Foote  was  fond  of 
whispering  "  that  he  remembered  Garrick,  in  Durham  Yard, 
with  three  quarts  of  vinegar  in  the  cellar,  calling  himself  a 
wine  merchant."  When  a  man  has  raised  himself  by  honour- 
able exertion,  there  is  sure  to  be  some  one  to  recall  the  Dur- 
ham Yard,  and  the  three  quarts  of  vinegar. 

*  Stillia  partnership  was  not  likely  to  prosper  where  one  of  the 
partners  was  a  gay,  elegant,  spirited  youth,  who  did  not  scruple 
to  stand  up  on  the  tables  of  the  clubs  and  coffee-houses  where 
his  wine  was  drunk,  and  give  a  series  of  diverting  mimicries. 
"-He  produced  intense  delight  and  applause,  and  it  was  almost  a 
matter  of  course  that  judges  and  critics  should  tell  the  clever 
young  fellow  that  he  was  made  for  a  higher  and  more  splendid 
career  than  retailing  wine.  The  stage,  it  was  said,  wholly 
possessed  him.  Under  such  conditions  business  did  not  thrive. 
One  who  knew  him  about  this  time  describes  him  happily 
"a  very  sprightly  young  man,  neatly  made,  of  an  expressive 
countenance,  and  most  agreeable  and  entertaining  manners;" 
and  the  portraits  of  him  have  all  that  air  of  "  neat  make/'  with 
a  youthful  brightness  in  the  face.  At  the  convivial  meetings  he 
was  "the  idol,"  and  easily  took  the  lead.  He  would  relate 
stories  of  his  Portuguese/oso?;  excelled  in  humorous  pictures  of 
travelling  life,  and  of  characters  met  on  the  road.  One  of  his 
enemies,  who  had  often  listened  to  him,  and  who  was  himself  a 
humorist,  declared  that  he  had  scarcely  ever  heard  anything  to 
compare  with  the  rich  fun  and  gaiety  of  these  sketches.  It  was 
noticed  that  the  stage  was  his  darling  subject,  and  that  his  most 
favourite  mimicries  were  those  of  actors.  Such  a  course  of  life 
for  one  so  young — he  was  then  but  twenty-three — would  have 
shipwrecked  any  of  the  youths  of  the  day.  But  these  were 
sallies  of  pure  enjoyment  and  honest  good  spirits;  and  in  every 
stage  of  David  Garrick's  life,  we  find  the  correcting  restraint  of 
calm  good  sense,  which  others  with  less  command  of  themselves, 
chose  to  translate  into  selfishness — "nearness" — "knowing- 
ness  " — and  such  unpleasant  qualities. 

It  was  noticed  that  he  had  a  companion  from  whom  he  was 
almost  inseparable.  This  was  an  actor  belonging  to  Drury 
Lane — a  strange  character — an  Irishman  of  rough  humour  and 
ability,  a  good  fives  player,  and  a  very  promising  actor.  His 
appearance  was  very  remarkable;  a  coarse  face,  marked  not 
with  "  lines,"  but  what  a  brother  actor  with  rude  wit  had  called 
"cordage."  He  was  struggling  hard  to  get  free  of  a  very 
"  pronounced  "  brogue ;  and  having  come  to  the  stage  with  what 
was  to  English  ears  an  uncouth  name,  and  to  English  mouths  an 


1741.]  THE  WINE  MERCHANTS.  27 

almost  unpronounceable  one,  had  changed  it  from  McLaughlin 
into  Mechlin,  and  later  Macklin.  In  his  company  young  Gar- 
rick  found  great  delight;  for  his  remarks  were  shrewd,  his  know- 
ledge of  the  profession  very  deep.  He  had  also  seen  a  good 
deal  of  the  rough  and  dirty  places  of  life,  had  undergone  the 
useful  discipline  of  a  stroller's  life,  and  met  strange  adventures. 
He  was  quarrelsome,  overbearing,  even  savage :  always  in 
either  revolt  or  conflict,  full  of  genius,  and  a  spirit  that  carried 
him  through  a  hundred  misfortunes.  "  His  mind,"  said  one  who 
served  under  him,  Thomas  Holcroft,  "  was  as  rough  and  durable 
as  his  body.  His  aspect  and  address  confounded  his  inferiors; 
and  his  delight  in  making  others  fear  and  admire  him,  gave 
him  an  aversion  for  the  society  of  those  who  were  his  superiors. " 
The  writer  of  this  graphic  sketch  adds,  "  that  he  never  heard 
him  allow  the  superiority  of  any  man;  and  that  he  was  so 
irritable  that  the  slightest  opposition  was  taken  as  an  insult" 
That  Garrick  should  have  lived  for  so  long  on  intimate  terms 
with  such  a  man,  shows  his  forbearance  and  sweetness  of 
temper;  and  when  later  a  quarrel  did  come,  Macklin's  in- 
temperateness  became  almost  a  foil  for  Garrick's  moderation 
and  liberality. 

But  this  curious  intimacy  could  be  accounted  for  by  a  reason 
which  the  public  did  not  suspect.  >  Both  saw  the  decay  of  the 
stage  which  had  set  in,  and  the  genius  of  both  knew  how  it 
must  be  reformed.  Macklin  had  discovered,  what  Garrick  was 
then  discovering,  that  the  best  way  of  representing  nature  on 
the  stage  was  by  imitating  nature ;  and  both  he  and  his  friend 
saw  with  impatience  the  false  principles  then  in  fashion^  The 
pair  were  almost  inseparable,  and  for  some  five  or  six  years 
were  scarcely  a  day  out  of  each  other's  company.  They  almost 
lived  in  Covent  Garden — under  whose  piazzas  the  actors  were 
always  seen  walking. 

In  such  associations  the  wine  business  could  scarcely  flourish. 
While  one  member  of  the  firm  was  down  at  a  country  town, 
and  the  other  behind  the  scenes,  or  writing  verses  to  Chloes 
and  actresses,  it  is  only  wonderful  that  after  three  or  four 
years'  trading  the  loss  should  have  been  so  little.  In  truth, 
David  was  chafing  and  fretting  against  the  dull  restraints  of 
dockets  and  invoices.  In  little  more  than  a  year  from  his 
father's  death  came  another  blow.  His  mother,  literally  from 
grief,  followed  the  husband  she  so  loved  to  the  grave  in  Lich- 
field, where  she  was  laid  near  him. 

His  friend,  Johnson — now  working  out  a  miserable  "per 
sheetage  "  from  the  very  humblest  hack  work,  and  almost  de- 
pending for  his  crust  on  some  little  article  that  he  could  now 


28  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1737— 

and  again  get  into  "  The  Gentleman's  Magazine," — was  at  this 
time  intimate  with  Mr.  Cave,  of  St.  John's  Gate,  the  publisher 
of  that  journal.  Johnson  mentioned  his  companion,  and,  speak- 
ing of  his  gay,  dramatic  talents,  inspired  this  plain  and  practical 
bookseller  with  some  curiosity,  and  it  was  agreed  that  an 
amateur  performance  should  take  place  in  a  room  over  the 
archway,  with  Mr.  Garrick  in  a  leading  comic  character.  It 
was  duly  arranged :  the  piece  fixed  on  was  Fielding's  "  Mock 
Doctor."  Several  of  the  printers  were  called  in,  parts  were  given 
to  them  to  read;  and  there  is  an  epilogue  to  the  "Mock  Doctor," 
by  Garrick,  which,  as  it  was  inserted  shortly  afterwards  in 
"  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  Hawkins  tells  us,  would  seem  to 
have  been  spoken  on  this  occasion.  The  performance  gave 
great  amusement,  and  satisfied  the  sober  Cave ;  and  presently, 
perhaps  as  a  mark  of  the  publisher's  satisfaction,  some  of  Mr. 
Garrick's  short  love  verses  were  admitted  into  the  poetical  de- 
partment of  the  magazine.  He  took  part  in  another  amateur 
performance — where  he  was  assisted  by  a  more  remarkable 
actor. 

Hogarth  at  this  time  was  on  terms  of  warm  friendship  with 
him,  and  also  Hoadly,  who  was  passionately  devoted  to  any 
shape  of  theatricals.  Once  they  arranged  a  burlesque  of 
"  Julius  Caesar  "  for  private  representation ;  but  their  difficulty 
was  Hogarth,  who,  full  of  excellent  humour,  found  his  memory 
utterly  fail  him.  A  device  was  at  last  thought  of,  which  was 
to  write  his  part  in  pretty  large  characters  upon  the  paper 
covering  of  the  lantern  which  he  was  carrying,  and  which  was 
illuminated  from  within.  A  humorous  play-bill  of  the  per- 
formance was  illustrated  by  the  painter. 

Now  visiting  every  theatre,  seeing  every  player,  liking  a 
few,  but  abhorring  the  stilted  plain  chaunt,  the  stiff  motions 
then  in  fashion,  David  took  up  his  pen  and  dashed  off  criti- 
cisms. It  was  remembered  that  these  were  acute  and  uncon- 
ventional, but  above  all  were  distinguished  by  a  kindly  and 
liberal  spirit,  very  different  from  the  "slashing"  style  of  the 
common  "  hack  "  critics.  But  his  connection  with  Drurv  Lane 
had  already  begun.  In  November,  1740,  the  whole  city  was 
thrown  into  a  tumult  of  joy  at  Admiral  Vernon's  victory  over 
the  Spanish.  Young  Mr.  Garrick  recollected  a  sea  song  which 
his  friend  Gilbert  Walmesley  had  written ;  and  having  himself 
added  an  apropos  stanza,  it  was  sung  on  the  stage  by  Mr. 
Lowe : — 

"  Hark  !  the  roaring  cannon  thunders — 
See,  my  lads,  six  ships  appear  ; 
Every  Briton,  acting  wonders, 
Strikes  the  southern  world  with  fear. 


1741.]  WOFFINGTON.  29 

"  Porto  Bello,  fam'd  in  story, 

Now  at  last  submits  to  fate ;    . 
Vernon's  courage  gives  us  glory, 
And  his  mercy  proves  us  great.*' 

The  pleasant  social  qualities  of  the  young  man  had  also 
found  him  friends  among  the  professional  actors,  and  given 
him  the  entree  to  the  coulisses  at  Drury  Lane,  then  managed  by 
Fleetwood.  Here  he  had  the  delight  of  seeing  a  dramatic 
trifle  of  his  own  brought  out — perhaps  what  he  had  written  at 
Edial  House — a  kind  of  mythological  sketch  called  "  Lethe," 
which  turned  upon  the  meeting  of  various  types  of  character 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Styx.  It  was  produced  on  April  1, 
1740.  It  was  a  mere  sketch,  that  left  a  great  deal  to  the 
actor,  but  was  always  a  favourite  with  the  author ;  for  he  was 
ever  touching  on  it,  adding  now  a  new  character  for  Wood- 
ward, another  for  Mrs.  Clive.  Later  still  he  put  in  a  gouty 
old  Lord  Chalkstone,  who  was  afterwards  developed  into  a 
round  and  really  finely-coloured  figure  in  the  five-act  comedy 
of  "  The  Clandestine  Marriage."  But  yet  another  attraction 
was  to  draw  him  behind  the  scenes;  and  a  new  actress,  hand- 
some, vivacious,  and  playing  very  much  in  the  style  which  he 
himself  approved,  was  now  to  fascinate  him.  His  excuse 
might  be  the  true  genius  and  brilliancy  of  the  syren;  but  he 
could  then  have  scarcely  dreamed  of  the  snare  that  was  spread 
for  him,  nnd  of  the  dangers  he  was  so  happily  to  escape. 
Margaret  Woffington,  a  young  girl  only  twenty-two  years  old, 
had  come  to  London  in  1740,  had  been  engaged  by  Rich  at 
Drury  Lane,  and  caused  a  genuine  furore.  Though  there  were 
some,  like  Mr.  Conway,  who  found  her  merely  "  an  impudent, 
Irish-faced  girl,"  others  perceived  she  was  a  real  actress,  and 
that  her  "  impudence  "  was  not  mere  stage  pertness,  but  true 
and  genuine  "  spirit,"  which  carried  her  triumphantly  through 
all  her  characters,  and  supplied  a  thousand  defects.  Even 
Walpole,  while  denying  she  had  merit,  said  "  she  had  life." 
Her  story  has  been  often  told  in  memoir  and  romance — even 
on  the  stage  itself.  Her  curious  life  was  itself  a  play — her  being 
picked  out  of  the  streets  at  Fownes  Court,  her  playing  Macheath 
as  an  infant  prodigy  in  Madame  Violante's  Lilliputian  Company, 
at  the  booth  off  Dame-street,  and  her  bewitching  the  gentlemen 
of  Dublin  with  her  dashing  sketch  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair. 

The  lively  Garrick,  then  delighting  in  actors'  society,  and  free 
of  every  green-room,  was  charmed  with  the  new  heroine.  He 
became  one  of  the  many  admirers  of  her  gifts,  but  he  had  the 
good  taste  to  object  to  her  playing  such  a  part  as  Sir  Harry, 
on  sound  stage  principles.     No  woman,  he  justly  urged,  could 


30  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1737 — 

ever  so  overcome  the  physical  difficulties  of  voice,  and  figure,  as 
to  identify  herself  with  a  man's  part  It  was  a  great  attempt 
for  a  woman,  he  said,  but  still  was  not  Sir  Harry  fVUdair.  So 
just  and  correct  was  even  then  his  idea  of  dramatic  propriety. 
He  presently  became  deeply  in  love,  and  the  actress  seemed  no 
less  taken  with  him.  Under  the  follies  and  failings,  which  he 
fancied  were  those  of  the  hour,  he  saw  the  generous  nature,  the 
honest  purpose — the  warm  impulse,  and  the  sense  of  loyalty 
and  duty  to  her  profession,  which  might  in  time  be  earnest  for 
her  sense  of  duty  to  herself. 

Margaret  Woffington,  it  must  be  remembered,  had  many 

fifts  and  accomplishments  that  were  of  an  intellectual  sort, 
he  was  indeed  a  captivating  creature.  Her  male  characters 
were  her  smallest  attraction.  She  could  play  parts  like  MUla- 
mant  and  Lady  Towtily,  which  required  all  the  wit  and  graces 
of  comedy.  She  could  speak  French  admirably,  and  dance 
with  infinite  grace.  She  had  a  taste  for  reading,  and  above  all 
possessed  a  kind,  generous  heart,  that  could  do  a  good-natured 
thing.  The  charity  so  well  painted  in  Mr.  Keade's  romance 
and  drama  is  scarcely  overdrawn.  Her  mother,  whom  she 
always  decently  supported,  was  long  seen  in  Dublin — a  respect- 
able old  lady  in  a  velvet  cloak,  with  a  deep  fringe,  a  diamond 
ring  and  agate  snuff  box, — going  from  one  Catholic  chapel  to 
another,  and  gossiping  a  good  deal  with  her  neighbours. 
Murphy,  who  knew  the  actress  well,  and  had  many  conversa- 
tions with  her,  pays  her  the  warmest  tribute.  "  Forgive  her," 
he  said,  "  one  female  error,  and  it  might  fairly  be  said  of  her 
'that  she  was  adorned  with  every  virtue;  honour,  truth, 
benevolence,  and  charity  were  her  distinguishing  qualities.' 
Her  conversation  was  in  a  style  always  pleasing  and  often 
instructive.  She  abounded  in  wit"  The  wit  must  have  been 
only  the  readiness  of  a  bold  woman ;  but  there  was  present  also 
an  incurable  unsteadiness,  and  a  fatal  taste  for  the  pleasures  of 
the  hour,  which  it  became  hopeless  to  think  of  overcoming. 

When  the  new  actress  came  out  in  Sylvia  in  "  The  Recruiting 
Officer,"  Garrick  took  the  usual  fashionable  mode  of  celebrating 
her  charms  in  rhyme.  The  tone  of  these  verses  is  very  refined; 
and  the  hint  that  she  should  not  regard  mere  light  admirers, 
but  one  who  really  loved  her,  showed  that  his  attachment  had, 
at  least,  begun  on  pure  principles. 

11  TO  SYLVIA. 

"  If  truth  can  fix  thy  wavering  heart, 
Let  Damon  urge  his  claim  ; 
He  feels  the  passion  void  of  art, 
The  pure,  the  constant  flame. 


1741.]  WOFFINGTON.  31 

"  Though  sighing  swains  their  torments  tell, 
Their  sensual  love  contemn  ; 
They  only  prize  the  beauteous  shell, 
But  slight  the  inward  gem. 
*  ♦  *  * 

"  By  age  your  beauty  will  decay, 
Your  mind  improve  with  years ; 
As  when  the  blossoms  fade  away 
The  ripening  fruit  appears. 

"  May  heaven  and  Sylvia  grant  my  suit 
And  bless  the  future  hour, 
That  Damon  who  can  taste  the  fruit, 
May  gather  every  flow'r." 

A  copy  of  verses  was  going  round  the  town,  which  was  then, 

and  has  always  since  been,  attributed  to  the  ingenious  Mr. 

Garrick.     It  was  addressed  to  the  actress,  set  to  music,  sung 

in  drawing-rooms,  and  deservedly  admired  for  its  gaiety  and 

spirit.     "  Lovely  Peggy  "  was  highly  relished,  and  often  called 

for. 

"  Once  more  I'll  tune  the  vocal  shell, 
To  hills  and  dales  my  passion  tell, 
A  flame,  which  time  can  never  quell, 
That  burns  for  thee,  my  Peggy  1 

"  Yet  greater  bards  the  lyre  shall  hit, 
Or  pay  what  subject  is  more  fit, 
Than  to  record  the  sparkling  wit 
And  bloom  of  lovely  Peggy. 

"  The  sun  first  rising  in  the  mora, 
That  paints  the  dew-bespangled  lawn, 
Does  not  so  much  the  day  adorn 
As  does  my  lovely  Peggy. 

"  And  when  in  Thetis'  lap  to  mt 
He  streaks  with  gold  the  ruddy  west, 
She's  not  so  beauteous  as  undrest 
Appears  my  lovely  Peggy."* 

But  these  lines  are  from  another  hand,  and  the  work  of  a  rival 
admirer, — Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Williams.  Garrick  seems  to 
have  been  preferred — for  a  time  at  least ;  and  when  he  was 
seriously  yet  tenderly  warning  Sylvia,  his  rival  was  about  the 


*  This  pleasant  song  was  found  among  Sir  C.  Hanbury  Williams' 
papers,  and  is  printed  in  his  works.  More  decisive  proof  of  their  author- 
ship is,  that  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  large,  carefully  written  collection 
which  Garrick  himself  had  collected  and  carefully  prepared  for  the  press, 
with  all  his  early  verses  to  "  Sylvia,"  and  nearly  every  scrap  he  had 
written. 


32  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741, 

same  time  complaining,  in  burlesque  lamentation,  how  little 
progress  he  had  made : — 

°  Should  you  reject  my  ardent  prayer, 
Yet  send  not  back  the  am'rous  paper ; 
My  pangs  may  help  to  curl  your  hair, 
My  passion  fringe  the  glowing  taper. 

"  No  more  the  theatre  I'll  seek 

But  when  I'm  promised  there  to  find  you. 
All  Horton's  merits  now  grow  weak, 
And  Clive  remains  far,  far  behind  you." 

The  same  reason,  too,  that  drew  him  to  Macklin,  drew  him 
also  to  the  new  actress.  Part  of  the  secret  of  her  success  was 
owing  to  her  free  and  unconventional  vivacity,  though  in 
tragedy  she  seems  to  have  adhered  to  the  still  existing  fashion. 
Garrick  and  Macklin  were  only  waiting  for  their  opportunity. 
For  Macklin  at  last  came  the  opening ;  and  about  ten  months, 
before  Garrick's  own  turn  came,  he  astonished  the  town  by 
playing  Shylock,  not  as  a  comic  Jew,  whose  distresses  convulsed 
the  house,  as  it  had  been  defaced  by  Lord  Lansdowne,  but 
with  the  passionate  and  pathetic  reading  of  the  original  This 
was  the  first  step;  so  to  Macklin,  not  to  Garrick,  must  be  given 
the  credit  of  having  attempted  a  reform. 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  STATE  OF  THE  STAGE. — 1741. 

Four  or  five  years  before,  a  pretty  little  theatre  had  been 
opened  in  Goodman's  Fields,  the  scheme  for  which  had  been 
organized  by  a  clever  manager  and  actor,  Henry  Giffard. 
This  gentleman  was  of  good  extraction,  like  his  new  friend,  Mr. 
Garrick.  He  had  been  put  into  the  South-Sea  House,  and, 
like  Powell  later,  had  run  away  from  his  desk  to  take  to  the 
stage.  He  had  joined  some  strollers,  and  finally  enlisted  under 
a  player  called  Odell,  at  Goodman's  Fields. 

It  stood  a  little  behind  where  the  Minories  now  are.  In  Ayliffe 
Street,  Goodman's  Fields,  was  a  sort  of  industrial  quarter, 
where  weavers  and  silk-throwsters  congregated.  In  the  year 
1728,  Odell,  afterwards  made  the  first  Licenser,  took  a  throw- 
ster's shop  in  the  street,  collected  a  strolling  company,  con- 
verted it  into  a  sort  of  temporary  theatre,  and  opened  it  for 
plays. 

The  adventure  would,  no  doubt,  have  flourished,  but  for  an. 


1741.]  THE  STATE  OP  THE  STAGE.  33 

inflammatory  sermon ;  on  which,  it  is  said,  the  manager  lost 
heart,  and  finally  disposed  of  his  house  to  Giffard,  who  stood 
in  less  awe  of  the  Church.  He  purchased  the  throwsters'  house, 
and  opened  a  subscription  in  twenty-three  shares  of  a  hundred 
pounds  each,  for  building  a  regular  theatre.  This  project  was 
taken  up  eagerly.  Everything  was  done  in  the  handsomest 
manner.  A  "  new  beautiful  convenient  theatre," — to  use  Chet- 
wood's  quaint  words, — rose  where  the  old  altered  shop  had 
stood.  Shepherd,  an  architect  of  repute,  and  the  architect  of 
Covent  Garden  Theatre,  furnished  the  design.  The  interior 
was  handsomely  decorated;  and,  on  the  2nd  of  October,  1732, 
the  new  theatre — the  one  in  which  Garrick  was  to  play  nine 
years  later — was  opened  with  "King  Henry  the  Fourth."  It 
was  conducted  with  great  spirit  and  propriety ;  still,  as  Sir  J. 
Hawkins  tells  us,  the  magistrates  had  for  some  time  "been 
watching  for  such  information  as  would  bring  the  actors  at  Good- 
man's Fields  within  the  reach  of  the  vagrant  laws.19 

Great  crowds  flocked  to  the  new  theatre.  It  drew  chidfly 
apprentices  and  young  students,  who  all  became  bitten  with  a 
stage  passion ;  superadded  to  which  was  a  desire  for  playing 
themselves.  This  produced  fresh  combinations  and  fresh  com- 
panies. A  new  house  of  entertainment  was  opened  in  York 
buildings;  another  was  talked  of  at  St.  Martin's-le-Grand.  "A 
fellow  called  Potter  "  opened  another  in  the  Haymarket.  In 
short,  it  did  almost  seem  that  some  sort  of  legislation,  not  for 
the  suppression,  but  for  the  regulation,  of  such  places,  was 
called  for.  Unless  some  legal  steps  were  taken,  a  lugubrious 
opponent  prophesied  that  "the  whole  nation  would  degenerate 
into  a  set  of  stage  players."  As  for  Goodman's  Fields,  by  this 
time  it  had  become  encircled,  according  to  Sir  John  Hawkins's 
extraordinary  expression,  "by  a  halo  of  bagnios." 

Alarmed  at  this  competition,  the  legitimate  managers  ven- 
tured on  arresting  one  of  the  actors,  Harper,  as  "  a  vagrant " 
for  playing  at  one  of  the  unlicensed  houses. 

Though  the  actor  was  discharged,  the  prosecutor  had  the 
sympathies  of  those  in  authority  with  him.  The  growing  evil 
was  narrowly  watched,  and  it  is  said  that  an  order  was  sent  to 
Goodman's  Fields  stopping  the  performance,  to  which,  however, 
no  attention  was  paid.  But  it  was  now  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  Parliament  Fielding  had  been  giving  his  pen  license 
at  the  Haymarket,  in  his  amusing  farce  of  "  Pasquin  " — from 
which  "  The  Critic "  was  to  be  later  stolen — and  it  was  no 
doubt  this  dangerous  freedom  that  made  the  Government  bring 
forward  a  Bill  which  should  deal  with  actors,  as  well  as  with 
the  plays  they  performed.    In  1737  this  severe  measure  was 

D 


34  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741. 

brought  in,  and  passed  successfully — a  most  degrading  one  for 
the  player.  By  one  section  in  this  Act,  any  one  without  a  settle- 
ment in  the  parish,  or  with  no  patent,  was  to  be  dealt  with 
criminally  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond ;  and  if  he  had  a  settle- 
ment, and  neither  patent  nor  licence,  he  was  to  be  fined  at  the 
suit  of  any  informer.  By  another  section,  every  piece  was  to 
be  sent  to  the  Chamberlain  fourteen .,  days  before  representa- 
tion. It  was  opposed  in  the  Upper  House  by  Lord  Chester- 
field— who,  in  an  eloquent  and  masterly  speech,  showed  the 
illogical  and  arbitrary  character  of  the  measure.  But  his 
reasoning  was  of  no  avail — and  the  clumsy,  ill-drawn,  vexatious 
Licensing  Act,  the  plague  of  lawyers,  magistrates,  and  judges, 
and  to  this  day  the  oppression  of  humble  followers  of  the  pro- 
fession, was  passed  by  a  large  majority. 

This  victory  put  the  enemies  of  the  stage  in  great  heart.  On 
Giffard — who  had  recently  completed  his  "elegant  new" 
theatre — the  blow  fell  with  great  severity.  He  petitioned  both 
Houses  on  the  special  hardship  of  his  case — the  large  sums  he 
had  expended  on  the  purchase,  the  rebuilding,  the  clothes, 
property,  &c. ;  but  the  petition  of  "  a  mere  player  "  was  not 
likely  to  receive  much  attention.  He  had  no  resource,  then, 
but  to  continue  playing — trusting  that  no  one  would  like  to 
incur  the  odium  of  such  a  persecution.  He  is  said  to  have  re- 
ceived an  order  requiring  him  to  close,  but  with  some  courage 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  Indeed,  it  was  not  difficult  to  "  pick 
a  hole  "  in  this  Act.  After  the  failure  in  Harper's  case,  no 
one  could  hope  to  put  in  force  the  clause  in  reference  to  an 
actor  having  no  settlement.*  Mere  strollers,  who  ranged 
from  theatre  to  theatre,  fell  easily  under  the  Act ;  but  the 
more  respectable  comedians  found  out  a  trick  of  renting  a 
house  at  £10  per  annum,  and  "  paying  scot  and  lot,"  which 
was  discovered  to  answer.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  get  over  the 
next  clause,  which  applied  to  acting  without  a  licence.  Still, 
here,  the  manager  of  Goodman's  Fields  found  a  successful  de- 
vice. He  advertised  a  concert — which  there  was  no  question 
could  not  be  brought  within  the  Act;  and,  after  the  concert^ 
entertained  his  audience  with  a  play  gratis.  This  was  a  mere 
illusory  pretence;  but  the  very  stringency  and  intolerance  of 
the  law  was  his  protection,  and  he  was  allowed  to  continue  the 
practice  for  two  or  three  years.  Such  was  a  ha;)py  toleration, 
for  to  it  was  owing  the  undisturbed  first  appearance  of  the 
most  famous  actor  on  the  English  stage. 

*  The  law  had  mended  its  hand  here,  and  had  pronounced  acting  with- 
out a  "  settlement "  vagrancy ;  whereas,  before,  it  was  a  matter  of  con- 
struction under  Anne's  Act,  whether  acting  was  vagrancy. 


1741.]  THE  STATE  OF  THE  STAGE.  35 

Notwithstanding  this  oppression  Goodman's  Fields  continued 
to  flourish.  There  Mr.  Walker  declaimed,  and  Miss  Hippis- 
ley  danced  and  sang;  while  Yates  was  the  "general  utility" 
actor.  It  closed  about  the  month  of  March,  1741;  but  before 
the  end  of  the  season  was  brought  out  a  pantomime,  called 
"  Harlequin  Student;  or,  the  Fate  of  Pantomime,  with  a 
representation  of  Shakspcare's  Monument,  lately  erected." 
Yates  played  the  Harlequin — a  character  requiring  more  re- 
spectable ability  than  it  does  at  present,  and  approaching  the 
Italian  type.  One  night,  however,  the  Harlequin  was  indis- 
posed just  as  the  piece  was  beginning,  and  the  gay  and  sprightly 
young  wine  merchant  secretly  agreed  with  the  manager  that 
he  should  take  his  place — then  putting  oh  the  dress  and  mask, 
went  through  the  two  or  three  scenes  of  the  part.  No  one 
knew  of  it  then.  So  that,  not  at  Ipswich,  but  at  Goodman's 
Fields,  was  Garrick's  "  first  appearance  "  on  any  stage. 

Giffard  would  willingly  have  offered  him  the  opening  he 
wished  for  on  the  boards  of  his  handsome  and  well-conducted 
little  theatre;  but  gave  him  the  sensible  advice  to  first  try  his 
strength  and  powers  on  a  provincial  audience.  Here  was  an  op- 
portunity: Giffard  and  Dunstall  were  going  with  a  troupe  down 
to  Ipswich.  This  was  not  a  "  strolling  "  party,  but  they  in- 
tended to  have  a  little  season  there.  Among  the  players  was 
Yates,  an  excellent  comedian — one  of  Garrick's  own  school  of 
natural  actors,  and  whose  rule  was,  on  receiving  a  new  part, 
to  fix  on  some  living  person  who  was  a  little  like  it,  study  him 
attentively,  and  thus  gain  vitality  for  it* 

*  The  old  Ipswich  Theatre  was  in  Tankard- street,  and  was  a  rather  rude, 
warehouse- looking  structure.  A  picture  of  it,  supplied  by  Wilkinson  in 
the  "Londina  Illustrata,"  shows  it  as  it  appeared  fifty  years  ago.  It 
was  built  into  the  tavern  next  door.  In  an  old  Ipswich  newspaper  we 
find  a  regular  record  of  his  performances,  which,  however,  were  under  an 
assumed  name.  The  first  of  these  thus  set  down  was  on  June  10,  1741, 
Lord  boppington,  followed  by  Orestes.  On  the  11th  he  played  Ventre- 
Bleu  and  Rakeit  in  his  own  farce,  "  Lethe."  Also  Dr.  Cains  on  the  23rd, 
Sir  H.  Wildair  on  the  24th,  C/tamont  on  the  26th  ;  but  to  these  charac- 
ters no  performers'  names  are  attached.  But  on  Tuesday,  July  21st,  a 
full  bill  of  the  company  is  given,  which  will  be  found  interesting : — 

For  the  Benefit  of  Mr.  Marr  and  Miss  Hippisley. 
By  a  Compauy  of  Comedians  from  the  Theatres  in  London. 

At  the  PLAYHOUSE  in  TANKARD  STREET,  on  TUESDAY,  the 
21st  ot  JULY,  will  be  performed  a  Comedy  called 

THE  INCONSTANT  ;  or,  THE  WAY  TO  WIN  HIM. 
Young  Mirabel   by  Mr.   Giffard ;   Captain  Duretdte  by  Mr.  Lyddall ; 
Bisarre  by  Miss  Hippisley. 
i     At  the  end  of  the  Second  Act  a  Pantomime  Dance,  called  the  DRUNKEN 
PEASANT.     Peasant  by  Mr.  Yates  ;  Clown  by  Mr.  Yaughan. 

D  2 


36  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741. 

The  manager  of  the  company  had  long  before  married  an 
Irish  Miss  Lyddal,  daughter  of  an  actor  and  actress,  both  on 
the  Dublin  boards.  This  name  would  have  thus  readily  offered 
itself;  or  he  might  have  wished  to  pass  as  a  connection  of 
Giffard's.  It  has  been  always  repeated  that  Aboan  in  "  Oro- 
nooko  "  was  his  first  attempt;  and  it  may  have  been,  but  there 
is  no  record  of  it.  Davies  says  that  he  had  been  determined 
in  the  choice  of  his  character  by  the  disguise  of  a  blackened 
face,  which  would  protect  him  in  case  of  failure.  He  was 
received  very  warmly  in  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  and  made  a 
"  hit,"  though  it  was  after  considered  one  of  his  failures ;  and 
not  merely  the  townsfolk  but  even  the  county  squires  came 
flocking  in  to  see  him.  Then  he  gave  Captain  Brazen  in  the 
"  Recruiting  Officer,"  a  more  important  part  than  the  Sergeant 
Kite  he  had  played  with  the  Lichfield  children  years  before. 
One  of  the  Giffards,  alive  in  the  present  century,  related 
how  the  great  Garrick  had  once  played  Osric  to  his  Hamlet 
Yates,  long  after,  used  to  tell  his  friends  of  this  remarkable 
little  expedition,  and  no  doubt  was  mortally  jealous  of  the 
success  of  the  new  actor.  Yet  what  he  may  have  thought  was 
"  taking  the  bread  out  of  his  mouth  "  turned  out  fortunately  for 
him;  for  when  Garrick  came  to  the  command  of  a  theatre, 
the  very  first  thing  he  did  was  to  engage  Yates.* 

No  wonder  after  such  successes  he  returned  to  town  utterly 
unsettled. 

Flushed  with  this  success  he  applied  for  an  engagement  to 
the  managers  of  the  two  greater  houses — to  Rich  and  to  Fleet- 
wood, but  his  offers  were  declined.  The  town  managers  might 
smile  a  little  scornfully  at  mere  Ipswich  credentials.  A  small, 
well-made  young  man,  of  genteel  appearance,  seemed  scarcely 
of  the  stuff  for  a  tragedian  of  the  first  class.  A  greater  trial  to  his 
candid,  open  nature,  was  the  having  to  counterfeit  an  interest 

To  which  will  be  added  a  new  Dramatic  Satire  (as  it  was  performed  last 
winter  at  the  theatre  at  Goodman's  Fields  with  great  applause);  called 

LETHE  ;  or,  ^ESOP  IN  THE  SHADES. 

JSsop  by  Mr.  Oiffard ;  Ventre- Bleu  by  Mr.  Lyddall ;  Sir  Willing  Rattle 

by  Mr.  Marr  ;  Macboggio  by  Mr.  Yates  ;  Scrape,  the  Attorney,  Mr.  Paget ; 

Morning,  Mrs.  Deinstall;  Charon,  Mr.  Deinstall ;  Lady  Rakeit,  Mrs.  Yates  ; 

Mr.  Thomas,  Mr.  Crofts  ;  Miss  Lucy,  Miss  Hippisley. 

The  Scene  being  a  sequel  to  "  The  Virgin  Unmasked,"  with  an  Epilogue 

by  Miss  Hippisley. 
To  begin  exactly  at  seven  o'clock. 
Tickets  to  be  had,  and  places  to  be  taken  at  Mr.  Rook's,  opposite  the 

Theatre. 
*  John  Taylor  often  heard  him  tell  of  the  Ipswich  party.       In  fact, 
Yates  was  the  authority  for  all  details  in  the  matter,  and  must  have  told. 
Davies  and  Murphy  all  they  have  given. 


1741.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  37 

in  their  business,  when  Peter  arrived  in  town  on  a  visit  from 
Lichfield.  He  knew  how  shocked  the  decent  brother  would  be, 
and  the  little  coterie  of  canons,  soldiers,  doctors,  who  made  up 
"genteel"  society  there,  at  such  a  piece  of  news.  But  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  for  good.  It  was  perhaps  the  best 
course  he  could  take;  and  as  failure  and  bankruptcy  were 
sure  to  come  presently,  from  this  state  of  indecision,  it  was 
wiser  to  make  the  experiment — to  win  or  fail,  and  thus  settle 
matters  finally  one  way  or  the  other.  The  necessity  for  con- 
cealment in  presence  of  his  solemn  brother — the  serious 
responsibility  and  struggle — threw  him  into  the  utmost 
dejection  of  spirits,  and  brought  on  a  severe  illness.  Peter 
returned  home  to  Lichfield  without  a  suspicion  of  the  cause. 

Thus  time  passed  by.  Suddenly  on  a  certain  morning  in 
October,  1741,  Mr.  Peter  Garrick  received  two  letters — one 
from  Dr.  Swinf en,  a  family  friend  and  physician,  who  knew  and 
attended  the  Johnson  and  Garrick  families, — the  other  from 
his  brother.  Both  were  to  the  same  effect ;  and  both  contained 
the  fatal  piece  of  news,  broken  to  the  shocked  Peter,  with  every 
art  of  excuse  and  appeal  to  brotherly  affection  and  personal 
interest.  The  step  had  been  taken,  "the  Rubicon  crossed:" 
on  the  night  before,  Mr.  David  Garrick  had  appeared  before  a 
London  audience  at  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre  with  the  most 
astounding  success  J 


/ 


CHAPTER  HL 

FIRST  APPEARANCE. — 1741-1742. 

The  two  letters  must  have  spread  dismay  and  grief  through 
the  Garrick  household ;  as,  indeed,  every  line  of  them  seemed 
to  anticipate.  Mr.  Swinfen  wrote  with  the  sense  of  age  and 
experience,  but  evidently  approached  tin  subject  with  trepida- 
tion. "  Many  of  his  country  friends,  who  have  been  most  used 
t6  theatrical  performances  in  Town  Halls,  &c,  by  strolers,  will  be 
apt  to  imagine  the  highest  pitch  a  man  can  arrive  at  on  the 
stage  is  about  that  exalted  degree  of  heroism  as  the  Herberts 
and  the  Hallams  have  formally  made  us  laugh  and  cry  with. 
There  were1  many,"  he  went  on,  "who  because  their  fathers 
were  called  gentlemen,  or  perhaps  themselves  the  first,  will 
think  it  a  disgrace  and  a  scandal  that  a  child  of  theirs  should 
attempt  to  earn  an  honest  livelihood,  and  not  be  content  to 
live  all  his  life  in  a  scanty  manner  because  his  father  was  a 
gentleman."    This  was  clearly  the  Lichfield  theory.    But  he 


►88  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

knew  very  well  that  his  friend,  "  Mr.  Peter  Garwick  " — so  he 
spells  it — will  not  be  guided  by  these  prejudices.  "  I  think  I 
know  you  well  enough  to  be  convinced  that  you  have  not  the 
same  sentiments,  and  I  hope  there  are  some  others  of  his  friends 
who  will  not  alter  their  opinion  or  regard  for  him,  till  they 
find  the  stage  corrupts  his  morals  and  make  him  less  deserving, 
which  I  do  not  take  by  any  means  to  be  a  necessary  conse- 
quence, or  likely  to  happen  to  my  honest  friend  David."  But  as 
he  does  not  doubt  but  that  Mr.  Peter  would  soon  hear  the  news 
"  that  my  good  friend  David  Garwick  performed  last  night  at 
Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  for  fear  he  should  hear  a  false  or 
malicious  account,  I  will  give  you  the  truth,  which  much 
pleased  "me.  For  I  was  tliere"  goes  on  this  good  friend,  "  and 
was  witness  to  the  most  general  applause  he  gained  in  the 
character  of  King  Richard  y*  Third.  For  I  believe  there  was 
not  one  in  the  house  that  was  not  in  raptures,  and  I  heard 
several  men  of  judgment  declare  it  their  opinion  that  nobody 
ever  excelled  him  in  the  part ;  and  that  they  were  surprised  that, 
With  so  peculiar  a  genius,  how  it  was  possible  for  him  to  keep 
tcT the  stage  sol  long."  This  was  all  friendly  and  rational ;  but 
to  one  that  believed  the  step  itself  was  degradation,  the  news 
at  best  was  but  that  of  success  in  that  degradation. 

The  same  post  brought  David's  letter ;  and  it  is  now  curious 
to  look  at  the  faded  coffee-coloured  writing,  and  think  how  the 
fingers  that  penned  that  writing  were  almost  trembling  with 
the  excitement  of  the  night  before.  "Dear  Peter,"  it  began  ; 
and  with  an  affectation  of  carelessness,  goes  on  to  tell  him  "  how 
the  shirt  came  down  safe."  He  has  now  to  announce  to  him 
what,  he  supposes,  he  has  already  heard — though  it  is  proper 
to  preface  some  things  which  will  make  him  appear  less  culpable 
in  his  brother's  opinion.  One  was  the  state  of  their  business, 
into  which  he  had  gone  carefully,  and  discovered  heavy  and 
steady  losses.  Some  way  must  be  discovered  to  redeem  them. 
"  My  mind  (as  you  must  know)  has  always  been  inclined  to 
ye  stage ;  nay,  so  strongly,  that  all  my  late  illness  and  loss  of 
spirits  was  owing  to  the  struggle.  Finding  that  both  my  in- 
clination and  my  interest  required  some  new  way  of  life,  I  have 
chosen  y*  one  most  agreeable  to  myself ;  and  though  I  fear  you 
rwill  be  much  displeased  at  me,  yet  I  hope  when  you  find  that  I 
have  if  genius  of  an  actor,  without  the  vices,  yon  will  think  less  severe 
of  me,  and  not  be  ashamed  to  own  me  for  a  brotliei'."  As  for  the  wine 
Business,  he  will  send  him  his  share  in  money,  or  settle  it  in 
any  way  that  he  likes.  "Last  night,"  he  goes  on,  plunging 
desperately  into  the  dreadful  revelation,  "I  played  KingRieliard 
the  Third,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody;"  and,  as  an  appeal  to 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  39 

Peter's  business  views,  "  I  shall  make  very  nearly  £300  per 
annum  by  it,  and  as  it  is  what  I  doat  upon,  I  am  resolved  to 
pursue  it."  Now,  the  news  being  out,  he  stops  Peter's  protest 
by  business  again.  "I  believe  I  shall  have  Bowers's  money,  and 
which  shall  go  towards  my  part  of  the  wine  you  have  at  Lich- 
field. Pray  write  me  an  answer  immediately."  In  a  sort  of 
postscript,  he  goes  back  to  the  stage.  "  I  have  a  farce  ('  Y*  Lying 
Valet ')  coming  out  at  Drury  Lane."  His  mind  was  indeed  in 
a  whirl.  The  splendid  success  of  the  night — the  blazing  foot- 
lights— were  before  his  eyes — the  roar  of  applause  was  in  his 
ears. 

That  first  night  was  well  remembered.  There  were  many 
who,  long  after,  told  how  they  sat  in  the  boxes  or  pit  and  had 
seen  the  "  great  Garrick  "  play  his  first  play.  Among  these 
was  Macklin,  'with  whom  had  been  debated  the  choice  of  a  play 
for  the  ddbut,  and  who  had  approved  of  the  young  player's 
motive  for  the  selection  of  Richard — namely,  its  suiting  his 
figure  so  much  better  than  any  other.  Even  this  showed  a 
prudence  and  care  not  to  lose  a  single  point ;  though  on  the 
next  morning  no  one  thought  of  his  stature,  and  he  was  free  to 
choose  what  part  he  would.  In  truth,  he  might  have  reflected 
that  the  opening  was  singularly  favourable.  The  theatres  were 
all  in  disorder.  Quin  and  Delano  were  the  only  actors  of  note. 
Quin's  stiff,  drill-sergeant  style  of  gesture  and  declamation  had 
grown  to  be  tedious.  Macklin's  Shylock  had  been  but  the  sensa- 
tion of  a  night.  Quin's  Richard,  Lear,  and  Macbeth,  were  all 
inferior.  If  the  new  actor  had  "the  stuff"  in  him,  now  the 
opportunity  favoured  him. 

The  company  with  whom  he  was  to  play  was  unpretending. 
Miss  Hippisley,  "the  leading  lady,"  who  sang  fairly  in  little 
ballad  operas;  Peter  Bardin,  an  Irish  general  "utility"  actor; 
the  two  Giffards,  and  Blakes,*  were  the  most  conspicuous.  It 
is  evidence  of  the  social  state  of  the  unhappy  players,  that 
they  dared  not  call  their  house  a  theatre,  but  "  the  late  theatre." 
Tickets  were  to  be  taken  for  this  momentous  night  at  "  The 
Fleece,"  a  tavern  close  by,  and  the  best  box  places  were  three 
shillings.  As  the  audience  read  the  bills,  the}'  saw  that  the 
leading  part  was  to  be  taken  by  "  a  gentleman  who  had  never 

*  One  of  these  Goodman's  Fields  actors  who  played  with  Garrick  was 
called  "  Dagger  Marr,"  whom  Mr.  Taylor  had  seen  in  his  boyhood.  He 
used  to  play  murderer's  parts,  and  long  after  forced  the  present  of  a  turkey 
on  Garrick,  which  the  latter  accepted,  not  to  mortify  him,  though  he  had 
plenty  of  turkeys  at  Hampton.  Marr  was  asked  did  Garrick  take  the 
present?  "Take  it!"  said  the  actor,  with  characteristic  meanness,  "he 
would  have  taken  it  had  U  been  a  roll  and  treacle." 


40  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

appeared  on  any  stage;"*  and  it  is  certain  that  the  news  of  the 
coming  ddbut  had  been  known  at  all  the  coffee-houses,  and  drew 
a  strong  muster  of  his  private  friends.  Otherwise  the  house 
was  not  crowded.  Indeed,  there  had  been  so  many  first 
appearances  of  incapable  amateurs  who  had  failed  outrageously, 
that  this  announcement  was  more  likely  to  repel  than  attract. 
The  playhouse  itself  presented  a  handsome  show.  In  an  oval 
over  the  stage  was  a  sort  of  apotheosis  of  the  King,  attended 
by  Peace,  Liberty,  and  Justice,  and  "  trampling  Oppression  " 
under  foot — the  popular  attitude  for  "peaceful"  monarchy. 
Bound  the  ceiling  were  four  medallions  of  Shakspeare,  Dryden, 
Congreve,  with  Betterton,  alone  selected  to  be  put  in  company 
with  the  famous  dramatists.  The  "  plafond  "  was  gaily  painted 
with  scenes  from  famous  plays — Cato,  on  the  left,  pointing  to 
the  body  of  his  dead  son,  Marcius ;  in  the  centre,  "  Caesar 
stabbed  in  the  Senate-house."  On  the  right  was  the  parting  of 
Mark  Antony  and  Octavia ;  and  on  "  the  sounding  board  over 
the  stage  " — a  part  of  the  decoration  that  comes  on  us  with 
surprise — was  seen  Apollo  and  the  Nine  Muses.  Such  was  the 
interior  of  the  theatre,  which  we  are  told  was  looked  on  as  "a 
neat  and  elegant  piece  of  workmanship;"  "well-warmed,"  and 
to  this  plafond  must  the  fine  eyes  of  Garrick  have  often  wan- 
dered. 

On  that  Monday  night  the  performance  began  at  six  o'clock, 

*  A  fiction  allowed  in  his  profession.     No  copy  of  this  famous  bill  has 
been  preserved.    Fifty  years  ago  it  was  reprinted ;  but  it  is  not  clear 
whether  from  a  bill  or  the  newspaper  announcement.    I  possess  a  copy  of 
this  rare  reprint: — 
;,  October  19, 1741. 

At  the   Theatre  in  Goodman's  Fields,  this   day  will  be   performed, 
A  Concert  of  Vocal  and  Instrumental  Music,  divided  into  two  parts. 

Tickets  at  three,  two,  and  one  shilling. 

Places  for  the  Boxes  to  be  taken  at  the  Fleece  Tavern,  near  the  Theatre. 

N.B.  Between  the  two  Parts  of  the  Concert  will  be  presented  an  His- 
torical Play  called  the 

LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF 

KING  RICHARD  THE  THIRD. 

Containing  the  distresses  of  K.  Henry  6th. 

The  artful  acquisition  of  the  Crown  by  Ring  Richard. 

The  Murder  of  Young  King  Edward  5th,  and  his  Brother  in  the  Tower. 

The  landing  of  the  Earl  of  Richmond. 
And  the  Death  of  King  Richard  in  the  memorable  Battle  of  Bob  worth 
Field,  being  the  last  that  was  fought  between  the  Houses  of  York  and 
Lancaster ;  with  many  other  true  Historical  Passages. 

The  Part  of  King  Richard  by  a  Gentleman 
(who  never  appeared  on  any  Stage). 
King  Henry,  by  Mr.  Gififard  ;  Richmond,  Mr.  Marshall ;  Prince  Edward, 
by  Miss  Hippiuley ;   Duke  of  York,  Miss  Naylor ;    Duke  of  Buckingham, 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  41 

with  a  few  pieces  of  music.  Then  the  curtain  rose  on  "  The 
Life  and  Death  of  King  Richard  the  Third;"  and  after  the 
first  scene,  at  that  nervous  moment,  the  new  actor  came  from 
the  wing.* 

Macklin  always  talked  fondly  of  this  glorious  night — the  de- 
light he  felt,  the  amazing  surprise  and  wonder  at  the  daring 
novelty  of  the  whole,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  universal 
conviction  of  the  audience  that  it  was  right. 

It  was  recollected,  however,  that  when  the  new  actor 
came  upon  the  scene  and  saw  the  crowded  house,  he  was  dis- 
concerted, and  remained  a  few  seconds  without  being  able  to 
go  on.  But  he  recovered  himself.  No  wonder  it  surprised 
that  audience.  It  was  so  new — and  was  all  new.  The  sur- 
prising novelty  was  remarked,  "that  he  seemed  to  identify 
himself  with  the  part."  They  were  amazed  at  his  wonderful 
power  of  feature.  The  stupendous  passions  of  Richard  were 
seen  in  his  face  before  he  spoke,  and  outstripped  his  words. 
There  was  a  perpetual  change  and  vivacity.  One  effect 
at  last  overbore  all  hesitation,  and  the  delighted  audience 
found  relief  for  their  emotions  in  rapturous  shouts  of  ap- 
plause. It  was  when  he  flung  away  the  Prayer  Book,  after 
dismissing  the  deputation — a  simple  and  most  natural  action, 
yet  marked  with  originality, — and  then  the  audience  first 
seemed  to  discover  this  was  true  genius  that  was  before  them. 

Mr.  Paterson ;  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Mr.  Blake* ;  Lord  Stanley,  Mr.  Pagett ; 
Oxford,  Mr.  Vaughan  ;  Tressell,  Mr.  W.  Giffard ;  Catesby,  Mr.  Marr ; 
Ratcliff,  Mrs.  Crofts  ;  Blount,  Mr.  Naylor  ;  Tyrrel,  Mr.  Puttenham  ;  Lord 
Mayor,  Mr.  Dunstall ;  the  Queen,  Mr*.  Steel ;  Duchess  of  York,  Mrs. 
Yates ;  and  the  part  of  Lady  Anne,  by  Mrs.  Giffard. 

WITH 

Entertainments  of  Dancing, 
By  Mons.  Fromet,  Madame  Duvalt,  and  the  Two  Masters  and 

Miss  Granier. 

To  which  will  be  added  a  Ballad  Opera  of  One  Act, 

called 

THE    VIRGIN    UNMASFD. 

The  Part  of  Lucy  by  Miss  Hippialey. 

Both  of  which  will  be  performed  Gratis  by 

Persons  for  this  Diversion. 

The  Concert  will  commence  exactly  at  six  o'clock. 
*  In  1822,  a  Mr.  Field  possessed  a  large  collection  of  checks  and  tickets  of 
all  the  theatres.  There  were  some  even  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  in  1671.  Some 
of  these  were  in  shape  of  copper  coins,  and  are  engraved  in  the  curious 
"  Londonia  Illustrata."  The  one  of  Goodman's  Fields  has  a  sketch  of 
the  theatre — church-like  in  shape — a  central  block,  with  a  gable,  and  two 
wings. 


42  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

When  ho  came  to  the  later  defiant  and  martial  phase  of  the 
character,  he  took  the  audience  with  him  in  a  tempest  of 
enthusiasm. 

"  What  do  they  in  the  North"— 

was  given  with  such  electric  enthusiasm  and  savageness,  as  to 
cause  a  thrill  to  flutter  round  the  hearers ;  and  when  he  came 
to  the  effective  clap-trap,  "off  with  his  head,"  his  "visible 
enjoyment  of  the  incident "  was  so  marked,  that  the  audience 
burst  into  loud  shouts  of  delight  and  approbation.  What  a 
night  of  delight  to  look  back  to !  Yet  upon  reaching  this  point 
of  the  play,  his  vigour  and  animation  had  been  so  excessive 
that  his  voice  began  to  fail  him  at  the  most  critical  part.  He 
felt  himself  growing  hoarser  every  moment,  and  would  have 
been  overpowered  but  for  the  seasonable  relief  of  a  Seville 
orange.  Mr.  Dryden  Leach,  the  printer,  used  often  to  boast  how 
he  had  thus  indirectly  contributed  to  the  success  of  "  the  great 
Garrick." 

There  were  no  official  "  critiques  "  in  the  daily  papers  which 
set  out  elaborately  the  details  of  the  acting.  Journals  were 
too  small,  and  all  space  was  economised  strictly  for  news  ;  yet, 
under  such  conditions,  the  meagre  notice  to  be  read  next  morn- 
ing in  the  "Daily  Post"  becomes  very  significant.  For  its 
extent  is  almost  enthusiastic.  "Last  night,"  said  the  "Daily 
Post,"  "  was  performed  gratis  the  tragedy  of  '  King  Eichard 
the  Third'  at  the  late  theatre  in  Goodman's  Fields,  when 
the  character  of  Richard  was  performed  by  a  gentleman  who 
never  appeared  before,  whose  reception  was  the  most  extraor- 
dinary and  great  that  was  ever  known  on  such  an  occasion.  We 
hear  he  obliges  the  town  this  evening  with  the  same  per- 
formance." 

Another  criticism,  which  is  a  little  later  in  date,  speaks  of  him 
as  he  appeared  at  this  time.  It  remarked  his  nice  proportions, 
and  that  his  voice  was  clear  and  piercing,  perfectly  sweet  and 
harmonious,  without  monotony,  drawling,  or  affectation  :  it  was 
"  neither  whining,  bellowing,  nor  grumbling,  but  perfectly  easy 
in  its  transitions,  natural  in  its* cadence,  and  beautiful  in  its 
elocution.  He  is  not  less  happy  in  his  mien  and  gait,  in  which 
he  is  neither  strutting  nor  mincing,  neither  stiff  nor  slouching. 
When  three  or  four  are  on  the  stage  with  him,  he  is  attentive 
to  whatever  is  spoke,  and  never  drops  his  character  when  he  Jias 
finisJied  a  speech,  by  either  looking  contemptuously  on  an  inferior 
performer,  unnecessary  spitting,  or  suffering  his  eyes  to  icander  through 
tJie  whole  circle  of  spectators.  His  action  is  never  superfluous, 
awkward,  or  too  frequently  repeated,  but  graceful,  decent,  and 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  4$ 

becoming."*     This  is  worth  quoting,  even  as  showing  the  state 
in  which  the  new  actor  found  the  stage. 

The  cloak  of  mystery  as  to  the  name  was  kept  up  for  some 
time.  For  the  next  three  nights  the  play  was  repeated;  the 
part  of  Richard  by  a  "  gentleman  who  had  never  appeared  but 
twice  or  thrice. "  On  the  twenty-third  he  played  his  Ipswich 
part  of  Aboan  with  Yates,  and  with  the  same  success.  For  these 
nrst  seven  nights  the  success  was  more  with  the  audience  than 
with  the  town,  and  the  receipts  were  but  an  average  of  thirty 
pounds  a  night.  But  then  the  theatre  was  but  a  tiny  one. 
He  was  receiving  but  a  guinea  a  night.  Curiosity  was  only 
just  beginning  to  be  aroused,  and  the  procession  of  carriages 
had  not  yet  set  out  from  the  West  End. 

On  the  28th,  "  Love  Makes  a  Man "  was  given  with  "  JJon 
Dismailo;"  by  the  gentleman  who  performed  King  Richard. 
"  Mr.  Garrick  "  was  not  yet  announced.  On  the  2nd  of  November 
he  went  back  to  Richard,  and  on  that  night,  just  as  he  was 
getting  ready  to  go  on,  word  came  that  Mr.  Pope — then  sickly 
and  fast  failing — was  in  the  house.  He  felt  his  heart  palpi- 
tating, yet  it  only  inspired  him  with  confidence.  As  he  came 
from  the  wing  with  the  usual 

"  Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent,"  &c, 

he  could  see  a  little  figure  in  black,  seated  in  a  side-box,  whose 
eyes  seemed  to  shoot  through  him  like  lightning.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  was  disturbed — he  hesitated  a  little;  but  anxiety  gave  * 
place  to  joy  and  triumph.  The  poet,  he  could  see,  was  regard- 
ing him  with  a  serious  earnestness.  Timidity  wore  off;  the 
house  was  presently  in  a  roar  of  delight,  and  he  saw  the  great 
poet  applauding  heartily.  This  was  indeed  an  honour ;  for 
rope  had  given  up  theatres,  but  was  persuaded  to  come  up  by 
his  friend  Lord  Orrery.  He  was  charmed,  and  with  the  old 
natural  prejudice  in  favour  of  Betterton,  whom  he  thought  un- 
approachable, he  turned  to  his  friend  and  said,  "  That  young 
man  never  had  his  equal,  and  never  will  have  a  rival."  This 
was  reported  to  Garrick ;  as  was  also  the  poet's  apprehension 
lest  "  the  young  man  should  become  vain,  and  be  ruined  by 
applause."  But  nothing  was  more  unlikely.  In  every  step  of 
his  life — from  the  opening  to  the  end — there  was  no  lightness 
or  rashness,  but  a  careful  restraint,  and  making  good  his  ground 
as  he  went  along,  t 
The  poet  came  to  see  the  new  actor  no  less  than  three  times, 

*  This  critique  from  "  The  Champion,"  is  perhaps  unique.     It  is  in  Mr, 
Bullock's  curious  collection  of  cuttings,  MSS.,  on  Garrick's  playing, 
t  Garrick  described  the  whole  scene  himself  to  Stockdale. 


44  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

We  may  suspect  that  one  visit  was  on  the  night  of  November 
the  26th,  "  when  a  great  number  of  persons  of  quality  and  dis- 
tinction were  at  Goodman's  Fields,  to  see  '  King  Richard,'  who 
all  expressed  the  highest  satisfaction  at  the  whole  performance. 
Several  hundred  persons  were  obliged  to  return  for  want  of 
room,  the  house  being  full  soon  after  five  o'clock."  The  follow- 
ing night  came  his  own  farce  of  "  Lethe,"  while  Miss  Hippisley 
gave  a  song  called  "The  Life  of  a  Belle."  Then  followed  the 
"Orphan,"  with  "the  gentleman  who  played  Richard"  in 
"  Chamont ; "  then  a  long  interval  during  which  "  Pamela,"  in 
which  he  played  Jack  Smatter,  had  a  sort  of  run. 

Now  that  the  worst  was  over,  and  the  terrible  news  broken 
to  Lichfield,  it  is  curious  to  note  the  under-current  of  exultation 
in  his  future  letters.  Peter  "  Garwick,"  now  that  the  step  was 
irretrievable,  had  found  his  account  in  a  sort  of  aggrieved  and 
touchy  tone,  which  his  brother,  by  the  most  gentle  and  earnest 
appeals,  strove  to  adoucir.  Yet  with  what  impatience  must  he 
have  received  Brother  Peter's  jeremiad  from  Lichfield.  They 
were  all  dreadfully  shocked.  They  were  overwhelmed,  and  the 
two  sisters  who  lived  with  Peter  still  took  it  seriously  to  heart. 
He  was  not  to  be  brought  over.  David,  in  the  flush  of  his 
triumph,  has  once  more  to  take  up  his  pen  and  patiently  go 
over  the  old  ground.  On  the  morning  after  that  first  night  of 
triumph,  he  had  also  to  sit  down  and  break  the  news  to  other 
relations,  through  the  medium  of  Mr.  Peter  Fermignac.  He 
had  not  courage  to  approach  them  directly.  These  were  the 
La  Cond6s,  who  lived  at  Carshalton,  merchants  of  importance, 
and  people,  no  doubt,  of  the  "  strictest "  principles ;  and  on 
that  very  day  Mr.  Fermignac  addresses  himself  very  ruefully 
to  the  dreadful  business.  "  Dear  Madam,"  writes  that  gentle- 
man, on  Tuesday,  October  20th,  "enclosed  is  a  copy  of  a 
letter  sent  me  from  David  Garric,  who  played  CrooJc'dback 
Richard,  and  does  it  again  to-night  at  Goodman's  Fields."  No- 
thing could  be  more  blunt  or  significant — and  then  he  goes  on 
with  " The  Letter"  which  is  very  much  a  repetition  of  the  one 
sent  to  Peter  Garrick — the  excuse  of  no  profit  coming  in  from 
the  wine  business,  and  "  the  terrible  prospect  of  all  his  fortune 
running  out"  Had  he  been  the  most  prosperous  merchant  in 
town,  we  may  suspect  thoughts  and  wishes  would  have  been 
turning  to  the  same  darling  purpose.  What  gave  him  true 
concern  was,  lest  his  friends — especially  the  chief  of  them — 
those  at  Carslmlton,  should  be  very  cool  upon  him.  "  But 
what  can  I  do  ? "  he  pleads.  He  was  wholly  bent  on  the 
thing.  He  was  sure  to  make  £300  a-year.  He  designed  to 
give  up  the  wine  business — and  would  Mr.  Fermignac  break 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  45 

the  matter  to  his  uncle?  The  stage-door  would  be  always 
open  to  him — indeed,  any  part  of  the  house — a  privilege  which 
Mr.  Fermignac  thought  poorly  of ;  for  he  says,  in  the  same 
dismal  way,  "  This  is  his  letter,  which  I  leave  you  to  consider 
of,  and  am  very  sorry  for  the  contents,  but  thought  it  best  to 
communicate  them  to  you,  and  am  your  dutiful,    &c. 

On  receipt  of  which,  this  important  uncle  wrote  down 
angrily  to  Lichfield,  blaming  Peter  for  concealing  the  state  of 
this  affair  from  him.  In  this  way  he  was  accountable  for  the 
fatal  disgrace  that  had  been  brought  on  them  all !  As  for  the 
stage,  he  said,  it  was  a  degrading  place,  and  players  a  low 
race,  contemned  by  all.  All  of  which  Peter  reports,  and  duly 
inflamed. 

Again,  in  reply,  David  appeals  to  his  brother  patiently  and 
argumentatively.  Resignedly  he  accepts  the  notice  of  oppo- 
sition ;  goes  again  over  what  he  had  argued  before.  As  for 
this  uncle's  displeasure,  it  was  no  fault  of  Peter's,  but  all  his, 
David's,  wilfulness — as  they  had  no  very  great  failures  in 
trade,  and  the  wine  business  was  certainly  succeeding  a  little. 
But  run  out  he  was,  and  let  him  live  ever  so  warily,  must  run 
out  still  more.  And,  indeed,  let  Peter  reflect  on  this  a  little 
seriously.  Could  he,  David,  ever  hope  to  make  enough  to 
maintain  himself  and  a  servant  handsomely ?  "As  for  the 
stage,  I  know,  in  the  general,  it  deserves  your  censure ; "  but 
he  should  consider  how  handsomely  some  players  have  lived. 
Look  at  Wilks,  Booth,  and  Cibber,  who  were  admitted  into 
and  admired  by  the  best  company — and  as  to  his  genius  in 
that  way  ("  by  y°  best  judges  thought  wonderful ! "),  there 
was  not  merely  his  own  inclination,  but  even  friends,  who 
were  averse  before,  now  thought  it  impossible  for  him  to  keep 
off  the  stage.  Then  he  tries  to  dazzle  Peter  with  an  array  of 
gentility — the  attentions,  favours,  and  praises  that  are  heaped 
upon  him.  He  has  enjoyed  more  civilities  from  "  the  Best  in 
Tx>wn  "  since  his  playing,  than  he  ever  received  before  in  the 
whole  of  his  life.  In  short,  it  would  be  too  vain  to  repeat  all 
he  had  heard,  even  to  a  brother.  "  I  am  sorry  my  sisters  are 
under  such  uneasiness,  and  as  I  really  love  both  them  and 
you,  will  ever  make  it  my  study  to  appear  your  affectionate 
brother."  But,  secure  in  his  position  of  being  "aggrieved," 
the  other  is  still  obdurate.  These  gentle  remonstrances  are 
only  homage  to  his  influence  and  judgment.  He  writes  back 
to  protest,  warn,  discourage.  He  knew  whose  doing  it  was. 
That  Giffard,  the  player,  had  entrapped  him,  had  got  money 
out  of  him.  He,  Peter,  would  never  agree.  Some  remon- 
strance— nay,  some  solemn  warning — was  indeed  a  duty  in  a 


46  THE  LIFK  OF  DAVTD  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

relation  on  what  might  have  been  a  fatal  step ;  but  he  must, 
indeed,  have  been  a  dull  fellow  not  to  have  seen  that  the  young 
man's  purpose — for  all  his  pleading  for  permission — was 
utterly  unchangeable.* 

Weeks  go  by,  and  Peter,  down  at  Lichfield,  remains  discon- 
tented, and  his  brother,  with  the  sweetness  and  patience 
which  such  triumphant  success  would  soon  have  dispelled  in 
another,  still  soothes  and  reasons  with  him.  As  to  Giffard, 
thirty  pounds  was  all  he  had  ever  lent  that  actor,  and  that 
had  been  repaid  long  since.  His  benefit  was  now  coming  on, 
for  which  he  had  been  offered  one  hundred  and  twenty 
guineas  on  mere  speculation",  on  which  occasion  "pit  and 
boxes  would  be  put  together  " — a  piece  of  playhouse  language 
which  would  have  jarred  on  them  at  Lichfield  —  and  be 
charged  the  same  price.  All  his  friends  would  rally  round 
him — friends  who  continue  so — though  his  dear  brother  is  not 
to  be  brought  over.     If  Peter  would  only  come  up  for  that 

•eat  night,  lie  would  take  care  of  him  at  his  own  lodgings. 

Iverything  was  going  on  happily;  he  has  even  reason  to 
know  that  the  important  uncle  will  be  reconciled  to  him ;  "for 
£ven  the  mercliants  say  I  will  be  an  honour  to  him."  Peter  writes 
back,  a  little  softened,  that  though  he  never  can  approve  of 
the  stage,  he  is  still  David's  affectionate  brother — a  handsome 
and  gracious  concession,  very  gratefully  received  by  the  other. 
But  he  was  still  aggrieved.  David's  step  must  hurt  him  in 
his  business — though,  as  we  have  seen,  that  business  was 
"  hurt "  sufficiently  before  the  step  was  taken.  That  retort, 
however,  was  not  to  come  from  David.  "If  you  want 
money,"  he  said,  "  you  shall  have  all  I  have ; "  and,  indeed,  by 
playing  and  writing,  he  thought  he  was  more  likely  to  help 
his  brother  in  that  way.  He  has  money  now,  and  will  be 
able  to  buy  two  hundred  pounds'  worth  of  the  wine  stock ; 
and  if  Peter  wants  more  than  his  proper  share,  he  can  send 
him  supplies.  Giffard  had  given  him  twenty  guineas  for  a 
single  ticket  (there  was  something  to  dazzle  the  heavy  soul  of 
Peter !).  At  their  little  theatre  they  were  doing  finer  business 
than  even  at  the  two  great  houses  of  Drury  Lane  and  Covent 
Garden.  Fleetwood  had  come  to  him  with  great  offers ;  so, 
after  all  this,  may  he  venture  to  tell  his  brother  that  he  is  very 
nearly  quite  resolved  to  be  a  player?  Peter  had  nothing  to 
urge  in  reply — "grumbling,"  as  well  as  argument,  had  been 
exhausted.  But  there  was  one  dreadful  matter  that  should  be 
cleared  up.     An  awful  rumour  had  got  down  to  Lichfield. 

•  ForsterMSS. 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  47 

Had  his  brother  been  really  playing  Harlequin,  before  he  came  out 
at  Goodman's  Fields  ?  This  dreadful  charge  he  thus  meets  : — 
"  Yates  last  season  was  taken  very  ill,  and  was  not  able  to 
begin  the  entertainment ;  so  I  put  on  the  dress  and  did  two 
or  three  scenes  for  him ;  but  no  one  knew  it  but  Giffard.  I 
know  it  has  been  said  I  played  Harlequin  at  Covent  Garden ; 
but  'tis  quite  false."  He  had  determined  firmly  to  wind  up 
the  trade  partnership.  "  /  received  my  shirt  safe,  and  am  now 
to  tell  you  what  I  suppose  you  may  have  heard  of  before  this ; 
but  before  I  let  you  into  the  affairs,  'tis  proper  to  premise 
some  things  that  I  may  appear  less  culpable  in  your  opinion. 
I  have  made  an  exact  estimate  of  my  stock  of  wine,  and  what 
money  I  have  out  at  interest,  and  find  that  since  I  have  been 
a  wine  merchant  I  have  run  out  near  £400.  Trade  not  in- 
creasing, I  was  very  sensible  some  way  must  be  thought  of  to 
redeem  it.  My  mind  (as  you  must  know)  has  been  always 
inclined  to  the  stage ;  nay,  so  strongly,  that  all  my  illness  and 
lowness  of  spirits  was  owing  to  my  want  of  resolution  to  tell  you 
my  thoughts  when  here.  Finding  at  last  both  my  inclination 
and  interest  required  some  new  way  of  life,  I  have  chose  the 
most  agreeable.  I  am  willing  to  agree  to  anything  you  may 
propose  about  the  wine.  I  will  take  a  thorough  survey  of  the 
vaults,  and,  making  what  you  have  at  Lichfield  part  of  stock, 
will  either  send  you  your  share,  or  any  other  way  you  shall 
propose." 

It  was  now  Christmas.  The  farce  by  the  new  actor  had 
come  out  at  Goodman's  Fields — not  at  Drury  Lane,  as  was 
originally  proposed.  This  was  "  The  Lying  Valet,"  with  Gar- 
rick  himself  in  the  part  of  Sharp.  It  was  thought,  said  its 
author,  the  most  diverting  farce  ever  performed.  A  general 
roar  from  beginning  to  end !  He  has  "now  got  courage  to  send 
it  down  to  Lichfield. 

His  industry  and  versatility  were  no  less  remarkable.  They 
were  as  yet  not  able  to  determine,  he  told  his  brother,  whether 
he  was  best  in  tragedy  or  comedy.  In  settling  this  point  he 
certainly  fell  into  mistakes ;  for  he  imperilled  his  reputation 
by  taking  up  such  flimsy  parts  as  Jack  Smatter  in  "  Pamela," 
and  Clody  in  the  "  Fop's  Fortune."  Very  soon  he  took  friends' 
advice,  and  gave  up  the  practice.  But  he  was  privately 
studying  Othello  and  Bayes,  from  which  Giffard  had  great 
hopes. 

On  December  2nd,  the  night  of  his  benefit,  the  veil  was  at 
last  raised,  and  it  was  announced  that  "  the  gentleman  who 
played  King  llkhard"  was  Mr.  Garrick,  who  would  now 
appear  in  "  The  Fair  Penitent,"  to  be  given  gratis.    Tickets 


48  THE  LIFE  Off  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741— 

were  to  be  had  at  the  Bedford  Coffee-house,  Toms'  in  Cornhill, 
Cary's  in  the  Minories,  at  the  Fleece,  and  at  Mr.  Garrick's 
lodgings  in  Mansfield-street,  Goodman's  Fields.  "The  stage 
will  be  built  as  after  the  manner  of  an  amphitheatre,  where 
servants  will  be  allowed  to  keep  places,  and  tikcwise  in 
the  front  boxes,  but  not  in  the  pit.  A  seat  in  either  pit 
or  box  was  f our  shillings,  equal  to  about  seven  in  our  time  ;* 
and  the  gallery  was  one  and  sixpence.  The  servants  were 
required  to  be  there  by  three  o'clock  ! 

Already  he  had  fast  friends,  who  revelled  and  triumphed  in 
his  triumph.  Among  these  was  one  who  was  proud  to  call 
himself  "his  friend,  countryman,  and  servant" — Newton, 
the  future  bishop — and  who  was  now  tutor  in  Lord  Car- 
penter's family.  This  clergyman  was  charmed  even  to  en- 
thusiasm with  his  friend's  genius.  He  encouraged  him,  and 
bade  him  make  no  excuses  for  adopting  such  a  profession ;  for 
long  before,  he  had  always  believed  "  he  was  a  born  actor,  if 
ever  man  was  so."  And  he  confidently  made  a  prophecy, 
which  came  true  in  a  more  remarkable  degree  than  he  could 
have  anticipated,  that  this  taking  to  the  stage  would  not  hurt 
his  character,  but  would  make  his  fortune.  And  to  the  young 
man,  a  little  nervous  lest  his  aristocratic  friends  should  think 
meanly  of  him  for  taking  such  a  step,  this  friendly  clergy- 
man gave — a  little  awkwardly  perhaps — some  kindly  comf ort> 
assuring  him  "that  an  excellent  actor,  if  he  is  at  the  same 
time  an  honest,  worthy  man,  is  a  fit  companion  for  anybody." 
The  clergyman  went  again  and  again  to  see  him,  and  made  the 
dining-room  at  Grosvenor-square  ring  again  with  praises  and 
raptures  over  his  friend,  and  made  Mr.  Garrick  secure 
places  for  them — at  one  time  the  stage-box — "  where  we  may 
see  your  looks  in  the  scene  with  Lady  Anne,  and  as  you  lie  on 
the  couch;  that  is,  that  we  may  sit,  with  the  stage  on  our 
right  hand  and  the  pit  on  our  left"  So  particular  and  eager 
was  the  clergyman.  The  lord  and  his  family  only  smiled  at 
their  tutor's  extravagance ;  but  when  they  went,  became  fully 
as  rapturous,  declaring  they  had  never  seen  the  like  before, 
and  that  it  passed  all  expectation.  Presently  they  were 
making  up  distinguished  parties  to  go  from  Grosvenor-square 
to  Goodman's  Fields.  But  a  yet  more  marked  compliment 
was  the  great  Mrs.  Porter,  the  retired  actress,  coming  up  to 
town  specially,  and  fixing  to  go  with  them.  She  was  charmed. 
She  said  the  youth  was  a  born  actor,  and  knew  more  at  his 
first  appearance  than    others  after  twenty  years'  training. 

*  They  had  raised  the  prices  a  shilling. 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  49 

"  Good  God  ! "  added  she,  as  they  were  talking  over  it  at  the 
Carpenters',  "  what  will  he  be  in  time  ? "  Some  one  then  said 
that  he  thought  his  Lord  Foppington  was  inferior;  on  which 
the  old  actress  quickly  took  him  up,  saying  it  was  impossible 
for  young  Garrick  to  do  anything  ill,  and  that  he  might  excel 
less  in  that ;  but  excel  he  must  in  everything.  All  this  was 
most  encouraging  and  delightful.* 

Towards  Christmas,  Newton  sent  him  eager  news  that  Mr. 
Pulteney  was  anxious  to  hear  him  in  "The  Orphan,"  and 
"  The  Lying  Valet,"  and  had  begged  that  some  night  might  be 
fixed.  The  clergyman  seemed  a  little  awe-struck  at  th  s 
honour.  There  should  be  "  a  front  box,"  specially  secured,  z  s 
being  most  commodious.  But  the  young  actor  was  careless,  or 
perhaps  did  not  hold  the  matter  to  be  of  such  importance  as 
did  Lord  Carpenter's  tutor.  It  came  to  the  end  of  January, 
and  the  "Orphan"  had  not  been  played.  Now  Parliament 
was  meeting,  and  there  was  an  election  petition  to  be  heard  at 
the  bar;  and  it  was  impossible  for  Mr.  Pulteney  to  come  on 
the  next  night.  So  the  box  need  not  be  kept.  A  lady  of 
consequence,  too,  had  disappointed.  It  was,  in  fact,  most 
probable  that  Mr.  Pulteney  might  not  be  able  to  come  at  all. 
"  It  would  certainly  have  been  a  great  honour  to  you,  if  of  no 
other  advantage,  for  such  a  person  as  Mr.  Pulteney  to  come  so 
far  to  be  one  of  your  audience;  and  if  I  had  been  in  your 
capacity  I  should  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  have 
strained  a  point,  or  done  almost  anything  rather  than  have 
disappointed  him.  I  would  have  acted  that  night,  if  I  had 
spared  myself  all  the  rest  for  it."  Lord  Bath  was  to  be,  later, 
one  of  the  warmest  friends  of  Mrs.  Garrick,  and  some  of  the 
most  charming  letters  that  an  old  gallant  could  write  were 
addressed  by  him  to  her.  The  tutor  was  naturally  anxious 
about  a  patron,  whose  interest  was  later  to  make  him  a  bishop. 

In  a  few  weeks  later,  Mr.  Pulteney  was  heard  asking 
Mrs.  Deanes,  one  of  the  Carpenter  family,  "  when  were  we  to 
go  to  Goodman's  Fields  ? "  and  the  party  was  actually  made 
up,  and  appointed  for  the  third  night  of  "Lear,"  which,  as 
will  be  seen,  was  properly  its  first  night.  It  was  a  long 
journey  from  Grosvenor-square,  nearly  four  miles.  They 
went  in  "  Mrs.  Deanes'  coach,"  and  Lord  Carpenter's  footman 
was  sent  on  early  to  keep  places.  All  this,  more  than  a 
hundred  years  ago,  reads  like  making  up  a  party  to  go  to  the 

*  Dr.  Young,  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  who  was  bonr  in  1681,  had 
teen  Betterton,  and  pronounced  Garrick,  contemptuously,  "  only  a  boy  to 
him."  Lord  Cobham,  however,  who  had  also  seen  the  great  actor, 
thought  Garrick  not  inferior. 

E 


50  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1741 — 

play  during  the  present  week.  Yet,  from  all  omission  of  Mr. 
rulteney's  opinion  and  approbation,  in  a  letter  written  after 
the  performance,  it  may  be  doubted  if  the  statesman  did  go 
after  all.* 

The  new  actor,  indeed,  must  have  been  overwhelmed  with 
the  brilliancy  of  his  own  success.  He  would  have  been  more 
than  mortal  could  he  have  withdrawn  himself  from  the  splen- 
did homage  that  was  paid  to  his  talents.  Mr.  Glover,  of 
Leonidas  fame,  was  to  be  seen  in  the  boxes  every  night,  and 
protested  there  had  not  been  such  acting  "  for  ten  years  " — a 

Eariod  he  might  have  put  further  back  very  safely.  Mr. 
yttleton,  the  Prince's  favourite,  was  his  friend,  and  held  out 
hopes  of  the  Prince  himself  coming.  Others  joined  in  these 
compliments.  "Mr.  Pit"  said  he  was  the  only  actor  in 
England.  Presently  the  elegant  Murray,  whose  leading  of 
the  dusty  ranks  of  the  Bar  did  not  interfere  with  elegant  amuse- 
ments, was  to  have  him  at  supper  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  He 
was  presently  to  sup  with  Mr.  Pope,  on  Mr.  Murray's  intro- 
duction. He  was  soon  to  dine  with  Lord  Halifax,  then  with 
Lord  Sandwich,  and  again  with  Lord  Halifax,  to  meet  Lord 
Chesterfield.  "In  short,"  he  writes  to  Brother  Peter,  "no 
being,  I  believe  (as  an  actor),  was  ever  more  caressed,  and 
my  character,  as  a  private  man,  makes  them  more  desirous  of 
my  company  (all  this  entre  rums,  as  one  brother  to  another)." 

Mr.  Hawkins  Brown,  who  wrote  the  pleasant  burlesque  of 
"  The  Pipe  of  Tobacco,"  was  also  his  friend,  t  These  "civilities" 
were  wonderful ;  but  he  was  all  the  while  reaping  more 
substantial  benefits  than  dinners  with  lords,  or  suppers  with 
wits.  The  modest  three  hundred  a-year  to  which  he  looked 
forward  was  already  expanding;  Giffard  had  now  associated 
him  with  himself  in  the  management  of  the  house,  and  was 
sharing  the  profits  with  him.  It  was  scarcely  unreasonable 
that  he  should  wish  to  have  his  pittance  of  a  guinea  a  night 
raised. J     But  the  "rush"  had  not  as  yet  come.     Presently 

*  Mrs.  Deanes  was  a  remarkable  person  in  her  way,  being  the  widow  of 
the  poet  Rowe. 

t  Garrick  used  to  tell  how,  at  this  triumphant  season,  when  his  com- 
pany was  sought  by  all  the  town,  he  had  been  brought  by  a  friend  to  the 
house  of  old  Speaker  Onslow,  whom  his  friend  was  most  anxious  should 
hear  him.  The  Speaker  4id  not  care  much  for  plays,  and  when  told  that 
the  young  actor  had  been  induced  to  stand  up  and  favour  the  company 
with  his  great  dagger  scene  in  "  Macbeth,"  he  bowed  assent  But  at  the 
pause — one  of  the  grand  "points"  which  preceded  the  speech — the  old 
man's  voice  was  heard,  "Pray,  sir,  was  you  at  the  turnpike  meeting  at 
Epsom  on  Thursday  ? " — Cradock. 

$  Giffard's  son  used  to  tell  how,  at  the  end  of  this  first  great  week,  he 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  51 

word  went  forth  at  the  other  side  of  town  that  the  new  actor 
was  to  be  "the  fashion."  Ladies  of  quality  were  presently  to 
pronounce  his  name,  and  the  spell  began  to  work.  Not  yet, 
however,  were  "  the  dozen  dukes "  to  be  seen  in  the  boxes, 
one  of  whom,  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  was  to  declare  him 
superior  to  Betterton.  The  town  was  growing  "horn  mad 
after  him ; "  though  it  was  certainly  strange  that  two  men 
of  the  caste  and  gifts  of  Walpole  and  Gray  should  affect  to 
"  see  nothing  "  in  him.  That  such  a  surprising  success  should 
have  raised  up  enemies  was  only  natural.  One  report  was 
diligently  sent  about  that  he  had  appeared  at  the  mas- 
querades in  some  unbecoming  character;  which  he  took  the 
trouble  to  contradict  by  a  card  in  the  " London  Daily  Post"  He 
begged  to  assure  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  "  who  were  offended 
with  him  without  a  cause "  that  he  was  not  at  either  of  the 
masquerades  that  season,  as  could  be  proved.  If  any  person 
had  a  wish  to  be  further  satisfied,  he  was  quite  willing  to  do 
so  in  person,  and  in  the  fullest  way. 

Old  Cibber,  a  waif  and  stray  of  the  past,  much  discon- 
tented, looked  on  sourly.  His  own  son— afterwards  to  be  a 
bitter  enemy  of  the  new  actor — was  on  the  stage,  and  in 
possession  of  a  good  many  of  Garrick's  parts.  Though  Cibber 
had  true  contempt  for  his  son's  ability,  he  affected  to  consider 
him  superior  in  Bayes.  Every  one  was  coming  to  the  old  man 
to  sound  the  new  actor's  praises,  and  ask  his  opinion.  No 
doubt  he  was  told  of  Pope's  admiration.  It  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  one  who  had  seen  and  known  the  old  school, 
and  was  committed  by  long  criticism  and  years  of  writing  to 
that  school,  should  very  heartily  welcome  a  revolution  in  prin- 
ciples. He  would  lose  his  temper  on  this  subject,  and  depre- 
ciate the  actor  by  shrugs  and  "  pishes,"  and  bitter  remarks. 
Even  at  Toms'  Coffee-house,  where  he  was  playing  cards  one 
night  with  an  old  general,  the  subject  was  introduced,  and  put 
him  out  so  much,  that  he  revoked.     "  Have  you  no  diamonds, 

had  entered  the  room,  and  found  Giffard  and  Garrick  in  friendly  dispute 
about  six  guineas,  the  salary  for  the  first  week,  and  which  Garrick  gene- 
rously refused  to  accept  The  money  fell  on  the  floor,  and  there  lay ;  and 
he  carried  it  off  without  their  perceiving  it — Lee  Lewes,  "  Not  that  I 
expect,"  wrote  Macklin,  a  year  or  two  later,  in  his  violent  appeal  against 
Garrick,  "  you  will  discover  any  puncture  or  throb  at  your  heart  except  for 
the  further  advancement  of  your  own  wages ;  these  are  indeed  a  sort  of 
qualms  with  which  the  manager  will  find  you  continually  troubled.  Tou 
were  excessively  subject  to  them  whilst  you  acted  with  Mr.  Giffard  at 
Goodman's  Fields,  where  you  were  strangely  uneasy  in  your  mind,  and  had 
odd  fits  of  longing,  till  at  last  you  had  usurped  one-half  of  the  whole 
theatre  from  this  generous  manager." 

£  2 


i 


62  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

Mr.  Cibber  P  "Yes,  a  million,  by  G— <!,"  said  the  other, 
who  swore  terribly.  "And  why  not  play  them,  then  ?M  he 
was  asked,  pettishly.  One  of  the  good-natured  bystanders 
called  out  maliciously,  "Because  Garrick  would  not  let  him! " 

Another  night,  when  Garrick  had  been  playing  Fribble^  they 
were  still  harping  on  the  same  strain.  "  You  should  see  him," 
said  Cibber  to  a  certain  lord ;  "  he  is  the  completest  little  doll 
of  a  figure — the  prettiest  little  creature."  "  But  in  other  cha- 
racters," said  the  lord,  "  has  he  not  great  merit  t "  He  did 
not  answer  for  a  moment  Then  suddenly,  "  What  an  admir- 
able Fribble — such  mimicking,  ambling,  fidgeting !  Well,  he 
must  be  a  clever  fellow  to  write  up  to  his  own  character  so  excel- 
lently as  he  has  done  in  this  part"* 

Once  Mrs.  Woffington  gave  him  and  Arthur  Murphy  a  little 
dinner,  where,  as  usual,  he  spoke  with  great  contempt  of  Gar- 
rick. "  Come,  Colley,"  said  she,  "  you  must  confess  he  is  a 
very  clever  young  man."  He  owned  he  was  fair  enough  in 
Frtbble,  thus  always  carefully  avoiding  any  praise  of  his  really 
great  parts.  Again,  he  said,  his  son  was  much  superior  in 
Bayes.  Murphy  then  struck  in  and  joined  Mrs.  Woffington  in 
these  praises,  and  at  last  got  the  old  critic  to  admit  that  Gar- 
rick was  "  a  very  extraordinary  young  man."t 

Later  again,  when  Fleetwood  asked  in  the  green-room  when 
they  were  to  have  another  comedy  from  him — "  From  me  ! " 
cried  the  old  man;  "but  who  would  take  the  characters t " 
"  Why,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  "  there's  Garrick,  Macklin,  Clive, 
Pritchard — "  "  0  yes,"  said  Cibber,  "  I  know  the  list  very 
well ;  but  then,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff  very  deliberately,  "  where  the  devil  are  your  actors  f  "{ 

Quin's  position,  long  the  established  tragedian,  and  in  com- 
mand of  the  town,  was  cruelly  affected  by  the  new  actor's  suc- 
cess. He  was  at  once  thrust  down  and  deposed.  There  was. 
fatal  truth  in  the  hypothesis  he  threw  out  in  his  first  burst  of 

*  Nothing  is  more  curious  than  the  linking  of  distant  eras  by  a  genera* 
tion  or  two.  Hi*  era  had  stretched  back  to  the  days  of  William  the 
Third,  and  yet  the  mother  of  a  gentleman  who  died  not  many  years  since, 
recollected  this  veteran  perfectly,  standing  at  the  parlour  window  of  hia 
house  in  Berkeley-square  at  the  corner  of  Bruton-street,  "  drumming  with 
bis  fingers  on  the  frame."  He  seemed  to  her  a  calm,  grave,  and  reverend 
old  gentleman. — Taylor. 

t  Davies  makes  Mm  Bracegirdle  the  actress  in  this  story,  and  describe* 
Cibber  taking  snuff,  and  saying,  "  Faith,  Bracey,"  Ac. 

t  Davies  tells  the  story  better,  making  it  Garrick  who  puts  the  ques- 
tion. But  the  old  man,  some  time  after,  in  a  mixed  company,  gave  him  a 
very  happy  thrust  Garrick  said  the  old  style  would  not  go  down  now. 
"  How  do  you  know !"  replied  Cibber ;  "you  never  tried  it" 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE,  53 

disgust :  "  If  this  young  fellow  be  right,  then  we  have  been  all 
wrong."  He  secretly  believed  that  they  were  right,  and  there- 
fore the  "  young  fellow "  was  wrong.  But,  alas !  the  public 
were  deciding  the  question  rapidly,  and  without  any  question 
of  delicacy.  Such  dethronements  have  been  always  carried 
out  with  the  rudeness  of  a  cawp  d'ttat.  So  sudden  and  morti- 
fying a  desertion  is  always  incident  to  the  actor's  lot ;  this  was 
the  third  time  he  had  experienced  this  rude  shock.  On 
Booth's  death  he  had  reigned  supreme ;  when  suddenly  arose 
Delane,  and  Quin  found  himself  deserted.  Again,  Macklin's 
success  had  brought  a  fresh  abandonment.  Yet  there  was  a 
bluff  honesty  about  Quin — and  even  a  dignity — in  the  way 
in  which  he  set  himself  to  do  battle  for  his  throne ;  when  he 
found  himself  fairly  beaten,  he  gave  up  the  struggle,  and,  for 
a  time  at  least,  retired.  He  had  no  animosity  to  his  con- 
queror, and  could  later  become  his  warm  friend.  He  had  his 
jests  and  satirical  remarks,  the  best  of  which  was  his  calling 
Garrick  "the  Whitfidd  of  the  stage"  With  wit  and  truth, 
Quin  added  that  the  sectary  was  followed  foi  a  time,  but  they 
would  soon  all  be  coming  back  to  church  again.  Garrick  was 
told  of  his  speech,  and  retorted  in  smart  rhyme — 

"  Thou  great  Infallible,  forbear  to  roar, 
Thy  bulls  and  errors  are  revered  no  more  ; 
When  doctrines  meet  with  general  reprobation, 
It  is  not  heresy,  but  Reformation."* 

Garrick's  Bayes,  which  old  Cibber  so  depreciated,  was  the 
most  important  of  these  successes;  but  it  was  scarcely  so 
legitimate  a  triumph  as  some  of  his  others.  The  entire 
attraction  lay  in  the  admirable  burlesque  imitation  of  the 
mannerisms  of  the  ordinary  actors  of  the  time.  Leading 
actors  are  always  "  mannered,"  but  never  were  players  so  dis- 
mally monotonous  and  even  regimental  in  their  delivery, 
through  the  stiff,  inflexible  chaunt  they  were  compelled  to 
adopt.  As  a  revolutionist,  he  felt  he  must  act  on  the 
offensive,  and  his  best  engine  certainly  appeared  to  be  ridicule. 
It  was  given  in  February,  and  the  success  was  unbounded. 
There  he  had  a  field  literally  illimitable,  oh  which  he  could 
revel  in  versatility,  and  wit,  and  humour.  From  this  true 
comedy  had  Fielding  taken  his  "Pasquin,"  while  later  was  to 

*  Quin's  jests,  "  among  the  most  masterly  in  the  language/'  are  well 
known.  Not  so  familiar  are  a  number  that  will  be  found  in  Mr.  Taylor's 
amusing  Memoirs.  Cradock  gives  his  sketch  of  Warburton.  "  Why,"  said 
he,  "  when  he  gets  to  heaven,  he  will  be  seen  mounted  on  the  tallest  hone 
there,  and  calling  out  to  Paul, '  Hold  my  stirrup/  and  to  Peter. '  Bring  my 
whip.'" 


\ 


54  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

come  Sheridan  with  his  "Critic,"  who,  with  posterity,  will 
have  all  the  honour.  Yet  Garrick's  conception  and  treatment 
of  the  great  character  was  highly  shrewd  and  original,  for  he 
saw  that  he  was  alone,  and  comparatively  weak.  It  must  be 
owned  that  this  was  scarcely  a  dignified  proceeding,  and  he 
afterwards  regretted  it.  But  the  new  style  of  acting  he  had 
introduced  brought  him  enemies.  The  old  actors  affected  to 
think  he  was  taking  away  their  bread.  Quin,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  angry.  It  was  indeed  natural  they  should  feel,  as 
the  old  conservatives  of  a  profession  will  do  to  young  re- 
formers. Garrick  therefore,  alone  and  unsupported,  required 
to  defend  himself  by  every  means,  and  in  his  Bayes  gave 
imitations  of  some  of  the  pedantic  school.  The  same  acute 
critic  of  "The  Champion"  defended  him  very  judiciously. 
"  I  cannot  omit  taking  notice  that  some  have  been  offended 
at  his  mimicking  the  players,  on  which  I  shall  beg  leave  to  ob- 
serve that  it  was  first  done  at  Goodman's  Fields  to  excite 
curiosity  and  serve  the  proprietor"  ...  He  then  adds,  that 
Theo.  Cibber  and  "young  Green,"  of  Drury  Lane,  were 
greatly  applauded  for  the  same  thing ;  and,  he  adds,  "  I  think 
it  his  least  excellence  .  .  .  for  the  best  and  only  model  is 
nature,  of  which  Mr.  Garrick  is  as  fine  a  copy  as  he  is  of  the  players 
he  imitates"  Certainly  as  elegant  a  compliment  as  it  is  an 
ingenious  defence. 

He  gave  Delane,  Ryan,  and  Bridgewater,  actors  of  the  old 
school,  who  croaked,  and  mouthed,  and  "  sang  "  in  the  true 
established  style.  Hale  came  one  night  to  enjoy  the  ridicule 
of  his  brethren,  but  was  infinitely  mortified  and  humiliated  at 
the  exhibition  given  of  himself.  On  Delane's  reputation  the 
effect  was  serious.  The  ridicule  indeed  "killed;  and  it  be- 
came impossible  to  listen  again  with  gravity  to  the  frantic 
and  lusty  "  ranting  "  of  his  Alexander.  It  was  given  out  that 
this  mortification  so  preyed  on  Delane's  spirits  that  he  "  took 
to  the  bottle,"  and  died  of  excess.  This  absurd  story  is  not 
true,  for  he  lived  many  years  after.  Garrick,  who  deeply 
regretted  having  given  pain  to  his  brother  player,  tried  to 
make  it  up  to  him  in  every  way,  and  became  his  friend,  almost 
ostentatiously,  which  the  other  repaid  by  an  unhandsome  piece 
of  deceit  which  Garrick  could  not  forget 

One  of  the  green-room  stories  runs  that  Garrick  had  told 
Giffard  that  he  must  just  glance  at  him,  to  support  a  show  of 
impartiality.  The  other  assented,  but  was  so  enraged  by  the 
ridiculous  portrait  given  of  him,  even  at  rehearsal,  that  he  sent 
his  friend  a  challenge.  They  met  the  following  morning,  and 
it  is  said  that  Garrick  received  a  slight  wound,  which  caused 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  55 

the  play  to  be  put  off  a  fortnight,  "  owing  to  the  indisposition 
of  a  principal  performer."*  It  is  infinitely  to  Garrick's  honour 
that  when  some  time  later  the  actors  came  and  remonstrated 
with  him  on  the  injury  he  was  doing  to  their  reputation  and 
prospects,  he  at  once  gave  up  his  imitations,  and  never  resumed 
them,  though  he  must  have  known  he  was  sacrificing  the  chief 
attraction  of  the  piece,  f 

On  one  of  these  nights,  his  friend  Johnson,  with  another 
Idchfieldian,  Dr.  Taylor,  were  among  the  audience,  and  after- 
wards adjourned  to  a  tavern  with  Garrick,  and  Giffard  the 
manager,  to  talk  the  play  over.  Johnson,  perhaps  not  in  the 
best  of  humours,  and  never  very  tolerant  of  his  friend's  success, 
began  to  find  fault  with  his  emphasis  in  various  lines,  and  then 
said,  "  The  players,  sir,  have  got  a  kind  of  rant  with  which 
they  run  on,  without  any  regard  either  to  accent  or  emphasis." 
Giffard  and  Garrick,  a  little  offended  at  this  ungraciousness, 
tried  hard  to  confute  him.  Johnson  offered  to  give  them  a 
test,  and  asked  them  to  repeat  the  Commandment,  "Thou 
shalt  not  bear  false  witness,"  &c.  Both  were  said  to  have  put 
the  emphasis  wrong ;  and  Johnson  with  infinite  glee  set  them 
right,  and  showed  himself  superior  to  the  players. 

Taking  the  advice  of  his  friend,  Newton — he  was  always 
grateful  for  useful  advice,  and  took  it  always — he  was  now 
gradually  falling  out  of  the  more  undignified  round  of  charac- 
ters, such  as  Jack  Smatter,  Clodio,  in  "  The  Fop  of  Fortune," 
and  even  the  Ghost  in  "  Hamlet,"  which  was  scarcely  of  import-  / 
ance  enough  for  his  powers.  He  was  secretly  thinking  of  a 
grander  character,  later  to  prove  perhaps  his  finest  tragic  con- 
ception.    He  was  privately  studying  King  Lear.    Wise  beyond 

*  Cooke  is  the  only  authority  for  this  story,  and  it  would  seem  to  he 
refuted  by  the  appearance  of  Gar-rick's  name  in  the  bills  nearly  every 
night  of  the  fortnight,  during  which  the  play  was  put  off.  He  was 
not,  therefore,  the  "  principal  performer "  alluded  to.  Still,  we  should 
be  almost  inclined  to  accept  it  as  true,  in  its  broad  outline.  Cooke, 
who  reports  it,  was  a  theatrical  critic,  knew  all  the  chief  theatres, 
and  most  of  his  stories  have  some  foundation.  Garrick  and  Giffard  were 
both  sons  of  gentlemen,  and  would  not  be  reluctant  to  resort  to  the 
popular  arbitration  of  their  caste.  They  had  already  had  a  coolness,  as  to 
the  profits  of  the  theatre.  And,  finally,  the  play  having  certainly  been 
put  off,  it  may  have  been  Giffard  that  was  wounded.  The  mimicries  that 
offended  did  not  take  place  at  rehearsal,  but  must  have  occurred  at  the 
performance,  for  the  play  was  played  once  or  twice  before  it  was  sus- 
pended. Cooke  speaks  very  confidently  of  the  duel,  "  which  none  but 
the  parties  and  their  seconds  knew,  at  the  time,  and  very  few  ever  lince." 

f  "  For  once  in  his  life  did  a  generous  action,"  said  the  ungrateful  Tate 
Wilkinson ;  who,  with  a  stupidity  equal  to  his  ingratitude,  chronicles 
innumerable  instances  of  Mr.  Garrick's  kindness  and  generosity  to  him. 


56  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

his  years,  he  took  no  serious  step  without  consideration. 
Macklin  and  the  jovial  physician,  Barrowby,  were  taken  into 
council.  There  were  many  discussions  at  the  Bedford,  and 
the  advice  they  offered  was  that  he  should  consult  his  own 
powers,  and,  if  he  felt  confident  in  the  matter,  should  by  all 
means  attempt  it. 

On  the  11th  of  March,  1742,  he  came  forward  in  this  cha- 
racter. The  two  friends  were  in  the  pit>  charged  to  criticise 
jealously ;  but  though  it  was  well  received  by  the  audience, 
they  were  not  at  all  satisfied.  They  told  him  frankly  that  he 
had  scarcely  caught  the  spirit  of  old  age,  and  was  too  young ; 
he  did  not  show  enough  infirmity.  He  seemed  to  want  dignity 
in  the  prison  scene,  though  as  far  as  dress  went  he  looked  the 
part  excellently.  In  the  famous  curse,  where  he  afterwards 
made  such  a  "  point,"  he  began  too  low,  and  ended  too  high. 
Macklin  later  described  this  scene — the  young  actor  sitting 
pencil  in  hand,  and  carefully  noting  those  remarks ;  at  the 
end  he  thanked  them,  and  said  he  would  not  play  the  character 
again  until  he  had  thoroughly  reconsidered  and  studied  it. 
The  play,  however,  had  been  already  announced  for  the  next 
week.  He  performed  it  again,  and  Macklin  said  not  nearly  so 
well  as  on  the  first  occasion.  It  was  played  half  a  dozen  times, 
then  laid  aside  for  nearly  three  weeks. 

He  would  not  allow  his  two  critical  friends  to  see  his  next 
rehearsal,  as  he  said  their  objections  only  constrained  him  in 
the  playing.  It  was  played  again  towards  the  end  of  ApriL 
Newton,  his  fellow-townsman,  was  present  at  this  revised  per- 
formance, and  was  enraptured.  A  master  of  Westminster 
School  and  a  chief  clerk  in  the  Treasury — good  judges — who 
had  seen  Betterton  and  Booth,  placed  him  far  above  the  latter, 
and  almost  equal  to  the  former.  It  was  remarked  that  he  was 
now  completely  the  old  man,  and  represented  the  infirmities 
of  one  who  had  passed  four-score  years.  It  must  have  been  a 
fine  performance,  quite  new  to  the  audience ;  full  of  tides  of 
passion,  grief,  despair,  rage,  and  fury,  and  a  pathetic  hopeless- 
ness and  abandonment.  What  struck  the  clergyman  was  the 
complete  change  from  the  power  and  fury  of  Richard.  He  had 
now  seen  the  young  actor  in  four  parts — Bidiard,  Chumani, 
Bayes,  and  Lear — and  he  earnestly  declared  nothing  could  be 
conceived  more  distinct  than  each.  They  were  four  different 
persons.  For  here  was  the  mistake  in  the  old  actors.  In 
passion  there  was  a  sort  of  heroic  standard,  carried  out  in  all 
characters,  just  as  the  Greeks  put  on  their  tragic  mask,  or  as 
the  English  actors  donned  the  tall  plume  of  feathers  for  all 
staid  and  solemn  characters.     Cibber's  fFolsey,  Newton  said, 


1742.]  FIRST  APPEARANCE.  57 

and  his  Iago,  all  smelt  strong  of  his  Lord  Foppington;  and 
Booth's  rage  of  Hotspur  was  the  same  as  that  of  his  Lear,  It 
was  truly  wonderful  how  a  youth  of  five-and-twenty  should 
have  such  force,  such  a  weight  of  manly  passion,  and  affecting 
pathos.  The  alternations  from  fierce,  wild  anger  and  despair 
to  the  most  heartrending  grief,  kept  the  audience  in  a  tumult 
of  continuous  passions.  At  times  the  performance  was  inter- 
rupted by  open  sobs  and  weeping.*  "In  short,  sir,"  said 
Macklin,  when  he  had  become  his  bitter  enemy,  "  the  little  dog 
made  a  chef-d'oeuvre  of  it;7'  and  a  chef-dfceuvre  it  continued  to 
the  end  of  his  life. 

Now  the  family,  giving  over  opposition,  begin  to  find  some 
profit  in  their  relative's  success.  Peter  has  a  sum  to  make  out 
for  the  stock  of  wine,  and  David  generously  bids  him  draw  on 
him :  he  will  take  it  up  when  due,  and  Peter  shall  repay  it  at 
his  convenience.  Peter,  too,  could  so  far  recognise  the  stage 
as  to  complain,  in  the  name  of  a  Mrs.  Brown,  who  had  taken 
places  at  Goodman's  Fields,  and  been  refused  admission.  But, 
as  David  takes  the  trouble  to  show  him,  her  servant  had  taken 
the  places  in  a  Mrs.  Dalton's  name,  and  hence  the  confusion. 
"  Blunders  of  footmen,"  he  adds,  taking  a  lofty  tone,  "  make 
the  unthinking  part  of  the  world  angry,  when  they  should 
not."t  Now,  too,  of  a  sudden,  Peter  is  aggrieved  once  more 
at  not  hearing  enough  of  David's  affairs.  David  replies  that 
"  he  is  pained  to  see  him  warm  upon  trifles,  and  suspicious 
without  foundation."  Already  the  family  were  looking  to 
him  to  provide  for  them  suitably  out  of  the  profession  they  so 
despised;  and  brother  George,  now  about  nineteen,  was 
sent  up  from  Lichfield,  and  by  his  brother's  influence  estab- 
lished in  an  office — Mr.  Patterson,  a  solicitor,  being  persuaded 
to  dismiss  a  clerk  in  order  to  make  room  for  him.  Through 
his  whole  life,  indeed,  this  pair,  with  George's  "  long  "  family 
of  children,  were  to  be  an  everlasting  charge  on  him.  For 
George  himself  he  had  to  find  places  and  pay  off  debts ;  for 
Peter  he  had  to  weary  noble  friends  for  offices  and  "  berths." 

At  last,  by  the  end  of  May,  Goodman's  Fields  season  ended. 
Never  had  there  been  so  industrious  a  performer.  From  his 
first  appearance  in  October  to  the  closing  of  the  theatre,  he 
had  played  nearly  every  night — certainly  five  nights  in  the 
week.  The  season  had  lasted  from  Monday,  October  19, 
1741,  to  Monday,  May  23,  1742.  It  was,  indeed,  a  laborious 
time.  We  can  count  up  a  hundred  and  fifty-nine  perform- 
ances, and  what  was  more  laborious  still,  he  studied  and  acted 

*  Davies.  +  Forster  MSS. 


58  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1741 — 

over  nineteen  characters.  There  were  Bichard,  Lear,  Pierre, 
Chamont,  Aboan,  and  the  Ghost  in  "  Hamlet";  Bayes,  Lord  Fop- 
pington,  JVitvxmld,  FondUwife,  Jack  Smatter,  Clodio,  Lothario, 
Duretite,  Captain  Brazen,  Sharp,  and  Master  Johnny,  the  School- 
boy. He  also  played  in  his  own  farce  of  "  Lethe,"  taking  no 
less  than  three  characters.  Here  was  a  varied  round  of  pas- 
sions, feelings,  wit,  gaiety,  broad  humour,  eccentricity,  fun, 
light  comedy,  and  the  deepest  tragedy.* 

On  the  24th  the  playhouse  had  been  obliged  to  close  its 
doors,  not  without  some  pressure  of  the  old  persecution.  It 
was  only  natural,  indeed,  that  the  managers  of  Drury  Lane 
and  Covent  Garden,  finding  their  houses  growing  "  thinner " 
every  day,  and  the  gaudy  stream  of  the  nobility's  chairs  and 
carriages  struggling  through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  city, 
should  think  of  any  instruments  of  suppression  furnished  them 
by  Act  of  Parliament.  Sir  John  Barnard,  the  old  enemy  of 
the  players,  was  ready  to  aid.  Lawyers  had  by  this  time  dis- 
covered a  check  for  the  trick  of  playing  a  tragedy  gratis,  and 
taking  admission-money  for  hearing  a  few  tunes  played  before 
it.  Against  such  odds  it  became  evident  that  the  little  theatre 
could  not  maintain  a  struggle.  Fleetwood,  embarrassed  as  he 
was,  could  dictate  his  own  terms.  It  was  agreed  that  Garrick 
should  engage  at  Drury  Lane  for  the  new  season  at  £560  a- 
year.f  This  was  the  highest  sum  ever  previously  given  to  an 
%  actor,  though  Quin  had  nominally  been  receiving  £500  from 
Fleetwood.  With  that  loyalty  to  his  friends,  which  was  always 
his  characteristic,  he  made  it  a  stipulation  that  his  friend 
Giffard  should  be  engaged  by  Fleetwood.  But  the  manager 
broke  his  engagement.  He  now  came  to  Drury  Lane  for  three 
nights,  playing  Bayes,  Lear,  and  Bichard  to  crowded  houses. 
This  Fleetwood  had  also  stipulated,  to  whom  it  was  a  welcome 
assistance.     Such  a  cruel  oppression  of  Giffard,  who  now,  after 

*  The  whole  season  included  169  nights.  Brazen  he  played  but  once, 
and  he  thus  seems  to  have  tried  nearly  every  character  in  that  play ;  Kite 
when  he  was  a  boy,  and  Plume  later,  in  Dublin.  Foppington  he  gave  but 
three  times  ;  Aboan  twice ;  Witwould  four  times  ;  Duret&U  twice.  Richard 
he  played  eighteen  times  ;  Sharp  twenty-four  ;  Jack  Smatter  eighteen ; 
Lothario,  Clodio,  and  Chamont,  twelve  ;  Bayes  sixteen  ;  King  Lear  eleven  ; 
Pierre  four  times.  Thus  his  attraction  in  the  great  tragedy  and  the  great 
comedy  were  very  nearly  balanced.  His  next  most  popular  part  was  in  his 
"  Valet "  part,  Sharp,  which  he  repeated — often  after  a  heavy  tragedy — no 
less  than  sixteen  times.  Such  parts  sb  Jack  Smatter  and  Master  Johnny 
were  unworthy  of  him  ;  but  they  were  popular,  as  was  also  Fondiewift  and 
Clodio.  Of  this  series,  Bayes  seems  to  have  "drawn  "  the  best ;  for  though 
it  was  played  almost  as  often  as  Bichard,  something  must  be  taken  off  to 
allow  for  the  curiosity  and  "  rage  "  to  see  the  new  player. 

t  "  The  Gentleman's  Magazine. "    Murphy  says  £500. 


1742.]  FIRST  DUBLIN  SEASON.  59 

this  brilliant  opening,  was  only  beginning  to  reap  the  profits 
of  his  spirited  outlay.  He  had  given  infinite  satisfaction  by 
the  regularity  and  perfect  propriety  of  his  management,  the 
almost  classical  choice  of  his  pieces,*  and  the  elegant  care  with 
which  they  were  mounted.! 

So  ended  this  famous  season,  which  gave  to  the  English 
players  a  name,  without  which  their  order  would  be  in  a  poor 
way  indeed.  But  even  after  that  seven  months'  hard  work, 
he  would  not  allow  himself  to  rest.  He  had  received  a  press- 
ing invitation  to  appear  in  the  Irish  capital  on  most  favourable 
terms,  and  this  he  accepted.}  He  was  to  have  no  holiday. 
He  had  hardly  a  week  to  make  his  preparations ;  and  in  the 
first  week  in  June  was  in  his  chaise  with  Margaret  Woflington, 
and  Signora  Barberini — a  dancer — posting  down  to  Park  Gate. 
The  journey  to  Ireland  was  then  tedious,  uncertain,  and  even 
dangerous,  and  would  take  nearly  a  week  His  success  had 
gone  on  before  him,  and  he  was  certain  of  a  brilliant  welcome. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FIRST  DUBLIN  SEASON. — 1742. 

Dublin,  at  the  time  when  young  Garrick  arrived,  was 
a  city  of  many  fascinations.  As  we  now  look  back  to  its 
court  and  courtiers,  its  lords  and  ladies,  who  lived  then 
in  fine  houses,  where  are  now  the  meanest  slums  of  the  city — 
to  its  music,  its  dancing  and  revels,  it  seems  to  resemble  some 
of  those  small  German  courts  where  an  Elector  or  a  Grand 
Duke  reigned.  Wealthy  English  dukes  and  earls,  holding 
court  at  the  Castle,  with  ministers,  privy  councillors,  chap- 
lains, body  guards,  pages,  musicians,  and  nearly  all  the 
incidents  of  royalty,  were  glad  to  ask  over  their  titled  friends 
and  connections,  whose  presence  added  to  the  attraction.  No 
wonder  that  under  such  encouragement  that  surprising  Irish 
stage  should  have  flourished,  ana  have  furnished  the  British 
drama  with  a  roll  of  names  unsurpassed  in  any  age  or  country. 

*  Curll.     Garrick  actually  played  on  Chriitmas  day! 

t  He  reopened  the  Lincoln's  Inn  Fielda  Theatre  after  the  season  of 
1747-8,  but  failed.  He  retired  to  Bath,  having  made  enough  money  to 
purchase  the  estate  on  which  part  of  Coventry  Court,  in  the  Haymarket, 
now  stands.  A  lady  who  was  living  at  Bath  in  1823  recollected  him  and 
his  wife. 

X  Da  vies  says  "  a  deputation  was  sent  from  Ireland,"  which  ib  only  his 
loose  way  of  expressing  that  Duval,  the  manager's  agent,  had  waited  on 
him. 


60  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742. 

The  roll  is  indeed  splendid.  It  can  count  as  its  own,  Wilks, 
the  chief  comedian  of  the  day;  Doggett,  whose  badge  is  still 
rowed  for  by  the  London  watermen;  Delane  and  Ryan — 
Quin,  Mossop,  Barry,  Sheridan,  Macklin,  Henderson,  and 
Farren — a  marvellous  galaxy  of  genius.  Smaller  names,  to 
carry  on  the  succession,  are  Moody,  Sparks,  and  O'Brien; 
and  coming  near  our  own  time,  Cooke  and  Macready.  It  has 
also  Clive,  Woffington,  and  Bellamy;  and  the  succession  is  kept 
up  by  Farren,  Walstein,  Glover,  Forde,  Mrs.  Fitzhenry,  Mrs. 
Jordan,  and  Miss  O'Neil.  There  were  writers  to  furnish 
these  great  players  with  dramas,  not  less  remarkable — Far- 
quhar,  Southerne,  Brooke,  Macklin,  Goldsmith,  Sheridan,  Kane 
O'Hara,  Sheridan  Knowles,  O'Keeffe,  and  Bickerstaff — with 
the  half-Irish  Steele  and  Congreve. 

In  Aungier-street,  not  very  far  behind  the  Castle,  was  the 
Theatre  Royal,  where  the  charming  Mrs.  Cibber  had  drawn 
audiences  and  admirers,  received  such  tokens  as  made  her 
write  afterwards  to  Garrick  that  "  her  love  to  Ireland  was  as 
great  as  his  could  be,  and  she  always  thought  with  respect 
and  gratitude  of  the  favours  she  received  there;"  and 
there  was  the  "  new  Theatre  in  Smock-alley "  (a  racy  name), 
built  but  half-a-dozen  years  before — the  manager  of  which, 
Du  Val,  had  engaged  Garrick.  Smock-alley  was  a  miserable 
little  lane,  close  to  the  river,  and  wide  enough  for  only  one 
carriage  to  pass.  A  fragment  of  the  old  theatre  can  still 
be  seen,  forming  part  of  the  wall  of  a  Catholic  chapel ;  there 
are  plenty  of  ancient  houses  lining  the  alley,  old  as  the  old 
theatre,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  stone  "jams"  of  the 
windows — whose  tenants  were  then  kept  awake  by  the  block 
and  entanglement  of  carriages  getting  away  through  the 
"Blind  Key,"  and  by  the  shouts  of  the  "footmen  with  flam 
beaux,"  calling  up  chairs. 

Just  half  a  street  away  was  another  theatre — Fishamble- 
street — in  which,  up  to  a  few  months  ago  (1868),  plays  were 
still  acted.  It  is  certainly  the  oldest  House  in  the  kingdom, 
was  of  good  proportions,  and  still  shows  its  old  crush  saloon, 
with  faded  painting,  where  the  audience  gathered,  and  waited 
for  their  chairs  and  coaches.* 

On  Saturday,  the  12th,  a  paragraph  was  to  be  read  in  the 
papers  that  Mr.  Garrick  was  "  hourly  expected  from  England." 
The  news  of  the  English  furore  had  travelled  on  long  before 
him,  and  everyone  was  eager  for  some  notion  of  the  Good- 
man's Fields'  triumphs.    The  party  did  not  arrive  on  Satur- 

*  It  has  since  been  turned  into  a  warehouse. 


1742.]  FIRST  DUBLIN  SEASON.  61 

day;  but  on  Sunday  morning  Mr.  Garrick,  Miss  Woffington, 
and  Barberini,  the  dancing  lady,  landed,  having  come  from 
Park  Gate,  Chester,  by  the  packet.  Two  days  after  Garrick, 
arrived  Delane,  "the  celebrated  actor,"  who  was  to  play  at  the 
rival  theatre. 

A  Signora  Avoglio  had  been  announcing  her  last  "  concert  of 
vocal  and  instrumental  music,"  at  the  Music  Hall,  Fishamble- 
street,  for  the  Wednesday  following,  but  she  had  to  announce 
— "N.B. — The  above  concert  is  put  off  on  account  of  the  players? 
arrival  from  England,  who  perform  that  night,  and  have  given 
up  the  Wednesday  following  to  Signora  Avoglio  for  her  per- 
formance." Mrs.  Cibber  seems  to  have  waited  in  Dublin 
until  his  engagement  was  over,  and  it  was  here  that  a 
part  alliance  was  formed  between  her  and  Garrick.  It  was  a 
pity,  indeed,  that  the  Dublin  audience  could  not  have  seen 
them  together ;  but  Mrs.  Woffington  was  in  possession  of  the 
leading  parts.  Woffington  was  an  old  favourite,  and  had  been 
the  delight  of  the  town.  Now,  fresh  from  her  London  triumphs, 
she  was  "  to  open  "  the  season  on  the  Wednesday  in  her  famous 
and  popular  character,  while  Garrick  was  kept  over  until 
Friday,  in  his  great  part  of  Richard. 

The  tradition  of  Garrick's  success  on  that  night  has  been 
handed  down  by  historians  of  the  Irish  stage.  Unhappily  no 
details  have  been  preserved.  The  papers  were  not  in  the  habit 
of  giving  criticisms  or  notices  of  performances  at  the  theatres  ; 
but  it  is  mentioned  that  many  more  were  turned  away  than  were 
admitted.  The  theatre  was  not  unworthy  of  the  young  actor. 
It  was  built  on  the  best  principles  then  known ;  was  spacious, 
and  remarkable  for  the  excellent  opportunities  it  afforded  for 
seeing  and  hearing.  It  was  the  largest  theatre  in  Dublin ;  but 
the  stage  was  cramped  and  small,  being  sacrificed  to  the  rest  of 
the  house.*  Only  the  year  before  all  the  improvements  in 
moving  the  scenes  and  flies,  had  been  introduced.  The  new 
Dublin  theatres,  too,  boasted  of  a  modern  luxury  which  the 
London  houses  did  not  at  that  time  enjoy — a  spacious  crush- 
room  or  saloon,  "richly  ornamented,"  where  the  company 
waited  after  the  play  was  over,  chatting  and  seeing  each  other, 
until  their  carriages  came  up.  The  Lord  Lieutenant — the 
Duke  of  Devonshire — and  his  Duchess,  were  unluckily  absent 
in  England  at  this  time,  so  that  the  actor  enjoyed  no  court 
attentions. 

On  the  Monday  following  he  made  his  second  appearance  in 
"The  Orphan,"  with  Mrs.  Furnival  as  Monimia;  while  on  the 

*  Chetwood. 


62  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742. 

Tuesday,  at  the  rival  house,  with  something  like  desperation, 
Delane  came  on  with  his  reading  of  "  Richard."  Even  here  the 
"  old  school "  found  it  was  to  have  no  rest.  Every  day  the  new 
actor's  reputation  increased,  and  there  was  a  growing  eagerness 
to  see  him  in  new  characters.  The  poorer  classes  were  at  this 
time  suffering  great  distress,  and  the  heats  during  the  month 
of  June  were  more  than  unusually  oppressive.  A  sort  of  epi- 
demic which  arose  from  both  these  causes  was  fancifully  set 
down  to  the  overcrowded  houses,  and  was  long  recollected  as 
the  Garrick  fever.  Young  men  of  fashion  began  to  use  a  cant 
phrase :  " That's  your  Garrick  \n  "As  gay  as  Garrick ! " 

His  benefit  was  fixed  for  Thursday,  the  24th,  when  he  first 
astonished  a  Dublin  audience  by  his  favourite  combination  of 
deeply  tragic  and  broadly  humorous  characters  on  the  same 
night.  "  rting  Lear "  was  chosen  at  the  particular  desire  of 
several  persons  of  distinction,  with  "  The  Lying  Valet,"  also 
by  desire,  after  it.  Margaret  Woffington  played  Cordelia.  He 
went  through  all  his  round  of  London  characters,  playing  also 
in  the  "  Busy  Body,"  "  The  Fair  Penitent,"  and  "  Love  makes 
a  Man,"  taking  the  character  of  Don  Dismallo  Thick-Skullo  de 
Half-Witto,  a  claptrap  name  for  Clodto  in  "The  Fop's  Fortune" 
—and  in  "The  Rehearsal,"  and  "Old  Bachelor."  The  Lords 
Justices,  the  Primate,  Lord  Chancellor,  and  Speaker,  went  in 
great  state  to  see  "  The  Busy  Body."  His  second  benefit  was 
on  the  8th  of  July,  with  "  Richard."  On  the  second  of  August 
"  The  Constant  Couple  "  and  "  Lying  Valet "  were  announced 
for  the  last  time.  He  himself  was  to  have  another  and  final 
benefit,  for  which  it  was  said  he  had  selected  "  The  Fair  Peni- 
tent ; "  but  he  changed  it,  as  there  was  natural  curiosity  to  see 
him  in  a  far  more  popular  play.  No  audience  had  yet  witnessed 
his  personation  of  the  Danish  prince,  and  he  now  resolved  to 
try  Hamlet  for  the  first  time,  and  before  the  Dublin  public. 
He  issued  on  the  Saturday  morning  a  curious  personal  announce- 
ment : — "  Mr.  Garrick  thinks  it  proper  to  acquaint  the  town 
that  he  did  not  take  '  The  Fair  Penitent '  (as  was  given  out) 
for  his  benefit,  that  play  being  dissaproved  of  by  several  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  but  by  particular  desire,  deferred  it  till  '  Hamlet1 
could  be  ready,  which  will  be  played  on  Thursday  next — the 
part  of  Hamlet  by  Mr.  Garrick,  Ophelia  by  Mrs.  Wofnnton." 

Mr.  Garrick's  last  benefit  with  so  familiar  a  play  was  sure  to 
have  drawn  an  overflowing  house.  He  was  carried  through  the 
part  by  frantic  and  enthusiastic  applause.  It  was  much  criticised, 
and  some  of  his  readings  were  objected  to.  It  was  considered, 
however,  a  wonderful  performance,  full  of  beauties,  especially 
the  scenes  between  Hamlet  and  Ophelia,  and  Hamlet  and  the 


1742.]  FIRST  DUBLIN  SEASON.  63 

Queen.  In  short,  an  able  critic  who  wrote  to  him  anonymously 
two  days  after  the  performance,  prophesied  he  would  be  "  the 
best  and  most  extraordinary  player  that  ever  these  kingdoms 
saw."  It  was  noted,  too,  that  he  came  on  without  being 
"  attended  by  music,"  which  was  always  an  accompaniment  of 
the  traditional  "Hamlet;"  and  further,  what  was  remarkable 
and  almost  courageous  behaviour  in  the  year  1742,  that  he  left 
out  every  word  that  could  shock  a  modest  ear. 

As  there  was  a  general  desire  that  he  would  play  Hamlet 
again,  he  performelit  once  more.  Walker,  the  original  Jf«- 
heath,  had  now  arrived  from  Covent  Garden,  and  his  aid  en- 
abled them  to  bring  forward  "  The  Recruiting  Officer,"  with  a 
"strong  cast"  Kitely  was  taken  by  Walker,  Silvia  by  Wel- 
lington, and  Plume  by  Garrick.  This  was  on  the  Thursday 
after  the  "  Hamlet "  Thursday,  and  to  the  notices  was  appended 
a  significant  "  N.B. — This  is  the  last  time  of  Mr.  Garrick,  Mrs. 
Woffington,  and  Signora  Barberini's  performing,  during  their 
stay  in  this  kingdom."  Finally,  on  the  Monday  following 
(Aug.  23),  a  sort  of  dramatic  travelling  party — Garrick,  Delane, 
Dr.  Arne  (Mrs.  Cibber's  brother,  who  had  come  over  to  give 
concerts),  and  Mrs.  Cibber — set  off  together  from  Dunleary 
Harbour  and  embarked  for  England.  Woffington  it  would 
appear,  remained  behind.  Thus  ended  the  first  Garrick  visit, 
which  had  now  lasted  a  few  days  over  two  months,  and  it  was 
long  remembered.  After  his  departure  came  a  perfect  theatrical 
languor  and  prostration. 

In  Dublin  the  name  of  Boscius  was  first  given  to  him,*  and 
the  papers  teemed  with  verses  in  his  honour.  Behind  he  left 
a  kindly  and  grateful  feeling.  For  a  sick  actor,  attached  to 
the  theatre,  he  interested  himself  with  Dr.  Barry,  then  the 
fashionable  physician  of  the  city,  whom  he  got  to  attend  on  him 
during  his  illness.!  He,  indeed,  took  away  with  him  the  most 
generous  and  grateful  sentiments  of  the  people  of  the  place; 
and  when  later,  what  he  called  "  a  most  cruel  and  false  report " 
was  set  on  foot,  that  he  had  spoken  disrespectfully  of  the 
"  gentlemen  of  Ireland,"  he  thought  it  necessary  "  solemnly  to 
avow  that  he  had  never  even  thought  with  indifference"  of 
Ireland. 

*  As  Murphy  says,  in  some  lines  beginning 

"  Roscius,  Paris  of  the  stage, 
Born  to  please  a  learned  age." 
t  Cbetwood. 


64  THK  LTFK  OF  DAVID  GARRTOK.  [1742 


CHAPTER  V. 

REVOLT  AGAINST  FLEETWOOD — QUARREL  WITH  MACKLIN. 

1742-1743. 

Now  returned  to  London,  he  was  again  to  have  but  a  short 
respite.  Only  a  week  or  two  after  he  arrived,  Drury  Lane 
season  had  begun,  and  though  his  first  appearance  did  not  take 
place  for  a  fortnight,  the  interval  could  have  been  no  mere 
holiday.  Fleetwood  opened  on  the  eleventh  of  September 
with  a  strong  company ;  and  with  Macklin,  Mrs.  Clive,  Mrs. 
Pritchard,  Woffington,  and  Garrick,  prepared  to  meet  Mrs. 
Cibber,  Quin,  Ryan,  Bridgewater,  and  the  rest  of  the  old 
school,  at  Covent  Garden.  But  the  strength  was  unequal 
Even  the  coming  to  Drury  Lane  was  a  fresh  point  scored  for 
Garrick,  whose  "  fine  "  patrons  of  the  West-end  were  thus  saved 
the  long  journey  to  the  Minories.  In  vain  might  Quin  declaim 
and  "  pave,"  and  Ryan  "  whistle "  from  the  old  wound  in  his 
cheek.  The  game  of  the  old  school  was  played  out  Garrick, 
with  conscientious  industry,  had  many  new  characters  ready. 
Scrub,  Hastings,  Plume,  with  his  Dublin  characters,  Hamlet 
and  Drugger,  were  new  to  London.  These  were  as  various  and 
successful  as  his  older  parts,  Mrs.  Woffington,  on  her  benefit 
night,  yielded  to  him  her  part  of  Sir  Harry,  which  he  tried 
again  on  the  following  night,  and  then  wisely  abandoned.  It 
was  a  complete  failure.  The  round  of  plays  was  admirably 
chosen,  and  selected  with  an  infinite  variety  and  contrast,  which 
must  have  made  the  theatre  then  an  entertainment  delightful  to 
playgoers.  Every  taste  was  suited,  and  Shakspeare,  Steele, 
Congreve,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Cibber,  with  the  best 
pieces,  succeeded  each  other.  The  new  actor  was  overworked 
and  hurried,  and  when  the  first  night  of  Fielding's  new  comedy, 
"  The  Wedding  Day,"  came  round,  it  was  scarcely  surprising 
that  he  should  have  broken  down.  He  was  to  have  spoken  the 
Prologue,  but  to  the  surprise  of  the  audience  Macklin  came 
forward  with  a  free  and  easy  apology.  This  familiarity 
began: — 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies — we  must,  by  your  indulgence,  humbly  hope 

you'll  not  be  offended, 
But  an  accident  that  has  happened  to-night,  not  in  the  least  intended, 
I  assure  you — if  you  please,  your  money  shall  be  returned — but  Mr. 

Garrick  to-day, 
Who  performs  a  principal  character  in  the  Play, 


1743.]         REVOLT  AGAINST  FLEETWOOD.  65 

Unfortunately  has  sent  word  'twill  be  impossible,  having  so  long  a  part, 
To  apeak  the  Prologue — he  hasn't  had  time  to  get  it  by  heart."* 

And  this  freedom  almost  seemed  to  show  there  was  something 
wrong  in  the  direction  of  the  theatre. 

Qiun,  meanwhile,  was  fighting  a  desperate  and  laborious 
battle  at  Covent  Garden,  acting  almost  every  night,  and  in  all 
the  most  weighty  and  varied  characters.  If  Garrick  was  to 
appear  in  Richard  on  the  thirteenth  of  October,  Quin  had  also 
the  same  play  on  the  thirteenth,  and  mouthed  and  "paved"  in 
fiery  and  boisterous  rivalry.  Falstaff  and  Julius  Ccesar  were  in 
vain  attempted.  Ryan  and  Hale  and  Bridgewater  did  their 
best,  in  these  last  assaults  of  the  Old  Guard.  But  their  best 
auxiliary  was  to  be  the  confusion  that  was  obtaining  behind 
the  scenes  at  Drury  Lane. 

Mr.  Charles  Fleetwood,  the  manager,  had  been  a  gentleman 
of  good  fortune,  having  once,  it  was  said,  enjoyed  six  thousand 
a-year,  and  had  been  tempted,  like  so  many  more,  by  the  fatal 
seduction  of  theatrical  management.  "  His  person  was  genteel, 
and  his  manner  elegant,"  which,  says  Victor,  quaintly,  "  was 
the  last  and  only  remaining  quality  he  kept  with  him  to  his 
death."  It  was  not  the  difficulties  of  the  theatre,  nor  a  run  of 
ill-fortune,  that  led  him  into  embarrassment,  but  his  own  ex- 
travagant and  expensive  tastes.  He  was  fond  of  high  society, 
and  of  the  costly  habits  of  high  society ;  and  he  had  an  extra- 
ordinary fascination  of  manner,  and  a  winning  grace,  that  ex- 
cited interest,  not  only  in  his  "  high "  friends,  but  in  the 
crowd  of  creditors  who  were  always  pressing  him.t  By 
these  dissipated  courses  he  soon  ruined  his  fortunes ;  but  in 
1734  had  purchased  the  Drury  Lane  patent,  and  partially  re- 
stored them.  That  theatre  was  destined  to  prove  disastrous 
to  a  whole  series  of  managers. 

Macklin,  then  a  sort  of  Bohemian,  had  been  his  friend  and 
companion.  Both  frequented  White's,  where  they  gambled 
heavily,  and  both  were  equally  unlucky.  From  this  friend, 
after  a  successful  benefit,  or  a  run  of  good  fortune  at  the 
gaming  table,  he  would  borrow  small  sums,  "  with  a  man- 
ner of  sensitive  distress  which  could  soften  the  hardest  cre- 
ditor;" and  at  one  crisis,  when  he  was  on  the  point  of 

*  He  did  not  appear  until  October  6th.  Davies  says  he  relinquished 
Foppington  and  Clodio  this  season,  but  the  bills  show  that  he  acted  both. 

+  His  mother  was  daughter  to  Lord  Oerrard  ;  and  the  Duchess  of  Nor- 
folk once  told  of  a  strange  scene  that  took  place  in  a  Belgian  town,  in  her 
presence,  when  Mrs.  Fleetwood  went  on  her  knees  to  implore  pardon  of  a 
young  lady,  whose  life,  she  owned,  she  had  wrecked  by  hindering  a  marriage 
between  her  and  her  son  Fleetwood. — Duke  of  Norfolk's  "  Thoughts  and 
,"  1668. 

V 


66  THE  LITE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742 — 

being  arrested,  he  obtained  from  Macklin's  easiness,  security 
for  a  bond  of  some  two  or  three  thousand  pounds.  Macklin's 
sense,  however,  was  of  excellent  service.  So  long  as  he  held 
his  office  of  "  deputy  manager,"  matters  went  on  tolerably,  and 
were  tided  over  for  a  few  seasons.  But  every  hour  the  impro- 
vident Fleetwood  was  sinking  deeper  and  deeper,  though  he 
was  adroit  enough  to  stave  off  the  final  crash  for  a  time. 

Garrick's  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Woffington  still  continued,  and 
the  Irish  Tour  had  only  drawn  the  admirer  more  closely  to  the 
actress.  Macklin  had  been  one  of  her  warm  friends ;  and  the 
three  being  now  so  intimate,  it  was  agreed  that  they  should 
"  keep  house "  together,  and  put  all  earnings  into  one  com- 
mon stock.  They  lodged  at  a  house,  No.  6,  Bow-street 
It  was  eventually  proposed  to  found  a  sort  of  academy,  for 
teaching  acting — a  scheme  which  Macklin  later  carried  out,  on 
his  own  account.  This  arrangement  went  on  for  a  short  time; 
but,  like  most  such  arrangements,  required  a  greater  delicacy 
and  forbearance  than  the  party  could  muster.  Woflington's 
"  month  " — for  they  took  the  housekeeping  "  month  about" — 
was  conspicuous  for  a  certain  prodigality,  and  a  greater  run  of 
good  company.  Mr.  Garrick's  month  was  said  to  be  very 
economically  conducted.  Mr.  Johnson,  then  a  young  hack 
writer,  came  often,  and  told,  as  a  proof  of  his  host's  stingi- 
ness, that  Garrick  had  one  night  said,  "  The  tea,  ma'am,  is  as 
red  as  blood  !  "  This  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  favourite 
stock-charges  of  "  meanness,"  "  stinginess, '  and  the  like, 
which  it  was  the  delight  of  every  little  histrionic  cur — to 
whom  he  might  have  once  refused  a  crust — to  yelp  out  noisily 
all  over  the  town.  Macklin,  after  their  quarrel,  was  inde- 
fatigable in  propagating  these  stories  ;  as  was  Foote,  the  most 
selfish  of  convivialists.  To  the  spendthrift,  the  economy  of  a 
friend  is  a  standing  reproach.  Even  when  grown  an  old 
man,  and  he  long  since  graciously  condoned  all  quarrels 
by  accepting  engagements  from  Mr.  Garrick,  taking  benefits, 
and  having  plays  brought  out — Macklin  could  "  mumble  out/' 
"Yes,  sir,  in  talk  he  was  a  very  generous  man;  a  humane 
man,  and  all  that ;  but,  by  G — d,  sir,  the  very  first  ghost  of  a 
farthing  he  met  with,"  &c.  He  would  tell  how  they  used  to 
ride  together  on  the  Richmond  road,  and  halt  at  various 
houses ;  and  when  the  bill  was  brought,  or  they  came  to  a 
turnpike,  Mr.  Garrick  found  "he  haa  changed  his  breeches 
that  morning,"  or  would  pull  out  a  thirty-six  shilling  piece, 
which  coula  not  be  changed.  This  accommodation  was 
usually  forgotten ;  until  one  day,  Macklin  asked  him  to  pay 
his  debt,  and  then  pulled  out  a  slip  of  paper,  in  which  all  the 


1743.]         REVOLT  AGAINST  FLEETWOOD.  67 

little  obligations  were  entered  according  to  the  time  and 
place.  "All  which,  sir,"  said  Macklin,  telling  the  story, 
"  amounted  to  between  thirty  and  forty  shillings."  Garrick 
was  a  little  disconcerted,  and  thought  it  a  joke ;  but  the  other 
insisted  seriously  on  his  claim,  and  was  duly  paid.  Well 
might  he  be  disconcerted  at  this  elaborate  "book-keeping" 
for  such  a  trifle.  But  if  there  be  truth  in  this  story — that  is, 
no  exaggeration — he  compensated  for  such  carelessness  by  a 
thousand  instances  of  substantial  liberality. 

On  another  occasion  Garrick  had  given  a  large  dinner-party 
to  Mrs.  Cibber,  Fielding,  Macklin  himself,  and  some  more. 
When  the  company  was  gone,  Garrick's  Welsh  servant  went 
over  his  vails  with  great  glee :  "There  is  half-a-crown  from  Mrs. 
Cibber,  Got  pless  her !  and  here  is  something  more  from  the 
poet,  Got  pless  his  merry  heart !  "  This  was  Fielding's  dona- 
tion, which  was  done  up  in  paper,  and  found  to  be  a  penny. 
Garrick,  next  day,  with  perfect  good  taste  and  good  sense,  re- 
proached Fielding  with  choosing  a  servant  for  the  subject 
of  such  a  jest.  The  other  offensively  replied  that  it  was  no 
jest  ob  the  servant,  but  a  benefit;  for,  if  he  had  given  him 
half-a-crown,  his  master  would  have  taken  it ;  whereas  he  now 
had  a  chance  of  keeping  it  really  for  himself !  Fielding  told 
this  about  as  an  excellent  piece  of  humour;  and  Macklin 
retold  it  to  Mr.  Cooke,  who  gave  it  as  an  illustration  of  Gar- 
rick's  avarice.  It  will  be  seen  that  it  neither  "  illustrates  " 
nor  proves  anything  but  the  bad  taste  and  ill-nature  of  the 
guests,  and  of  Mr.  Garrick's  friends. 

The  household  arrangement  was  soon  broken  up.  Indeed, 
it  could  scarcely  have  been  a  profitable  concern  for  Garrick, 
whose  income  was  so  much  larger  than  that  of  the  others.  It 
is  said  that  the  partnership  had  to  be  dissolved  in  consequence 
of  heavy  liabilities,  owing  to  extravagant  management  or  to 
the  lady's  inconstancy.  No  actress  indeed  had  so  many 
admirers.  At  this  time,  however,  she  had  not  become  the 
Woffington  of  later  years — quarrelsome,  dissolute,  and  scur- 
rilous; nor  had  she  given  her  tongue  that  loose  and  ready 
freedom,  which  Mrs.  Bellamy  called  "  blackguarding,"  or  be- 
gun to  pull  caps  with  rivals  in  the  green-room.  There  was  a 
certain  restraint,  and  even  refinement,  which  was  still  to  hold 
her  admirer  enchained. 

But  the  warm  friendship  between  Macklin  and  Garrick  had 
not  yet  been  interrupted.  At  the  beginning  of  the  season  they 
had  engaged  to  stand  by  each  other,  and  decline  any  separate 
engagement.  They  saw  the  manager's  embarrassments  were  in- 
creasing, and  that  it  was  necessary  they  should  be  prepared  to 

F  2 


68  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742 — 

look  for  a  new  arrangement.  This  alliance  gave  them  a  com- 
mon strength ;  but  even  then  Garrick  believed  that  Macklin 
was  in  league  with  Fleetwood.  He  had  some  "  starts  of  sus- 
picion," and  insisted  on  an  explicit  contradiction  from  the  lat- 
ter. This  did  not  promise  well.  Fleetwood  had  been  always 
dissipated;  had  been  addicted  to  cards  and  dice,  but  he 
now  sank  to  the  company  of  boxers  and  horse-chaunters. 
He  was  to  be  seen  with  Broughton,  the  famous  pugilist; 
frequented  Hockley-in-the-Hole,  where  the  humane  pastime  of 
baiting  went  on;  and  what  was  lower  still,  in  theatrical  mat- 
ters affected  the  society  of  rope-dancers  and  dancing-monkey 
proprietors.  Under  such  leadership,  the  interests  of  the 
theatre,  always  precarious,  were  utterly  neglected,  and  it  soon 
began  to  go  to  ruin.  Though  there  was  a  fine  company,  and 
good  audiences,  money  began  to  fail  The  receipts  were 
farmed  away,  and  presently  bailiffs  began  to  appear  behind 
the  scenes.*  This  state  of  things  could  not  go  on  long.  The 
salaries  of  the  actors  were  falling  into  arrear.  Such  are 
always  the  first  victims  of  theatrical  ruin — the  manager  is 
perhaps  the  last. 

Garrick  was  the  heaviest  sufferer  by  this  failure.  His  salary 
was  now  over  £600  in  arrear ;  and  as  often  as  he  had  applied 
the  manager  had  assured  him  of  payment  with  every  in- 
genious variety  of  assurance,  and  even  oaths.  At  last  the 
actor's  patience  was  worn  out,  and  he  came  to  the  resolution 
of  suing  his  creditor  at  law.  With  this  view  he  invited  him- 
self, one  Sunday  morning,  to  breakfast,  determining  to  tell  the 
manager  what  he  had  resolved  on.  So  agreeable  and  "  be- 
witching "  was  Fleetwood's  conversation  on  every  matter  but 
the  one  which  it  was  his  interest  to  avoid,  that  he  completely 
won  over  the  actor,  who  went  away  without  having  the  heart 
to  enter  on  the  matter.  His  subsequent  behaviour  proves 
that  he  was  not  a  harsh  creditor.  At  last  his  patience  gave 
way,  and  at  the  beginning  of  May,  1743,  he  positively  refused 
to  act,  and  for  three  weeks  was  absent  from  the  theatre.  A 
more  decisive  step  was  presently  taken,  under  his  leadership, 
he  being  then  but  twenty-seven  years  old.  He  invited  all  his 
confreres  to  meet  him  at  his  house  at  Covent  Garden — "Mr. 
West's,  cabinetmaker" — and  there  submitted  a  plan  of  com- 
bination for  their  adoption.    There  were  present  the  two 

*  Garrick'a  rich  cap,  which  he  wore  in  Richard,  amass  of  gaudy  feathers, 
tinsel,  and  stage  jewels,  once  attracted  their  greedy  eyes  ;  but  it  was  Bared 
by  Garrick'a  faithful  Welsh  servant,  "You  must  not  take  that,"  he  said  to 
them,  "  for  it  belongs  to  the  king."  They  were  said  to  have  been  awe-struck 
at  this  notion,  and  reluctantly  resigned  their  prey. 


1743.]  REVOLT  AGAINST  FLEETWOOD.  69 

Mills',  Leigh,  Havard,  the  Pritchards,  Berry,  and  Woodburn. 
Blakes,  Yates,  Giffard,  and  a  few  more,  seem  to  have  kept 
aloof.  Garrick  then  stated  the  nature  of  their  situation,  and 
invited  them  to  sign  an  agreement  binding  them  to  stand  by 
each  other.  He  had  determined  that  they  should  all  apply  to 
the  Duke  of  Grafton,  then  Chamberlain,  for  a  licence  to  open  a 
new  theatre  at  the  Opera  House  or  elsewhere;  and  was  certain, 
when  that  nobleman  had  heard  of  the  way  they  were  treated, 
he  would  not  hesitate  to  grant  what  they  asked.  In  fact,  they 
had  a  lucky  precedent  in  an  old  combination  of  the  same  kind, 
in  the  days  of  Rich,  when  Bethell  and  Thomas  Barry  had  gone 
to  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  had  been  assisted  by  him.* 

This  proposal  was  received  with  acclamation.  Macklin 
alone  opposed  the  plan,  and  suggested  going  to  the  manager  at 
once,  and  telling  him  what  they  intended  doing.  Garrick 
calmly  showed  the  folly  of  such  a  course.  He  knew  what 
manner  of  man  Fleetwood  was ;  and  if  they  should  "  show 
him  their  hand,"  he  would  be  certain  to  circumvent  them  in 
some  fashion.  A  paper  was  signed,  and  Macklin  overruled 
"  Thus,"  says  the  latter's  biographer,  "  were  his  best  intentions 
frustrated,  and  a  set  of  men  cajoled  into  the  designs  of  this 
ambitious  person,  who  had  for  his  object  not  merely  the  redress 
of  the  wrongs  of  a  few  players,  but  the  interested  view  of 
aggrandizing  himself."  This  was  written  almost  under  the 
dictation — at  least  under  the  inspiration — of  Macklin  himself. 
Yet  it  was  suspicious  that  just  before  this  meeting  Macklin 
had  been  with  the  manager,  who  had  been  making  him  hand- 
some offers.  Fleetwood  himself  owns  that  he  raised  his 
salary  £3  a  week  to  get  him  to  use  his  influence  over  the 
disaffected  actors,  t  Thus  it  does  seem  more  than  probable  he 
had  been  trying  a  separate  accommodation  with  the  manager, 
and  that  his  opposition  at  the  actors'  meeting  was  prompted 
by  this  very  bribe. 

They  drew  up  their  application,  which  they  sent  in  to  the 
Chamberlain;  then  waited  on  him,  but  were  very  coldly 
received.  It  was  said  that  he  turned  to  Garrick,  and  asked 
him  what  income  he  was  making  by  his  acting.  The  answer 
was  about  £500  a  year.  "  And  do  you  think  that  too  little," 
said  the  Duke,  with  true  contempt  for  a  mere  player,  "  when 
I  have  a  son  who  has  to  venture  his  life  for  his  country  for 

*  This  account  is  made  up  from  the  statement*  and  counter-atatementa 
published  by  both  Macklin  and  Garrick. 

t  Macklin  himself  boasted,  as  a  proof  of  his  fidelity  to  this  agreement^ 
that  he  had  been  offered  £200  a  year  more  to  remain  with  Fleetwood 
This  offer,  however,  was  made  just  before  the  actors'  meeting. 


70  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742 — 

half  that  sum?"  He  was  right,  certainly,  in  declining  the 
application;  the  miserably  demoralized  state  of  the  existing 
houses  did  not  encourage  the  creation  of  a  new  one. 

This  was  a  serious  check.  Garrick,  whom  all  the  nobility 
had  crowded  to  see,  evidently  declined  in  popular  favour. 
Fleetwood  enjoyed  his  triumph ;  cast  about  him ;  got  together 
a  fresh  troupe,  and  at  the  new  season  opened  his  doors  boldly, 
without  the  seceders.  But  he  was  furious  with  Macklin,  who 
had  cast  his  lot  with  the  others,  and  whom  he  had  laid  under 
obligations  of  the  most  serious  and  delicate  kind.*  Garrick 
then  thought  of  joining  with  Quin,  and  of  taking  Lincoln's  Inn 
Theatre,  and  overtures  were  made  to  Rich,  through  Macklin ; 
but  this  scheme  fell  through,  owing,  Garrick  says,  to  a  "  cartel" 
proposed  by  Macklin,  which  would  have  restricted  the  privi- 
leges they  were  struggling  for.f  Macklin,  having  now  fairly 
broken  with  Fleetwood,  became  a  little  concerned  for  himself ; 
but  was  assured  by  Garrick  that  he  would  not  desert  him — 
that  they  were  all  in  the  "  same  boat,"  and  "  could,"  repeated 
Macklin,  artfully,  "  at  the  worst,  set  off  for  Ireland,  and  make 
money  together  there.  This"  he  added,  " was  to  be  Hie  dernier 
ressort." 

Time  was  wearing  on,  the  regular  season  was  now  ap- 
proaching. The  condition  of  the  inferior  players  "  on  strike," 
with  whom  everything  had  failed,  was  growing  pitiable.  There 
was  nothing  open  to  them;  and  their  only  resource  —  a 
humiliating  one  — was  submission  to  the  enemy.  They  ap- 
plied to  him.  He  was  master  of  the  situation.  Some  he  pro- 
mised to  take  back,  others  he  did  not  want.  He  made  the 
handsomest  offers  to  Garrick,  but  positively  declined  on  any 
terms  to  have  anything  to  do  with  Macklin.  Hence  arose  a 
public  difference  between  the  two  great  actors — a  notorious 
scandal — and  it  will  at  once  seem  intelligible  how  such  a  dif- 
ference should  arise.  For  Macklin,  finding  himself  so  pointedly 
tabooed,  and  exempted  from  the  indemnity,  would  be  anxious 
that  "  the  strike  "  should  continue  in  some  shape,  for  his  be- 
nefit. 

The  conclusion,  I  think,  will  be  that  Garrick  acted  with 
honour  and  good  sense,  though  perhaps  without  a  punctilious 
and  Quixotic  adherence  to  the  mere  letter  of  an  agreement.  He 
at  first  positively  declined  any  overtures  that  did  not  include 
Macklin.     He  even  offered,  under  a  penalty  of  £100,  to  answer 

*  Macklin  had  been  tried  for  murder,  and  Fleetwood  had  "  stood  by  him 
all  through  his  difficulties." 

t  On  the  other  hand,  Macklin  says  it  was  Garrick  that  would  only  take 
it  for  a  year. 


1743.]         REVOLT  AGAINST  FLEETWOOD.  71 

for  his  behaviour.     When  this  failed,  he  proposed,  if  Mr. 
Macklin  went  to  Ireland,  to  provide    for  Mrs.  Macklin  in 
London,  with  a  weekly  salary — to  guarantee  Macklin  himself 
in  his  Irish  engagement,  and  make  up  any  deficiency.     But 
Macklin   was  furious  and  clamorous,  said  a  solemn  engage- 
ment  had  been  violated,  and  that  he  had  been  sacrificed.     Yet 
it  was  mere  special  pleading,  thus  to  suppose  his  interests 
were  to  be  supported  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  majority.     And 
though  certainly,  in  a  common  working  man's  strike,  it  seems 
hard  to  desert  a  leader  whom  the  employer  had  proscribed,  the 
true  equity  is  for  the  fellow-workmen  to  indemnify  him,  and 
gain  the  advantage  of  their  own  submission.     Such  engage- 
ments are  not  to  be  construed  with  all  the  technicality  of  a 
bond ;  otherwise  Garrick  might  have  been  bound  for  his  whole 
life,  or  so  long  as  the  irregular  behaviour  of  his  companion 
lasted.     The  fact  was,  Macklin  saw  that  he  was  to  be  made  a 
scapegoat  by  the  manager.     Various  meetings  were  held  to 
arrange  the  matter,  but  without  any  issue.     Meanwhile,  the 
unfortunate  actors  were  in  a  state  of  suspense  and  destitution. 
Some,  it  has  been  mentioned,  had  been  taken  back;  and  Gar- 
rick, greatly  pressed  by  the  manager,  at  last  yielded;  but 
made  it  a  condition  that  the  rest  should  be  taken  back  also. 
This  was  agreed  to;  so  that  if  Macklin  now  gave  his  consent, 
all  would  be  accommodated.     The  Players  then  addressed  a 
remonstrance  to  him — in  a  letter  couched  in  almost  piteous 
terms, saying  that  "this  punctilio  of  honour"  was  ruining 
them ;  that  they  feared  Mr.  Garrick  was  going  to  Ireland,  so 
as  to  stand  by  his  agreement,  in  which  case  the  manager  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  them — almost  imploring  him  to  come 
to  some  terms ;  and  again  appealing  to  Garrick,  who  made 
fresh  exertions  to  compromise  the  matter.     He  proposed  to 
take  a  hundred  guineas  less  salary  from  Fleetwood,  and  en- 
gaged in  the  most  solemn  manner  to  work  unremittingly  to 
smooth  away  all  obstacles  to  Macklin's  re-engagement;  but 
nothing  would  be  accepted,  save  the  selfish  alternative  that 
Garrick  and  all  the  other  actors  should  "stand  out, "and  sacri- 
fice themselves,  because  his  own  behaviour  had  precluded  him 
from  all  hope  of  reconciliation.     Garrick   could  hesitate  no 
longer,  and  prepared  to  close  with  Fleetwood.     He  held  him- 
self discharged  from  all  community  with  so  impracticable  a 
partner. 

During  the  course  of  these  pourparlers,  the  new  season  be- 
gan on  September  13th,  Fleetwood  having  now  some  of  his 
old  corps  at  the  old  salaries,  and  others  at  the  half  their  pre- 
vious wages,  which  they  were  glad  to  get.    Mrs.  Woflhigton 


72  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1742 — 

was  at  her  post,  but  does  not  seem  to  have  joined  in  the 
tmeute.  Nearly  three  months  had  passed  by,  and  still  Garrick 
did  not  appear.  Strange  reports  had  been  going  round  the 
town  as  to  the  reason  of  this  extraordinary  suspense,  and 
these  were  not  favourable  to  him.  On  the  eve  of  concluding 
his  engagement  he  appealed  to  the  town  in  a  letter  to  the 
public  journals,  in  which  he  shortly  explained  the  true  reason 
— a  very  modest  and  judicious  letter.  He  was  sensible,  he 
said,  that  his  affairs  were  too  inconsiderable  to  be  laid  before 
the  public ;  but  as  he  was  their  servant,  and  had  been  treated 
with  such  indulgence,  he  thought  it  was  his  duty  to  show  that 
it  was  not  "  obstinacy  or  exorbitancy "  that  kept  him  from 
their  service,  but  a  wish  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  with 
the  manager,  which  was  now  almost  accomplished.  In  a  few 
days  it  was  known  that  all  was  accommodated,  and  Mr.  Gar- 
rick was  announced  in  his  great  part  of  Bayes,  in  "  The  Ke- 
hearsal." 

This  news  caused  a  commotion.  Macklin  had  a  number  of 
Bohemian  allies — Dr.  Barrowby  (the  physician),  Corby n  Mor- 
ris, and  others — who  met  at  the  Horns  Tavern  in  Fleet-street, 
and  debated  the  wrongs  of  their  friend,  and  what  Macklin's 
biographer  absurdly  called  "  the  imperishable  infamy  of  Gar- 
rick's  apostasy."  It  was  determined  to  take  action  in  more 
ways  than  one.  On  December  the  5th  Garrick  was  an- 
nounced; and  on  that  day  a  "Case,"  hastily  got  up,  and 
written  by  Macklin,  was  launched  upon  the  town.*  A  hand- 
bill was  presently  circulated  about  the  town  and  the  theatre, 
signed  by  the  great  actor,  in  which  he  humbly  begged  the 
public  to  suspend  their  judgment  for  a  day  or  two,  until  an 
answer  to  that  appeal  had  been  prepared.  When  the  curtain 
rose  on  Tuesday,  the  following  night,  the  pit  was  found  to  be 
filled  with  Macklin's  friends,  led  by  the  party  from  the  Horns 
Tavern.  When  Garrick  appeared,  the  uproar  burst  out  He 
was  saluted  with  yells  of  "Off!  off!"  He  bowed  low,  and, 
with  extraordinary  submission  and  humility,  entreated  to  be 
heard.  But  no  hearing  would  be  vouchsafed  him.  Then  eggs 
and  apples  and  peas  came  showering  on  the  stage,  while  the 
great  actor  was  seen  calmly  standing  high  up  at  the  wing  to 
escape  the  attack.  The  play  was  not  allowed  to  go  on,  and 
the  curtain  had  to  be  let  down. 

On  the  next  day,  Garrick  having  secured  an  ally  in  Guthrie, 

*  Macklin's  biographer,  Kirkman,  gives  Corbyn  Morris  as  the  author; 
but  Daviea  "  has  authority  for  saying "  that  it  was  by  Macklin  himself. 
The  truth  may  be  between,  such  productions  being  then  the  common 
work  of  the  author  and  his  friends. 


1743.]  QUARREL  WITH  MACKLIN.  73 

a  Scotch  "hack-writer,"  rapidly  drew  up  a  reply.  But  for 
the  next  night  he  took  counsel  with  his  friends.  Some  of 
them,  with  Colonel  Wyndham,  of  Norfolk,  a  man  of  note,  re- 
paired to  the  theatre  in  force.*  Fleetwood's  low  tastes  for 
once  brought  him  profit.  A  crowd  of  his  pugilist  friends, 
headed  by  Broughton  and  Taylor,  were  privately  admitted 
into  the  pit,  before  the  doors  were  opened.  Just  before  the 
curtain  rose,  the  leader  of  this  formidable  band  stopped  the 
music,  and  standing  up,  said,  in  a  loud,  rough  voice,  "  Gentle- 
men, I  am  told  some  persons  have  come  here  with  an  inten- 
tion of  interrupting  the  play.  Now,  /  have  come  to  hear  it, 
and  have  paid  my  money,  and  advise  those  who  have  come 
with  such  a  view  to  go  away,  and  not  hinder  my  diversion." 
This  plain  and  sensible  speech  raised  a  terrific  uproar.  The 
bruisers  drew  together,  began  the  fray,  and  very  soon  cleared 
the  pit  of  the  Macklinites.  Then  the  piece  began.  Mr.  Gar- 
rick  appeared  with  many  respectful  bows,  and  went  through 
his  part  amid  the  acclamations  of  his  friends.  This  was  his 
first  theatrical  battle. 

On  the  next  day  his  answer  appeared.  There  was  one 
passage  which  had  a  certain  warmth,  and  which,  when  read  in 
Ireland,  must  have  won  him  many  friends — namely,  his  kindly 
declaration  of  affection  for  the  people  of  that  country,  and 
grateful  acknowledgment  of  their  kindness. 

In  this  struggle  Macklin  was  worsted,  and  the  victory  was 
with  his  rival,  of  whom  he  became  the  bitter  enemy.  From 
that  time  his  tongue  never  ceased  its  busy  slanders,  ringing 
the  changes  on  Garrick's  "meanness,"  though  in  course  of 
time  he  could  bring  himself  to  ask  favours  from  the  man  he 
had  so  treated.  The  whole  episode  proves  his  rough,  ill- 
conditioned,  and  violent  character;  his  "Case"  is  full  of 
phrases  as  "your  treachery"  —  "you  have  no  notion  of 
honour "  —  "  your  mean  disposition,"  and  such  language. 
Even  then  he  was  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  repeating 
his  favourite  charge  —  "  not  only  treacherous,  but  also  an 
avaricious  disposition ;  be  so  good  as  to  tell  whose  picture  it 
is ;  for  you  very  well  know,  and  are  a  fond  admirer  of  the 
original."  Mrs.  Clive  had  shown  her  spirit ;  during  the  first 
stages  of  the  quarrel  she  adhered  to  the  manager,  but  joined 
the  malcontents  later,  f     Had  Macklin  been  temperate  and 

*  Colonel  Wyndham  was  one  of  the  men  of  fashion  of  the  day.  He 
had  served  Maria  Teresa  ;  was  a  handsome  man,  an  accomplished  swords- 
man, and  father  to  the  better-known  William  Windham. 

t  See  a  particular  account  of  her  straightforward  behaviour  in  "The 
Life  of  Mrs.  Catherine  Clive  "  (1888),  by  the  author  of  this  work. 


74  •        THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1743— 

loyal,  his  proscription  would  have  been  an  eternal  claim, 
which  Garrick  would  never  have  ignored ;  and  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  shared  in  the  latter's  great  good  fortune.  Pro- 
scribed by  all  parties,  the  unlucky  actor  seemed  to  be  shut 
out  of  every  house,  and  was  driven  to  open  that  strange  his- 
trionic academy  at  the  Haymarket,  where  he  brought  out 
Mr.  Foote  and  Dr.  HilL 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SHERIDAN— QUARREL  WITH  WOFFINGTON. — 1743-1745. 

After  this  inauspicious  opening,  the  season  proceeded. 
Garrick's  popularity  had  not  been  impaired,*  and  he  added 
the  new  characters  of  Macbeth  "as  written  by  Shakspeare," 
Biron,  Lord  Towrdy,  Zaphna,  and  Regulus,  to  his  stock.  Tho 
two  latter  were  bald,  conventional  figures,  mere  sketches, 
poor  lath  and  plaster  constructions,  without  nature,  blood,  or 
feeling,  and  mere  vehicles  for  frothy  declamation.  Yet  they 
were  the  beginning  of  a  long  line  ;  and  it  is  inconceivable  that 
Garrick  should,  even  in  the  way  of  business,  have  associated 
himself  with  such  parts.  It  must  have  been  a  real  treat 
to  have  seen  him  and  Mrs.  Wofhngton  in  Lard  and  Lady 
Townly — a  true  exhibition  of  pleasant  comedy,  done  with 
infinite  spirit.  During  the  season,  old  Cibber  played  his  own 
parts  of  Fondlewife  and  Sir  John  Brute,  while  his  son,  after- 
wards to  be  one  of  Garrick's  most  scurrilous  enemies,  was  also 
of  the  company,  and  played  Abel  Drugger  a  few  nights  after 
Garrick  had  played  it.  He  could  even  challenge  his  enemy 
in  Baycs.  Well  might  a  friend  of  Garrick's  ask  "what 
demon  possessed  him  thus  to  exhibit  himself?"  It  was 
thought  he  never  performed  it  so  ill — leaving  out  half  his 
grimaces  and  buffoonery — it  was  supposed  because  he  saw 
Garrick  among  the  audience.  Another  feature  of  the  season 
was  the  engagement  of  a  gentleman,  from  Macklin's  curious 
show  in  the  Haymarket^  who  appeared  in  Othello  and  Fop- 
pington.  The  name  of  this  actor  was  not  given;  but  he 
was  already  well  known  to  Garrick,  and  perhaps  already 
feared  by  him.  For  his  voice  was  heard  loud  enough  at  the 
coffee-houses,  supporting  claims  to  be  the  exponent  of  the  true 

*  At  his  benefit,  five  rows  of  the  pit  were  railed  into  boxes,  and  the 
ladies  were  desired  to  tend  their  servants  three  hours  before  the  doors 
opened.  The  Dublin  Theatre  was  the  only  one  in  the  kingdom  where 
ladies  were  not  admitted  to  the  pit 


1745.]  SHERIDAN.  75 

school  of  natural  acting,  allowing  that  Garrick  was  natural 
and  easy,  but  not  natural  and  easy  enough;  and  that  "he 
wanted  the  due  amount  of  spirit  and  courage  to  take  tragedy 
completely  off  its  stilts."*  He  was  of  course  on  Macklin's 
side  in  the  Fleetwood  quarrel,  and  this  intimacy,  beginning  on 
a  footing  half  war,  half  peace,  was  to  continue  in  the  same 
curious  tone  for  nearly  forty  years.  Foote  was  the  name 
of  the  young  player,  then  only  three-and-twenty,  even  then 
"a  most  incompressible  fellow,"  of  ready  wit  and  tongue; 
dreadful  in  exposing  what  he  thought  "humbug,"  or  any 
false  assumption  of  decorum,  and  destined  to  the  end  to 
be  the  sharpest  of  the  many  thorns  in  Garrick's  side. 

At  the  other  house  Quin  and  Ryan,  reinforced  by  Mrs. 
Clive — who  in  the  late  quarrel  had  contrived  to  offend  both 
Fleetwood  and  Garrick — kept  up  the  struggle.  They  chose 
nearly  the  same  round  of  plays.  The  town  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  comparing  two  Macbeihs,  and  the  contrast  must  have 
been  extraordinary.  Garrick  himself  was  among  Quin's 
audience,  and  described  that  most  singular  conception  of 
the  part,  which  shows  how  absurd  and  mistaken  were  some 
of  the  principles  that  regulated  the  old  school,  In  the 
famous  scene  he  clutched  at  the  dagger  not  once,  but  several 
times,  first  with  one  hand,  then  with  the  other,  at  the  same 
time  ludicrously  striving,  as  it  were,  to  keep  on  the  ground, 
much  as  a  drowning  man  plunges  and  strikes  out  wildly.  In 
the  ghost  scene  he  drew  his  sword,  and  kept  making  passes  at 
the  spectre  until  he  had  driven  him  quite  off  the  stage.  But 
Garrick  owned  his  great  merit,  which  triumphed  over  these 
absurdities,  "his  slow,  manly,  folding-up  of  his  faculties,  his 
body  gradually  gathering  up  at  the  vision,  his  mind  keeping 
the  same  time,  denoting  by  the  eye  its  strong  workings.  He  did 
not  dash  the  goblet  to  the  ground,  but  let  it  gently  fall  from 
him,  as  if  unconscious  of  having  such  a  vehicle  in  his  hand." 
Quin,  only  a  few  months  later,  had  set  off  for  Dublin,  where 
he  had  always  been  a  favourite,  and  was  sure  to  find  his  reign 
undisputed  there.  But  his  gradual  fall  seemed  to  be  marked 
with  a  series  of  mortifications,  and  on  his  arrival  he  was  told  he 
could  not  even  have  a  night,  as  the  town  was  running  "  horn 
mad  "  after  a  new  local  actor  of  the  most  wonderful  powers. 

When  Mr.  Garrick  was  in  Dublin  he  had  met  a  young 
student  of  Trinity  College,  son  to  a  well-known  clergyman  of 
the  city — Doctor  Sheridan,  Swift's  friend.  This  young  gentle- 
man— at  that  time  well  stage-struck — unable  to  resist  the 

*  Forster's  essay  on  Foote,  p.  350. 


76  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1743— 

spell,  had  only  a  few  months  later  himself  gone  on  the  stage, 
to  the  consternation  of  his  friends,  who  were  shocked  at  the 
disgrace.  He  succeeded,  and  became  the  rage  of  the  hour. 
Garrick  took  infinite  interest  in  his  career,  and  with  that 
kindness  for  beginners  which  was  always  his  characteristic, 
wrote  over  to  invite  him  to  stay  the  whole  summer  with  him, 
and  proposed  that  they  should  play  together  at  Drury  Lane, 
offering  to  give  him  up  any  of  his  own  characters.  In  the 
young  man's  answer  to  this  handsome  offer,  though  put  with 
affected  diffidence — "  a  well  cut  pebble/'  he  said,  "  may  pass 
for  a  diamond  till  a  fine  brilliant  is  placed  near  it" — can 
be  seen  traces  of  the  arrogance  and  temper  which  later  made 
him  so  impracticable  a  character  to  deal  with.  His  head  was 
already  turned.  As  to  playing  at  one  house,  it  was  im- 
possible ;  they  would  "  clash  too  much "  in  regard  to  cha- 
racters. He  then  hinted  a  rather  conceited  proposal  of  their 
playing  alternately  in  London  and  Dublin,  "dividing  the 
kingdoms "  between  them,  for  he  was  convinced  that  Dublin 
was  as  well  able  to  pay  one  actor  for  a  winter  as  London  was. 
They  were  to  be  like  the  two  buckets  in  a  welL  But  this 
was  the  vanity  of  supposing  that  both  buckets  were  of  equal 
strength  and  weight;  and  the  difference  Sheridan  was  to 
discover  later,  by  the  sure  test  of  thin  houses  and  empty 
boxes.  It  was  pleasure,  not  business,  he  said,  that  was 
taking  him  to  town  for  "a  jaunt  of  three  weeks."  He  had 
hardly  time  to  do  anything,  having  had  "to  study  and 
act  three  new  characters  within  a  fortnight,"  one  of  which  was 
Othello  I  This  lightness  contrasted  ill  with  Garrick's  thought- 
ful and  diligent  preparation.  When  he  did  come  to  town  he 
was  engaged,  not  at  Drury  Lane,  but  at  Covent  Garden. 

That  new  season  of  1744-5  was  to  have  troubles  of  its  own.  The 
Drury  Lane  company  was  strengthened  with  the  tender  Cibber 
— a  valuable  auxiliary  for  Garrick  in  such  plaintive  parts  £s 
Monimia,  Belvidera,  and  Andromache,  and  by  Sheridan,  who  had 
come  to  join  his  friend.  Garrick  made  his  first  appearance  on 
the  19th  of  October,  Sheridan  on  the  following  night.  Garrick 
was  therefore  sincere  in  his  protestation  of  friendship,  for  a 
word  from  him  could  have  prevented  the  engagement  of  a  rival. 
He  indeed  was  virtually  directing  the  theatre.  The  same 
toleration  allowed  the  return  of  Macklin,  who  was  restored  to 
his  old  place,  and  made  his  submission  in  a  humiliating  pro- 
logue: 

"  From  scheming,  fretting,  fuming,  and  despair, 
Behold  to  grace  restored  an  exiled  player. 
Your  sanction  yet  his  fortune  must  complete, 
And  give  him  privilege  to  laugh  and — eat." 


1745.]  SHERIDAN.  77 

But  he  was  not  'to  be  reconciled,  though  he  admitted  there 
were  in  the  green-room  "  longer  heads  "  than  his,  to  whom  ho 
would  in  future  leave  the  conduct  of  affairs.  He  was  presently 
to  see  the  manager  made  the  object  of  just  such  a  scene  of 
violence  as  he  himself  had  organised  against  Garrick,  and  which 
it  is  not  improbable  was  got  up  by  the  same  party. 

Among  other  attractions,  the  manager  had  brought  out  a 
costly  pantomime  called  "  The  Fortune-tellers,"  and  to  reim- 
burse himself  for  the  increased  'charges,  new  engagements, 
scenery,  &c,  found  it  necessary  to  make  some  advance  in  the 
price  of  admission.  This  was  received  with  deep  dissatisfaction, 
for  the  raising  of  prices  had  only  been  tolerated  in  the  case  of 
an  entirely  new  entertainment.  On  the  night  of  Saturday,  the 
7th  of  November,  the  audience  took  their  favourite  method  of 
showing  their  displeasure  by  a  riot.  The  performance  was  in- 
terrupted. There  was  an  affectation  of  being  disgusted  with 
pantomimes,  and  that  class  of  entertainment,  and  a  handbill 
was  actually  circulated  proposing  that  the  "  advance  money  " 
should  be  returned  to  those  who  did  not  choose  to  wait  and  be 
"  tortured  with  entertainments."  This  was  a  mere  pretence. 
The  manager  was  called  for  tumultuously,  but  with  some  spirit 
declined  to  appear  before  them,  pleading  exemption,  as  not 
being  an  actor ;  but  said  he  would  be  willing  to  receive  a  depu- 
tation in  his  room.  Some  delegates  were  accordingly  sent  from 
the  pit,  and  the  audience  waited  their  return  patiently.  On  the 
Monday  night  a  concession  was  announced.  Any  persons  who 
did  not  choose  to  stay  for  a  new  piece,  pantomime,  &c,  might 
ask  for  a  special  check  at  the  door,  on  presenting  which,  they 
might  have  the  advanced  price  returned  to  them.  It  was  to  be 
the  second  appearance  of  Garrick,  in  his  excellent  character  of 
Sir  John  Brute  ;  but  that  famous  piece  of  acting  had  no  spell 
The  riot  broke  out  again  with  fury.  The  moment  the  doors 
were  opened,  the  rioters  burst  in,  and  swept  the  door-keepers 
from  their  places,  the  theatre  was  given  to  sack  and  confusion, 
the  benches  torn  up,  the  sconces  pulled  down  and  flung  on  the 
stage — a  favourite  and  traditional  fashion  with  a  dissatisfied 
audience,  of  showing  their  displeasure.  When  they  were  about 
invading  the  stage  to  tear  down  the  scenery,  a  number  of  con- 
stables, "  carpenters,  and  scene-men "  came  from  behind,  and 
stood  to  its  defence.  "  A  country  gentleman,"  conspicuous  as 
a  ringleader,  was  dragged  from  the  boxes,  and  brought  before 
a  magistrate,  a  proceeding  which  the  mob  affected  to  think  an 
outrage  on  their  dignity,  though  he  was  later  released.  The 
manager  wLose  property  was  thus  outrageously  dealt  with,  was 
put  on  his  defence,  as  it  were,  and  exculpated  himself  humbly  in 


78  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1743— 

a  pamphlet,  urging  that  he  was  merely  protecting  his  property. 
Such  indeed  has  been  the  rather  exceptional  tone  in  all  English 
theatrical  disturbances,  audiences  having  always  claimed  the 
outrageous  privilege  of  setting  themselves  right,  by  sacking 
their  enemy's  theatre.  After  wreaking  their  fury  in  this  fashion, 
the  manager  was  allowed  to  repair  his  House,  and  further 
concession  was  not  insisted  upon.* 

Macklin  must  have  had  some  satisfaction  in  witnessing  what 
was  scarcely  a  failure,  but  what  some  were  eager  to  consider  a 
failure ;  for,  on  March  the  7th,  Garrick  attempted  "  Othello," 
for  the  first  time.  Then  it  was  that  old  Quin,  turning  to  Hoadly, 
made  the  smart  and  not  unfair  criticism,  "  Here's  r ompey,  but 
where 's  the  tea-kettle  and  lamp  " — an  association  that  became 
almost  irresistible  to  any  one  thinking  of  the  short  figure,  the 
blacked  face,  and  the  bright  scarlet  officer's  coat  in  which  he 
absurdly  dressed  himself.  Otherwise  he  played  it  well,  as  we 
know  from  the  testimony  of  two  friends  ;t  and,  indeed,  the 
character,  full  of  fitful  gusts  of  passion,  must  have  suited  him 
excellently.  But  no  splendour  of  acting  could  have  triumphed 
over  the  likeness  to  Hogarth's  "  black  page." 

Sheridan,  meanwhile,  was  growing  in  favour  by  aid  of  strong 
lungs,  and  "  words  enforced  with  weight"  He  seems  to  have 
had  all  the  coldness  of  a  professional  elocutionist ;  and  an  old 
playgoer,  J  who  saw  him  in  decay,  was  struck  with  his  stiff 
features  and  inharmonious  voice.  He  was  given  every  advan- 
tage. With  a  surprising  superiority  to  that  petty  jealousy 
which  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  half  the  scandals  of  the  pro- 
fession, Garrick  allowed  his  friend  to  appear  in  Bichardy  Hamlet, 
Piene,  Othello — parts  that  belonged  to  him.  Yet  very  soon 
there  was  a  party  formed  who  affected  to  think  the  Irish  actor 
was  kept  back,  and  who  affected  to  consider  him  superior 
to  the  established  favourite.  Under  such  conditions  came 
jealousy,  with  a  coldness,  and  later  an  open  quarrel  Indeed 
it  was  always  Garrick's  fate  to  be  harassed  by  the  sensitiveness 
and  pretensions  of  the  rising  actors,  for  whom  his  very  indul- 
gence and  encouragement  was  but  a  foundation  for  grievances 
and  exorbitant  demands. 

Thomson,  the  author  of  the  "  Seasons,"  had  now  ready  his 
"  Tancrcd  and  Sigismunda,"  a  romantic  and  pathetic  piece,  and 
perhaps,  after  Hughes's  "  Siege  of  Damascus,"  the  best  of  what 
Johnson  so  happily  called  "  the  Tig  and  Tiry  "  school :  alluding 

*  One  of  the  advertisements  ran  :  "  The  company  cannot  play  till  to* 
morrow  evening,  as  the  damages  have  not  been  repaired." 
t  Victor  and  Aston.    This  jest  has  been  also  attributed  to  Foote, 
t  Boaden. 


1745.]  SHERIDAN.  79 

to  the  names  in  an  Eastern  piece,  Tigranes  and  Tiridates.  Mr. 
Pitt  and  Lord  Lyttleton  were  deeply  interested  in  the  success  of 
the  play;  and,  indeed,  it  was  said  to  have  been  at  their  instance 
that  it  was  produced.  They  attended  the  rehearsals,  and  their 
hints  are  said  to  have  been  received  by  the  players  "  with  great 
respect,  and  embraced  with  implicit  confidence"  Indeed,  the  play 
was  well  calculated  to  bring  out  all  the  love  and  pathos  of  two 
such  tender  actors.  It  flowed  on  in  a  strain  of  rapture  and 
chivalrous  ardour,  which  later  recommended  it  for  the  excep- 
tional honour  of  French  translation. 

In  the  beginning  of  April,  Garrick  had  been  seized  with  a 
severe  illness,  and  his  pails  had  to  be  taken  by  others.  By 
this  time,  also,  the  disorder  in  the  management  of  the  theatre 
had  come  to  a  crisis.  Hopelessly  involved  by  debt  and  dissipa- 
tion, Fleetwood  was  at  last  obliged  to  retire,  and  yet,  consider- 
ing his  bankrupt  condition,  contrived  to  make  surprisingly  good 
terms.  He  had  brought  the  theatre  to  a  desperate  pass.  He 
had  already  mortgaged  the  patent  for  three' thousand  pounds  to 
Sir  Thomas  de  Lorme  and  Mr.  Masters;  and  had  cajoled  an 
unsuspicious  Mr.  Meure  or  More  to  advance  more  money  for 
the  redemption  of  the  patent,  who  was  told  that  seven  thousand 
pounds  would  set  it  quite  free,  his  security  being  the  theatre 
properties  and  wardrobe,  with  a  title  to  enjoy  all  the  receipts. 
But  he  was  presently  surprised  by  seeing  in  the  papers  a  public 
notice,  that  the  patent  was  to  be  put  up  to  sale  under  a  decree 
in  Chancery.  He  had  been  tricked,  and  found  himself  in  the 
embarrassing  position,  that  he  might  be  the  owner  of  a 
theatre,  its  scenery  and  properties,  but  without  patent  or  licence 
to  use  either.  This  stroke  of  craft  was  characteristic  of  Fleet- 
wood, who,  indeed,  was  now  said  to  have  turned  a  sort  of 
"sharper." 

About  this  time  Rich,  the  manager  of  Covent  Garden,  had 
in  his  service  a  stage  manager  called  Lacy,  a  business-like  Irish- 
man, who  had  made  a  little  money  by  speculation,  and  who  in 
his  dealings,  had  been  found  "honest"  and  exact — then  an 
almost  exceptional  virtue  in  the  histrionic  world.  When  the 
theatre  came  into  the  market,  two  persons  of  substance  from 
the  City,  being  anxious  to  venture  in  theatrical  speculation,  came 
to  Lacy,  though  he  was  personally  a  stranger  to  them,  and 
proposed  to  him  to  join  them,  he  undertaking  the  theatrical 
management.  They  were  content  to  find  two-thirds  of  the 
purchase-money,  and  if  his  share  was  not  forthcoming,  would 
allow  it  to  remain  out,  as  it  were,  on  mortgage. 

This  arrangement  seemed  acceptable,  and  was  being  drawn  up 
by  Green  and  Amber,  a  City  house,  who  were  to  have  been 


80  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID*  GARRICK.  [1743 — 

bankers  to  the  new  company,  when  one  of  the  partners  suddenly 
became  seriously  ill,  and  the  project  had  to  be  given  up.  The 
bankers  were  much  disappointed.  It  occurred  to  them  to  take 
the  place  of  the  other  contractor ;  and,  Lacy's  character  being 
known  to  them,  they  made  him  a  fresh  proposal.  He  was  to 
undertake  the  negotiation,  to  get  Fleetwood  to  accept  an  annuity 
of  £600,  and  also  induce  Mr.  More  not  to  press  for  his  mortgage. 
If  he  succeeded  in  these  two  matters,  they  would  find  the  money 
to  pay  off  all  the  other  charges,  allow  Lacy's  contribution  to 
"  stand  out,"  and  be  gradually  discharged  by  his  proportion  of 
the  profits.  Lacy  succeeded  in  the  negotiation.  Fleetwood, 
racked  with  gout,  and  worn  out  with  excess,  was  glad  to  accept 
such  handsome  terms,  and  retired  to  France,  where  he  closed 
his  strange  career.  Drury  Lane  once  more  passed  to  new  pro- 
prietors.* 

During  this  time  Garrick's  relations  with  Mrs.  Woffington 
had  continued,  but  with  a  fitfulness  that  was  characteristic  on 
her  side.  They  still  met ;  and  we  have  a  glimpse  of  them  in 
the  London  suburbs,  only  a  little  before  the  Scotch  rebellion, 
which  has  a  certain  dramatic  air. 

She  was  then  living  at  Teddington.  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  had 
met  both  her  and  Garrick  in  Dublin,  was  staying  at  Kingston, 
where  he  kept  open  house,  and  dispensed  hospitality,  and  his 
influence  was  said  to  have  seriously  altered  her  style  in  tragedy, 
giving  it  something  of  the  French  stiffness.  She  amused  her- 
self by  making  fools  of  old  men,  like  Cibber  and  Owen  Swiney, 
having  them  dangling  about  her,  the  wits  said,  like  the  elders 
after  Susanna.  There  was  a  curious  circle  at  this  Kingston 
villa :  made  up  principally  of  jovial  students  and  professors,  of 
the  delightful  Mrs.  Woffington  herself,  and  of  Garrick,  who,  it 
was  given  out,  was  sighing  to  be  reconciled  to  his  former 
"  charmer."    To  this  house  came  also  a  Mrs.  Bellamy,  with  her 

*  The  accounts  of  the  patent  and  its  shares  are  much  confused.  Neither 
Victor  nor  Geneste  notices  what  was  done  with  Giffard's  share.  Victor  is 
wrong  also  as  to  the  price  paid.  It  was  £13,750,  not  £3,500.  The  pedigree 
of  the  "  licence  "  thus  disposed  of  would  seem  to  be  as  follows : — Starting 
from  the  year  1711,  it  was  shared  between  Colley  Cibber,  Wilks,  Collier, 
and  Dogget  In  1714,  Booth,  the  actor,  was  taken  in,  under  a  new  licence 
granted  to  Steele.  A  fresh  patent  was  granted  in  1731.  In  1732,  the 
amateur  manager,  Highmore,  purchased  the  whole  of  Cibber's  share  and 
one-half  of  Booth's  for  the  sum  of  £5,500 — an  enormous  price,  considering 
the  decay  of  the  property.  Later,  in  1733,  Giffard  purchased  Booth's 
remaining  half ;  and  on  Highmore's  failure  the  proprietors  of  the  patent 
were  Highmore,  representing  one-half,  with  the  widow  of  Wilks,  and  Giffard, 
who  held  the  other.  Fleetwood  then  appeared,  and  purchased,  for  little 
more  than  the  unlucky  Highmore  had  given  for  his  part,  Highmore's  and 
Mrs.  Wilks's  share. 


1745.]         QUARREL  WITH  WOFFINGTON.  81 

pretty  daughter;  and  a  sister  of  "Woffington's — Miss  Polly 
Woffington — whom  the  College  gentlemen  discovered  had 
great  gifts  for  the  stage.  It  was  once  determined  to  get  up  a 
private  play  to  make  trial  of  these  gifts.  Mr.  Garrick  took 
Orestes ;  the  pretty  Miss  Bellamy,  who  had  not  as  yet  gone  on 
the  stage,  Andromache)  Hermione  fell  to  Miss  Polly;  and 
Pyrrhus  to  Mr.  Sullivan,  "  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin." 
All  the  neighbours  of  fashion  were  invited,  including  "Sir 
William  Young,"  who  was  loud  in  praise  of  Miss  Bellamy, 
though  Miss  Polly  Woffington  much  excelled  her  in  beauty. 
Mr.  Garrick,  also,  pronounced  that  Miss  Bellamy  was  more  in 
earnest  The  whole  must  have  been  a  curious  and  characteristic 
scene — the  fashionables  of  Kingston  sitting  round — the  lively 
Woffington,  and  the  "  great  Garrick,"  and  Mr.  Sullivan,  Fellow 
of  Trinity  College,  declaiming  away  against  each  other.* 

Woffington  was  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  theatre,  and  one 
night,  and  that  not  on  a  benefit  night,  when  such  compliments 
are  usual,  she  could  show  her  true  devotion  to  the  interest  of 
a  play  by  taking  a  mean  part  in  "  The  Provoked  Wife,"  and 
allowing  Mrs.  Gibber  to  play  Lady  Brule.  Thus  was  given  a 
perfect  cast.  But  her  admirer  sought  in  vain  for  such  constancy 
in  another  direction.  "  Colonel  Caesar  of  the  Guards,"  Lord 
Darnlcy,  and  others  began  to  crowd  on  the  scene.  Many 
looking  on,  saw  this  fickleness  in  the  lady,  and  were  con- 
cerned for  their  friend  Garrick ;  and  Lord  Rochford  told  him 
very  plainly  that  he  had  small  confidence  in  "  WofTs  "  attach- 
ment, who  "  could  wean  herself  much  easier  than  you  can,  or  I 
have  no  skill  in  woman's  flesh."  Gallants  of  the  class  of 
Hanbury  Williams  were  growing  more  pressing  in  their  devo- 
tion. It  is  plain  that  the  volatile  creature  was  making  efforts 
to  maintain  some  show  of  constancy  to  her  lover,  and  it  is 
certain  that  he  had  engaged  solemnly  to  marry  her.t  It  was 
later  to  come  so  near,  that  he  had  brought  home  the  wedding- 

*  Bellamy's  Memoirs. 

t  Miss  Polly  Woffington  married  the  nephew  of  Lord  Cholmondely,  who 
was  greatly  shocked  by  the  degrading  alliance,  but  on  meeting  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington later  owned  that  the  had  reconciled  him  to  the  match.  Her  reply 
showed  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  good  heart  of  the  actress.  "My  lord,"  she 
said,  coldly,  "  I  have  much  more  reason  to  be  offended  with  it  than  you, 
for  before  I  had  but  one  beggar  to  maintain,  now  I  have  two."  She  for 
years  supported  this  younger  sister,  sent  her  to  a  convent  in  France  to  be 
educated.  She  was  "  a  very  airy  lady,"  according  to  Johnson.  In  Miss 
Barney's  diary,  a*  well  as  in  the  memoirs  of  Dr.  Burney,  are  some  lively 
sketches  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cholmondely  and  lib  wife.  It  is  amusing  to  see 
how  the  heralds  respectfully  put  her  father,  the  Dubliu  mason,  down  as 
14  Arthur  Woffington,  Esquire  ; "  and  her  children  married  into  the  good 
houses  of  Townshend  iu  England,  and  of  Bellingham  in  Ireland. 

G 


82  TIIE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1743 — 

ring,  and  tried  it  on.*  With  so  respectable  an  alliance  in  view, 
and  possibly  with  some  sincere  attachment  to  the  actor,  it  is 
not  surprising  she  should  have  made  some  attempts  at  steadi- 
ness, though  attended  with  occasional  lapses,  for  which  the 
lover  could  have  indulgence.!  This  is  shown  by  some  lines  of 
reproach  addressed  to  her  by  Williams  only  the  year  before, 
and  which  describes  the  situation,  and  her  character  very 
fairly;  and  shows  that  some  struggle  was  going  on.  It  is 
curious  that  they  should  be  in  the  same  injured  tone  as 
Garrick's  wore  to  be  in  the  year  following — complaining  of  tho 
lady's  fickleness,  now  growing  ail  but  constitutional : — 

TO  MRS.  WOFFINGTON,  July,  1744. 

"If  Heav'n  upon  thy  perjured  head 
Had  the  least  mark  of  vengeance  shed, 

For  all  thy  hate  to  truth  ; 
Had  e'en  diminished  any  grace, 
Lit  up  one  pimple  in  thy  face, 

Or  rotted  but  one  tooth, 

"  I  would  believe  its  powers :  but  you, 
More  fair,  as  still  more  faithless,  grew— 

Charms  flow  from  perjuries ; 
The  more  you  cheat,  we  trust  the  more, 
Each  jilting  tear's  a  fruitful  shower 

That  makes  fresh  beauties  rise. 

"  See  all  our  youth  confess  thy  power ; 
They  but  behold  thee  and  adore, 

Aud  press  to  drag  thy  chain  ; 
And  though  we  swear  and  brag  we're  free, 
Repentant  Darnley  longs,  like  me, 

To  be  thy  slave  again." 

The  Lord  Darnley  who  longed  to  be  her  slave  again,  had 
obtained  a  promise  from  her  that  she  would  not  sec  the  actor, 
when  he  himself  was  obliged  to  leave  town.  Ho  had  her 
watched,  and  taxed  her  with  breaking  this  promise.  She 
denied  it,  and  said  "  she  had  not  seen  Garrick  for  an  age."  Tho 
nobleman  said  he  could  prove  she  had,  and  on  that  very  morning. 
The  baffled  actress  answered  with  a  spirit,  that  showed  affec- 
tion as  well  as  readiness :  "  Well,  and  is  not  that  an  age  ? "    It 

*  Murphy  vouches  for  this  story,  and  was  assured  of  its  truth  on  many 
occasions  by  the  actress.  It  is  quite  plain  that  Garrick  was  looking  forward 
to  a  marriage. 

t  Macklin  used  to  tell  stories  of  Garrick's  approving  of  these  irregulari- 
ties, and  favouring  the  addresses  of  Lord  Darnley.  Such  conduct  is  utterly 
inconsistent  with  Garrick's  character,  and  with  the  bitter  expostulation  on 
her  perfidy  he  was  to  make  later.— See  this  "good  story,"  in  Kirkman's 
Macklin,  p.  117. 


1745.]  QUARREL  WITH  WOFFINGTON.  83 

was  this  genuineness  that  was  her  charm :  and  these  little  flashes 
of  nature  were  to  hold  her  lover  undecided  a  little  longer. 
Macklin  used  to  relate  her  version  of  how  "  shabbily  "  he  had 
withdrawn.  He  told  her  that  he  had  lain  tossing  all  the  night, 
thinking  of  this  wretched  marriage — that  it  was  a  foolish  thing 
for  both,  who  might  do  better  in  separate  lines,  and  that,  in 
short,  "  he  had  worn  the  shirt  of  Dejanira."  "  Then  throw  it  oft* 
at  once,  sir,"  said  she  in  her  shrill,  inharmonious  voice.  "  From 
this  moment  I  have  done  with  you."  The  next  morning  she 
sent  back  all  his  presents,  and  a  letter  of  dismissal.  He  did 
the  same,  with  the  exception  of  a  pair  of  diamond  buckles  of 
some  value.  She  waited  for  a  month  thinking  they  had  been 
forgotten,  and  then  wrote  for  them ;  but  Garrick  begged  "  he 
might  be  allowed  to  keep  them  as  a  memorial  of  their  own 
friendship,  and  of  many  happy  hours,"  &c.  This  was  told  with 
much  chuckling  by  Macklin,  as  an  illustration  of  "  the  little 
fellow's  meanness  and  avarice ; "  though  there  is  no  reason  why 
it  should  not  be  accepted  in  its  literal  sense,  as  a  proof  of  feel- 
ingor  affection. 

But  we  have  fortunately  the  means  of  discovering  what  was 
his  version.  I  find  among  his  papers  a  long  "  copy  of  verses," 
full  of  bitter  reproach,  significant  of  anger  and  deep  jealousy, 
holding  up  to  her  astonished  eyes  a  fierce  and  caustic  picture 
of  all  her  infidelities,  and  warning  her  how  it  must  surely  end. 
They  were  headed  "  Epistle  to  Mrs.  Wofiington,  sent  to  her  in 
June,  1745."  He  still  calls  her  Sylvia,  as  though  she  was 
always  present  to  him  in  that  first  loved  character,  and  they 
show  that  all  was  at  an  end  between  them,  but  certainly 
through  no  fault  on  his  side.* 

"  Sylvia,  to  you  I  dedicate  my  lays. 

No  flattering  bard,  or  love-sick  youth  ; 
Regardless  of  your  censure  or  your  praise, 
I  come  to  expose  the  naked  truth. 

"  To  you,  and  to  your  heart  my  muse  appeals, 
And  if  not  tainted  to  the  core. 
Freely  confess  the  action  she  reveals, 
Which  all  your  various  arts  explore. 

M  And  now  my  muse  in  greatest  order  move, 
In  just  succession  facte  impart ; 
Pursue  the  rovings  of  a  woman's  love, 
And  sing  the  progress  of  her  heart. 

M  From  forty-two  I  take  my  present  date, 

When  Darnley's  gold  seemed  void  of  charms* 
And  driven  by  whims,  inconstancy,  or  fate, 
You  flew  from  him  to  Garrick's  arms. 

*   From  the  Hill  Ma 

G  2 


84  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1743 — 

"  No  mercenary  views  possessed  your  mind, 
'Tis  love  !  cried  oub  the  public  voice ; 
To  Sylvia's  virtue  we  have  all  been  blind : 
By  fate  a  mistress,  not  by  choice. 

11  But  soon  these  poeons  cease — 'twas  worse  and  worse, 
(For  fame  will  err  and  make  mistakes) 
She  revels  with  the  man  she  ought  to  curse, 
And  riots  with  her  quondam  rakes, 

••  I  know  your  sophistry,  I  know  your  art, 
Which  all  your  dupes  and  fools  control ; 
Yourself  you  give  without  your  heart — 
All  may  share  that,  but  not  your  soul. 

"  But  now  her  thirst  of  gold  must  be  allayed, 
The  want  of  Bhow  her  pride  alarms  ; 
It  must,  it  shall  be  gratified,  she  said, 

Then  plunged  in  hateful  W — 11 — ms'  arms. 

"  Oh.  peer  !*  (whose  acts  shall  down  time's  torrents  roll), 
If  thus  you  doat,  thus  love  the  dame, 
In  nuptial  bonds  unite  her  to  your  soult 
And  thus  at  once  complete  your  fame." 

He  then,  rather  pathetically,  warns  her  of  the  decay,  which 
such  a  course  of  life  must  entail,  even  in  her  looks,  and  bids- 
her  look  in  her  glass : 

"  Peggy  !  behold  that  harassed,  worn-out  field, 
Which  once  was  verdant,  fruitful,  gay — " 

and  which  is  now  "  barren,"  and  "  cracked ; "  "  and  "  ho  adds, 

11  Though  you  feign  the  joys  you  cannot  feel, 
Yet  even  mechanic  passions  wear. 

"  Your  spring  is  past,  but  not  your  summer  gone, 
O  reap  before  the  sun  descends  ! 
When  autumn's  fall  or  winter's  blasts  come  on, 
Farewell  to  lovers,  flatterers,  and  friends. 

<(But  now,  advice  apart,  the  theme  pursue, 
Follow  the  damsel  in  her  wild  career  ! 
Say  what  gallants,  what  keepers  are  in  view- 
Behold  the  Colonel  in  the  rear  !  ; 

M  Some  say  you're  proud,  coquettish,  cruel,  vain* 
Unjust !    She  never  wounds  but  cures ; 
So  pitiful  to  every  lying  swain — 
Flatter  or  pay,  the  nymph  is  yours." 

It  is  extraordinary  that  so  sensible  a  young  man  should  have* 
meditated  uniting  himself  in  wedlock  to  such  a  person.  It 
may  have  been  that  he  believed  he  could  reform  her,  and 
hoped  that  she  might  be  fit  to  take  her  place  as  the  wife  of  an 
honest  man  who  loved  her.     This  was  an  infatuation ;  still, 

*  Lord  Darnley. 


I 


1745.]  QUARREL  WITH  WOFFINGTON.  85 

looking  at  the  existing  state  of  morals  about  him,  such  views 
were  almost  creditable  to  him.  But  the  abandoned  creature 
could  not  be  fixed :  one  lover  was  preferred  after  the  other,  and 
Garrick,  dismissing  all  hopes  of  a  reformation,  finally  deter- 
mined to  break  oft*  with  her.  His  constancy  and  attachment 
had  no  doubt  amused  the  town  and  his  friends,  and  this  rup- 
ture, which  was  notorious,  furnished  no  less  abundant  talk 
and  diversion.  Caricatures  were  published,  and  verses  written. 
A  hundred  stories  went  about,  as  to  the  promise  of  marriage, 
and  of  the  gentleman  being  tired  of  his  engagement.  The 
actress  was  piqued  and  angry,  and  gave  friends  her  version, 
coloured,  no  doubt,  by  an  angry  woman's  view  of  the  matter, 
and  diligently  retailed  by  her  friend  Macklin.  It  was,  indeed, 
the  happiest  thing  in  the  world  for  Garrick.  Such  an  alliance 
would  have  shipwrecked  his  whole  life  and  made  his  home 
wretched.  He  was  saved  in  time  to  meet  with  the  rarest  and 
best  of  women — one  that  was  elegant  in  mind  and  person,  the 
most  faithful  and  admirable  of  wives.  "  Peg  "  Woffington  per- 
haps laughed  the  loudest  at  this  desertion. 

Still  there  was  a  fifteen  years'  brilliant  career  before  her, 
more  theatrical  triumphs,  membership  of  the  Beef  Steak  Club, 
and  "  four  thousand  pounds  brought  by  her  to  the  theatre," 
for  four  old  stock  plays.  Her  admirers  clustered  fast,  one 
of  whom  was  old  Owen  Swiney,  whom  she,  later,  turned 
to  excellent  profit.  She  passed  over  to  Paris,  where  she 
picked  up  hints  from  Dumesnil.*  And,  long  after,  the  "  Hon. 
and  Rev.  Robert  Cholmondely" — the  husband  of  Miss  Polly 
Woffington — was  not  ashamed  to  draw  some  profit  from  Mr. 
Garrick's  old  intimacy  with  the  actress,  and  asked  and 
received  loans  of  money.     Thus  ended  this  episode. 

Lacy,  now  in  command  of  the  theatre,  was  not  on  har- 
monious terms  with  his  leading  actor.  He  also  had  quarrelled 
with  Mrs.  Cibber ;  and  Garrick,  having  been  obliged  to  give 
up  playing  for  the  present  from  illness,  was  only  thinking 
of  restoring  his  strength  by  easy  expeditions  to  the  country. 
What  Mrs.  Cibber  was  eager  for  was  a  joint  adventure — that 

*  Fitzpatrick  wrote  from  Paris  in  1748  : — "  There  are  a  great  many 
English  now  here  ;  and,  among  the  rest,  Mrs.  Woffington  is  now  here  with 
fiwiney.  I  have  often  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  her  at  the  play- 
house, where  we  sit  in  judgment  on  the  players.  We  have  agreed  that 
in  comedy  they  far  surpass  the  English  players,  but  in  tragedy  they 
fall  short  of  them."  At  a  public  fencing  match  she  was  so  attracted 
by  a  handsome  fencing  master  that  she  went  over  and  pinned  a  favour 
on  his  breast,  and  later  travelled  home  with  him  in  the  same  chaise. 
There  is  a  picture  of  old  Swiney,  her  other  admirer,  by  Van  Loo.  In 
dress  and  air  it  is  very  like  the  well-known  one  of  Rubens. 


86  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1745 — 

with  Quin  and  Garrick  she  should  purchase  the  Drury  Lane 
patent,  which  it  was  very  probable  Lacy's  growing  embarrass- 
ments would  send  into  the  market  once  more.  She  tried 
all  sorts  of  pleasant  blandishments,  now  asking  Garrick  to  her 
place  at  Woodhay,  now  planning  a  meeting  in  town,  now 
flattering  him,  and  now  frightening  him  by  the  news  that 
Lacy  was  determined  to  shut  them  both  out  of  the  theatre  for 
the  new  season.  But  Garrick  was  too  cautious  to  join  in  such 
triumvirate. 

This  was  in  October,  and  he  was  still  only  recovering 
slowly  from  his  illness,  under  the  care  of  Thompson,  a  well- 
known  physician  of  the  day.  But  before  arranging  the 
details  of  this  new  scheme  he  went  down  to  Buxton  Hall,  and 
later  to  Bath,  with  his  friend,  Colonel  Wyndham,  and  there 
received  a  proposal  which  changed  everything. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON. — 1745-1746. 

Garrick  vwas  at  Bath,  enjoying  that  pleasant  watering- 
place,  when  the  post  brought  him  a  letter  from  Sheridan,  then 
in  Ireland.  It  contained  a  singular  and  characteristic  pro- 
posal. Having  heard,  he  said,  that  Garrick  wished  to  pay 
a  second  visit  to  Dublin,  he  wrote  to  inform  him  that  he  was 
now  "sole  manager  of  the  Irish  stage,"  and  that  he  might 
depend  on  receiving  "every  advantage  and  encouragement 
that  he  could  in  reason  expect."  The  basis  of  their  agree- 
ment was  to  be  a  division  of  profits/  but  he  frankly  warned 
him  to  expect  nothing  from  friendsnip,  or,  indeed,  anything 
more  than  an  actor  could  in  strict  right  require.  No  wonder 
that  Garrick,  on  this  almost  hostile  invitation,  should  turn  to 
his  friend,  and  say:  "This  is  the  oddest  letter  I  ever  received 
in  the  whole  course  of  my  life."  Colonel  Wyndham  replied 
that  it  might  be  odd,  but  that  it  was  still  fair,  open,  and 
honest,  and  advised  him  to  accept  the  proposal.  Uncertain  as 
to  his  plans — for  the  London  theatres  were  still  in  sad  confu- 
sion— and  inclining  himself  in  that  direction,  he  took  his 
friend's  advice,  and  closed  with  Sheridan. 

He  first  went  to  Lichfield  to  see  his  family,  and  determined 
to  go  on  from  thence  to  Ireland,  without  returning  to  London. 
This  resolution  seemed  to  hurt  his  friend  Mrs.  Cibber,  who 
thought  it  against  his  interests,  and  a  little  against  the 
interests  of  their  friendship.    With  a  break-up  in  theatrical 


I 


1746.]  SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON,  87 

matters  so  imminent,  it  was  well  to  be  on  the  spot.  His 
"  little  wife,"  as  she  called  herself,  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  had  but  two  or  three  hours'  conversation  with  him  before 
he  left  Garrick,  we  may  suspect,  was  growing  a  little 
fatigued  with  this  "friendship;"  and  wrote  back  some 
routine  compliments,  saying  that  she  was  of  the  number 
he  could  not  wish  to  take  leave  of.  He  added  that  he  also 
wanted  sadly  to  make  love  to  her — on  the  stage.  To  which 
she  replied  pleasantly  that  she  could  assure  him  very  seriously 
that  unless  he  made  more  love  than  he  did  the  past  year,  she 
would  never  act  with  him.  All  the  last  winter  she  had  had 
"  wretched  lovers.  I  desire  you  always  to  be  my  lover  on  the 
stage,  and  my  friend  off  it."  Garrick  then  promised  to  write 
to  her  from  Ireland,  and  set  off  about  the  middle  of  November. 

In  the  interval  between  Garrick's  first  and  second  visit,  the 
state  of  the  Irish  theatres  had  become  deplorable,  and  sad 
disorders  had  grown  up.  A  sort  of  licence  among  the  audience 
had  been  encouraged  by  the  management,  and  by  allowing  the 
public  to  behave  as  they  pleased,  all  check  of  respect  and 
decency  had  gradually  been  lost.  Tho  boxes  and  pit  were 
deserted  while  the  stage  was  crowded  with  gratuitous  visitors, 
and  the  gallery  was  the  scene  of  brawls  and  riots  between  tho 
"footmen"  and  the  mob.  In  this  demoralization  Sheridan 
had  been  invited  to  become  manager,  and  attempt  a  reform ; 
and  having  remodelled  scenery  and  scenic  effects,  and  brought 
about  something  like  order,  determined  to  play  boldly,  and,  as 
the  first  card  to  play,  thought  of  engaging  Garrick. 

He  presently  came  to  London,  to  get  together  a  band  of 
recruits,  and  at  last  started  for  Chester  with  a  curious  party : 
Miss  Bellamy,  the  well-known  "  George- Anne,"  an  ambitious 
young  girl,  who  had  just  begun  her  career  as  "an  actress;  her 
mother,  and  Lacy,  the  manager  of  Drury  Lane,  who  was 
going  over  to  pick  up  recruits  for  his  new  season — who, 
furious  at  his  treatment  by  Garrick,  had  written  bitterly  of 
him  to  the  Irish  proprietors.  There  were  also  Mrs.  Elmy, 
another  actress,  and  a  Mr.  Morgan,  who  was  an  admirer  of  the 
latter,  but  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption.  Mrs.  Elmy,  who 
affected  to  be  a  humourist,  enlivened  tho  journey  by  constant 
disputes  with  Miss  Bellamy.  At  Parkgate  they  found  the 
wind  contrary,  and  the  manager,  impatient  to  get  to  his 
theatre,  left  them  there,  and  posted  on  to  Holyhead. 

On  a  Sunday  morning,  November  24th,  Mr.  Garrick  arrived 
in  Dublin.  Garrick  was  anxious  to  have  a  certain  sum  in 
place  of  sharing  profits.  There  was  near  being  a  fresh  quarrel, 
which  was  accommodated  by  Sheridan's  ungraciously  taking 

\ 


88  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1745 — 

out  his  watch,  and  giving  the  other  a  few  minutes  for  an 
answer.  This  did  not  promise  much  harmony.  The  next  day 
the  news  was  in  all  the  papers.  The  season  did  not  open  for 
a  fortnight ;  meantime  the  capital  had  plenty  of  attractions  to 
fill  up  the  popular  actors  time.  It  was  during  this  season 
that  he  formed  a  crowd  61  acquaintances  among  the  highest  in 
the  country,  whose  friendship  he  retained  during  all  his  life — 
Lord  Forbes,  Lady  Doneraile,  Bishop  Clayton,  Mrs.  Delany's 
friend,  besides  Lords  Bellamont,  Milltown,  and  many  more. 
One  of  the  leading  persons  of  fashion  was  Colonel  Butler,  and 
his  wife,  "the  Hon.  Mrs.  Butler,"  whose  house  was  "fre- 
quented by  most  of  the  nobility."  They  had  a  handsome  seat 
on  the  sea-coast  at  Clontarf,  and  with  this  family  the  English 
actor  became  very  intimate.  Lord  Chesterfield  was  now 
Viceroy.  He  had  laid  himself  out  to  conciliate  the  people 
by  something  like  impartial  government  The  Irish  Court 
seemed  to  glitter  afresh.  New  amusements  were  devised; 
new  rooms  were  built  at  the  Castle,  designed  by  the  elegant 
taste  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant  himself,  where  festivals  are  still 
given  on  drawing-room  nights. 

The  theatre  was  at  last  ready  to  open.  It  was  a  surpris- 
ingly good  company.  One  of  its  elements  of  strength  was  to  \ 
be  a  new  actor,  who,  like  Powell  later,  had  stepped  from  the 
warehouse  to  the  stage.  Mr.  Garrick,  coming  over  as  a  "  star," 
perhaps  made  small  account  of  this  local  luminary,  who  was 
now  modestly  studying  Castalio  to  play  to*  Miss  Bellamy  in 
"  The  Orphan."  He  did  not  dream  of  what  perilous  rivalry 
he  was  to  find  in  the  noble  figure,  handsome  face,  and  tender 
voice — a  dangerous  combination  of  advantages — of  the  ci-devaiti 
Dublin  silversmith.  This  was  Sprangcr  Barry,  who  had  made 
"some  figure  on  the  stage"  the  preceding  winter;  and  that 
splendid  presence  and  silvery  voice,  full  of  deep  pathos,  wcro 
later  to  ravish  all  London. 

As  Garrick  had  taken  his  farewell  in  "Hamlet,"  he  was 
now  to  make  his  re-appearance  in  the  same  play.  With  Sheri- 
dan he  was  now  on  fairly  cordial  terms,  and  they  had  agreed 
to  play  in  Shakspearc  alternately.  Indeed,  at  every  period 
— whether  we  look  back  to  the  beginning  or  to  the  end  of  his 
career,  to  his  apprenticeship,  or  to  his  full  maturity — we  find 
the  same  calm,  temperate,  and  modest  tone  of  mind,  and  the 
same  generous  self-abnegation.  No  wonder  ho  won  respect, 
fast  friendship,  and  admiration,  besides  fame. 

On  the  night  of  the  9th  of  December  the  theatre  opened 
"with  dclat."  The  manager  had  determined  to  carry  out  all 
his  reforms  strictly,  and  by  advertisement  the  public  wcro 


1746.1  SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON.  89 

warned  that  no  one  would  be  admitted  behind  the  scenes  ex- 
cepting those  who  had  box  tickets.*  Mrs.  Storer  was  the 
Ophelia,  and,  after  the  tragedy,  sang,  while  a  Madame  Moreau 
•danced.  Thus  the  entertainment  comprised  music,  dancing, 
and  singing. 

A  fortnight  later,  Garrick  was  to  have  had  his  first  benefit, 
l)ut  the  "  Messiah  "  being  fixed  for  that  night  at  the  "  Music 
Hall,"  for  the  benefit  of  "  the  poor  prisoners,"  he  good-naturedly 
deferred  his  night  till  Friday,  when  he  appeared  in  Bayes.  The 
Viceroy  was  present,  and  also  "one  of  the  most  polite  and 
crowded  audiences  that  hath  ever  been  seen  at  any  play " — a 
pardonable  exaggeration.  Vast  numbers  had  to  be  turned  away 
for  want  of  room,  and  the  block  on  the  little  "  Blind  Key  "  was 
tremendous.  It  was  after  this  occasion  that  the  play-goers  were 
entreated  by  public  advertisement  to  keep  distinct  route  in  com- 
ing and  going,  with  their  chairs  and  coaches,  which  got  sadly 
confused  "  in  so  narrow  a  place,"  and  that  "  these  rules  may  be 
punctually  obeyed,"  oddly  added  the  notice,  guards  were  placed 
to  insure  the  regulations  being  carried  out  But  the  Viceroy's 
behaviour  to  Mr.  Garrick  was  extraordinary.  The  actor  and 
manager  had  both  attended  him  to  his  box,  carrying  wax  lights 
and  walking  backwards,  a  custom  that  still  obtains  in  Dublin 
on  benefit  nights.  To  Sheridan  he  spoke  kindly,  but  took  not 
the  slightest  notice  of  the  other,  and  did  not  even  return  his 
salute.  This  was  characteristic  of  the  cold-hearted  professor  of 
the  Graces.  He  affected  to  disparage  Garrick's  view  of  the 
part  of  Bayes.  He  held  that  it  was  intended  for  a  serious 
and  solemn  character,  and  that  it  was  quite  misconceived. 
Generally,  too,  he  objected  to  the  actor's  comedy  powers; 
though  later  he  went  so  far  as  to  say  publicly  that  he  was  not 
only  the  best  tragedian  of  the  day,  but  the  best  that  had 
ever  been  in  the  world.  This  was  high  praise :  but  it  was 
delayed  till  he  was  removed  from  all  possibility  of  contact  with 
the  player.     Yet  he  had  met  him  at  dinner  in  London.     Cer- 

*  The  new  rule,  made  lately,  admitted  ladies  to  the  pit,  as  was  the  cus- 
tom in  London.  The  quarrelsonie  "  footmen,"  who  waited  for  their 
families  in  the  galleries,  were  not  to  be  admitted  there  without  a  ticket 
from  the  box-keeper ;  and  their  habit  of  waiting  in  the  "  box-room,"  with 
flaring  torches  to  light  their  masters'  "  chairs  "  home,  was  found  disagree- 
able for  the  ladies,  and  was  required  to  be  given  up*  The  chief  prices 
were  5s.  5d. ;  the  "lattices,"  4s.  4d. ;  the  "  pit,"  3s.  3d.  ;  "gallery,"  2s.  2d.; 
and  the  "  upper  gallery,"  Is.  Id.  Tickets  were  to  be  had  at  Mr.  Neil's,  in 
Abbey-street,  and  at  the  bar  of  the  Merchants'  Coffee-house.  The  per- 
formances were  to  commence  at  half-past  six,  a  later  hour  thftn  in  London, 
for  even  at  this  time  they  had  the  habit  of  dining  so  late  as  five  o'clock. 
The  doors  were  open  at  four  o'clock. 


90  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1745 — 

tainly  during  the  engagement  the  Vice-regal  box  was  rarely 
empty. 

Bayes  was  announced  as  his  last  appearance  before  the  holi- 
days. He  must  have  spent  them  pleasantly.  He  knew  Lord 
Mountjoy,  and  "  old  Dr.  Barry,"  and  Mr.  Tighe,  of  the  Castle. 
He  talked  "fine  things"  to  them  of  Mrs.  Cibber,  who  was 
affectionately  thought  of.  He  was  really  anxious  that  she 
should  come  over  and  join  their  company,  but  she  was  afraid  of 
the  sea. 

It  must  have  been  a  rare  treat  indeed,  attending  Smock 
Alley  Theatre  and  seeing  plays  bo  finely  cast,  with  four  players, 
all  young,  spirited,  clever,  and  good-looking.  These,  after  all, 
are  precious  stage  gifts.  On  the  first  day  of  the  new  year 
they  began  with  the  "  Fair  Penitent "  "  by  command,"  when 
Sheridan  took  Horatio,  Garrick  Lothario,  and  the  handsome 
Barry  Altamont — a  small  part,  which  he  made  so  graceful  that 
it  became  as  important  as  the  other  two.  No  wonder  that  the 
Dean  of  Down's  wife  should  have  thought  him  in  this  very 
character,  "  the  handsomest  man  and  finest  figure  altogether 
that  ever  paced  upon  the  stage."  Play-goers  and  writers  seem 
at  a  loss  for  words  to  describe  the  charm ;  but  setting  all  the 
portraits  side  by  side— ChurchilTs,  Davies',  and  many  more — 
the  features  resolve  themselves  in  a  graceful  figure,  a  face  of 
calm,  manly  beauty,  an  expression  of  soft  interest  and  tender- 
ness, and  a  touching  and  musical  voice.  These  are  gifts  that 
would  carry  any  actor  through,  and  most  likely  they  carried 
him  over  the  mannerisms  hinted  at  by  the  bitter  Churchill,  and 
the  affectation,  with  which,  the  satirist  unfairly  says,  "he 
conned  his  passions  as  he  conned  his  part."  The  ladies  were 
his  warm  patrons,  whom  "  he  charmed  by  the  soft  melody  of 
his  love  complaints  and  the  noble  ardour  of  his  courtship." 
Lord  Chesterfield  also  admired  his  figure,  but  forecasted  his 
sudden  withdrawal  from  the  stage,  carried  off  by  some  smitten 
rich  widow. 

Then  followed  "  Macbeth  "  (by  command),  "  The  Orphan," 
"King  Lear  and  his  Three  Daughters,"  "The  Recruiting 
Officer;"  and  for  Garrick's  second  benefit,  "The  Provoked 
Wife  "  with  the  farce  of  "  The  Schoolboy."  Later  came  Archci', 
in  "  The  Beaux'  Stratagem."  But  the  footmen  had  again  grown 
disorderly,  and  the  manager  had  to  address  the  public  on  the 
abuse;  threatening  to  shut  up  the  gallery  altogether.  He 
offered  them  one  last  chance  of  trial  on  Garrick's  benefit 
night,  when  if  the  noise  was  repeated  the  gallery  was  to 
be  closed,  and  servants  were  "never  to  be  admitted  to  the 
theatre  again."    It  was  odd  that  this  very  class  were  later 


1746.]  SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON.  91 

to  break  out  at  Edinburgh  in  a  riot  of  very  much  the  same 
kind. 

The  English  actor  once  more  read  in  his  newspaper  compli- 
mentary verses  from  his  Dublin  admirers.  One  took  the  shape 
of  an  ?igrum- 

"  Hearing  that  aged  crows  are  learned  and  wise, 

I  ask'd  the  ancient,  famous  one,  at  Warwick, 
Which  of  all  actors  best  deserved  the  prize  ? 

Rotciut  it  could  not  say,  but  Garrick — Garrick"* 

The  young  Miss  Bellamy  was  making  progress,  and  combin- 
ing the  pleasures  of  Dublin  society  with  her  professional  duties. 
The  sprightly  and  ambitious  girl  had  boldly  made  terms  with 
the  manager  in  London  that  she  was  to  be  allowed  to  commence 
as  Constance  in  "  King  John,"  a  part  in  which  she  had  a  girlish 
ambition  to  take  the  audience  by  storm.  She  was  naturally 
encouraged  to  it  by  the  great  applause  she  received,  for  she 
was  appearing  nearly  every  night,  in  all  sorts  of  characters — 
was  going  to  parties  at  Mrs.  Butler's  and  other  fashionable 
houses,  and  hardly  found  time  for  sleep.  She  was  very  pretty; 
and  it  gives  us  a  hint  of  the  tone  of  Dublin  Society  and  the  over- 
powering rage  for  drama,  when  Lord  Tyrawley's  natural 
daughter  was  "  chaperoned  "  by  Mrs.  OUara,  Lord  Tyrawley's 
sister,  as  her  niece,  and  Mr.  Garrick,  the  young  "  player,"  was 
welcomed  everywhere. 

"  King  John  "  was  much  talked  of,  and  was  announced  by 
the  papers  to  be  in  rehearsal.  There  was  great  curiosity 
abroad  to  see  it,  as  it  had  not  been  played  "  in  this  kingdom  " 
for  many  years ;  but  there  was  a  serious  commotion  going  on 

*  On  another  day  he  read  other  lines,  not  less  complimentary — 

II  O,  thou,  the  phoenix  of  the  age, 
The  prop  and  glory  of  the  stage — 
Thou  Proteus,  that  with  bo  much  ease 

Assum'st  what  character  you  please. 

*  *  *  * 
Like  Pallas,  from  the  brain  of  Jove, 

Perfect  you  came — nor  can  improve, 

*  *  *  * 
How  did  my  swelling  bosom  glow, 

To  see  thy  Leart  majestic  woe  ; 

And  yet,  0,  strange  !  on  the  same  night. 

How  did  thy  Lying  Sharp  delight! " 

Then  in  reference  to  his  playing  Richard  III. — 

"  I  scarce  can  think  thou  play 'at  a  part, 
And  I  could  stab  thee  to  the  heart ; 
Tift  here  thy  genius  is  admired, 
Tis  here  thou  seem'st  almost  inspired  ; 
Else  how  could  thy  sweet  nature  bear 
T'  assume  the  murdering  villain's  air  ? " 


92  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  \}^^ — 

in  the  green-room.  Garrick  and  the  manager  were  to  play  the 
King  and  the  Bastard  alternately.  They  were  to  be  the  pillars 
of  the  play ;  and  Mr.  Garrick  had  privately  pitched  on  Miss 
Bellamy  for  a  "  hose  and  trunks  "  part,  Prince  Arthur,  for  which 
his  good  sense  had  told  him,  a  pretty  and  untrained  young 
actress  would  be  far  better  adapted  than  for  Constance,  The 
more  experienced  Mrs.  Furnival  was  intended  for  that  part. 
There  was,  besides,  another  objection  to  Miss  Bellamy  appear- 
ing as  Constance  ;  the  part  of  Prince  Arthur  would  then  have  to 
be  done  by  a  lady  whose  misfortune  it  was  to  be  "hard- 
featured  "  and  a  little  too  mature  for  a  boy-character.  Sheridan 
stood  by  his  promise,  and  supported  the  young  actress*  claim ; 
but  Garrick  was  firm,  and  prevailed. 

The  retaliation  she  took  was  characteristic,  almost  amusing. 
With  true  green-room  spite  and  girlish  fury  she  flew  to  her 
friend,  "  Mrs.  Butler,  of  St.  Stephen's  Green,"  told  the  story 
of  her  wrongs  and  persecution,  and  actually  engaged  her  in  a  very 
vindictive  scheme  of  revenge.  Ladies  of  fashion  in  Dublin  had 
a  great  deal  of  power  in  reference  to  the  theatre.*  Mrs.  Butler, 
who  led  "  the  genteel  world  "  in  Dublin,  took  up  the  cause  of 
her  protege*,  and  when  the  play  was  announced  for  the  5th  of 
February,  actually  went  round  diligently  to  all  her  friends,  and 
made  it  a  point  that  they  should  stay  away.  She  further  in- 
sisted they  should  exert  themselves  to  prevent  all  their  friends 
attending  the  first  representation  of  "King  John."  The  spite- 
ful little  scheme  succeeded  perfectly.  On  that  night,  with 
Sheridan  as  the  Bastard,  and  Eoscius  as  the  King,  the  house 
was  miserably  thin,  and  the  receipts  did  not  reach  £40. 

The  malicious  young  actress  had  triumphed  thus  far.  She 
often  told  how  she  had  given  "  the  immortal  Eoscius  his  first 
humiliation."  She  had  made  him  "severely  repent  "of  pre- 
ferring the  regular  tragedy  queen,  Mrs.  Furnival,  "  to  her  little 
self."  Those  who  have  studied  Eoscius*  life  and  character,  will 
know  that  no  such  feelings  were  in  his  heart  He  was  more 
amused  than  angry,  and  yielded.  He  bore  her  not  the  least 
malice  for  so  unworthy  a  trick,  and  treated  the  wilful  actress 
with  a  charming  good-humour  and  forgiveness,  that  shows  us 
his  true  character  admirably.     He  was  magnaminous  enough  to 

*  Leading  acton  attached  themselves  to  some  lady  of  quality,  who  took 
on  herself  the  management  of  his  "night,"  canvatsed  her  acquaintances, 
disposed  of  tickets,  and  received  the  fashionable  part  of  the  audience  in  the 
box- room,  as  though  she  were  the  hostess.    The  night  was  called,  not  the 

actor's  but  "  Lady 'a  night,"  and  there  was  a  sort  of  emulation  among 

them  to  have  their  particular  "night"  successful.     The  silver-tongued 
Barry  had  many  such  nights,  and  was  at  no  loss  for  patronesses. 


■H 


174G.]  SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON.  93 

have  the  play  put  up  once  more,  with  Miss  Bellamy  in  her 
coveted  part  of  Constance. 

The  town,  meanwhile,  had  got  hold  of  the  story,  and  was 
vastly  entertained.  This  time  it  was  Garrick's  turn  to  play 
the  Bastard.  Mrs.  Butler,  no  doubt,  set  her  influence  at  work 
in  the  genteel  world — but  in  an  opposite  direction — and  the  re- 
sult was  an  overflowing  audience,  with  crowds  turned  away 
from  the  doors.  The  actress  affected  to  recognise  in  the  bois- 
terous applause  of  the  audience,  a  recognition  of  the  victory 
she  had  gained.  But  the  wilful  girl  was  not  yet  satisfied.  She 
took  all  this  good-humoured  forbearance  for  indifference,  or 
perhaps  enmity. 

"  Tancred  "  then  followed,  and  "  Othello  " — with  Garrick  and 
Sheridan  taking  Iago  and  Otliello  alternately.  This  variety 
and  trial  of  skill  would  have  delighted  the  Dublin  galleries ; 
but  it  is  plain  that  by  this  time,  the  superior  ability  and  popu- 
larity of  his  rival  had  excited  some  jealousy  in  the  manager, 
who  had  now  become  hostile  both  to  Garrick  and  to  Barry. 
The  feeling  between  the  two  latter  was  most  cordial  and  honour- 
able. Barry's  benefit  followed,  "  The  Distressed  Mother,"  with 
Garrick's  first  attempt  at  Orestes.  Then  came  "Lear,"  "being 
the  last  time  of  Mr.  Garrick's  playing  under  his  present  agree- 
ment " — for  the  success  had  been  so  great,  that  a  new  engage- 
ment was  entered  into.  On  the  19th  of  March,  he  attempted 
Sir  Harry  JVUdair,  in  which  it  was  confessed,  that  he  did  not 
approach  the  saucy  Woffington,  and  on  the  3rd  of  April,  played 
for  the  benefit  of  a  dramatic  author.  It  was  also  given  out 
that  "  Mr.  Garrick  would  play  two  or  three  times  more  before 
leaving  the  kingdom." 

April  the  15th  was  a  high  festival,  being  the  birthday  of  His 
Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  which,  like  all  loyal 
occasions,  was  kept  "with  great  demonstrations  of  joy," 
"  Orestes  "  was  the  play  for  this  night,  and  Lord  Chesterfield 
and  his  court,  and  "a  numerous  and  polite  audience"  were 
present.  Sheridan  spoke  a  prologue;  but  the  event  of  the 
night  was  the  epilogue,  written  by  "  The  Farmer " — a  sobri- 
quet for  "the  ingenious  Mr.  Brooke" — and  spoken  by  Mr. 
Garrick.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion,  and  the  correct  elo- 
cution of  the  speaker,  may  have  diverted  attention  from  the 
graver  burlesque  of  this  production.     Some  of  the  verses  ran : — 

"  Tis  not  a  birth  to  titles,  pomp,  and  state 
That  forms  the  brave  or  constitutes  the  great ; 
To  be  the  son  of  George's  just  renown, 
And  brother  to  the  heir  of  Britain's  crown.1* 

The  bathos  of  the  last  line  reads  like  burlesque.     The  Viceroy 


94  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1745 

was  about  leaving  for  England,  and  Boscius  had  to  deliver  sonio 
passages  of  complimentary  regret : 

"  Then  seize,  Hibernia,  seize  the  present  joy, 
This  day  is  sacred  to  the  martial  boy  ; 
The  morrow  shall  a  different  strain  require, 
When  with  thy  Stanhope  all  delights  retire ; 
And  (a  long  Polar  night  of  grief  begun), 
Thy  soul  shall  sigh  for  its  returning  Sun."* 

An  ordinary  play  had  been  chosen  for  Garrick's  last  benefit 
and  last  appearance,  but  as  there  was  a  desire  to  see  him  in 
one  more  new  character,  "  Jane  Shore "  was  underlined,  and 
Miss  Bellamy  found  in  this  an  opportunity  for  her  malice,  or 
her  petulance.  She  was  really  gaining  favour  with  the 
audience  by  a  mixture  of  impudence  and  spirit,  which  is  often 
popular  in  a  theatre,  as  well  as  by  the  way  she  had  resented  a 
freedom  Mr.  Ledger  had  attempted,  giving  him  a  sound  slap 
on  the  face  in  full  view  of  the  audience — which  caused  Lord 
Chesterfield  to  applaud  publicly,  and  send  his  aide,  Major 
Macartney,  to  require  a  public  apology. 

Garrick  had  wished  that  she  should  play  Jane  Shore  for  him, 
which  she  refused — maliciously  giving  him  back  his  own  pre- 
textj  in  the  case  of  Constance — her  excessive  youth.  He  then 
wrote  her  a  sort  of  playful  note,  in  which  he  said  that  if  she 
would  oblige  him  in  this  matter,  he  would  write  her  a  "  goody, 
goody  epilogue,  which,  with  the  help  of  her  eyes,  should  do 
more  mischief  than  ever  the  flesh  or  the  devil  had  done,  since 
the  world  began."  And  this  effusion  he  directed  burlesquely, 
"  To  my  SouPs  Idol,  the  beautiful  Ophelia ! "  This  was  given 
to  his  servant  to  deliver,  to  be  handed  over  to  a  messenger, 
who  was  utterly  mystified  by  the  address,  and  took  it  to 
his  master.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  newspaper  proprietor, 
and,  Miss  Bellamy  says,  promptly  inserted  it  in  his  journal. 
"  The  writer  of  this  high-flown  epistle,"  she  adds,  "  was  not  a 
little  mortified  at  its  publication." 

"  Jane  Shore  "  was  then  played ;  but  the  important  feature 
of  the  night,  instead  of  the  "goody-goody  epilogue,"  was  a 
farewell  address  to  the  town  by  Mr.  Garrick.  It  has  not  been 
reported.     It  was  his  last  appearance  on  the  stage  in  Ireland, 

*  Garrick  was  fond  of  telling  a  story  about  "  the  widow  Madden,"  a 
Catholic  lady  of  great  beauty,  who  had  appeared  at  the  Castle  on  King 
William's  birthday,  with  an  orange  favour  in  her  dress.  The  Lord- 
lieutenant  made  the  well-known  epigram — 

"  Little  Tory,  where 's  the  jest, 
To  wear  that  orange  in  your  breast, 
When  that  same  breaut,  betraying  shows 
The  whiteness  of  the  rebel  rose." 


1746.]  SECOND  DUBLIN  SEASON.  95 

but  he  remained  some  days  more.  The  popular  Viceroy  had 
sailed  on  the  Wednesday  before  this  last  performance,  a  de- 
parture which  could  not  affect  Mr.  Garrick.  His  last  words  to 
Sheridan  were  a  most  earnest  encouragement  in  his  scheme 
of  an  "  oratical  academy  "  in  London,  with  an  appearance  of 
warm  personal  interest  in  the  project  that  might  reasonably 
be  taken  for  a  promise  of  support  But  when  the  academy 
was  started,  and  the  actor  waited  on  the  patron,  only  a  guinea 
was  put  into  his  hand ! 

It  was  rumoured  that  the  amount  of  money  divided  be- 
tween Garrick  and  Sheridan  was  something  incredible.  The 
former  had  indeed  full  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  his  visit — 
though  it  is  quite  plain  that  the  old  estrangement  had  again 
set  in.  The  manager  resented  the  superior  popularity  of  the 
young  actor,  and  still  more  the  mortification  of  thin  houses  on 
nights  when  he  was  dependent  on  his  own  resources.  The 
fault  can  scarcely  be  laid  to  Garrick's  side ;  for  with  Barry,  far 
more  dangerous  as  a  rival,  a  sort  of  warm  friendship  sprung 
up ;  and,  with  him  also,  it  seems  that  Sheridan  had  fallen  out. 

The  day  before  Garrick  embarked  he  galloped  down  to 
Clontarf  to  say  good-bye  to  his  fashionable  friends  the  But- 
lers. He  found  the  whole  family  walking  on  the  terrace  with 
his  girlish  enemy.  Of  Mrs.  Butler  he  was  a  great  favourite, 
but  on  this  occasion  she  could  not  resist  a  sprightly  practical 
joke.  She  went  away  suddenly,  and  came  back  with  a  sealed 
packet,  which  she  put  into  his  hand,  with  a  little  solemnity, 
and  a  declaration  as  solemn.  "I  here  present  you,  Mr. 
Garrick,  with  something  more  valuable  than  life.  In  it 
you  will  read  my  sentiments ;  but  I  strictly  enjoin  you  not 
to  open  it  till  you  have  passed  the  Hill  of  Howth."  Every 
one  was  a  little  surprised,  "especially,"  remarks  Miss  Bel- 
lamy, "Colonel  Butler's  chaplain,"  who  was  of  the  party. 
He  dined  there,  and  went  away  in  the  evening;  then  the 
"  Hon.  Mrs.  Butler  "  told  the  company  the  joke.  The  packet 
contained  "Wesley's  Hymns"  and  "Swift's  Sermon  on  the 
Trinity."  He  was  so  chagrined,  says  his  young  enemy,  and 
mortified,  that  he  tossed  them  both  over  the  vessels  side. 
But  how  did  Miss  Bellamy  learn  this  exhibition  of  wounded 
amour  prapre  ?  The  malevolent  and  persecuting  Garrick  told 
her  the  story  himself  in  London — where,  too,  he  had  given 
her  an  engagement  at  his  theatre!  Thus  ended  the  second 
great  Garrick  season,  which  had  lasted  some  six  months,  and 
was  long  remembered.  He  was  never  to  see  that  pleasant 
city  again,  though  his  heart  often  turned  to  it 

fro  wonder  Garrick  spoke  almost  with  affection  of  this  visit, 


96  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 

and  of  his  "love  to  Ireland."  No  wonder  that,  while  waiting 
till  the  chaos  at  the  London  theatres  should  settle  into  some 
defined  shape,  he  should  think  of  returning  again  in  the  fol- 
lowing year.  He  had  made  abundance  of  friends,  and  mixed 
in  the  best  circles,  and  had  "  drank  "  and  been  merry  with  the 
Irish  gentlemen.* 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  everything  fell  into  confusion. 
Salaries  were  stopped,  and  the  silversmith's  graceful  son  could 
not  get  a  penny  of  what  was  due  to  him.  Garrick,  however, 
had  stood  his  friend,  and  lent  him  money;  further,  with  a 
wonderful  absence  of  all  mean  jealousy,  was  anxious  to  keep  a 
place  for  him  in  arrangements  he  was  now  meditating,  and 
eager  to  introduce  him  to  a  London  audience.  Acting,  no 
doubt>  on  Garrick's  advice,  he  declined  Lacy's  proposal  for  an 
engagement.  "  When  I  consider  you  as  my  guardian  angel," 
wrote  Barry  to  him,  "  I  can  resist  any  temptation.  .  .  .  i  ou 
have  already  made  me  happy  by  your  friendship ;  and  it  shall 
be  the  business  and  pleasure  of  my  life  to  endeavour  to 
deserve  it,  and  I  would  willingly  make  it  the  basis  of  my 
future  fortune."  The  business,  and  perhaps  pleasure,  of  his 
life  was  to  become  a  fretful  and  spiteful  rivalry,  and  a  harass- 
ing of  his  friend  with  complaints  and  ungenerous  suspicions. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE  VIOLETTE. — 1746-47. 

Mr.  Garrick  travelled  back  with  Victor,  a  useful  official  at 
the  Irish  theatres,  and  who  knew  most  of  the  actors  on  both 
sides  of  the  water.  They  reached  London  on  the  10th  of 
May,  Garrick  bringing  with  him  six  hundred  pounds,  the  spoil 
and  profit  of  his  campaign.  He  found  the  air  thick  with 
clouds.  Everything  dramatic  was  in  confusion  and  disorder. 
His  clear  business  eye  saw  that  a  general  break-up  must  soon 
come,  and  that  his  post  clearly  was  to  stand  aside,  look  on, 
and  bide  his  time. 

His  friend  Mrs.  Cibber  had  kept  him  an  courani  with  the 
state  of  the  London  stage.  Nothing  could  be  more  deplorable. 
One  of  the  reasons  for  this  general  decay  had  been  the  general 
disturbance  caused  by  the  Scotch  rebellion,  which  affected 
pleasure  and  business  impartially.     The  actors  were  starving, 

*  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Mrs.  Cibber  he  hinted  at  these  carouses.     The 
people  of  Cork  were  much  offended  that  he  did  not  visit  them. 


1747.]  THE  VIOLETTE.  97 

and  the  theatres  reduced  to  the  most  unhappy  condition. 
The  managers  took  the  unworthy  course  of  appealing  to  the 
popular  prejudices,  and  inflamed   them  by  the  selection  of 
plays  likely  to  stir  the  vulgar  passions  of  the  mob.     The  little 
"  theatre  in  the  Hay "  had  been  opened  for  opera,  with  Ge- 
miniani's  music,  and  the  amateur  assistance  of  Prince  Lobki- 
witz,  and  the  "  Mysterious  Chevalier  of  St.  Germain."    But 
the  loyalist  mob  would  not  tolerate  an  entertainment  sup- 
ported by  Papists  and  foreigners;  and  after  nine  nights  the 
place  was  shut  up  "  by  order/'     "  The  Nonjuror  "  was  played 
very  often,  and  with  such  profit  to  the  managers  that,  as  the 
pleasant  Mrs.  Cibber  said,  "  it  would  give  them  a  respect  for 
the  name  for  the  rest  of  their  lives."    But  the  topping  of  all 
was  Lacy's  bringing  out  "Perkin  Warbeck,  the  Popish  Im- 
postor," magnificently  "mounted;"  perhaps  the  most  comic 
wrestling  of  history  to  bigotry  on  record.     The  audience,  how- 
ever, had  the  good  sense  to  laugh  at  "  Henry  the  Seventh," 
who  by  a  curious  anachronism  was  thus  made  to  represent 
English  Protestantism  and  freedom.     Even  with  this  attrac- 
tion, the  affairs  of  the  theatre  continued  in  a  wretched  condi- 
tion ;   the  actors  were  on  half  salaries,  and  there  was  often, 
according  to  Mrs.  Cibber,  scarcely  fifteen  pounds  taken  of  a 
night.     She  was.  now  watching  the  gradual  decadence  of  the 
Old  House.     Now,  the  stage  had  been  "  built  up  "  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  crowds  who  were  to  rush  to  see  "  The  Ke- 
cruiting  Officer ; "  but  as  no  crowd  came,  Lacy  had  to  shut  in 
the  benches  with  a  flat  scene.     He  had  tried  to  detach  Mrs. 
Cibber  by  fresh  and  advantageous  offers,  and  when  these  were 
declined,  went  round  telling  everywhere  of  the  insolence  and 
exorbitance  of  Garrick  and  his  confederate,  who  had  made 
such  extravagant  demands  as  no  house  could  offer  to  give. 
It  was  said,  too,  that  he  and  his  friends  were  hatching  a 
pamphlet,  in  which  the  rapacity  of  the  pair  were  to  be  pro- 
perly exposed ;  and  the  actress  was  very  eager  that  this  move 
should  be  provided  against — that,  if  such  did  appear,  it  should 
be  replied  to,  and  Garrick's  written  decliner  of  his  proposals 
really  set  before  the  public.     Lacy  tried  advertisements,  hint- 
ing at  the  matter  in  the  papers ;  but  finding  that  they  did  not 
pique  the  public,  gave  over  his  plan  of  a  pamphlet  attack. 
She  wrote  also,  that  Lacy  was  setting  up  one  Goodfellow  as 
quite  equal  in  power  to  the  absent  actor. 

At  last,  however,  this  clever  lady  persuaded  him.  Before 
he  had  left  Dublin  he  had  agreed  to  join  with  her  and  Quin  in 
purchasing  the  Drury  Lane  patent,  should  it  come  into  the 
market,  as  indeed  it  was  likely  to  do.     With  that  spirit  of 

H 


98  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

accommodation  which  was  always  his  characteristic,  he  was 
ready  to  resign  some  of  his  old  parts  to  Quin,  study  new  ones 
himself,  and,  in  case  of  others,  was  content  to  play  them 
alternately.  But  the  theatre  was  not  yet  sufficiently  embar- 
rassed, and  was  to  struggle  on  for  some  time  longer. 

A  dull  but  handsome  Prince  of  Hesse,  who  had  been  on  the 
staff  of  "  the  Duke  "  through  the  Scotch  campaign,  had  arrived 
in  town,  and  was  the  cynosure  of  the  moment.  All  the  attrac- 
tions of  London  were  displayed  to  him.  On  the  Sunday  he 
dined  with  the  King,  who  presented  him  with  a  splendid  sword. 
On  the  Monday  he  went  to  Ranelagh,  where  he  supped,  and 
actually  went  up  to  the  great  and  famous  actor,  Mr.  Garrick, 
and  spoke  to  him.  People  in  the  country  were  very  anxious 
to  have  the  exact  words  used  by  his  Royal  Highness.  It  is 
curious  that,  on  the  following  night,  he  should  have  been  at  the 
opera  with  his  suite,  to  see  a  very  famous  danseuse,  after  whom 
all  the  town  was  running,  and  it  was  remarked  that  he  changed 
from  his  own  box  into  the  Prince  of  Wales',  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  "last  dance."  This  was  danced  by  a  lady  called  La 
Violette.  Thus  the  future  husband  and  wife  received  nearly 
equal  honour;  and  most  likely  Mr.  Garrick,  who  resorted  to 
places  of  fashion  like  Ranelagh,  was  also  present  at  the  opera, 
to  see  this  homage  to  one  whom  he  did  not  think  of  then  as 
his  future  partner. 

Rich  determined  to  profit  by  the  general  rejoicing,  and 

although  the  season  was  over,  kept  his  company  together  for 

a  few^nights>  in  honour  of  the  Prince./  He  secm'ed  Garrick  for 

\  N  six  performances,  one  of  which'was  his  weak  part — Othello. 

x         These  performances,   however,  brought  him  three  hundred 

\  pounds,  and  most  likely  the  patronage  of  the  Prince.* 

*  v  —In  this  tide  of  success,  money,  applause,  compliments,  gaieties, 

and  civilities  heaped  upon  him,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  should 

have  been  in  spirits.     He  could  afford  to  wait  events.     He  left 

London,  and  went  down  to  Cheltenham  for  a  holiday.     His 

letters,  at  this  time,  overflow  with  spirits,  and  enjoyment,  and 

affection.     He  enjoyed  life  there.     He  was  admired  by  ail  the 

ladies.     He  tore  himself  from  the  place  with  reluctance,  as  he 

wrote  to  his  brother,  rather  strongly,  "leaving  Elysium  to 

arrive  at  Hell."    The  company  of  that  Elysium  had  been  long 

expecting  him.     Three  young  ladies,  "most  agreeable  parties, 

with  whom  he  had  been  "very. merry  and  happy  last  night," 

had  gone  away.     Another  lady  had  got  "  rantipole  spirits  "  by- 

•»— ^— ^— — — ^— —      — — ^ ^— ^~ ^— ^— — »— — — i^ ^ — — .  _» _ _ 

*  He  was  engaged  on  June  11th,  and  played  Lear,  Hamlet,  Richard. 
Othello,  Archer,  and  Macbeth. 


1747.]  THE  VIOLETTE.  99 

drinking  the  waters.  Miss  Polly  Fletcher,  however,  down  at 
Lichfield,  must  not  believe  her  sister  if  she  brings  back  a  story 
of  his  having  fallen  in  love  with  Miss  Vernon;  for  his  passion 
for  Miss  Polly  is  still  unalterable.* 

Then  he  went  down  to  Lichfield,  where  he  had  seen  his  friend 
Walmesley,  who  still  called  him  "  dear  Davy,"  and  wrote  to  him 
from  Bath  most  affectionately.  That  kind  old  friend  was  try- 
ing to  learn  whist,  to  make  himself  acceptable  at  the  parties 
there;  and  one  day,  as  he  was  sitting  in  the  coffee  house, 
chatting  to  Mr.  Stanhope,  entered  Lord  Chesterfield,  no  longer 
Lord-Lieutenant,  and  began  to  talk  of  Mr.  Garrick.  The  old 
man  had  great  pleasure  in  writing  to  "  Davy  "  that  his  lordship 
considered  him  the  best  tragedian  in  the  world.  He  then  be- 
gan to  dwell  on  the  gifts  of  Barry,  and  seemed  to  hint,  a  little 
maliciously,  that  he  would  try  and  advance  him  as  much  as  he 
could.  Mr.  Walmesley,  eager  for  his  pupil,  hoped  his  lordship 
would  extend  his  protection  to  Garrick  also;  but  the  other  said 
carelessly  that  he  wanted  none.  He  had  clearly  some  petty 
spite  to  the  actor,  and  his  patronage  of  the  other  was  no  doubt 
more  a  depreciation  of  Garrick  than  a  substantial  assistance  to 
Barry. 

But  there  was  a  spell  drawing  Garrick  back  to  London — 
one,  whom  he  perhaps  did  not  then  dream  as  the  guardian  angel 
of  his  life — a  beautiful  young  girl,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
dancing  at  the  opera.  About  her  there  was  quite  a  little 
history. 

Early  in  the  year  1746,  only  a  few  weeks  before  the  Battle 
of  Culloden,  some  young  and  vivacious  Scotch  gentlemen,  who 
had  been  studying  at  a  Dutch  university,  where  they  left 
Charles  Townsend  behind,  were  embarking  at  Helvoetsluys,  on 
their  way  home  to  their  own  country.  One  of  these  students 
was  the  handsome,  lively,  and  not  too  straight-laced  Doctor 
Carlyle,  the  clergyman  of  Inverness,  whose  memoirs  are  such 
agreeable  reading.  Among  their  fellow-passengers  was  one 
whom  they  took  for  a  Hanoverian  Baron  going  up  to  St.  James's 
with  his  suite.  Presently  the  wind  began  to  freshen  into  a 
cale.  The  Scotchmen  enjoyed  it,  but  the  young  baron  went 
down  to  the  only  berth  in  the  cabin,  and  becoming  very  ill, 
called  out  in  French  to  know  if  there  was  any  danger.  The 
young  student  then  detected  a  woman's  voice,  reassured  her, 
and  he  and  his  friends  were  very  attentive  and  obliging.  They 
soon  found  out  that  this  was  a  young  dancer  from  Vienna, 
coming  to  try  the  English  stage  at  the    Opera  House;  and 

•  Forster  MSS. 

H  2 


100  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

later,  a  person  who  gave  himself  out  as  her  father,  with  a  true 
air  of  business,  begged  their  patronage  for  his  j>roltgit. 

Landing  at  Harwich,  they  travelled  on  up  to  London;  but 
at  Colchester  the  servants  of  the  hotel  suspected  the  sex  of  the 
young  page,  and  began  to  insult  "the  foreigners."  The  young 
men  interfered,  stood  by  the  party,  and  saw  that  they  were 
civilly  treated.  The  next  day  they  met  on  the  road  again, 
and  the  Scotch  gentlemen  made  the  young  lady  dine  with 
them.  Finally  they  got  to  London,  and  the  whole  party  put 
up  in  Friday-street.  They  did  not  forget  their  promise  of 
patronage;  for  shortly  after,  the  young  girl  made  her  appear- 
ance at  the  opera  in  the  Haymarket,  and  they  all  repaired  to 
see  her.  The  whole  thing  seemed  to  their  Scotch  minds  unreal 
and  tawdry,  but  the  dancing,  which  they  were  perhaps  pre- 
pared to  like,  they  thought  "  exquisite." 

This  young  girl,  who  was  thus  travelling  once  as  a  page,  was> 
Mademoiselle  Violette,  the  reputed  daughter  of  a  respectable 
citizen  of  Vienna,  named  John  VeigeL*  Her  story  was  a  ro- 
mance. When  the  children  of  Maria  Teresa  were  learning 
dancing,  this  young  girl  was  taken  to  the  palace  with  some 
others  to  form  a  sort  of  class,  and  she  was  there  said  to  have 
attracted  the  Empress's  notice,  so  much  so  as  to  have  been  re- 
quested by  her  to  change  her  name  from  Veigel — a  patois  cor- 
ruption of  Veilchen,  a  violet — into  the  corresponding  and 
prettier  French  word.  But  it  was  said  also  that  the  Emperor's 
eye  had  fallen  with  favour  on  the  young  lady  who  came  to 
practise  with  his  children,  and  that  the  Empress,  much  alarmed, 
had  sent  her  off  to  England,  with  recommendations  to  influen- 
tial persons  there,  with  a  view  also  to  making  her  first  appear- 
ance on  the  stage,  t  Her  brother,  Ferdinand  Charles,  belonged 
to  the  Vienna  ballet.  She  travelled  in  company  with  some 
foreigners  named  Kossiter,  who  were  looking  after  some 
English  property. 

The  Earl  of  Burlington  and  his  family  were,  no  doubt, 
among  those  to  whom  she  brought  introductions.  As  we  have 
seen,  they  took  her  up  with  extraordinary  warmth ;  and  from 
mere  patronage  their  attention  grew  into  affection.  Her  first 
appearance  was  on  December  30,  1746.  The  King  patronized 
her  benefit.  She  was  talked  of  everywhere,  from  Leicester 
House  downwards ;  and — unusual  privilege  for  a  dancer — was 
made  free  of  noble  and  fashionable  houses.    She  was  singularly* 

*  She  was  born  "  on  Leap  Year's  day,"  1724-5,  at  Vienna. — MS.  House 
Book,  Lichfield. 

t  She  gave  this  account  herself  to  a  lady,  who  repeated  it  to  Mr- 
Ilackett,  Mrs.  Garrick's  executor. 


1747.]  THE  VIOLETTE.  101 

attractive.  A  dainty  little  miniature  of  Petitot's,  shows  her  as 
she  appeared  about  this  time — a  sort  of  Watteau  beauty,  with 
a  small  round  face,  ripe  lips,  and  a  cloud  of  turquoise-coloured 
drapery  floating  about  her.  This  attractive  young  Viennese, 
who  danced  with  such  applause  in  that  ill-fated  year,  became 
the  wife  of  David  Garrick,  and  lived  long  enough  to  sit  to  Mr. 
Robert  Cruikshank,  for  one  of  his  most  characteristic  etchings, 
some  forty  years  ago.*  The  theatre  was  administered  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  Lord  Middlesex,  just  as  Drury  Lane  was 
later  by  Lord  Byron  and  a  company  of  noble  directors.  But 
with  the  royal  manager  of  the  theatre  the  new  dancer  had 
fallen  into  disfavour.  He  had  required  her  to  take  lessons 
from  a  French  dancing-master,  Denoyer,  an  intriguer,  and  a 
useful  tool  of  the  Prince,  and  she  had  refused,  t 

Young  Burney  was  among  those  who  looked  on  at  the  "  ex- 
quisite "  dancing  of  the  Violette.  The  Violette  was  still  the 
chief  attraction.  Two  noble  sisters,  the  Countesses  of  Burling- 
ton and  Talbot,  were  competing  for  her,  having  her  always  at 
their  houses.  For  the  former  she  was  now  sitting  for  her  pic- 
ture. She  was  a  guest  at  Lady  Carlisle's  supper  parties.  Lady 
Burlington,  always  impulsive  and  exalUe — as  may  be  seen  by 
her  odd  epitaph  upon  her  own  daughter — would  go  down  with 
her  to  the  theatre,  and  wait  at  the  wings  with  a  pelisse  to  throw 
over  her  when  she  should  come  off.  The  danseuse  was  taken 
to  Lord  Lovat's  trial,  and  was  seen  among  the  very  finest  com- 
pany. She  was  the  "rage;"  and  Walpole  called  her  "the 
finest  and  most  admired  dancer  in  the  world."  Thus  it  con- 
tinued until  the  end  of  July,  when  the  amateur  management 
was  broken  up  by  the  waywardness  of  one  of  the  noble  ma- 
nagers, Lord  Middlesex,  who  "  protected "  the  Nardi  at  this 
theatre.  He  became  furious  at  the  popularity  of  the  Violette, 
and  dragged  the  whole  company  into  this  rivalship.  The  prin- 
cipal male  dancer  was  arrested  for  debt ;  to  the  luckless  Gliick 
the  noble  manager  gave  a  "  bad  note  "  in  payment  of  his  de- 
mands, and  then  fined  him  £300  for  taking  part  with  his  coun- 
trywoman, the  Violette,  in  the  theatrical  squabble. 

In  December,  1746,  she  had  appeared  at  Drury  Lane,  sup- 

*  There  is  a  charming  picture  by  Zoflany,  representing  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Garrick  sitting  in  their  garden,  which  is  in  possession  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hill.  Nothing  fresher  or  more  delicate  in  colour  can  be  conceived.  In 
possession  of  the  same  family  is  also  a  crayon  drawing  by  Catharine  Reed. 

t  Lord  Strafford  writes  that  at  her  first  appearance  she  surprised  the 
audience.  "  On  her  beginning  to  caper  she  showed  a  neat  pair  of  black 
velvet  breeches,  with  rolled  stockings ;  but  finding  that  this  was  an 
unusual  costume,  she  substituted  white  drawers." — Hist.  JJSS.  Com,  2nd 
Report, 


102  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

ported  by  a  male  dancer  called  Salomon.  On  one  occasion  she 
was  put  down  for  three  dances  without  her  knowledge,  and  the 
audience  being  disappointed,  a  riot  had  nearly  taken  place. 
The  absurdities  of  the  day  had  made  follies,  as  Walpole  said, 
enter  into  the  politics  of  the  time — or,  rather,  they  were  the 
politics  of  the  time.  On  this  night  Lord  Bury  and  some  other 
men  of  fashion  began  a  disturbance,  and  insisted  on  her  being 
sent  for  from  Burlington  House.  Next  day  it  was  the  excite- 
ment of  the  hour ;  many  great  houses  were  thrown  into  agita- 
tion. Lord  Hartington,  son-in-law  of  Lady  Burlington,  was 
made  to  work  the  Ministry,  and  used  all  his  influence  to  secure 
a  good  reception  for  the  dancer  on  her  next  appearance.  "  The 
Duke "  was  sent  to  desire  Lord  Bury  not  to  hiss.  But  the 
Violette  herself  took  the  most  effectual  mode  to  appease  the 
angry  audience.  She  made  a  pretty  and  characteristic  apology. 
She  "  humbly  begs  leave  to  acquaint  the  public  that  she  is  very 
much  concerned  to  hear  that  she  has  been  charged  with  being 
the  occasion  of  the  noise  on  Wednesday  night"  She  added 
that  "  she  cannot  possibly  be  guilty  of  an  intention  to  disoblige  or 
give  offence  to  an  English  audience,  especially  where  she  had 
met  with  so  much  indulgence,  for  which  she  retains  all  possible 
gratitude." 

Later,  she  paid  a  visit  to  the  Tower  with  Lord  Burlington, 
to  sec  the  political  prisoners.  He  told  her  as  they  entered, 
"  Every  one  that  we  shall  see  now  is  to  be  executed  to-morrow" 
— a  speech  that  shocked  her  terribly.  The  prisoners  were  then 
brought  in.  They  were  drawn  up,  and  among  them  was  the 
famous  "  Jemmy  Dawson,"  and  an  interesting  youth,  quite  a 
boy,  named  Wilding,  who  belonged  to  an  old  English  Catholic 
family.  The  young  girl  was  so  attracted  by  this  child  and  the 
unhappy  fate  that  was  in  store  for  him,  that  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity she  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  her  protector,  and,  with 
extraordinary  vehemence,  begged  him  to  use  all  influence  to 
save  him.  This  intercession  was  successful.  A  pardon  was 
obtained  on  condition  of  his  banishing  himself  to  the  North 
American  colonies,  where  he  was  not  long  after  killed  in  a 
skirmish  with  the  Indians.  Some  seventy  years  later,  when 
the  Wilding  family  had  become  nearly  extinct,  and  an  ancient 
maiden  lady,  at  Liverpool,  alone  remained,  a  gentleman,  named 
Kossan,  was  charged  by  her  with  a  mission  to  Mrs.  Garrick,  to 
offer  a  somewhat  late  acknowledgment  for  this  generous  inter- 
cession. The  gentleman  performed  his  duty,  and  found  that, 
though  she  was  now  old,  the  whole  incident  came  gradually 
back  on  her.* 

*  This  story  was  told  to  the  writer  of  this  memoir,  by  a  lady  who  had  it 


1747.]  QUIN  AND  GARRICK.  103 

The  operas  had  now  ceased  to  have  their  day,  either  through 
the  fickleness  of  the  town  or  these  dissensions  in  the  manage- 
ment A  few  months  later  they  were  still  being  played ;  but 
no  one  thought  of  going  to  see  them.  The  theatres  then  came 
to  have  their  turn/  and  the  rival  managers,  preparing  for  a 
serious  struggle  in  the  coming  season,  made  such  successful 
exertions,  that  it  almost  seemed  as  if  Garrick  had  "  held  over  " 
too  long,  and  over-reached  himself.  This  was  no  doubt  the 
opinion  of  his  friend,  Mrs.  Cibber,  who,  for  the  last  year  or 
two,  had  been  coquetting  with  both  houses,  and  affecting  a  sort 
of  retirement.  He  was  far  wiser.  Lacy,  gathering  recruits  for 
his  season,  made  every  offer  to  tempt  Garrick  to  join ;  but  the 
latter  still  refused,  as  Lacy's  behaviour  had  rendered  alliance 
impossible,  or  because  the  application  for  Drury  Lane  came 
too  late,  or  more  possibly,  Garrick  was  flushed  by  the  success 
of  the  six  performances  at  Covent  Garden.  It  was  soon  known 
that  he  had  agreed  with  Eich  for  the  coming  season  at  Covent 
Garden,  and,  by  his  accession,  helped  to  make  the  strongest 
company  ever  known  at  that  theatre.  Lacy  had  not  been 
remiss.  He  had  commissioned  Sparks  to  make  Barry  fresh 
offers — even  a  hundred  pounds  in  hand  "  by  way  of  present." 
Now  the  town  might  look  forward  to  a  rare  treat  in  the 
coming  season,  through  the  fair  rivalry  of  two  such  strong 
companies. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


QUIN  AND  GARRICK,  THE  NEW  MANAGERS  OF  DRURY  LANE. 

1746-47. 

Ireland  was  then  looked  upon  as  quite  another  kingdom, 
and  the  rise  of  its  actors  as  well  as  of  its  speakers  in  the  Houses 
of  Parliament  was  watched  with  interest  in  London.  The 
advent  of  an  actor  "taller  than  the  common  size,"  graceful, 
elegant,  said  to  have  the  most  touching  voice  in  the  world, 
and  whose  conquests,  among  his  audience,  were  not  a  little 

from  the  Mr.  Rossan  alluded  to.  It  was  repeated  that  this  ardent  patron* 
age  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  she  was  a  daughter  of  Lord  Burlington's, 
born  before  his  marriage,  when  he  was  abroad  at  Florence.  But  it  has 
little  to  support  it,  beyond  the  fact  that  a  noble  lord  and  his  lady  were 
very  kind  to  her,  and  eventually  provided  for  her.  First,  he  had  been 
married  two  years  before  she  was  born,  and  from  the  date  of  his  marriage 
lived  in  England  many  years  without  leaving  it  Mrs.  Garrick,  when  asked 
directly  on  the  matter,  denied  it  to  Mrs.  Carr.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  but  I  am 
of  noble  birth." 


i 


mm 


104  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

remarkable,  was  sufficient  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the 
languid  town.  He  promised  to  be  a  dangerous  rival.  Other- 
wise the  forces  at  the  two  theatres  were  fairly  matched.  At 
Covent  Garden  were  drawn  up — Garrick,  Quin,  Woodward, 
Ryan,  Chapman,  and  Hippisley;  with  Mrs.  Cibber,  Mrs.  Prit- 
chard,  and  Mrs.  Green.  To  meet  these  at  Drury  Lane  were 
Barry,  Beard,  Taswell,  Giffard,  Macklin,  Delane;  Clive,  Wof- 
fington,  and  a  Mrs.  Giffard.  As  regards  the  ladies,  sprightly 
comedy  seems  to  have  gone  to  one  house  exclusively,  and 
stately  tragedy  to  the  other.  And  though  Walpole  pronounced 
the  Covent  Garden  company  perhaps  the  best  ever  brought 
together,  the  "twinkling  feet"  of  the  Viennese  dancer  were 
likely  to  be  a  dangerous  counter-attraction.  With  these  forces 
both  houses  prepared  for  battle. 

Lacy  had  secured  Macklin  as  a  sort  of  lieutenant,  and  who, 
having  grievances  of  his  own  against  Garrick,  was  sure  to  be 
an  eager  auxiliary  in  the  new  competition.  Macklin  took  his 
newly-arrived  countryman  by  the  hand,  and  supplied  him  with 
hints  as  to  matters  likely  to  be  useful  to  an  actor  who  was 
strange  to  a  London  audience.*  The  Prince  of  Wales,  it  is 
said,  thought  him  deficient  in  the  graces  of  deportment,  and 
forced  his  dancing-master  on  him,  just  as  he  wished  to  force 
this  favourite  on  the  Violette  in  the  early  part  of  the  year. 
Barry  judiciously  accepted  this  august  patronage,  which  he 
may  indeed  have  owed  to  Lord  Chesterfield. 

Covent  Garden  led  off  in  September,  and  on  October  the  4th 
the  new  actor  made  his  ddbut  in  Othello.  His  success  was  com- 
plete, and  did  not  require  the  claque  of  his  countrymen,  who, 
it  was  said,  crowded  the  galleries.  Every  one  was  struck  with 
the  fine  figure,  the  graceful  movements,  and  the  uncommon 
sweetness  and  tenderness  of  the  tones  of  his  voice.  "  There 
was  a  burst  of  grief "  in  it,  as  one  remarked  who  had  often 
heard  him ;  and  in  the  scenes,  where  rage,  jealousy,  and  tender- 
ness succeeded  each  other,  it  assumed  all  the  tones  belonging 
to  those  passions  with  marvellous  versatility.  Ladies'  eyes, 
fixed  on  him,  and  drinking  in  his  persuasive  tones,  seemed  to 
utter  a  repetition  of  Desdcmona's  speech  —  "  Would  that 
Heaven  had  made  me  such  a  man  ! "  And  in  the  scene  in  the 
fourth  act,  where  he  was  reproaching  Desdemona,  the  agony  of 
mind,  the  tender  love,  and  the  hopeless  misery  that  came  into 

*  He  led  his  friend  about  the  parks,  and  other  public  places  ;  and  when 
people  asked  who  was  the  distinguished- looking  stranger  that  was  walking 
with  him,  some  spirit  of  waggishness  made  him  answer  that  it  was  "  the 
Earl  of  Munster ; "  and  this,  getting  about,  was  actually  believed,  even 
when  Barry  was  first  seen  upon  the  stage.— Atrvbnan. 


1747.]  QUIN  AND  GARRICK.  105 

his  face,  as  he  spoke  the  line — "  But  there,  where  I  had  gar- 
nered up  my  heart " — was  such  as  hardly  to  leave  a  dry  eye  in 
the  house.  So  with  his  burst  of  rapture  when  he  met  her  on 
his  return  from  Cyprus ;  and  it  was  noticed  that,  to  the  level 
passages  at  the  beginning,  generally  slurred  over  by  other 
actors,  who  were  keeping  themselves  in  reserve,  he  gave  a 
meaning  and  force.  The  greatest  encouragement  was  the 
sight  of  old  Colley  Cibber,  that  link  between  the  new  and  the 
old  school,  in  the  boxes,  applauding  vehemently  and  con- 
spicuously ;_and_thenew^ actor jwjjsjald-that  the  veteran  pre- 
ferred his  Othello  to  that  oT  the  Jamous  Booth  or  Betterton. 
DavTes" Indeed  says  that  it  was  considered  his  finest  effort; 
but  his  physical  gifts,  as  well  as  his  peculiar  style  of  tender- 
ness and  passion,  point  to  another  character  —  Borneo.  A 
fortnight  later  his  rival  stepped  upon  the  Covent  Garden 
boards  as  Hamlet.  But  the  formal  Garrick  and  Barry  contest 
was  not  to  set  in  for  some  years ;  and  we  can  be  almost  certain 
that  no  one  was  more  eager,  and  even  sincere  too,  in  his  con- 
gratulations to  the  new  Othello  than  was  Garrick.  What  was 
now  to  entertain  the  town  was  the  contest  at  the  one  house  be- 
tween Quin  and  Garrick.  Such  a  situation  is  always  embar- 
rassing for  the  party  whose  superiority  is  already  established, 
for  he  feels  that  he  is  watched  by  curious  eyes ;  and  it  was 
Garrick's  lot  to  have  this  delicacy  put  to  the  proof  on  a  whole 
series  of  occasions.  We  have  seen  with  what  forbearance  he 
behaved  to  Sheridan,  and  shall  see  presently  with  what  mode- 
ration he  could  forget  the  past,  and  give  a  soi-disant  rival  the 
fairest  opportunity  for  "  rivalry  "  and  the  leading  parts  on  the 
boards  of  his  own  Drury  Lane.  From  Ireland  he  had  written 
home  the  warmest  praise  of  Barry,  calling  him  "the  first 
lover  "  on  the  stage,  and  offering  to  advise  him  in  every  way. 
To  him  in  later  years  he  gave  his  stage,  and  his  leading  parts, 
put  up  with  his  sensitiveness,  bursts  of  jealousy,  and  pseudo 
grievances  with  a  moderation  and  toleration  that  seems  as- 
tonishing. Here,  now,  accident  had  thrown  him  into  an  un- 
avoidable competition  with  Quin,  who  naturally  felt  a  nervous 
jealousy  at  the  favour  of  one  who,  after  dispossessing  him  of 
his  throne,  seemed  destined  to  be  his  rock  a-head. 

Quin's  strength  lay  in  good,  bold,  and  sterling  comedy:  in 
tragedy  ho  represented  merely  the  dry,  colourless,  declamatory 
elocution  of  the  old  time — that  ancient  style,  tuned  according 
to  rule,  and  declaimed  with  harmonious  conventionality.  By 
way  of  challenge,  he  came  forward  early  in  October  as  King 
Richard.  It  must  have  been  a  cruel  shock  to  him  to  find  a 
miserably  thin  house,  with  difficulty  saved  from  emptiness.     A 


106  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

week  later  came  Garrick's  turn  in  the  same  play  to  an  enor- 
mous house.  Every  one  was  eager  to  see  their  strength 
joined  in  one  play;  and  it  was  a  night  of  extraordinary 
interest  and  curiosity  when  the  curtain  rose  on  "The 
Fair  Penitent,"  with  Garrick  as  Lothario,  and  Quin  Ho- 
ratio. The  scene  was  an  exciting  one.  Each,  as  they  ap- 
peared alternately,  had  his  partisans ;  but  in  the  second  act, 
when  both  met,  the  shouts  of  applause  were  so  loud,  raised 
again  and  again  so  noisily,  that  they  appeared  a  little  discon- 
certed. Garrick  afterwards  honestly  confessed  that  he  was, 
and  Quin  changed  colour,  though  he  affected  to  laugh  it  off. 
A  young  Westminster  boy — Richard  Cumberland — taken  to 
this  new  performance,  and  placed  in  front  of  the  gallery,  has 
left  almost  a  photograph  of  what  he  beheld. 

We  can  see  Quin  in  his  heavy  green  velvet  coat,  huge  peri- 
wig, and  rolled  stockings,  "paving "  out  his  periods  in  a  full 
heavy  monotony,  accompanying  his  periods  with  a  weary 
"sawing  motion."  We  can  Hear  Mrs.  Cibber  chaunting  her 
periods  in  a  sweet,  sustained  dead  level,  that,  after  a  speech  or 
two,  fell  wearily  on  the  ears  of  the  schoolboy,  and  sounded 
like  an  old  ballad,  with  interminable  verses.  Of  a  sudden 
Garrick  came  bounding  on  the  stage  with  a  flash,  bringing 
with  him  light  and  animation,  a  quick  motion,  a  surprising 
variety  of  voice  and  manner — in  short,  ease  and  nature,  in 
an  almost  comic  contrast  to  stiffness  and  grim  conventionality. 
It  seemed  like  another  life,  a  young  beside  an  old  one,  new 
creatures  beside  those  of  an  older  world.  Every  muscle 
and  nerve  seemed  in  full  play,  as  there  stood  the  brilliant 
Lothario  pointing  at  Horatio*  The  Westminster  boy  said 
that  the  audience  seemed  to  lean  to  their  older  favourite. 
Quin,  too,  may  have  had  more  openings  for  declamatory 
"points."  Even  when  challenged  by  Lothario  in  a  light, 
prompt  manner,  Quin  dragged  out  his  answer,  "  111 — meet — 
thee — there ! "  with  such  slow  rolling  utterance  and  protracted 
pause,  that,  as  the  story  ran,  some  one  in  the  gallery  called 
out  to  know  "  why  he  did  not  give  the  gentleman  an  answer  V 
It  was  a  trying  situation  for  the  fatting  actor,  and  a  little  hard 
to  keep  his  dignity  and  temper.  The  play  was  repeated 
many  times,  and  was  specially  chosen  for  Saturdays,  as  a 
counter-attraction  to  the  best  opera  night. 

*  Many  years  afterwards,  when  they  were  dressing  up  Tate  Wilkinson, 
at  Drury  Lane,  for  a  ridiculous  part  of  "The  Fine  Gentleman,"  they 
brought  the  very  dress  which  Garrick  wore  in  thi*  part — a  very  short  old 
suit  of  black  velvet,  with  broad  gold  flowers,  then  grown  as  dingy  as 
the  letters  on  a  piece  of  gilt  gingerbread. 


1747.]  QtJIN  AND  GARRICK.  107 

But  when  "  Henry  the  Fourth "  was  announced  Quin  had 
his  turn.  In  Falstaff  he  was  unapproachable  in  all  the 
breadth,  humour,  and  stolidity  of  his  great  character.  It  was 
one  of  the  great  attractions  of  that  season;  and  Garrick's  Hot- 
spur, which  never  suited  him,  quite  dwindled  into  an  inferior 
part  beside  it.  It  was  played  again  and  again.  Even  after 
the  fifth  night,  when  Garrick  fell  ill,  or  prudently  retired, 
another  actor  was  substituted  for  him,  and  the  run  went  on.* 
In  "Jane  Shore,"  Hastings  restored  Garrick's  supremacy. 
That  masterly  part,  and,  perhaps,  most  elaborated  of  his  cha- 
racters, was  repeated  for  a  dozen  nights. 

They  also  played  together  in  the  "  Distressed  Mother."  An 
old  Lord  Conyngham,  who  knew  the  coulisses,  recalled  that  he 
had  seen  the  pair  in  "Julius  Caesar,"  and  used  to  describe 
graphically  the  Brutus  of  Quin,  as  being  like  a  great  solid  three- 
decker,  immovable,  and  reserving  its  attack;  while  Garrick,  as 
CassiuSy  seemed  to  fly  round  and  round,  attacking  here  and 
there,  wherever  there  was  an  opening,  with  unflagging  vivacity. 
But  he  was  confounding  the  "  Fair  Penitent  with  Shak- 
speare's  play.  Garrick  never  played  in  this  tragedy.  Through 
the  whole  season  they  continued  in  perfect  harmony.  Every- 
where Garrick  was  loud  in  praise  of  Quin's  Falstaff.  He  re- 
lished his  rough  humour,  and  was  determined  not  to  be  drawn 
into  a  quarrel. 

Meanwhile  he  had  not  forgotten  his  gift  of  farce  writing ;  and 
having  seen  a  little  French  piece  of  M.  Fagan's,  called  the  "  Pari- 
sienne,"  adapted  it  very  happily  to  the  English  stage.  It  was 
gay  and  full  of  spirit,  and  had  at  least  five  clearly  drawn 
humorous  characters.  There  was  a  hoyden  for  Mrs.  Green ;  a 
pert,  free-tongued  waiting-woman  for  Mrs.  Clive ;  a  testy  old 
baronet,  of  the  "  heavy  father  "  pattern,  for  Taswell ;  a  Bobadil 
captain  for  Woodward ;  and  a  mincing  Macaroni  for  himself. 
Such  figures  and  such  actors  were  sure  to  carry  any  piece 
through.  But  the  real  attraction  lay  in  the  Captain  Flush  of 
Woodward  and  the  Fribble  of  Garrick,  two  types  of  the  town 
which  were  known  to  all.  Every  one  had  seen  the  "  Derby 
Captains  "  swaggering  hotly  in  the  coffee-house,  mere  adven- 
turers, who  came  and  drank  their  Derby  ale,  ruffled  it  in  their 
Kevenhuller  hats  and  long  swords,  and  were  a  nuisance  to 
orderly  citizens. 

Some  of  the  critics  attacked  Garrick  for  the  coarseness  of 
his  piece ;  but  in  a  few  months  he  was  to  command  instead  of 

*  There  is  a  coloured  figure  in  Derby  Stafford- ware — very  spirited  and 
a  good  likeness — often  seen  in  the  old  curiosity  shops,  representing  Quin 
in  this  character. 


108  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

serving,  and  then  could  use  his  power  for  reformation.  It 
drew  large  houses  for  many  weeks,  and  was  acted  over  twenty 
times.  '  Quin  grumbled  at  having  to  play  in  one  of  his  best 
pieces  as  a  sort  of  lever  de  rideau,  and  swore  he  would  not  "  hold 
up  the  tail  of  any  farce."  This  speech  was  carried  to  Garrick, 
who  said  smartly,  "  Then  I  will  give  him  a  month's  holidays," 
and  chose  a  number  of  plays  in  which  Quin  had  no  part> 
putting  up  his  farce  for  weeks  together.  Such  is  Davies's 
report  of  mere  green-room  tattle.  Garrick  had  not  the 
power  of  choosing  the  plays  for  the  theatre,  and  Quin  was  con- 
tent to  hold  up  the  tail  of  the  farce  at  his  own  benefit.*  In 
fact,  Davies  misapprehended  Garrick's  speech,  the  point  of 
which  was,  that  as  Quin  would  not  act  on  the  nights  of  the 
farce,  he  was  likely  to  give  himself  a  long  holiday,  the  piece 
was  so  popular.! 

Garrick  was  scarcely  bearing  in  mind  an  excellent  caution  of 
his  friend  Walmesley:  "I  hope  you  will  take  care  not  to  hurt 
your  health  by  playing  more  than  you  can  bear ;  for  that  would 
be  the  worst  husbandry  in  the  world."  Several  times  in  the 
season  he  had  been  obliged  to  retire  from  illness,  and  Quin's 
benefit  had  to  be  put  off  for  the  same  reason.  He  became 
seriously  ill  indeed ;  a  severe  cold  settled  on  his  lungs,  and  he 
was  confined  to  his  bed  for  weeks.  Yet  he  made  attempts  to 
rally,  and  his  kindness  in  coming  from  a  sick-bed  to  play  for 
Quin's  benefit  was  remarkable.  He  had  not  strength  to  go 
through  a  long  comedy,  but  he  was  willing  to  attempt  a 

farce.J 

That  sickness  had  its  advantages.  '  It  relieved  him  of  the 
unsuitable  part  of  Hotspur,  and  besides  revealed  his  surprising 
popularity.  During  his  illness,  which  lasted  five  or  six  weeks, 
and  indeed  recurred  during  the  whole  season,  the  door  of  the 
periwig-maker  in  James  Street,  Covcnt  Garden,  where  he 
lodged,  was  quite  blocked  up  with  the  footmen  of  persons  of 
quality  coming  to  ask  after  him.  Of  this  interest  and  sym- 
pathy we  have  plenty  of  instances  all  through  his  life,  down  to 
the  last  great  procession — the  player's  funeral — up  to  West- 
minster Abbey. 

In  the  following  month  the  famous  comedy  of  "  The  Suspi- 

*  Genest 

t  Murphy  says  "  it  was  universally  agreed  that  Quin  gained  no  addition 
to  his  fame  by  appearing  in  Lear,  Richard,  and  Macbeth,  ...  In  'The 
Orphan,'  Quin  was  Sciolto  and  Garrick  Chamont."  This  is  a  surprising 
collection  of  mistakes  ;  Quin  did  not  appear  in  Lear,  and  Macbeth  was  not 
acted  at  alL     By  Sciolto  he  means  Acasto. 

X  His  letter  to  Quin  was  printed  at  the  top  of  the  playbills. 


1747-j  QUIN  AND  GARRICK.  109 

cious  Husband"  was  brought  out,  and  Ranger,  one  of  his 
most  successful  and  spirited  characters,  was  added  to  Garrick's 
repertoire.  Actor  and  character  were  indeed  worthy  of  each 
other,  for  nothing  can  exceed  the  buoyancy,  the  unflagging 
gaiety,  the  frolicsome  abandon  of  this  prince  of  good-natured 
rakes.  It  is  one  of  the  few  living  comedies,  is  written  with  ex- 
traordinary animation,  and  reads  now  almost  as  freshly  as  the 
day  it  appeared.  "  The  Provoked  Husband,"  "  The  Suspicious 
Husband,"  "The  Clandestine  Marriage,"  "The  School  for 
Scandal,"  and  Goldsmith's  two  dramas  are  the  comedies  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Nearly  seventy  years  are  gone  of  the 
nineteenth,  and  no  comedy  approaching  even  "The  Sus- 
picious Husband"  has  yet  appeared.  As  acted  by  Garrick, 
Woodward,  and  Mrs.  Pritchard,  it  must  have  been  an  admir- 
able and  delightful  entertainment.* 

To  the  end  of  his  life  almost  it  was  one  of  Garrick's  parts, 
and  would  seem  to  have  suited  him  charmingly.  In  the  same 
free  key  as  the  "Wonder,"  having  its  window  and  rope- 
ladders,  and  bed-chambers,  it  was  the  work  of  a  medical  mem- 
ber of  a  clever  family — Dr.  Hoadly;  and  so  delighted  the 
King  with  its  genuine  life  and  humour  that  he  sent  a  hundred 
pounds  to  the  author,  and  had  the  play  dedicated  to  himself,  f 

*  The  agreement  for  the  performance  of  this  comedy  at  Covent  Garden 
rune: — 

*'  In  consideration  of  £80,  which  I  am  to  receive  from  Mr.  Rich,  I  shall 
give  up  half  the  profits  to  him  of  the  third,  sixth,  and  ninth  nights  arising 
from  the  new  comedy  called  '  The  Rake/  and  am  to  allow  the  said  Mr. 
Rich  £60  for  each  of  ye  said  nights  for  ye  charges  of  his  house. 

"  N.B. — The  copy  of  the  play  is  my  own,  and  ye  profit  arising  from  ye 
printing  it."    The  title  was  altered  to  "  Ye  Suspicious  Husband." 

The  gaiety  of  Ranger  starts  from  the  moment  the  curtain  rises.  His 
talk  with  the  servants  ;  his  reply  to  his  friend,  after  being  up  all  night :  — 

"  Bellamy :  Fie  !  Ranger.    Will  you  never  think  ? 

"  Ranger :  Yes  ;  but  I  can't  be  always  a  thinking.  The  law  is  a  damn- 
able dry  study,  Mr.  Bellamy  ;  there  have  I  been  at  it  these  three  hours  ; 
but  the  wenches  will  never  let  me  alone. 

"  Bel. :  Three  hours !  "Why,  do  you  usually  study  in  such  shoes  and 
stockings  ? 

"  Ran, :  Rat  your  inquisitive  eyes  !  Ex  pede  Herculem.  Egad,  you  have 
me.  The  truth  is,  I  am  but  this  moment  returned  from  the  tavern."  So 
with  his  quotation  from  "  my  Lord  Coke,"  in  "  a  case  I  read  this  morning," 
and  his  friend's  expostulation,  "  My  Lord  Coke  T "  and  his  answer,  "  Yes, 
my  Lord  Coke  ;  sleep  ?  mere  loss  of  time  and  hindrance  of  business  ;  we 
men  of  spirit  are  above  it ; "  and  the  whole  kept  up  in  the  same  tone, 
make  it  a  most  entertaining  production.  Strickland,  however,  is  but  a 
repetition  of  Kitely.  ' 

t  And  the  jealous,  growling  spirit  of  the  manager,  who  was  in  the  pit, 
not  unnaturally  took  a  general  expression,  *'  the  manager  an  owl,"  u 
himself. 


110  TIIE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1746 — 

This  piece  drew  forth  an  excellent  dramatic  criticism  from 
Foote,  then  playing  at  "  The  Hay,"  and  preparing  his  "  Diver- 
sions of  the  Morning/1  in  which  he  pronounced  it  to  be  the 
best  comedy  since  Vanbrugh's  "Provoked  Husband."  It  also 
brought  out  a  bit  of  criticism,  in  the  odd  shape  of  a  farce,  by 
Macklin,  which  lived  but  one  night*  In  fact,  the  play 
excited  a  storm, of  criticism  at  the  Grecian  and  other  coffee 
houses,  and  was  a  sensation  of  the  day. 

Yet,  with  the  prosperity  of  his  season,  the  manager's  be- 
haviour and  temper  were  a  little  strange.  He  seemed  to 
grudge  the  success  that  brought  himself  such  profit.  When 
the  houses  were  overflowing,  he  was  seen  peeping  through  the 
curtain  at  the  audience,  muttering,  "Ah,  you  are  there,  are 
you  ?  Much  good  may  it  do  you ! "  One  of  his  pastimes  even 
was  to  go  down  upon  his  knees,  and  give  a  burlesque  of  the 
curse  in  Lear,  in  "Garrick's  manner,"  to  the  obsequious  ap- 
plause of  his  dependants.  It  is  even  said  that  he  might 
have  readily  secured  Garrick  for  many  seasons  more,  but  that 
he  preferred  his  dislike  to  his  interest,  and  let  him  go  without 
a  word.  On  May  29th  the  season  closed,  with,  it  is  said, 
receipts  to  the  amount  of  £8,000.  Garrick,  with  his  recurring 
bad  health  and  illnesses,  had  worked  harder  even  than  usual, 
and  had  played  nearly  ninety  times. 

Lacy's  attempt  at  management  seemed  beyond  his  strength. 
A  load  of  embarrassment  was  upon  his  shoulders.  Had  he 
received  a  fair  chance,  his  own  reputation  for  honesty,  and  his 
business  qualifications  might  have  carried  him  through;  but 
his  theatrical  partners,  the  banking-house  of  Green  and  Amber, 
began  to  totter,  and  finally  fell  with  a  crash.  They  had  been 
suddenly  called  on  by  Government  to  pay  in  a  large  balance  of 
nearly  twenty  thousand  pounds,  which  had  been  lodged  with 
them,  and  were  obliged  to  stop  payment  Mr.  Riddle,  re- 
ceiver for  the  county  of  Bedford,  father-in-law  to  Green,  was 
made  accountable  by  the  Government  for  this  sum  in  the 
hands  of  the  bankers,  and  he,  in  his  turn,  was  obliged  to  look 
to  their  securities.  The  theatre  had  been  going  from  bad  to 
worse;  the  audiences  were  growing  thin;  and  the  actors 
receiving  no  pay,  quite  supported  Mrs.  Cibber's  description 
of  "Lacy's  ragged  regiment"  Still  he  had  struggled  on,  and 
with  difficulties  gathering  about  him — the  mortgagee  actually 
about  to  sell  up  the  green-room  properties,  and  break  up  the 
whole  concern — extricated  the  concern  with  surprising  skill, 

*  "The  Suspicious  Husband  Criticised  ;    or,  The  Plague  of  Envy,"  was 
the  extraordinary  name  of  this  production. 


dMI 


1747.]  QT7IN  AND  GARRICK.  Ill 

and  now  proposed  to  his  creditors  that  they  should  use  their 
joint  interest  in  trying  to  get  a  new  patent — the  old  one, 
which  had  but  half  a  dozen  years  to  run,  being  only  worth  a 
trifle.  They  would  thus  enormously  increase  the  value  of  the 
security.  Kiddle  at  once  agreed  to  so  advantageous  a  pro- 
posal. As  Lacy  was  to  be  for  many  years  the  useful  friend 
and  assistant  of  the  actor  in  managing  this  great  establishment, 
a  few  words  about  his  history  and  character  will  not  be  out  of 
place. 

"  A  man  of  the  name  of  Lacy,"  as  Sir  John  Hawkins  con- 
temptuously called  him,  was  in  trade  at  Norwich,  about  the 
year  1722 ;  but  having  met  with  some  misfortunes  in  business, 
he  went  up  to  London  and  joined  Rich's  corps.  He  seems  to 
have  been  a  person  of  steady  purpose  and  good  business  habits, 
had  a  clear  head  without  genius,  and,  besides,  a  buoyancy  of 
disposition  and  purpose  not  to  be  checked  by  reverses.  Above 
all,  he  had  character;  and  the  players  in  some  of  their  squab- 
bles had  accepted  his  word  as  ample  security  that  they  were 
to  be  paid  their  claims.  He  tried  many  schemes.  He  joined 
with  Fielding  in  the  unfortunate  adventure  at  the  Haymarket, 
and  played  the  tragedy  poet  in  the  drama  "Pasquin,"  which 
brought  about  the  fatal  Licensing  Act  This,  no  doubt,  led 
to  his  appearance  as  a  lecturer  at  York,  in  natural  protest 
against  the  persecution  which  had  so  injured  him;  for  many 
of  the  actors  were  then  wandering  about  destitute  and  unable 
to  get  their  bread.  His  strictures  gave  great  offence  to  Sir 
John  Hawkins,  from  their  dealing  freely  with  "the  great 
officers  of  State  and  the  clergy."  His  entertainment,  however, 
seemed  to  have  come  under  the  power  of  the  Act,  and  was 
stopped,  proceedings  which  the  Tory  knight  thus  offensively 
describes : — "  He  was  seized,  dealt  with  as  a  vagrant,  and 
silenced."  He  it  was  who  had  started  the  idea  of  Eanelagh,  that 
building  which,  according  to  Johnson,  gave  such  an  "  expan- 
sion to  the  human  mind."  In  this  enterprise  he  was  badly 
treated  by  his  partner,  but  managed  to  withdraw  from  it  suc- 
cessfully, having  sold  it  at  a  profit  of  £4,000.  He  was  "  sup- 
posed to  understand  stage  management,"  adds  Sir  John,  con- 
temptuously, "  and  had  some  friends."  An  important  one  was 
the  Duke  of  Grafton,  the  Chamberlain,  whom  he  had  met  out 
on  hunting  parties,  and  had  used  such  opportunities  as  the 
field  opened  to  him  to  ingratiate  himself  with  that  nobleman. 
The  story  ran,  that  he  had  always  kept  close  to  the  Duke,  who 
was  at  last  attracted  by  his  hard  riding  and  the  spirited  horse 
he  rode.  Lacy  at  once  offered  it  as  a  gift,  which  the  Duke  of 
course  declined,  but  professed  himself  willing  to  befriend  so 


il2  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1747. 

good  a  sportsman.*  The  old  Drury  Lane  patent  for  twenty- 
one  years  had  but  six  years  to  run,  having  been  granted  in  1732, 
and  Lacy  said  that  if  he  could  obtain  a  promise  of  renewal  he 
could  save  the  theatre  from  rum.  But  he  was  not  inclined  to 
venture  alone;  and  looking  round  the  theatrical  world  his  eyes 
settled  on  the  great  actor,  with  whom  he  had  had  differences,  but 
whose  temper,  prudence,  and  tact  were  as  well  known  in  the 
profession  as  his  dramatic  gifts.  Garrick  received  his  pro- 
posals, and  lent  his  aid;  Lady  Burlington  used  her  in- 
terest with  the  Devonshire  family;  and  the  new  patent  was 
readily  promised.  Indeed,  it  was  likely  that  the  authorities 
would  bo  glad  to  have  one  theatre,  at  least,  which  was  likely 
to  be  well-conducted  by  steady,  respectable,  clever  men,  in- 
stead of,  as  hitherto,  by  mere  adventurers  and  spendthrifts. 

Garrick  had  three  friends,  men  of  business  and  of  substance, 
who  advised  and  assisted  him  through  the  negotiation — Draper, 
the  partner  of  Tonson;  Clutterbuck,  a  mercer  in  the  City;  and 
Dr.  Sharpe,  who  afterwards  wrote  some  Italian  travels,  coloured 
by  gross  prejudices.  On  the  9th  of  April,  1 747,  an  agreement  was 
signed  between  the  two  new  partners,  on  the  following  basis: — 

The  total  present  liabilities  of  the  theatre,  including  the 
mortgage  to  Green  and  Amber,  the  mortgage  to  Mr.  Meure, 
with  the  arrears  due  to  actors  and  tradesmen,  were  calculated 
at  about  twelve  thousand  pounds.  It  was  besides  burdened 
with  an  annuity  of  £300  to  Calthorpe,  and  another  of  £500  to 
Fleetwood.  Of  this  twelve  thousand  pounds,  Garrick,  helped 
by  his  friends,  found  eight.  Lacy's  old  interest  and  exer- 
tions, therefore,  in  procuring  the  renewed  patent,  were  thus 
valued  at  about  £2,000.  Each  party  was  to  draw  weekly  or 
otherwise  £500  a  year  as  manager,  and  Garrick  was  to  receive 
besides  £500  a  year  salary  for  his  acting;  but  was  restrained 
from  playing  at  any  other  house,  except  on  the  terms  of 
dividing  profits  with  his  fellow-manager. 

On  the  whole  it  proved  a  fortunate  investment.  Karely, 
indeed,  have  the  functions  of  a  clever  and  "  drawing  "  actor 
and  that  of  a  skilful  manager  been  so  fortunately  united; 
which,  after  thirty  years'  skilful  government,  was  to  make  the 
property  nearly  six  times  as  valuable.  And  this  young 
manager,  who  had  raised  himself  to  so  responsible  an  office, 
was  little  over  thirty  years  old.f 

*  Shuter  used  to  hunt  also,  and  when  complimented  by  the  Duke, 
replied  with  some  humour  that  "he  was  riding  for  a  patent." 

t  For  a  fuller  account  of  this  transaction,  as  well  as  for  the  contract 
itself  between  Garrick  and  Lacy,  see  my  "  History  of  the  English  Stage," 
VoLII.,p.  149,  Ac. 


1747.]  THE  OPENING  SEASON.  113 


book:   the    thied. 
DRUEY  LANE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  OPENING  SEASON. — 1747-48. 

With  the  new  management,  there  was  now  to  set  in  a  hope- 
ful era  for  the  drama,  and  a  complete  revolution  in  the  conduct 
of  the  stage.  At  Drury  Lane  was  to  begin  a  new  reign  of 
judgment,  good  sense,  fine  acting,  lavish  yet  judicious  outlay, 
excellent  yet  not  "  sensational "  attraction,  good  acting,  good 
discipline,  and  good  pieces,  on  which  naturally  was  to  follow 
prosperity.  Not  only  came  financial  prosperity,  but  a  sudden 
elevation  of  the  social  position  of  the  drama.  The  other 
theatres  shared  in  the  general  "  rehabilitation  " ;  and  he  would 
have  been  a  bold  magistrate  who  would  have  now  dealt  with  a 
player  of  Drury  Lane  or  Covent  Garden  "  as  a  common  rogue 
or  vagabond. M 

At  once  the  new  managers  went  vigorously  to  work.  They 
were  determined  to  get  together  "  the  best  company  in  Eng- 
land;" and  were  soon  busy  remodelling  the  house.  They 
shared  the  labour  —  Garrick  undertaking  the  intellectual 
duties,  engagement  of  actors,  selection  of  plays,  &c;  Lacy 
looking  after  the  theatre,  scenes,  wardrobe,  and  expenses,  for 
which  he  was  peculiarly  fitted.  Garrick  was  to  repent  later 
that  he  did  not  adopt  the  wise  advice  of  friends,  who  would 
have  inserted  a  clause  defining  these  duties ;  but  a  mistaken 
delicacy  made  him  refuse. 

The  interior  of  the  theatre,  as  laid  out  by  Wren,  had  one 
remarkable  feature.  The  stage  projected  forward  by  many 
feet  into  the  body  of  the  house,  in  a  sort  of  oval,  and  followed 
the  semicircular  shape  of  the  benches  of  the  pit.  The  actors 
made  their  entrance  through  doors,  which  were  near  to  the 
audience,  and  made  forward  side-scenes  necessary.  The  player 
was  thus  in  the  middle  of  the  house,  every  whisper  and  play 
of  expression  was  perceptible — every  rich  or  fine-coloured 
habit  had  a  more  lively  lustre,  and  the  stage  had  a  greater 
depth.     Cibber  always  looked  fondly  back  to  this  arrange- 

I 


114  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1747 — 

ment,  and  with  reason,  for  it  was  in  favour  of  the  old 
school  of  declamatory  actors,  who  wished  their  measured  ut- 
terance and  mouthings  to  be  heard  and  seen  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. But  it  obviously  interfered  •  with  stage  illusion,  and 
abridged  the  space  for  the  audience.  A  little  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  century,  fresh  alterations  were  made ;  the 
stage  was  shortened  and  thrown  back,  and  for  the  first  doors, 
where  the  actors  entered,  stage  boxes  were  substituted.  By 
this  alteration  the  house  was  made  to  hold  "ten  pounds  "  more 
than  it  did  before. 

In  July  the  managers  were  "  in  the  midst  of  bricks  and 
mortar,"  and  Lacy  was  busy  making  new  approaches  to  the 
house,  altering  it  internally,  painting  and  decorating.  By  a 
fresh  arrangement,  it  was  contrived  to  increase  the  accom- 
modation by  forty  pounds  a  night.  Garrick  had  gone  down 
to  his  family  at  Lichfield,  and,  owing  to  damp  sheets  at 
Coventry,  had  fallen  ill,  and  had  to  be  bled.  To  recruit  him- 
self for  the  ordeal  of  the  coming  season,  he  went  to  Tunbridge 
Wells,  where  he  enjoyed  himself  exceedingly,  and  shook  off 
the  thought  of  coming  responsibilities.  "I  go  to  bed  at 
eleven ;  rise  at  seven ;  drink  no  malt,  and  think  of  nothing. 
Old  Cibber  is  here,  and  very  merry  we  are.  Mr.  Lyttelton 
and  I  are  cup  and  can.  I  played  at  E.  0.,  and  won.  I  don't 
dance,  and  eat  like  a  ploughman.  "*  This  is  gay  enough,  even 
though  he  was  on  a  regimen.  There  is  a  print  of  that  quaint 
old  place,  and  its  company,  as  it  appeared  in  the  following 
year ;  showing  "  the  pantiles,"  the  little  shops  and  trees,  and 
its  mall,  crowded  with  remarkable  persons.  Here  are  to  be 
seen  Mr.  Johnson  and  Miss  Chudleigh,  and  Mr.  Pitt,  and  the 
Duchess  of  Norfolk ;  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  "  the  gambling 
Baron,"  Mrs.  Cibber,  and  many  more  persons  of  distinc- 
tion and  genius ;  and  among  them  we  discover  Mr.  Garrick, 
paying  his  court  to  Frasi,  the  prima  donna  of  the  opera. 
To  the  end  of  his  life  he  always  enjoyed  himself  at  feath 
and  Tunbridge,  and  found  relaxation  in  the  pleasant  company 
there. 

He  was  all  the  time  busy  enlisting  recruits ;  and  it  is  charac- 
teristic that,  at  the  earliest  moment  he  found  himself  with 
power,  he  used  it  for  the  service  of  all  his  friends.  Barry, 
growing  in  prosperity,  already  pronounced  superior  to  Garrick 
in  many  favourite  parts,  was  retained  at  the  house.  Mrs.  Cib- 
ber, his  old  friend  and  ally,  was  also  engaged.  It  was,  indeed, 
at  once  whispered  that  the  manager's  favour  was  to  place  her 

*  Forstcr  MSS. 


1748.]  THE  OPENING  SEASON.  115 

in  every  leading  part.  The  rumour  reached  Bristol,  and 
brought  up  a  petulant  remonstrance  from  the  Pritchards,  hus- 
band and  wife,  thus  early  giving  Garrick  his  first  managerial 
experience  of  the  morbid  sensitiveness  of  his  actors.*  A  pro- 
test he  answered  in  the  good,  generous,  and  reasoning  way 
which  afterwards  became  almost  habitual  to  him  in  dealing 
with  such  wounded  sensibilities.  He  showed  temperately 
that  it  was  the  proprietors'  interest  that  Mrs.  Pritchard  should 
have  her  proper  place  at  the  theatre,  and  not  be  sacrificed  to 
the  empire  of  "any  haughty  woman."  "  I  have  a  great  stake," 
he  added,  "  Mr.  Pritchard,  and  must  endeavour  to  secure  my 
property  and  my  friends'  to  the  best  of  my  judgment.  I  shall 
engage  the  best  company  in  England,  if  I  can,  and  think  it 
the  interest  of  the  best  actors  to  be  together."  If,  however, 
they  still  had  doubts,  he  would  do  his  best  to  release  them, 
and  let  them  go  to  Covent  Garden.  And  having  reassured 
these  jealous  souls,  he  gave  them  the  best  proof  of  his  regard 
by  making  their  son  treasurer  to  the  theatre. 

He  was  also  generous  enough  to  engage  Macklin  and  his  wife 
— a  man  who,  under  a  fancied  sense  of  injury,  had  so  grossly 
attacked  him  with  tongue  and  pen.  It  is  amusing  to  read 
Macklin's  biographer  on  this  act,  which,  even  if  it  were  an  act 
of  atonement,  had  a  certain  graciousness.  "Although  Mr. 
Ifacklin,"  he  says,  "had  just  cause  to  remember  the  cruel 
reatment  he  had  formerly  experienced  at  the  hands  of  Mr. 
farrick,  yet  the  nobleness  and  generosity  of  his  mind 
>mpted  him  now  to  dismiss  it  totally  from  his  recollec- 
1/  Kitty  Clive,  "Peg"  Woffington,  Delane,  Havard, 
irks,  Yates,  Shuter,  and  Woodward,  who  was  to  join  after 
Dublin  engagement  had  been  concluded,  all  made  up  a 
ipany  not  merely  strong,  but  brilliant  Quin  alone,  still 
ie  and  aggrieved,  refused  an  engagement,  and  retired  to 

last,  on  September  the  15th,  the  playhouse  opened  bril- 

ly  with  a  fine  prologue  from  the  pen  of  Samuel  Johnson ; 

as  Shylocky  and  an  epilogue  spoken  by  Woffington. 

friendly  but  anonymous  writer  privately  sent  to  Garrick  the  key  of 

ttle  intrigue.     Rich  had  behaved  with  his  usual  eccentricity,  wish- 

letain  Mrs.  Pritchard,  but  protesting  "  that  she  had  turned  up  her 

what  he  had  offered  her ;  that  he  would  never  give  her  more,  if  he 

jned  his  doors  ;  and  as  to  asking  her,  he  would  never  do  it,  if  his 

a  starving."    Friends  then   promised  they  would  contrive  to 

break  her  articles  with  Garrick,  by  working  on  her  husband's 

and  urging  that  a  difference  was  made  between  Cibber  and 

Cibber's  name  being  always  in  large  character  in  the  bills. 

said  to  Rich,  will  "  fire  "  Pritchard. 

1  1 


116  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1747 — 

The  prologue — weighty,  impressive,  and  sonorous — contained 
the  famous  line — 

"  Those  who  live  to  please,  must  please  to  live—" 

and  the  fine  encomium  of  Shakspeare — 

"  Panting  time  toiled  after  him  in  vain  ! " 

It  also  expounded  to  the  audience  what  were  to  be  the  faith  and 
principles  of  the  new  management.  Audiences  were  not  to 
expect  rope-dancers  like  Mahomet,  boxers  like  Hunt,  flying 
chariots,  or  such  pantomimic  tricks.  It  was  at  the  same  time 
hinted  that  the  remedy  lay  with  the  audiences  themselves  y 
that  the  stage  could  not  reform  itself,  but  must  follow  the  taste 
of  the  public.  Of  this  salvo  he  later  fairly  availed  himself. 
Garrick  declaimed  Johnson's  majestic  lines  with  fine  effect,  and 
a  hum  of  approbation  must  have  passed  round  when  they  heard 
him  say,  and  with  singular  appropriateness — 

"  From  bard  to  bard  the  frigid  caution  crept, 
Till  declamation  roared,  while  passion  slept." 

At  the  bottom  of  their  bill,  the  audience  found  another  hint  of 
reform.  There  was  to  be  no  more  admission  behind  the  scenes ; 
and  "  it  was  humbly  hoped  "  that  the  audience  would  not  take 
it  amiss.  Significant,  too,  was  the  choice  of  Macklin's  Shylock 
— a  ready  commentary  on  Johnson's  lines  \  for  Macklin  was  of 
Garrick's  own  school,  and  with  such  a  pair  declamation  was- 
not  likely  to  roar.  Garrick  himself  fell  ill  a  few  days  after  the 
opening  of  the  theatre ;  and  as  the  prologue  was  repeatedly 
called  for,  it  was  at  last  published,  with  an  apology  from  the 
manager,  who  hoped  they  would  accept  it  in  that  shape.  He 
himself  was  not  able  to  appear  until  a  month  later. 

Behind  the  scenes  also  a  new  order  and  new  regularity  had 
been  introduced.  The  greater  actors  had  been  careless  as  to 
learning  their  parts  accurately,  and  were  too  often  heard  ap- 
pealing to  the  prompter.  A  strict  attendance  at  rehearsal  was 
enforced,  and  the  plays  carefully  prepared.  Some  of  the  older 
actors,  who  from  habit  supplied  the  defects  of  memory  and 
carelessness  by  "a  bold  front  and  forging  matter  of  their  own," 
were  tacitly  rebuked  by  being  left  aside  for  some  time  until 
they  mended.     Yates  was  a  notorious  offender. 

The  management  relied  principally  on  good  stock-pieces,  well 
supported,  with  one  or  two  strongly-cast  characters,  and  a  new 
play  or  two.  Barry  was  put  forward  as  the  leading  actor.  He 
played  in  all  his  favourite  characters.  Nights  of  special  attrac- 
tion were,  when  Mrs.  Woffington  came  out  in  her  famous 
"  breeches  part/'  Sir  Hairy  JFUdair,  with  Garrick  as  Fribble,  to 


1748.]  THE  OPENING  SEASON.  117 

wind  up  the  evening ;  or,  when  Garrick  and  Barry  played  to- 
gether in  "The  Orphan "  and  "The  Fair  Penitent;"  or,  when 
Mrs.  Cibber,  Garrick,  and  Barry  were  joined  in  "  Venice  Pre- 
served." The  parts  in  this  play  seemed  to  have  been  cast 
d,  Irarers,  for  Garrick  took  Jaffier,  the  weak,  tender,  loving, 
irresolute  conspirator;  while  Barry  was  the  fierce,  impetu- 
ous, and  unscrupulous  Pierre.  Still,  with  the  "enchanting 
melody "  of  Mrs.  Cibber  in  Belridera,  and  the  nobleness  and 
passionate  tenderness  of  the  play  itself,  it  proved  a  great 
attraction.  Later,  on  another  stage,  Barry  took  his  right  part; 
but  all  this  time  was  secretly  turning  the  occasion  to  profit  as 
an  opportunity  for  studying  Garrick.*  Mrs.  Cibber  had 
another  opening  for  her  enchanting  melody  in  Polly ;  and  the 
new  comedy  of  "  The  Foundling,"  by  Edward  Moore,  brought 
out  a  wonderful  cast  Barry  snowed  all  his  handsome  grace 
in  Sir  Cliarles  ;  Macklin,  as  Faddle,  found  a  part  that  suited  his 
oddities,  and  convulsed  the  audience.  Faddle  was  said  to  have 
been  modelled  after  "an  ingenious  young  gentleman"  who  had 
some  skill  in  taking  off  the  opera  singers,  and  who  was  suffered, 
by  the  ladies  who  had  turned  his  head,  to  be  sent  to  gaol  for 
£40.  Mrs.  Cibber  was  all  softness  and  music,  and  Woffington, 
in  Boseita,  all  pertness  and  prettiness ;  but  Garrick,  who  had 
taken  Young  Belmont,  a  sort  of  walking  gentleman,  by  his  extra- 
ordinary spirit  and  versatility  turned  it  into  a  leading  cha- 
racter. 

To  Shakspeare  due  homage  was  paid  in  "  The  Tempest,"  and 
in  a  revival  of  "  Macbeth ; "  but  a  "  Macbeth  "  cleared  from  the 
"  improvements "  and  decorations  with  which  it  had  been 
daubed  over  by  the  clumsy  mechanists  of  the  stage.  Three 
years  before  it  had  been  thus  played,  but  had  not  excited 
attention.  Though  considered  a  sort  of  good  "  stock  "melo 
drama  for  a  company,  it  was  thought  poorly  of  in  the  profession 
as  an  opening  for  a  leading  actor.  Even  to  bring  it  into  a  suit- 
able condition,  it  had  to  endure  the  choppings  and  patchings 
of  the  restorers — a  race  who  seemed  to  deal  with  these  old  plays 
much  as  inferior  picture-cleaners  do  with  acknowledged  mas- 
terpieces. In  this  way,  for  more  than  eighty  years,  audiences 
had  looked  on  and  applauded  this  spurious  Shakspeare  without 
question ;  and  actors  had  declaimed  Davenant's  "  fustian  " 
without  ever  dreaming  that  it  was  not  the  true  inspiration  of 
the  "Swan  of  Avon."  Much  more  "business"  was  put  in. 
Garrick  determined  to  cast  away  all  the  introduced  rubbish, 

*  It  wu  said,  by  those  who  wished  to  make  mischief,  that  Garrick 
refused  to  play  Pierre  to  Barry's  Jajjier,  saying,  "  I  will  not  bully  the 
monument  1 " 


118  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1748. 

and  to  give  "  Macbeth  "  as  written  by  Shakspeare.  Quin  ex- 
claimed in  astonishment,  "What!  and  don't  we  play  "Macbeth" 
as  written  by  Shakspeare?"  And  yet,  though  Dryden,  Cibber, 
and  many  more  had  all  mauled  and  disfigured  the  Bard  with 
the  utmost  wantonness,  it  was  reserved  for  Garrick  to  be  the 
worst  offender  of  the  sacrilegious,  and  at  the  close  of  his  career 
to  hack  and  hew  at  "  Hamlet  "in  a  fashion  that  they  never 
would  have  dreamed  of. 

He  also  planned  some  useful  reforms  in  the  conduct  of  the 
theatre,  particularly  in  "front  of  the  house,"  particularly 
requiring  that  all  should  pay  on  admission,  and  prevent 
"bilking  and  frisking"  in  and  out  Foote  at  this  time  was 
giving  his  "tea,"  and  was  threatening  an  abusive  satire  on 
Garrick  and  Lacy.  The  latter  declared  he  would  break 
Foote's  head;  the  former  that  Mr.  Foote  was  quite  welcome. 
This  was  the  first  beginning  of  that  curious  relation  of  semi- 
hostility  which  coloured  their  intercourse;  which  one  would 
be  inclined  to  set  down  to  the  envy  with  which  unsuccessful 
talent  has  sometimes  pursued  a  rival,  to  whom  it  believes 
itself  superior,  but  which  a  skilful  judge  of  character,  and  its 
mysterious  moods,  has  more  delicately  accounted  for.  "  From 
the  first  they  were  marked  out  for  rivalry.  Distinguished  by 
their  superior  intellectual  qualities  from  all  competitors  in  the 
profession  to  which  they  belonged,  they  had  only  each  other 
to  carry  on  a  competition  with ;  and  if,  as  Pope  says,  war 
is  necessary  to  the  life  of  a  wit  upon  earth,  what  are  we  to 
expect  when  the  wit  has  another  in  the  same  line  to  make  war 
upon,  who  is  not  only  jester  and  player  like  himself,  but  rival 
manager  too?     The  virtue  must  be  more  than  human  that 

refrains No  doubt  also  Foote  was  almost  always  the 

aggressor.  His  wit  was  ever  at  its  best  with  a  victim  wincing 
under  it,  and  Garrick's  too  obvious  weaknesses  were  a  tempta- 
tion difficult  to  be  resisted."*  This  happily  describes  this 
most  unpleasant  relation;  though,  it  must  be  added,  that 
Foote's  later  aggressions,  unchecked  through  Garrick's  tolera- 
tion and,  perhaps,  weakness,  grew  at  last  to  assume  an 
unjustifiable  grossness  which  repeated  amendes  could  not 
extenuate. 

*  Forster's  Essays,  p.  369. 


1748.]  MARRIAGE.  119 


CHAPTER  II 

MARRIAGE.— 1748-49. 

Garrick's  second  season  began  in  September ;  but  he  had 
already  begun  to  suffer  from  desertions.  Delane  and  Sparks 
were  seduced  to  Covent  Garden ;  its  extraordinary  manager, 
Rich,  at  last  rousing  himself  from  his  languor.  A  more 
serious  loss  was  Mrs.  Woffington.  The  manager's  new  at- 
tachment was,  no  doubt,  distasteful  to  her,  as  well  as  the 
supremacy  of  Mrs.  Cibber — to  say  nothing  of  constant  quarrels 
with  Mrs.  Clive.  Perhaps  Garrick,  with  his  heart  now  set  on 
a  new  shape  of  domestic  life,  was  anxious  to  be  wholly  free 
from  all  association  with  the  past. 

At  the  commencement,  the  burden  lay  on  Woodward  and 
his  special  range,  of  character,  and  on  Barry  in  "  Othello " 
and  "Hamlet."' The  chief  attraction  before  Christmas  was 
two  Shakspearean  revivals.  Never  was  there  a  more  legi- 
timate success  than  that  of  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  in 
Beatrice  and  Benedick,  for  it  was  the  triumph  of  true  genius, 
exercised  in  the  most  perfect  and  buoyant  bit  of  comedy  that 
could  be  conceived,  yfeo  evenly  matched  were  their  powers, 
and  so  sparkling  the  alternations  of  their  vivacious  rivalry, 
that  the  town  found  it  impossible  to  decide  the  question  of 
superiority.  When  the  actress  was  gone,  the  play  lost  all  its 
attraction.  An  excellent  revival  was  that  of  "  A  New  Way  to 
Pay  Old  Debts;"  but  it  seemed  unmeaning  to  revive  it  for  the 
sake  of  giving  Sir  Giles  to  the  obscure  Bridges,  for  it  seemed  a 
part  that  Garrick  could  have  made  much  of.  It,  however, 
introduced  an  admirable  player — King — who  was  soon  to 
become  a  comedian  of  the  very  first  order.  Indeed,  Wood- 
ward and  King  represented  a  type  of  player  now  extinct, 
whose  talents,  bright,  gay,  and  luxuriant,  filled  in  a  character, 
and  made  that  character  vivify  the  piece;  so  different  from 
the  modern  system,  when  the  piece  has  become  a  mere  back- 
ground for  the  centre  figure.  A  yet  more  important  revival 
had  been  occupying  his  thoughts,  and  was  the  result  of  much 
pains  and  care.  This  was  "  Romeo  and  Juliet " — the  play  of 
poetry,  grace,  and  tenderness,  put  into  the  appropriate  hands 
of  the  very  priest  and  priestess  of  grace,  pathos,  and  tender- 
ness— Barry  and  Mrs.  Cibber.  Here  again  we  see  the  tem- 
perate self-denial  of  Garrick.    It  was  a  tempting  opportunity ; 


120  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1748 — 

and  though  the  part  was  infinitely  more  suited  to  Barry  than 
Garrick,  the  town  would  have  readily  found  indulgence  for  the 
manager  who  had  seized  on  the  prize  for  himself.  He  took 
the  play  with  him  into  his  closet ;  but,  with  an  odd  inconsist- 
ency, the  man  who  had  just  cleared  "Macbeth"  from  the 
thick  crusts  and  varnishes  with  which  Davenant  and  other 
Shakspearean  "  restorers  "  had  coated  it,  did  not  shrink  front 
putting  an  entirely  new  catastrophe  to  the  story  of  the  Verona 
lovers. 

There  used  to  be  many  who  have  melted  over  the  wakening 
of  Juliet  in  the  tomb,  the  long  and  touching  scene  between  the 
lovers  that  follows,  and  never  dreamed  that  Romeo  died  just 
after  his  combat  with  County  Paris.  The  whole  of  that  inter- 
view is  a  clever  bit  of  sham  Shakspearean  writing,  fairly  well 
done,  even  to  the  "  fathers  have  flinty  hearts,"  which  has  been 
sometimes  quoted  as  a  bit  of  the  genuine  stuff.*  At  the  same 
time,  he  deserves  some  credit  for  the  manner  in  which  he  has 
fallen  into  the  tone  of  the  situation,  and  caught  up  the  sweet 
key  of  Shakspeare's  music.  Garrick  himself  attended  all  the 
rehearsals,  gave  his  hints,  watched  it  carefully,  and  the  result 
was  a  marvellous  performance,  which  drew  the  whole  town  for 
nineteen  nights. 

Meanwhile  his  old  friend  and  schoolfellow,  Samuel  Johnson, 
struggling  on  through  "garret  toil  and  London  loneliness," 
glad  to  get  fifteen  guineas  for  a  masterly  poem,  busy  with  the 
"  great  English  Dictionary,"  had  thought  of  his  old  tragedy, 
which  years  before  had  brought  him  up  to  London,  full  of 
theatrical  designs.  Very  different  fortunes  had  befallen  the 
actor  and  the  scholar,  who  had  started  together  from  Lichfield. 
Garrick  was  now  at  the  head  of  the  first  theatre  in  England, 
in  easy  if  not  in  opulent  circumstances ;  Johnson  was  fighting 
a  cruel  battle,  and  not  yet  known  as  the  great  Dr.  Samuel 
Johnson,  the  weighty  representative  man  of  sturdy  English 
principles  and  morals,  and  the  classic  model  of  the  time.  For 
Garrick  to  take  his  friend's  play,  and  use  all  his  resources 
to  bring  out  what  was  a  heavy  and  unskilful    piece,  even 

*  The  whole  is  a  clever  Pasticcio. 

"  'Twixt  death  and  love  I'm  torn  :  I'm  distracted— 
But  death's  strongest — " 
is  Qarrick's. 

"  I'll  not  wed  Paris :  Romeo  is  my  husband  !  " 
is  Ot  way's. 

"  Oh,  let  me  hear  some  voice 
Besides  my  own  in  this  drear  vault  of  death  1 " 

These  lines  are  from  the  "  Mourning  Bride." 


1749.]  MARRIAGE.  121 

compared  with  the  existing  dreary  models  of  historical  tra- 
gedy, was  certainly  no  little  proof  of  kindness.  This  drama, 
some  acts  of  which  had  been  written  in  a  country  town  before 
its  author  had  read  Shakspeare,  and  which  had  been  read  over 
with  Peter  Garrick  in  the  Fountain  Coffee-house,  then  fre- 
quented by  Fleetwood,  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  new  year 
put  in  rehearsal  at  Drury  Lane.  The  manager  tried  hard  to 
have  some  "  business  "  introduced  into  the  play.  He  felt  that 
Johnson's  cold  and  solemn  platitudes  would  set  the  audience 
yawning,  and  perhaps  empty  the  theatre.  But  Johnson  hotly 
resented  this  interference,  and  it  nearly  brought  about  a  quar- 
rel. Garrick,  instead  of  using  his  power,  applied  to  a  common 
friend  to  reason  with  the  angry  author.  "  Sir,"  said  Johnson, 
in  reply,  "  the  fellow  wants  me  to  make  Mahomet  run  mad,  that 
he  may  have  an  opportunity  of  tossing  his  hands,  and  kicking 
his  heels."  The  "fellow,"  however,  did  not  play  Mahomet,  % 
but  Demetrius.  Mahomet  was  assigned  to  Barry,  to  give  the 
play  every  advantage,  and  win  all  his  zeal  for  the  author ;  but 
he  made  only  a  poor  part  of  it 

On  the  6th  of  February  was  the  first  night  of  "  Mahomet 
and  Irene,"  when  Johnson  was  seen,  not  in  his  old  brown  suit, 
but  glowing  in  "  a  laced  waistcoat "  and  a  new  flaming  scarlet 
coat — flitting  in  that  unwonted  raiment  from  the  coulisses  to  the 
boxes,  and  from  the  boxes  to  coulisses.  Here  surely  is  a  sub- 
ject for  our  painter,  as  characteristic  and  suggestive  of  humour 
as  Leslie  himself  could  have  found.  It  was  an  anxious  night. 
In  the  beginning,  before  the  curtain  rose,  shrill  catcalls  were 
heard,  which  the  author  himself  a  little  imprudently  had  de- 
precated in  his  prologue.*  Garrick  had  spared  neither  trouble 
nor  expense  for  his  friend.  The  costumes  were  superb. 
There  was  one  scene,  representing  a  Turkish  garden,  which 
was  considered  a  triumph  of  scenic  skill  Yet  all  that  could 
be  done  for  it  in  the  way  of  sumptuous  dresses  and  Eastern 
scenery  was  of  little  avaiL  Though  the  prologue  "soothed 
the  audience,"  nothing  could  lighten  the  hopeless  declama- 
tion of  the  piece,  which  was  as  cold  and  dull  as  the  most 
monotonous  tragedy  of  the  French  school.  The  grand  "  spec- 
tacle "  could  not  help  it  off.  Even  the  clap-trap  description  of 
the  English  Constitution,  absurdly  put  into  the  mouth  of  one 
of  the  Turks,  was  of  no  profit.     Mrs.  Pritchard,  Barry,  and 

*  The  epilogue  was  said  to  have  been  written  by  Sir  William  Yonge. 
"  I  know  not,"  says  Boswell,  in  his  own  true  key,  "  how  Johnson's  play  came 
to  be  thus  graced  by  the  pen  of  a  person  then  so  eminent  in  the  political  world." 
And  this  obsequious  doubt  seems  well  founded,  as  the  better  opinion  would 
now  appear  to  be  that  it  was  in  part  written  by  Johnson  himself. 


122  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1748 — 

Garrick  declaimed  their  dull  parts  with  surprising  vigour  and 
elocution ;  but  nothing  could  give  it  life.  Even  the  desperate 
resource  suggested  by  Garrick  of  having  the  heroine  put  to 
death  by  the  bow-string  before  the  audience  became  ludicrous 
from  sheer  contrast,  and  some  one  screamed  out  "  Murder ! 
murder!"  She  tried  in  vain  to  speak,  but  her  voice  was 
drowned  in  a  chorus  of  disapprobation.  Young  Burney,  how- 
ever, says  that,  with  this  exception,  the  play  was  fairly  re- 
ceived. Garrick's  zeal  and  friendly  interest  kept  it  before  the 
public  for  at  least  the  regular  nine  nights,  to  allow  the  author 
to  have  his  three  nights1  profits,  which  reached  to  close  on  two 
hundred  pounds ;  this,  with  one  hundred  pounds  for  the  sale 
of  the  copyright^  was  a  substantial  return  for  so  indifferent  a 
play.  But  Johnson  was  not  satisfied,  and,'  like  many  a 
dramatist  before  and  since,  complained  that  justice  had  not 
been  done  him  by  the  actors.  He  was  heard  growling  his  dis- 
approbation in  the  orchestra.  From  that  time  he  had  a 
grudge,  born  of  ill-success,  against  his  friend. 

Garrick  also  tried  to  keep  Barry  in  good  humour  by  playing 
logo  to  his  Othello,  a  part  which  he  seems  to  have  attempted 
only  once.  He  revived  his  own  farce  "  Lethe,"  with  new  cha- 
racters, which,  as  they  did  not  make  any  striking  effect,  he  re- 
signed at  once  to  other  actors.  In  Aaron  Hill's  solemn 
Merope,  he  seemed,  to  the  ladies  of  his  audience,  to  look  and 
play  like  an  angel.  Perhaps  there  was  one  lady  certainly  to 
whom  this  praise  would  scarcely  have  seemed  an  exaggeration; 
for  all  this  time  the  hard-worked  manager  had  his  eyes  fixed 
on  Burlington  House,  and  though  every  obstacle  was  thrown 
in  the  way  of  their  attachment,  he  had  contrived  to  secure  a 
firm  hold  on  her  affections.  The  young  dancer  constantly 
withstood  many  trials,  the  pressure  of  her  kind  patroness  and 
guardian,  and  even  the  offers  of  suitors  of  family  and  posi- 
tion. This  secrecy  and  these  impediments  gave  it  all  the  air 
of  a  little  romance.  And  with  this  attachment  is  connected  a 
melodramatic  story,  which  has  been  made  the  basis  of  a 
popular  German  piece,  which  again  has  been  adapted  to  the 
English  stage,  to  show  off  the  talents  of  a  versatile  comedian 
of  our  own  time,  who  represented  to  perfection  Garrick's 
Fribble,  but  in  the  costume  of  the  present  day. 

The  story  is  of  a  class,  associated  with  Garrick's  name,  the 
details  of  which  usually  turn  on  his  marvellous  powers  of 
mimicry  and  facial  expression.  A  young  city  lady,  with  a  de- 
spotic father,  has  fallen  frantically  in  love  with  Borneo  as 
played  by  Mr.  Garrick;  grows  sick,  and  is  at  the  point  of 
death.    He  is  sent  for;  treated  with  contempt  as  "a  stage 


1749.]  MARRIAGE.  123 

player "  by  the  father,  who  talks  of  the  folly  of  being  moved 
by  sham  emotions.  There  are  various  versions  of  the  young 
girl's  cure.  In  one  she  is  taken  to  see  him  in  Abel  Drugger, 
and  is  completely  " cMsillusonnte"  In  another  version  the 
actor  is  brought  to  her  as  a  doctor ;  reveals  himself  as  Borneo, 
talks  to  her,  drinks  as  he  talks ;  and  by  the  incoherent  rav- 
ings of  intoxication  awakens  her  from  her  delusion.  In  the 
German  play  it  is  a  baronet,  in  the  English  a  city  merchant 
But  the  point  of  the  story  is  nearly  the  same  in  all.  Lee 
Lewes,  the  comedian,  giving  a  minute  account  of  the  courtship 
of  the  Violette  by  Garrick,  mentions  some  incidents  of  this 
kind,  and  which  he  says  he  heard  through  an  aged  domestic 
of  the  Burlington  family.  The  dancer  had  seen  Garrick  in 
one  of  his  characters;  had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with 
him ;  had  become  sick,  like  the  lady  in  the  anecdote,  and  no 
one  could  divine  the  cause.  Lady  Burlington  had  designed 
her  for  a  rich  and  important  alliance,  and  would  never  consent 
to  an  alliance  with  a  player.  But  a  clever  doctor  found  the 
secret  out,  represented  that  it  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death, 
and  obtained  the  lady's  reluctant  consent.  This  is  obviously 
the  basis  of  the  dramatic  story ;  though  Lee  Lewes  and  his 
"  old  domestic "  can  hardly  be  depended  on,  especially  as  to 
the  details  and  private  conversations,  which  are  given  with  a 
suspicious  minuteness  and  fulness. 

It  was,  however,  matter  of  notoriety  that  Lady  Burlington 
opposed  Garrick's  advances,  and  the  Violette  used  to  tell  after- 
wards how  he  had  once  disguised  himself  in  woman's  clothes 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  conveying  a  letter  to  her.  There 
is,  besides,  the  testimony  of  an  old  gentleman  of  eighty,  alive 
not  very  long  ago,  who  was  told  by  Mrs.  Garrick  herself  that 
the  German  story  was,  in  the  main,  true;  and  that  it  was 
Garrick's  noble  self-denial  in  the  business  that  induced  Lady 
Burlington  to  give  her  consent* 

The  Patroness  looked  after  her  protigte  with  extraordinary 
care  and  jealousy.  When  the  Violette's  benefit  came  on, 
Kent,  an  artist  of  reputation,  was  employed  to  design  the 
tickets.  Everything  was  done  to  show  her  off  to  advantage. 
When,  in  March,  1748,  the  strange  Duchess  of  Queensberry 


*  Sea  "  Household  Words  "  for  1857.  This  German  narrative  brings  in 
also  the  name  of  a  barrister  friend  of  the  actor's,  a  Mr.  Bingham,  of  Lin- 
coln's Innf  with  whom  he  had  once  studied  law ;  and  such  a  name  is  to  be 
found  among  the  barristers  of  that  date.  The  late  Mr.  Sothern  and  Mr. 
Vezin  distinguished  themselves  in  this  piece  ;  while  the  vivacious  Charles 
Wyndham  and  Miss  Mary  Moore  have  entertained  both  Berlin  and  St. 
Petersburg  with  the  same  piece. 


124  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1748 — 

gave  a  masquerade  at  Richmond,  Lady  Burlington  was  seen 
walking  about  with  her  charge  on  her  arm,  and  Lord  Coventry 
following  with  extraordinary  persistence.  The  Countess,  it 
was  noticed,  motioned  to  him,  and,  drawing  off  her  glove, 
significantly  moved  her  ring  up  and  down  her  finger — a  hint 
that  was  very  intelligible.  When  the  Countess  took  her  to  a 
splendid  masquerade  on  the  river,  where  was  the  King,  and 
dukes,  and  princes,  and  "  God  save  the  King  "  was  sung  by  the 
royal  family  themselves  to  the  mob  over  the  rails,  Mr.  Garrick 
contrived  to  be  brought  there  also,  by  some  of  the  Richmond 
family.  Lady  Burlington  kept  watch  over  her  charge  jealously, 
while  Garrick,  "  ogling  and  sighing  "  from  a  distance,  caused 
much  amusement  to  those  who  were  behind  the  scenes.  A 
diplomatist,  who  belonged  to  the  Duke  of  Modena's  court, 
was  asking  Walpole  questions  about  this  lady  and  the  other. 
"That  was  Lady  Huntingdon."  "And  the  next  one?"  It  was 
a  distressing  question,  said  Walpole,  but,  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion, he  replied :  "  Mais  c'est  Mademoiselle  Violetta."  The 
diplomatist  looked  puzzled,  and  searched  his  memory.  "Et 
comment  Mademoiselle  Violetta — j'ai  connu  une  Mademoiselle 
Violetta  par  exemple" — he  was  thinking  of  the  Ballet,  but 
Walpole  adroitly  turned  off  his  attention  to  a  Miss  Bishop.  It 
was  not  so  easy  to  turn  off  the  eyes  of  the  lover  now  busy 
watching.  At  last  such  constancy  was  to  prevail.  He  wrote 
a  formal  proposal  to  Lady  Burlington;  her  opposition  was 
withdrawn,  or  perhaps  she  saw  that  it  was  useless,  and  she 
finally  gave  her  consent. 

Yet  the  lover,  now  happily  at  the  end  of  this  long  courtship, 
with  all  through  his  life  a  great  uneasiness  as  to  what  the 
public  or  private  people  were  saying  and  thinking  of  him,  now 
shrank  from  the  discussion,  and  perhaps  ridicule,  that  was 
sure  to  follow  when  his  proposed  marriage  should  become 
known.  It  was  suspected  that  some  complimentary  verses, 
with  which  the  curious  public  amused  itself,  were  not  quite  a 
surprise  to  him.* 

Not  satisfied  with  this  free-and-easy  introduction  of  his 
bride's  name  and  his  own  to  the  public,  he  took  another, 
and  what  he  fancied  was  an  effectual  way,  to  deprecate 
the  ridicule  he  so  feared.  On  the  eve  of  his  marriage 
some  fresh  verses  appeared,  which  are  to  be  found  among  his 

*  Fortune  was  made  to  ask  why  Slander  is  always  "  sneering  at  me  and 
poor  Davy  ? "    The  truth  was,  Slander  believed  that 

11  The  creature  loved  self, 
And  cared  not  a  fig  for  a  soul  but  himself." 


1749.]  MARRIAGE.  125 

friend  Edward  Moore's  poems,  but  which  were  said,  to  be 
written  by  himself,  or  at  least  under  his  inspiration.*    They 

were  headed  "Stanzas  to  Mr.  G k  on  the  Talk  of  the 

Town,"  and  had  the  following  motto  from  "  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing":— 

" '  When  I  said  I  would  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not  think  I  should  live  till 
I  were  married.' 

" '  No,  do  ;  the  left-hand  bo?,  in  blue  ; 

There,  don't  you  see  her  ? '     '  See  her  ?    Who  ? ' 
1  Nay;  hang  me  if  I  tell ; 

There's  Qarrick  in  the  music  box. 
Watch  but  his  eyes.    See  them,  O  pox  ! 
Tour  servant t  Mademoiselle." 

Then  the  "  ladies  "  are  described  as,  talking  it  over,  "  pale, 
wild  as  the  witches  in  '  Macbeth ' " — 

11  Married  !  but  don't  you  think,  my  dear, 
He's  growing  out  of  fashion  ? 

People  may  fancy  what  they  will, 
But  Quin's  the  only  actor  still, 
To  treat  the  tender  passion." 

" '  Nay,  madam  ;  did  you  mind  last  night 
Hi*  Archer;  not  a  line  on't  right  1 
I  thought  I  heard  some  hisses.' 
Two  parts,  they  readily  allow, 
Are  yours,  but  not  one  more,  I  vow. 
And  thus  they  close  their  spite." 

It  winds  up  with  a  soothing  compliment,  bidding  him  not  to 
mind  their  speeches : 

"Take,  you  can't  do  better, 

A  pox  upon  the  tattling  town  ; 
The  fops  that  join  to  cry  her  down 
Would  give  their  ears  to  get  her." 

His  wedding  present  was  a  silver  tea-kettle  and  a  little 
casket  for  holding  tea,  which  was  to  stand  afterwards  on  the 

#  Among  his  papers  I  find  the  following : — 

"VERSES  SENT  TO  ME  ON  MY  MARRIAGE. 

"  What !  has  that  heart,  so  wild,  so  roving, 
So  prone  to  changing,  sighing,  loving, 
Whom  widows,  maids,  attacked  in  vain, 
At  last  submitted  to  the  chain  ? 
Who  is  the  paragon,  the  marvellous  she, 
Has  fixed  a  weather-cock  like  thee  ? " 

He  wrote  a  reply,  which  contains  a  true  picture  of  the  bride  :— 

u  "Tie  not,  my  friend,  her  speaking  face. 
Her  shape,  her  youth,  her  winning  grace, 


126  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1748— 

table,  at  which  was  their  cosiest  and  happiest  of  meals.  Often 
was  the  actor,  and  candidate  for  acting,  invited  to  breakfast, 
when  Mrs.  Garrick  sat  and  made  tea,  and  took  her  part  in 
passing  judgment*  Lady  Burlington,  now  softened,  presented 
him  with  a  prayer-book,  a  very  modest  souvenir,  but  for  which 
he  was  very  grateful,  t 

At  last,  on  the  22nd  of  June,  they  were  married! — first,  by 
Dr.  Francklin,  at  the  church  in  Russell  Street,  Bloomsbury, 
and  afterwards  at  the  chapel  of  the  Portuguese  Embassy  in 
Audley  Street,  by  the  Kev.  Mr.  Blyth.§  \Valpole  wrote  out 
the  news  to  Florence,  but  could  not  understand  the  business. 
"The  chapter  of  this  history  is  a  little  obscure,"  he  said, 
especially  as  to  the  consent  of  the  Countess,  and  the  fortune. 
It  was  indeed  a  surprising  little  romance;  and  it  was  more 
surprising  still  that  the  marriage  of  a  comedian,  whom  Parlia- 
ment but  a  few  years  before  would  have  described  as  a  "  com- 
mon rogue  and  a  vagabond,"  with  a  "  famous  dancer,"  whom  it 
could  have  sent  to  the  House  of  Correction,  should  have  gained 

Have  reach'd  my  heart ;  the  fair  one's  mind, 

Quick  as  her  eyes,  yet  soft  and  kind. 

A  gaiety  with  innocence  ; 

A  soft  address,  with  manly  sense. 

Ravishing  manners,  void  of  art, 

A  cheerful,  firm,  yet  feeling  heart. 

Beauty  that  charms  all  public  gaze, 

And  humble  amid  pomp  and  praise." — Hill  MSS. 
*  These  presents  are  still  preserved,  and  were  of  a  handsome  and  sub- 
stantial sort.     In  her  will  Mrs.  Garrick  left  a  special  bequest  of  the  old 
humble  tea  service  which  Garrick  had  used  in  his  bachelor  days, 
t  He  wrote  some  lines  in  the  beginning — 

"  This  sacred  book  has  Dorothea  given, 
To  show  a  straying  sheep  the  way  to  Heaven  ; 
With  forms  of  righteousness  she  well  may  part, 
Who  bears  the  spirit  in  her  upright  heart." 
$  Garrick  settled  the  sum  of  £10,000  upon  his  wife,  with  £70  a  year 
pin  money.    Sir  T.  Martin,  in  the  Quarterly  Review  (July,  1868),  who  had  the 
settlement  before  him,  says  that  a  further  sum  of  £5,000  is  described  in  it 
as  being  on  the  estates  of  Lady  Burlington,  in  Lincolnshire,  but  belonging 
to  the  bride  ;  and  it  is  suggested  that  this  may  have  been  the  young  lady's 
money,  lent  to  Lady  Burlington.     But  there  is  a  confusion  between  a  loan 
of  Garrick's  to  his  family  (see  post).     In  fact,  we  later  find  Garrick  corre- 
sponding with  Lord  Hartington  on  the  subject  of  a  charge  on  the  estate. 
Mr.  Can*,  who  was  Garrick's  solicitor,  and  afterwards  lived  in  Hampton 
Villa,  when  asked  on  this  point  by  "  Rainy-day  Smith,"  seemed  to  say  that 
Mrs.  Garrick  denied  ever  receiving  money  from  the  Burlingtons,  adding 
that  she  had  only  the  interest  of  £6,000,  which  was  paid  to  her  by  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire.     The  principal  was  still  unpaid  at  Mrs.  Garrick's 
death,  as  can  be  seen  by  her  will 

§  As  she  herself  told  Mr.  Smith,  it  took  place  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 


1749.]  HOGARTH— FOOTE.  127 

such  prestige,  have  attracted  such  attention,  and  be  celebrated 
under  the  patronage  and  friendship  of  dukes  and  lords.  This 
was  certainly  fair  evidence  of  the  weight  of  Garrick's  private 
character,  and  of  the  respectability  and  position  to  which  he 
had  raised  himself  and  his  theatre. 


CHAPTER  m. 

HOGARTH — FOOTE — THE  RIVAL  ROMEOS. — 1749-50. 

No  happier  honeymoon  could  be  conceived.  The  newly- 
married  pair  travelled  about,  stayed  at  Chiswick,  and  at  Bur- 
lington House;  though  it  is  plain  that  Lady  Burlington's 
peculiar  temper  was  to  make  the  actor's  relations  with  her 
rather  delicate.  They  had  fixed  to  go  down  to  Lichfield, 
on  a  visit  to  Peter,  and  were  duly  expected ;  "  but,"  writes 
Mr.  Garrick,  excusing  himself,  "when  we  hinted  it  to  the 
family  here,  we  had  only  grave  faces  and  cool  answers." 
Though  the  noble  family  might  tolerate  the  player,  they  did  not 
relish  their  protigte  going  to  the  player's  relations.  Garrick  was 
too  independent  to  accept  patronage  at  the  price  of  an  obse- 
quious slavery,  and  there  soon  came  a  rupture ;  though  with 
Lord  Burlington  he  was  always  on  the  best  of  terms.* 

At  this  pleasant  time  Lichfield  folks  would  come  up  to 
London  and  go  to  Eanelagh,  then  new  and  in  high  fashion,  and 
be  amazed  to  see  their  townsman  the  player  in  such  fine  com- 
pany. But  "  Mrs.  B.  and  Penelope  S.,"  whoever  they  were, 
could  report  nothing  "fine"  on  his  part.  He  came  up  and 
walked  and  talked  with  them,  "  and  they  seemed  pleased,"  he 
says,  characteristically,  "  for  I  left  Lady  Hartington  and  my 
wife  and  their  company  to  entertain  them."t  And  Mr.  Garrick, 
who  himself  dearly  loved  a  lord,  was  not  displeased  that  they 
should  bring  home  an  account  of  the  fine  people  from  whom 
they  had  taken  him  away. 

He  had  given  up  his  handsomely-furnished  bachelor  lodgings 
in  Covent  Garden,  and  now  looked  out  for  a  house  where  he 
might  set  up  an  establishment.  He  found  one  that  suited 
him  in  Southampton  Street,  which  in  those  pre-West-end  days 
was  not  an  ungenteel  quarter,  and  which,  it  was  said,  he  took 

*  Lord  Hartington  was  his  real  friend,  and  a  true  peacemaker.  Later 
he  wrote  to  Garrick,  after  one  of  these  differences — "  Lady  Burlington  was 
afraid  you  were  gone  away  for  the  last  time  ;  and  I  said  you  were  a  warm, 
impetuous  man,  but  a  very  honest  one." — FortUr  MSS, 

f  Forster  MSS. 


128  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1749 — 

from  Mr.  Sheldon  at  far  more  than  its  value.*  It  was  within 
five  minutes'  walk  of  his  theatre,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the 
street  came  up  the  buzz  and  hum  of  London  traffic  hurrying 
through  the  great  artery  of  the  Strand.  As  we  now  walk  up 
the  street,  we  can  see  on  the  left,  within  a  few  doors  of  the  top, 
one  of  the  good  old  houses,  its  long  thin  windows  very  close 
together,  and  with  a  more  architectural  pretence  than  any 
house  in  the  street.  Within  there  is  plenty  of  the  old 
panelling,  and  beyond  the  study,  the  little  room  where  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Garrick  used  to  breakfast!  There  he  was  to  live 
for  some  years,  and  Mr.  Garrick's  house  in  Southampton 
Street  became  one  of  the  best  known  residences  in  London. 

Domestic  happiness  might  now  comfort  him,  after  the 
troubles  his  peculiar  position  was  beginning  to  expose  him  to. 
For  if  office  was  to  bring  with  it  the  charm  of  authority,  it 
was  also  to  be  accompanied  with  what  was  absolute  torture  to 
a  sensitive  mind — a  shower  of  abuse,  of  coarse  pamphlets, 
coloured  by  disappointment,  spite,  and  envy.  This,  for  a  great 
part  of  his  life,  was  the  favourite  shape  of  annoyance,  and 
almost  with  the  first  day  of  his  management  it  began.  No 
man  was  ever  so  persecuted.  Not  less  offensive  was  the 
anonymous  and  "  friendly "  advice  of  outsiders,  who  publicly 
thrust  their  counsel  on  him.  One  would  speak  very  plainly  of 
that  "  exorbitant  and  glaring  passion,  it  is  reported,  you  have 
for  money ; "  and  added  that  "  on  the  least  diminution  of  your 
enormous  receipts,  you  feel  the  greatest  agonies."  With  some- 
thing like  the  spirit  of  true  prophecy,  the  same  writer  warned 
him  against  the  airs  and  insubordination  of  actors  sure  to  be 
in  store  for  him;  hinted  at  Garrick's  own  extravagance  in  dress, 
requiring  a  new  one  every  night,  and  gave  a  picture  of 
Garrick's  "  lofty  "  manner,  when,  in  a  lower  position,  he  was 
asked  to  take  a  part,  "  Name  it  no  more  !  Another  word  that 
way  makes  me  your  mortal  foe !     Begone  !  "J 

Another  "hand," at  the  close  of  his  first  year's  management, 
had  as  freely  canvassed  what  he  had  done.  Why  had  he  not 
opened  with  a  new  part  instead  of  with  a  prologue,  printed 
and  sold  at  sixpence ;  which  was  about  as  good  as  telling  the 
public  that  he  knew  how  grieved  they  were  at  his  ceasing  to 

*  Cradock. 

t  It  is  now  No.  27,  and  was  lately  Eastey's  Hotel.  The  excellent  society 
that  has  been  formed  for  the  purpose  of  marking  the  residences  of  cele- 
brated men  might  have  one  of  their  tablets  inserted  in  the  front  of  Garrick's 
house. 

X  A  letter  to  David  Garrick,  Esq.,  on  his  becoming  manager  of  Drury 
Lane. 


1750.]  HOGARTH — FOOTE.  129 

speak  it ;  and  he  must,  at  least,  take  that  way  of  putting  it  in 
their  reach.  Mr.  Garrick,  it  would  seem,  disdained  to  play, 
except  for  noble  persons  and  people  of  quality.  Then,  as  to 
reformation  of  the  stage,  and  Garrick's  profession  of  giving  a 
moral  tone,  this  critic  would  wish  to  know  if  " '  The  Scornful 
Lady  and  Parson  Roger/  a  scandalous  and  atheistical  part,1' 
was  a  proper  piece  to  offer  to  a  decent  audience — a  question 
for  which  there  might  be  some  foundation.  But  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  Garrick  was  hardly  settled  in  his  chair,  and 
such  a  reformation  could  only  be  brought  about  gradually. 

In  September  the  theatre  opened,  and  the  fortunate  manager 
had  now  a  new  player — one  of  the  Palmers — a  valuable  re- 
cruit for  the  ranks  of  genteel  comedy.  Mrs.  Cibber  was 
aggrieved,  and  refused  to  play.  At  the  other  house  Quin  had 
come  up  from  his  retirement,  and,  helped  by  royal  patronage, 
made  one  more  expiring  effort.  He  challenged  Garrick  in  Sir 
John  Brute,  though  admirers  of  both  owned  that  nothing  could 
be  more  distinct  than  the  two  readings.  He  was  supported 
by  the  young  Miss  Bellamy,  and  by  Woffington,  for  whom  now 
there  could  be  no  place  at  Drury  Lane. 

The  manager,  whose  marriage  had  been  such  a  source  of 
gossip,  made  his  rentree  after  the  honeymoon  on  the  28th  of 
September,  and,  with  questionable  taste,  chose  Benedick  as  the 
part  in  which  to  introduce  himself.  As  he  had  intended,  pas-* 
sages  like  "  Here  you  may  see  Benedick,  the  married  man ; " 
"1  may  chance  to  have  some  odd  quirks  and  remnants  of  wit 
broken  on  me,  because  I  have  railed  so  long  against  marriage;" 
— all  excited  the  heartiest  laughter  and  enjoyment.  This 
restless  craving  to  make  the  public  partners  in  all  his  little 
domestic  concerns  was  one  of  Garrick's  weaknesses  to  the  end. 

At  this  stage,  we  have  a  glimpse  of  Foote,  and  not  a  very 
favourable  one.  Indeed,  it  would  seem  that  every  occasion, 
when  the  manager  was  to  come  in  contact  with  him,  was  to 
have  its  own  disagreeable  associations.  This  was  only  the  be- 
ginning of  the  series.  A  dull  play  of  Otway's,  called  "Friend- 
ship in  Fashion,"  was  being  revived,  to  bring  out  Woodward, 
now  returned  from  Dublin,  and  a  rumour  had  reached  Foote 
that  Woodward  was  about,  in  stage  slang,  "  to  dress  at  him," 
in  Malagene.  Foote  at  once  wrote,  in  a  brusque  and  threaten- 
ing tone,  to  the  manager,  speaking  of  Woodward  as  "a  very  con- 
temptible friend  "  of  his,  and  adding  that  he  could  have  no  dread 
from  the  manager's  "passive  wit,"  or  the  "actor's  active 
humour ; "  but  would  just  hint  that  he  had  by  him  "  a  plan  for 
a  short  farce,  that  was  to  be  wormwood  to  some,  entertaining 
to  many,  and  very  beneficial  to,  sir,  yours,  S.  Foote."    In 


130  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVED  GARRICK.  [1749 — 

■what  shape  the  wormwood  was  to  be  administered  might  be 
guessed  from  an  insulting  postscript,  in  which  the  popular 
jest  at  the  manager's  saving  habits  was  made  to  his  very  face. 
For  he  sent  him  back  his  free  admission  to  the  theatre,  saying 
that  he  would  in  future  always  pay  his  five  shillings  to  the 
boxes,  "a  sum  not  very  contemptible  to  you.17 

With  perfect  dignity,  good-humour,  and  much  kind  reason- 
ing, Garrick  wrote  back,  declining  to  interfere.  He  explained 
that  he  knew  not  what  views  Woodward  had  in  the  business, 
who,  for  that  matter,  may  have  even  intended  "taking  off" 
his  own  manager,  whose  full  permission  he  had.  As  for 
calling  Woodward  "  contemptible,"  that  was  surely  a  little  in- 
discreet, considering  what  a  dangerous  rival  of  Foote's  that 
actor  had  been.  Besides,  supposing  he  did  "dress  at  him," 
was  it  not  a  compliment :  for  the  character  of  Malagene  is  that 
of  a  very  smart,  pleasant,  conceited  little  fellow,  and  a  good 
mimic?  Then,  with  unabated  good-humour,  he  deals  with 
the  thrust  about  the  five  shillings :  "  If  I  had  such  a  regard 
for  five  shillings,  surely,  then,  my  giving  you  the  liberty  of  the 
house  was  a  still  greater  favour."  Foote,  however,  might  have 
restrained  his  humour ;  for  the  play  was  a  failure.  About  the 
fifth  act  the  audience  broke  into  something  like  a  riot,  to  the 
infinite  amusement  of  the  French  ambassador,  who  was  pre- 
sent. 

More  pleasant  is  it,  even  by  way  of  contrast,  to  see  Garrick 
in  his  relations  with  a  man  like  Hogarth — a  very  different 
character.  The  rude  work  of  the  theatre,  and  the  rough  pas- 
sions of  the  green-room,  had  no  effect  on  the  manager's  nature; 
and  when  the  painter  sent  round  to  him,  that  he  was  aggrieved 
by  his  neglect,  fancied  or  real,  Garrick  wrote  an  exquisite 
letter  of  excuse,  which  has  an  interest  that  reaches  to  other 
friendships.  He  knew  what  Montaigne  had  said,  that  a  debtor 
and  creditor  account  of  "callings,"  &c,  was  a  fatal  sign  of 
decaying  regard,  and  could  "  cap  "  it  by  an  instance  of  his  ex- 
perience. "  Poor  Draper,  whom  I  loved  better  than  any  man 
breathing,  once  asked  me,  smiling,  ( How  long  is  it  since  you 
were  at  my  house — how  long?'  *Why,  a  month  or  six  weeks.' 
1 A  year  and  five  days,'  replied  he ;  *  but  don't  imagine  that  I 
have  kept  an  account ;  my  wife  told  me  so  this  morning,  and  bid 
me  scold  you  for  it"  "Dear  Draper's"  speech  has  the  air 
of  one  of  Steele's  little  stories,  and  that  it  should  have  im- 
pressed Garrick  so  much  shows  his  native  delicacy.  "  Could  I 
follow  my  own  wishes,"  he  goes  on,  "  I  would  see  you  every 
day  in  the  week,  and  not  care  whether  it  was  in  Leicester 
Fields  or  Southampton  Street"    With  this  sweet  and  affection- 


1750.]  THE  RIVAL  ROMEOS.  131 

ate  tone,  it  was  no  wonder  the  actor  was  making  many  and 
fast  friends. 

Garrick  now  felt  it  was  time  to  introduce  a  novelty,  and  he 
brought  out  a  cold  declamatory  piece  entitled  "  Edward  the 
Black  Prince,"  by  a  Mr.  Shirley,  and  which  was  one  of  the 
long  series  of  bald,  dreary,  tedious  plays,  constructed  on  the 
French  model,  which  were  to  be  such  a  feature  of  his  manage- 
ment. There  seems  to  have  been  but  the  one  strict  pattern 
for  these  chilling  dramas,  and  we  look  back  wearilyto  the  long 
procession  of  Roman  generals,  sultans,  Greek  matrons,  Persian 
kings,  and  mythological  heroes,  whose  costume,  feelings,  and 
religion,  wrapped  in  hopeless  mists,  become  removed  from 
all  dramatic  interest  and  sympathy.  How  the  taste  of  the 
audiences  already  trained  by  Garrick's  nature,  and  above  all 
how  Garrick's  own  pure  and  healthy  taste,  could  have  relished 
these  cold  abstractions,  these  colourless  heroes,  fetched  out  of 
the  Roman  History;  how  people  could  have  crowded  to  hear 
scraps  of  Plutarch  dramatised,  and  chapters  out  of  the  History 
of  the  Turks  and  Davila's  Wars,  made  into  tragedies,  seems 
now  a  surprising  mystery. 

The  only  other  feature  of  the  season  was  his  riving  a  bene- 
fit to  a  grand-daughter  of  Milton — an  old  Mrs.  Forster — who 
had  lingered  on,  to  the  surprise  of  all.  Another  instance  of 
his  good  nature,  though  in  a  different  direction,  was  his  play-  i 
ing  Hamlet  to  Mrs.  Chve's  Ophelia  on  the  night  of  her  benefit, 
that  vivacious  lady  winding  up  the  night  with  a  farce  of  her 
own  composition.  But  the  manager  was  to  have  early  expe- 
rience of  the  troubles  which  the  rule  of  a  green-room  brings 
with  it,  and  which,  in  his  instance,  were  to  be  more  vexatious 
than  ever  waited  on  manager.  It  would  seem  as  though  his 
known  moderation  and  superiority  to  the  mean  passions  that 
reign  behind  the  curtain,  offered  tempting  inducements  to  mal- 
contents. What  were  Barry's  grievances — how  small  and 
petty,  and  almost  ludicrous  —  may  be  gathered  from  his 
written  complaints  on  another  occasion,  when  he  again  tried 
the  forbearance  and  unruffled  good  temper  of  his  master.  Yet 
to  Barry  Garrick  had  behaved  professionally  in  what  might 
be  called  "the  handsomest  way."  He  gave  him  up  his 
own  parts  of  Hamlet,  Othello,  Borneo,  and  Macbeth.  To  Barry 
had  been  given  Henry  the  Fifth,  while  the  manager  was 
content  with  the  part  of  the  Chorus.  Still  the  actor  began 
to  take  airs,  and  ill-health  was  often  put  forward  as  an 
excuse  for  gratifying  his  humours.  He  took  the  unusual 
course  of  addressing  the  public  at  the  top  of  the  playbills,  that 
whereas  it  had  been  industriously  given  out,  in  order  to  pre- 

K  2 


132  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVED  GARRICK.  [1749 — 

judice  Mr.  Barry,  that  lie  had  of  late  frequently  refused  to 
act  when  his  health  permitted,  he  took  the  opportunity  of 
saying  that  "he  scorned  all  trick  and  evasion, "  and  that 
nothing  but  illness  should  ever  cause  him  to  fail  in  his  duty. 
He  could  not  endure  the  manager's  Hamlei  drawing  more 
than  his.  He  pettishly  demanded  that  he  might  choose  his 
own  nights,  which  Garrick,  with  unruffled  good-humour,  at 
once  conceded.  But  nothing  could  satisfy  this  spoiled  "lover" 
of  the  stage.  When  the  season  closed  in  May,  Garrick  had 
played  about  eighty  times,  and  Barry  fully  sixty. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  new  season  these  discontents  had 
ripened  into  a  regular  confederacy,  and  Garrick  found  himself 
suddenly  deserted  by  his  two  chief  supports.*  Barry  actually 
broke  his  articles,  and  Mrs.  Cibber,  in  deep  resentment,  en- 
gaged with  him,  at  the  other  house.  This  was  a  gloomy  pros- 
pect. 

Quin,  Barry,  Woffington,  Cibber,  and  Macklin  made  up  a 
strong  host,  especially,  as  it  fell  out  curiously,  that  each  one  of 
the  party  was  inflamed  by  a  separate  and  personal  hostility  to 
Garrick.  Woffington  felt  that  her  charms  had  lost  their  spell 
— no  fury  can  match  that  of  "  a  woman  scorned ; "  Cibber  was 
full  of  theatrical  jealousy  of  a  rival ;  Barry  furious  at  oppres- 
sion on  the  part  of  one  he  considered  an  inferior.  Macklin's 
was  the  bitterest  hate  of  all.  Quin,  alone,  had  a  manly, 
blunt,  honourable  hostility.  Garrick  had  again  made  him 
offers,  but  he  refused.  It  was  said,  indeed,  that  Rich  was 
paying  him  a  thousand  a  year.  Still  Garrick  was  not  dis- 
mayed. He  had  only  Woodward,  Clive,  and  Pritchard  to 
count  on.  But,  in  truth,  he  always  felt,  as  he  wrote  later  to 
one  of  his  rebellious  actresses,  that  he  himself  was  the  strength 
of  the  theatre;  and,  where  the  line  was  giving  way,  his  own 
presence  might  be  estimated  like  Napoleon's  on  a  campaign. 
He  had,  besides,  Mrs.  Ward,  and  the  new  actress  from  die 
Dublin  stage,  Miss  Bellamy,  whom  he  was  training,  f 

It  was  thought  that  Drury  Lane  must  go  down  before  this 

i 

*  Scandal  tried  to  supply  ether  motives  for  this  separation.  It  has 
been  said  that  Mrs.  Garrick  received  a  letter  from  some  secret  admirer  a 
few  weeks  after  her  marriage,  and  that  Garrick  succeeded  in  tracing  it  to 
Barry.  This  is  Lee  Lewes 'a  absurd  account  of  this  transaction  (Memoirs, 
voL  ii.,  p.  89).  The  extraordinary  verbiage,  and  the  way  in  which  a  little 
fact  which  has  been  told  to  him  is  expanded  into  pages  of  actual  dialogue, 
supplied  from  his  own  brain,  make  his  book  almost  valueless.  Facts  that 
are  more  simply  Btated  prove  to  be  either  false  or  perverted. 

t  Mrs.  Ward  proved  a  failure — was  cold  and  indifferent ;  and  during 
one  of  his  grandest  and  most  impassioned  bursts  in  "  The  Fair  Penitent," 
was  seen  carelessly  fastening  her  glove ! 


1750.]  THE  RIVAL  ROMEOS.  133 

dangerous  opposition.  The  revolters  had  ready  a  grand  coup, 
with  which  they  thought  he  would  be  overwhelmed.  At 
Drury  Lane  no  play  had  drawn  so  well  as  "Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  and  now,  with  the  charming  Cibber  and  Barry,  and 
Rich's  tact  and  magnificence  in  spectacle,  it  was  supposed  they 
would  draw  the  whole  town.  Garrick  had  actually  trained 
the  two  deserters  himself  in  that  tender  play.  Rut  he  had 
early  information  of  the  scheme,  and  secretly  instructed  Miss 
Bellamy  in  Juliet,  while  he  carefully  prepared  Romeo  himself. 

While  the  town  was  forecasting  the  certain  ruin  of  Garrick 
and  his  theatre,  he  opened  his  doors  early  in  September,  and 
pleasantly  gossipped  with  the  house  before  the  curtain  rose  on 
"  The  Merchant  of  Venice."  With  fair  humour,  he  smartly 
glanced  at  the  deserters  : — 

11  Some  few  there  are  whom  paltry  paseions  guide, 
Desert  each  day,  and  fly  from  side  to  aide  ; 
Others,  like  Swiss,  love  fighting  as  their  trade, 
For  beat  or  beating,  they  must  all  be  paid." 

And  then  he  made  a  very  plain  and  significant  announce- 
ment as  to  what  would  be  the  future  policy  of  the  theatre.  He 
reminded  the  town,  as  he  had  done  at  the  opening  of  the  house, 
that  with  them  rested  the  choice  and  character  of  the  entertain- 
ments. No  manager  could  reform  the  stage,  and  keep  up  a 
series  of  pure  and  classic  shows,  at  a  heavy  loss  to  himself. 
The  most  he  could  do  was  to  try  the  experiment.  He  was 
consistent,  for  at  the  beginning  he  had  hinted  that  on  these 
classic  boards  Hunt  might  yet  box,  or  Mahomet  dance;  so 

that — 

11  If  an  empty  house,  the  actor's  curse, 
Shows  us  our  Lean  and  Hamlets  lose  their  force, 
Unwilling  we  must  change  the  nobler  scene, 
And  in  our  turn  present  you  Harlequin. 
Quit  poets,  and  set  carpenters  to  work, 
Show  gaudy  scenes,  or  mount  the  vaulting  Turk. 
For  though  we  actore,  one  and  all,  agree 
Boldly  to  struggle  for  our — vanity  ; 
If  want  comes  in,  misfortune  must  retreat — 
Our  first  great  ruling  passion  is — to  eat ! " 

This  was  perfectly  reasonable,  and  three  years  was  a  handsome 
time  to  allow  for  the  experiment.  Some  of  the  small  wits 
affected  to  decry  the  tone  of  self-sufficiency  in  this  programme, 
and  gave  a  sort  of  translation  into  plain  unvarnished  prose. 
"  It  is  true  there  is  a  formidable  force  against  me  at  the  other 
house,  yet  I  am  so  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  my  own  merit 
that  I  am  pretty  sure  I  shall  be  a  match  for  them  all.  This 
Drury  Lane  stage,  of  which  I  am  now  the  monarch,  is  the 


134  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1749 — 

only  stage  in  the  world ;  but  if  two  or  three  of  Shakspeare's 
plays,  which  I  have  given  you  over  and  over  again  every  season, 
don't  bring  full  houses,  I  must  e'en  turn  Harlequin,  and  set  up 
pantomimes." 

The  other  house  opened  later,  and  Barry  gave  his  address. 
He  was  not  slow  to  retort,  and  from  the  boards  defended  him- 
self, telling.his  audience  that — 

"  When  kings  allow  no  merit  but  their  own, 
Can  it  be  strange  that  men  for  flight  prepare, 
And  seek  to  raise  a  colony  elsewhere  ?  " 

The  insinuation  that  Garrick  engrossed  all  the  acting,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  perfectly  untrue;  and  the  stroke  about  his 
treatment  of  the  actresses  an  unworthy  appeal  to  the  prejudices 
of  an  audience.  At  the  end  of  September,  Covent  Garden 
played  its  trump  card — the  new  "Romeo  and  Juliet" — but 
they  must  have  been  disagreeably  surprised  by  seeing  an 
affiche  at  the  other  house  of  the  same  play,  for  the  very  same 
night.  The  languid  town  hailed  the  promised  contest  as  a  new 
excitement,  and  on  the  28th  the  struggle  began.* 

Though  there  was  a  loud  division  of  opinion  and  affectation 
of  equal  merit,  and  even  superiority  claimed  for  Garrick,  there 
can  be  no  question  but  that  the  Covent  Garden  performance 
was  the  best  Miss  Bellamy  could  hardly  hope  to  equal  the 
trained  Mrs.  Cibber.  Garrick  was  said  to  have  worked  out 
new  "points,"  and  fresh  readings;  but  as  his  figure  was 
inferior,  and  his  expressive  face  a  little  too  much  marked  for 
the  soft  interest  of  a  lover,  it  is  likely  that  his  was  more  an 
elaborate  and  clever  "  reading "  than  the  natural  and  impas- 
sioned conception  of  the  other.  Mr.  Taylor  heard  that  Garrick 
was  considered  superior.  Miss  Bellamy  says  that  Barry  was 
held  to  be  the  better,  except  in  one  scene.  As  the  matter  was 
turned  into  a  party  question,  the  voice  of  the  town  does  not  go 
for  much.  Garrick's  friends  even  tried  to  compromise  the  dis- 
pute, by  giving  Barry  the  palm  in  the  first  three  acts ;  his 
melting  eyes,  plaintiveness  of  voice,  and  "  the  amorous  har- 
mony of  his  features,"  were  set  against  the  grace  of  his  rival's 
attitudes,  the  vivacity  and  fire  of  his  expressions.  It  was 
decided  that  Barry  was  superior  in  the  garden  scene  of  the 
second  act,  and  Garrick  in  the  scene  with  the  Friar ;  Barry 
again  superior  in  the  other  garden  scenes,  and  Garrick  in  that 
with  the  Apothecary;  Barry  was  also  preferred  in  the  first  part 
of  the  tomb,  and  Garrick  in  the  dying  portion.     Some  said 

*  Murphy  is,  therefore,  mistaken  in  saying  it  began  in  October.    Davies 
mistakes  the  year. 


1750.]  THE  RIVAL  ROMEOS.  135 

that  Barry  was  an  Arcadian,  Garrick  a  fashionable,  lover.  But 
the  best  test  is,  that,  after  an  interval,  Garrick,  with  that 
excellent  good  sense  which  distinguished  every  act  of  his, 
quietly  dropped  the  part  out  of  his  repertoire.  Even  "  Gentle- 
man "  Smith,  a  good  judge,  and  a  partial  friend  of  Garrick's, 
owned  that  the  victory  was  with  Barry.  The  ladies  protested 
that  in  the  balcony  scene  they  could  have  wished  Garrick  to 
jump  up  to  them,  but  that  they  could  have  jumped  down  to 
the  Covent  Garden  Borneo;  and,  with  the  true  method  of  a 
public  fureur,  amateurs  would  go  and  hear  the  first  part  of 
the  play  at  one  theatre,  and  hurry  away  for  the  conclusion  at 
the  other ! 

Woodward  was  the  Drury  Lane  Mercutio,  far  superior  in  his 
vivacity  and  eccentricity  to  Macklin  at  the  other  house.  Kich, 
hankering  after  harlequinades,  had  a  "grand  funeral  proces- 
sion," which  cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  Garrick  had  his  pro- 
cession also,  but  without  any  flourish ;  it  came,  therefore,  as  a 
surprise,  and  was  doubly  acceptable.  The  public  were  in- 
terested for  a  few  days,  and  epigrams  fluttered  about  plenti- 
fully. Some  of  them  verged  on  wit ;  as  the  well-known  one, 
by  Mr.  Hewitt,  Sterne's  friend : — 

" '  Well,  what's  to-night  ? »  said  angry  Ned, 
As  up  from  bed  he  rouses  ; 
1  Borneo  again ! '  and  shakes  his  head. 
1 A  plague  o'  both  your  houses.'  "* 

The  contest  was  carried  on  for  twelve  nights,  until  the 
town  grew  tired,  and  the  houses  thin.  Rich  was  the  first  to 
give  way,  gladly  seizing  on  the  excuse  of  Mrs.  Cibber's  illness. 
The  ladies  were  thought  to  have  been  fairly  enough  matched 
— Mrs.  Cibber  thrilling  all  hearts  in  passages  where  grief  and 
despair  were  concerned,  Miss  Bellamy  acting  naturally,  and 
with  infinite  fervour  and  pfesion  in  the  love  scenes.  She  had 
youth  on  her  side — an  advantage  so  precious  on  the  stage. 
Garrick  enjoyed  a  little  triumph  in  giving  his  play  one  night 

*  Another,  not  suspected  to  come  from  Garrick's  own  pen,  was  written  on 
his  strange  principle  of  ridiculing  himself,  to  prevent  others  from  ridi- 
culing him : — 

"  So  reversed  are  the  notions  of  Capulet'a  daughters, 
One  lovea  a  whole  length,  and  the  other  three-quarters." 

Which  he  put  also  into  another  shape : — 

"  Fair  Juliet  at  one  house  exclaims  with  a  sigh, 
1  No  Romeo's  clever  that's  not  six  feet  high/ 
Less  ambitiously  t'other  does  Romeo  adore, 
Though  in  size  he  scarce  reaches  to  five  feet  four." 

These  lines  he  gave  himself  to  Mr.  Cooke. 


136  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1749 — 

more,  and  concluded  the  contest  with  an  epilogue,  in  which  he 
sent  out  Mrs.  Clive  to  say  of  himself : 

11  Oh,  'tis  a  pretty  youth  I 
'Tis  true  he's  of  a  choleric  disposition, 
And  fiery  parts  make  up  his  composition. 
How  have  I  seen  him  rave  when  things  miscarried ; 
Indeed,  he's  grown  much  tamer  since  he  married. 
***** 

So  much  for  him. 

The  other  youth  comes  next, 
Who  shows  by  what  he  says,  poor  soul,  he's  vext. 
He  tells  you  tales,  how  cruelly  this  treats  us, 
To  make  you  think  the  little  monster  beats  us  ; 
Warned,  I  have  believed,  in  melancholy  phrase, 
How  Bouncing  Bajazet  retreats  from  Bayes. 
I,  who  am  woman,  would  have  stood  the  fray, 
At  least,  not  snivelled  thus,  and  run  away  ; 
In  fact,  there  has  some  little  bouncing  been, 
But  who  the  bouncer  was,  inquire  within. 
No  matter  who — I  now  proclaim  a  peace." 

There  was  good-humour  as  well  as  good  sense  in  this  reply 
to  Barry's  spite;  for  even  upon  his  footlights  Garrick  could 
retain  the  charm  of  moderation  and  temper,  and  never,  by 
bitter  speech  or  compromising  act  of  enmity,  put  off  reconcilia- 
tion, or  shut  the  door  finally  against  renewed  friendship.  In 
the  numerous  quarrels  (invariably  fastened  on  him)  he  always 
preserved  this  undertone,  as  it  were,  which  was  of  infinite  value 
to  him ;  and  though  it  made  some  enemies  who  had  not  the 
same  restraint,  it  saved  to  him  many  friends. 

Even  at  the  other  house  Mr.  Garrick's  good  fortune  at- 
tended him.  The  only  bond  of  that  stormy  and  dangerous 
confederacy  was  their  hostility  to  him.  By  their  own  intestine 
disputes  and  jealousies,  they  were  presently  in  almost  ludi- 
crous confusion.  They  despised  their  manager,  and  he  made 
no  account  of  them.  Quin  and  Barry  were  at  war  ;*  Woffing- 
ton  and  Cibber  held  each  other  in  the  highest  contempt ;  and 
though  a  round  of  the  finest  and  most  classical  pieces  were 
given,  there  was  so  much  uncertainty,  so  many  postponements 
and  disputes,  that  the  public  grew  angry.  Cibber  was  ill,  or, 
it  was  charitably  said,  pretended  to  be  ill;  Barry  had  his 
chronic  fits  of  hoarseness  or,  as  it  was  said  again,  pre- 
tended hoarseness;  but  Woffington,  with  true  and  gallant 
spirit,  and  that  loyalty  to  duty  in  which  she  was  never 
known  to  fail,  was  always  at  her  post.  At  last  even  her 
patience  gave  way.     It  was  not  uncommon  to  have  one  of  the 

*  At  rehearsal  Barry  would  be  absent,  which  Quin  would  take  for  a  alight, 
and  be  absent  in  hit  turn  on  the  next  occasion. 


1750.]  THE  RIVAL  ROMEOS.  137 

great  tragedies,  with  the  names  of  Quin,  Cibber,  and  Barry 
announced  for  a  future  night — when  from  some  quarrel  or 
sham  illness  behind  the  curtain,  the  play  would  be  suddenly 
altered,  and  Mrs.  Woffington,  in  some  of  her  dashing  parts, 
substituted.  To  this  she  submitted  for  a  time,  but  warned 
them,  if  it  was  repeated,  she  would  not  be  thus  played  upon. 
It  happened  again,  and  she  refused  to  go  on.  The  public 
unjustly  made  her  a  victim — flung  orange-peel  and  bade 
her  ask  pardon,  which  she  proudly  and  disdainfully  refused  to 
do.*  The  scene  was  indeed  a  picture.  She  stood  there,  as 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  "looking  more  beautiful  than  ever;  her 
anger  gave  a  glow  to  her  complexion,  and  even  added  lustre  to 
her  charming  eyes."  She  treated  them  with  sovereign  scorn, 
and  when  they  would  not  hear  her,  walked  away.  Then 
they  roared  for  her,  and  she  came  back — told  them  bluntly 
she  would  play  or  not,  just  as  they  pleased — it  was  a  matter 
of  perfect  indifference  to  her.  They  might  say  on,  or  off, 
as  they  liked.  There  was  a  shout  of  "  On ! "  During  this 
very  season  this  honest  actress  actually  painted  her  handsome 
face  with  wrinkles  and  crows'  feet,  to  give  effect  to  a  play  of 
Shakspeare's.  Under  such  conditions  even  so  "strong"  a 
company  could  not  play  well  together.  The  plays,  too,  were 
absurdly  castf  Before  long  came  the  usual  symptoms  of  dis- 
organization— appeals  to  the  public  in  the  papers.  By-and-by 
Quin  was  "  much  hissed  "  in  King  Richard.  The  two  leading 
actresses,  Woffington  and  Cibber,  still  showed  their  dislike 
and  jealousy,  exhibited  under  the  restraint  of  contemptuous 
looks  and  speeches — to  the  enjoyment  of  the  manager,  who 
called  them  his  Sarah  Malcolm  and  his  Catherine  Hayes,  two 
infamous  women  who  had  been  hanged ;  and  in  this  state  of 
disorder  the  theatre  was  not  prospering. 

*  "  She  was  never  thought  to  play  more  finely  than  when  she  thus  defied 
the  angry  pit,  treating  their  rudeness  with  contempt." 

t  We  have  a  graphic  pprtrait,  which  may  do  as  pendant  for  the  one 
given  before  by  Cumberland.  Quin — past  sixty,  old,  "battered,"  and 
uncouth — was  playing  Young  Chamont  in  a  long,  grisly,  half-powdered  old 
periwig,  hanging  low  down  on  each  side  of  the  breast,  and  down  the  back  ; 
a  heavy  scarlet  coat  and  waistcoat,  trimmed  with  broad  gold  lace ;  black 
velvet  breeches,  a  black  silk  neckcloth,  black  stockings,  a  pair  of  square- 
toed  shoes,  with  an  old-fashioned  pair  of  stone  buckles.  He  had  stiff, 
high-topped  white  gloves,  and  a  broad,  old,  scalloped  laced  hat ;  he  was, 
besides,  very  corpulent,  andmuch  out  of  shape.  Ryan,  another  old  veteran, 
was  the  strong  and  lusty  Polydare,  "  with  a  red  face,  and  voice  truly  hor- 
rible." He  was  not  nearly  so  well  dressed  as  Quin,  though  in  the  same 
fantastic  style.  Beside  these  two  stood  Barry,  in  all  his  elegance,  youth, 
and  beauty,  "  in  a  neat  bag- wig  '*  of  the  prevailing  cut  and  fashion  ;  and 
the  charming  Cibber,  all  elegance  and  refinement    This  extraordinary 


138  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1750 — 

Garrick  always  had  really  good  pieces  in  reserve,  and  could 
vary  his  carte  with  one  of  Cibber's  capital  comedies,  "  Love's 
Last  Shift,"  produced  nearly  sixty  years  before — a  revival  the 
author  actually  lived  to  see — which  had  true  stuff  in  it ;  if  not 
wit,  the  likeness  of  wit,  and  became  a  stock-piece.  A  strange 
apathy  seemed  to  come  over  manager  Rich,  and  he  did  not 
even  have  recourse  to  the  unfailing  attraction  of  his  harlequin- 
ades, in  which  he  was  believed  to  be  unapproached.  Yet  even 
in  this  department  his  supremacy  was  now  to  be  attacked  in  a 
way  he  little  dreamed  of. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PANTOMIME — FOREIGN  TRAVEL— MOSSOP. — 1750-1752. 

The  name  of  Rich  should  be  dear  to  all  pantomime-goers, 
and  to  the  rows  of  little  ones  that  line  the  front  seats  at 
Christmas.  There  were  pantomimes,  indeed,  before  his  day — 
so  early  as  the  year  1700;  but  it  was  Rich,  both  as  player 
and  writer,  who  made  that  sort  of  piece  respectable.  It  was 
in  1717  that  we  find  his  name  conspicuously  associated  with  a 
Fderie,  called  "Harlequin  Executed!"  He  was  a  strange 
being  and  curious  manager;  but  beyond  all  question,  the  most 
original  and  vivacious  of  Harlequins. 

A  harlequinade  then  consisted  of  two  portions — one  serious 
and  the  other  comic ;  the  serious  portion  being  a  story  selected 
from,  perhaps,  Ovid's  "Metamorphoses,"  and  set  off  with  all 
magnificence  of  scenery,  rich  dresses,  pretty  music,  and  grand 
dances.  At  intervals,  during  the  progress  of  the  fable,  Harle- 
quin and  his  company  came  on,  and,  with  diverting  tricks  and 
changes,  varied  the  story;  carrying  on,  in  short,  a  sort  of 
under-plot.  Rich,  from  some  affectation,  would  not  appear 
under  his  own  name,  but  was  always  set  down  in  the  bills  as 
"  Mr.  Lun."    He  was  not  a  little  eccentric,  and  had  a  dialect 

contrast  of  the  old  and  new  school  must  have  been  highly  diverting ;  and 
it  is  most  graphically  described  by  Wilkinson,  who  was  looking  on.  Justice 
has  scarcely  been  done  to  Ryan's  merit.  Garrick  once,  going  with  Wood- 
ward to  see  his  Richard,  with  a  view  of  being  amused,  owned  that  he  was 
astonished  at  the  genius  and  power  he  saw  struggling  to  make  itself  felt 
through  the  burden  of  ill- training,  uncouth  gestures,  and  an  ungraceful 
and  slovenly  figure.  He  was  generous  enough  to  own  that  all  the  merit 
there  was  in  his  own  playing  of  Richard  he  had  drawn  from  studying  this 
le*s  fortunate  player.  Mrs.  Bellamy  and  Wilkinson  both  mention  this 
acknowledgment,  to  detract  from  Garrick's  merit ;  but  forget  that,  in 
another  direction,  they  are  adding  to  it 


1752.]  PANTOMIME.  139 

of  his  own,  with  an  odd,  blunt,  "  Abernethy  "  manner.*    The 
tone  of  these  pieces  was  purely  rustic.     The  characters  were 
farmers  and  village  maidens ;  the  scenes  and  changes  were  all 
taken  from  the  country  and  farmyard.     There  were  louts  <md 
countrymen.     Harlequin,  in  all  sorts  of  disguises,  "courting 
Columbine,"  was  always  pursued  by  the  "  village  constables," 
whom  he  eluded  with  all  manner  of  tricks  and  devices — so 
that  the  introduction  of  modern  policemen  is  founded  on  strict 
tradition.     A  most  effective   scene  was   that  of  building  a 
house,  with  the  scaffolding  set,  the  bricklayers  busy,  the  hod- 
men ascending  ladders ;    when  suddenly  Harlequin  appears 
among  them,  with  a  touch  pulls  scaffolding,  bricklayers,  all 
down,  and  is  discovered  to  have  escaped  in  the  confusion.   An- 
other  "trick,"  that  "made  the  whole  house  ring  with  ap- 
plause," was  Harlequin's  coming  on  disguised  as  an  ostrich, 
pecking  at  every  one,  biting  the  servants  slyly,  "kissing  Colum- 
bine," and    then  finally   "morricing  off"    the    stage.     The 
changes  and  transformations,  too,  were  all  after  the  modern 
pattern ;  and,  at  a  touch  of  the  wand,  palaces  changed  into 
nuts.     But  more  remarkable  metamorphoses  were  the  sudden 
change  of  men  and  women  into  "  stools  and  wheelbarrows,"  of 
long  colonnades  into  beds  of  tulips,  and  of  shops  into  serpents. 
Sometimes  Harlequin  would  ride  in  on  a  broom,  and  a  magic 
transformation  take  place,   which  now  appears  of    a  very 
humble  order — the  garden  wall  changing  into  a  wall  covered 
with  prints,  ballads,  broadsides,  &c,  and  Harlequin  disguised 
as  an  old  woman,  selling  them ;  not  to  mention  the  "  delight- 
ful perspective  of  a  farmhouse,  where  you  hear  the  coots  in 
the  water,  as  at  a  distance."    There  were  yet  more  adventures 
of  the  same  sort,  and  finally  a  sort  of  "  transformation  scene  " 
was  discovered ;  a  glittering  perspective  of  pillars  and  temples. 
At  the  end,  however,  a  strange  retribution  was  made  to  over- 
take Harlequin,  whe  was  carried  off  like  Don  Giovanni,  up- 
wards, to  the  infernal  regions,  surrounded  with  fire  and  de- 
mons, f 

*  One  of  his  own  actors  takes  off  his  oddities  for  us  excellently,  and 
most  dramatically.  Rich  had  a  kind  of  provincial  dialect,  and  twisted 
names  into  special  shape  for  himself.  Wilkinson  asked  him  to  give  a 
part  to  Ned  Shuter.  In  reply,  the  manager  took  snuff,  and  stroked 
his  cat.  "  If  I  give  it  to  Muster  Shuttleworth,  he  will  not  let  me  teach 
him  ;  but  I  will  larn  you,  Muster  Williamskin."  Younger,  the  prompter, 
enter*.  "  Get  away,  Muster  Toungmore ;  I  am  teaching  Muster  Whit- 
tington."  He  warned  his  visitor  against  Barry,  whom  he  called  Muster 
Barleymore,  and  told  him  that  he  had  no  chance  from  Muster  Griskin, 
which  was  his  name  for  Garrick. 

t  In  another  piece  there  was  an  "  effect "  of  the  sun  rising,  which  was 


140  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1750 — 

But  now  the  time  for  the  carpenters  to  take  possession  of 
Drury  Lane  stage  had  arrived,  and  Garrick,  consistent  with 
his  declarations,  finding  the  public  would  not  follow  him  in  the 
correct  and  classical  path,  determined  to  let  it  have  its  way. 
The  houses  had  been  growing  thin,  and  he  himself,  always  a 
source  of  attraction,  could  not  play  every  night  He  there- 
fore set  to  work  diligently,  and  the  "Boxing-night"  of  the 
year  1750  was  celebrated  with  a  gorgeous  pantomime,  in 
"  Italian  grotesque  characters,"  called  "  Queen  Mab,"  in  which 
Woodward  came  bounding  on  as  Harlequin.  It  was  a  mar- 
vellous spectacle — comprising  gorgeous  decorations,  and  a 
"  great  pomp  of  machinery."  It  drew  all  the  town,  and  made 
Rich,  thus  attacked  with  his  own  weapons,  tremble.  Hence- 
forward a  pantomime  became  the  regular  Christmas  feature  at 
Drury  Lane.  This  ran  forty  nights — a  curious  instance  of  the 
good  fortune  that  attended  all  Garrick's  schemes,  for  a  harle- 
quinade would  seem  to  have  been  totally  foreign  to  his  tastes 
and  experience.* 

During  this  season,  there  was  actually  a  daughter  of  the 
great  Farquhar's  alive,  and  in  greatly  reduced  circumstances. 
Even  to  that  generation  it  must  have  been  a  surprise  to  hear 
that  there  was  such  a  link  between  them  and  the  great  humour- 
ist. Garrick  paid  a  graceful  tribute  to  his  memory  by  giving 
his  daughter  a  benefit  at  Drury  Lane,  and  by  acting  himself  in 
the  appropriate  "  Beaux'  Stratagem."  He  was  always  full  of 
such  charity  in  his  professional  dealings,  and  the  bills  of  his 
theatre  show  innumerable*  notices  of  this  pattern,  "For  the 
benefit  of  a  widow  of  a  reduced  citizen,"  &c.  He  also  gave 
fresh  evidence  of  his  steady  purpose  to  reform  his  stage,  even 

a  "  superb  and  complicated  piece  of  machinery  " — though  how  such  effects 
were  produced  in  these  pre-gaseous  days  see  ma  a  mystery.  Daphne  was 
turned  into  a  tree  in  the  presence  of  the  audience,  which  was  a  good  sur- 
prise. The  tossing  of  Harlequin  in  a  blanket  was  a  comic  incident,  and 
delighted  the  galleries ;  but  they  did  not  see  that  he  was  supported  in 
two  long  Blips  all  the  time.  There  was  acting  then  even  in  the  conven- 
tional Harlequin.  One  of  Rich's  famous  effects  was  "  the  hatching  of  Har- 
lequin by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  a  masterpiece  in  dumb-show — from  the 
first  chipping  of  the  egg,  his  receiving  of  motion,  his  feeling  of  the  ground, 
his  standing  upright,  his  quick  Harlequin  trip  round  the  empty  shell — 
every  limb  had  its  tongue — every  motion  a  voice."  Dramatic  genius 
triumphed  then  over  every  constraint. 

*  That  the  public  felt  and  enjoyed  this  success  was  evidenced  by  a  cari- 
cature called  "  The  Theatrical  Steel-yard,"  in  which  Mrs.  Cibber,  Barry, 
Quin,  and  Mrs.  Woffington  are  exhibited  as  hanging  in  a  row  at  one  end  of 
the  yard,  and  Garrick  sits  gaily  and  triumphantly  in  the  other  scale, 
waving  his  cap  triumphantly,  and  weighing  all  four  down  ;  while  Wood- 
ward in  his  proper  dress,  and  Queen  Mab,  "  strike  "  the  traditional  Harle- 
quin attitude,  in  the  centre  of  the  background. 


1752.]  FOREIGN  TRAVEL.  141 

at  some  pecuniary  sacrifice,  and  had  the  courage  to  abolish  a 
time-honoured  custom  which  obliged  managers  on  Lord  Mayor's 
Day  to  give  their  audience  a  coarse  old  play  called  "  The  Lon- 
don Cuckolds,"  and  which  seemed  to  be  about  as  appropriate 
as  "  George  Barnwell"  was  to  Boxing-night 

In  March,  1751,  Drury  Lane  was  to  witness  an  unusual  spec- 
tacle— perhaps  the  most  remarkable,  as  well  as  the  boldest 
venture,  known  to  the  amateur  stage.  Such  interest  and 
curiosity  was  excited  by  this  performance,  that  the  House  of 
Commons  adjourned  at  three  o'clock  to  attend  early.  The 
Delaval  family — men  about  town,  bitten  with  a  taste  for  acting 
— had  performed  "  Othello  "  at  Lord  Mexborough's,  and  were 
fired  with  a  desire  for  a  larger  field  of  action.  Garrick,  one  of 
whose  little  weaknesses  was  an  inclination  to  favour  anything 
associated  with  persons  of  quality,  interrupted  his  regular  per- 
formances, and  allowed  his  theatre  to  be  used  for  the  night. 
No  expense  was  spared.  All  parts  of  the  house  indifferently 
shone  with  laces  and  jewels  and  costly  dresses.  Even  in  the 
footmen's  gallery  it  was  noted  that  half  a  dozen  stars  were 
glittering ;  the  Koyal  princes,  with  some  German  ones,  were  in 
the  side  boxes.  All  these  glories  were  lit  up  by  the  soft  efful- 
gence of  waxlights.  On  the  stage  there  were  fresh  scenes,  and 
new  and  gorgeous  dresses.  The  music  was  excellent.  The 
scene  outside  the  playhouse  is  described  to  have  been  almost 
ludicrous  from  the  confusion,  and  block  of  chairs  and  coaches, 
which  impeded  each  other  from  getting  near  the  door ;  and  the 
mob  were  delighted  at  seeing  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  picking 
their  steps  through  the  mud  and  filth.  Even  at  the  mean  pub- 
lic-houses close  by,  lords,  in  stars  and  Garters  and  silk  stockings, 
were  seen  waiting  until  the  street  should  clear  a  little.  Sir 
Francis  DelavaTs  performance  excited  great  admiration.  The 
expenses,  as  may  be  imagined,  were  enormous.  Garrick  re- 
ceived £150  for  his  theatre,  and  the  dresses,  scenery,  "  wax- 
lights,"  cost  upwards  of  £1,000. 

He  had  also  produced  two  new  plays,  one  "Gil  Bias," by  his 
friend  Moore,  which  was  a  failure,  and  "  Alfred,"  "  a  masque," 
written  by  Mallet  or  Malloch.  The  distraction  at  the  other 
house  came  to  a  point  at  the  end  of  the  season,  when  Quin,  at 
last,  made  his  final  bow  as  a  salaried  actor,  in  the  "  Fair  Peni- 
tent," having  however  met  many  mortifications  during  the 
season.  Woffington  left  them  in  disgust,  and  went  away  to 
Dublin,  where  she  was  received  rapturously.  The  manager  of 
Drury  Lane  was  now  fairly  entitled  to  his  holiday. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick  undertook 
what  might  be  called  their  wedding  trip,  thus  delayed  for  nearly 


142  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1750 — 

two  years,  and  set  off  for  Paris.  This  first  French  visit  appears 
to  have  had  no  special  glories  or  interest.  The  details  are 
meagre,  or  perhaps  his  splendid  reputation  had  not  yet  travelled 
to  the  French.*  Even  Dangeau,  that  surprising  courtier,  who 
so  carefully  set  down  the  minutest  detail  connected  with  the 
Court,  makes  no  note  of  our  English  actor's  presentation  to  the 
King.  We  have  one  little  scrap  of  criticism.  "  You  ask  me 
how  I  like  France.  It  is  the  best  place  in  the  world  for  a  visit 
The  great  fault  of  our  countrymen  is  that  they  do  not  mix  with 
the  natives,  I  did."f  Among  the  Parisians,  with  whom  age 
is  so  serious  a  matter,  he  passed  for  thirty-two,  though  he  was 
some  three  years  over  that.  At  home  he  would  have  no  such 
unpleasant  fiction ;  and  he  wrote  to  his  brother,  "  Set  my  age 
down  as  it  is  in  the  Bible."  A  little  story  used  to  be  told  of 
an  adventure  which  befell  him  in  Paris.  X  About  this  time  a 
friend  of  his  had  been  murdered  in  the  Forest  of  Bondy,  so 
associated  with  the  dog  of  Montargis.  It  was  found  that  an 
Italian  count  had  left  about  the  same  time  as  the  Englishman, 
and  had  been  about  a  couple  of  hours  away.  He  was  arrested; 
and  interest  was  being  used  to  set  him  free,  when  Garrick  is 
said  to  have  put  in  action  one  of  those  dramatic  ruses  or  tours 
de  force,  of  which  so  many,  and  in  so  many  odd  shapes,  are 
associated  with  his  name.  At  his  request  the  accused  was 
brought  to  Sir  George  Lewis's  hotel.  He  was  there  suddenly 
told  that  the  Englishman  was  alive ;  who,  though  wounded,  had 
accused  him,  and  demanded  that  he  should  be  brought  to  his 
bedside.  Garrick  had  studied  a  portrait  of  the  Baronet,  by 
Latour,  and  knew  his  expression  welL  When  the  assassin  was 
introduced,  he  saw,  as  he  fancied,  his  victim  in  bed,  ghastly 
and  suffering,  who  addressed  him  in  a  trembling  voice — 
"  Wretch,  do  you  deny  your  crime  now  ? "  He  fell  on  his 
knees  at  once,  and  confessed  all.  This  story  belongs  to  a 
whole  family  of  such  stories. 

It  was  a  great  distinction  for  an  English  actor  to  be 
presented  to  the  King,  which  was  duly  noted  by  the  English 
papers,  or  which,  perhaps,  Mr.  Garrick  took  care  shmdd  be 
noted.§     The  two    clever  Englishmen,   Foote  and  Garrick, 

*  Id  the  unpublished  journal  of  his  later  journey  he  writes,  "  I  shall  say 
very  little  of  France,  as  I  have  done  it  well,  though  slightly,  in  my  first 
journal  in  1751."    This  journal  has  been  lost. 

t  Hill  MS. 

X  The  authority  for  this  is  very  indifferent — being  merely  a  newspaper. 
It  passed  to  the  newspaper  from  some  French  Memoirs.  The  name  of  the 
baronet  and  the  portrait  painter  give  a  circumstantial  air. 

§  Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  then  over  in  Dublin,  "  on  business,"  where  he  found 
"  humbugging  in  high  taste,"  and  who  was  pining  to  go  back  to  the  Bed- 


1752.]  FOREIGN  TRAVEL.  143 

had  met  in  Paris ;  but  we  know  nothing  of  their  proceedings. 
This  villeggiatora  brought  about  a  renewal  of  their  "  fitful  inti- 
macy " — it  was  never  difficult  to  renew  an  intimacy  with  Gar- 
rick.  And  the  first  proof  of  this  renewed  intimacy  was  pre- 
sently to  be  seen,  to  Footed  advantage,  on  the  manager's 
return,  in  the  production  of  the  little  comedy  of  "  Taste." 

Though  the  manager  had  been  so  far,  and  with  ease  to 
himself,  victorious  over  the  Covent  Garden  confederacy,  he  felt 
that  his  ranks  were  thin,  and  promptly  engaged  some  new 
players,  who  brought  good  reputations  from  Dublin.  Among 
these  were  Dexter  and  Boss;  but  the  most  remarkable  was 
Mossop,  an  iron-throated  tragedian.  He  was  a  man  of  educa- 
tion—  reared  in  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  which  had  thus 
turned  out  no  less  than  four  first-class  tragedians — gifted  with 
a  strong  and  unmelodious  declamation,  and  a  physical  strength 
that  would  have  carried  him  through  such  tremendous  parts 
as  Sir  Giles  or  Richard.  But  his  action  was  singularly 
ungraceful,  suggesting  so  happily  to  Churchill  the  motions  of  a 
drill-sergeant,  and  in  the  more  level  passages  fell  into  the 
wearying  monotony  which  was  the  curse  of  old  stage  declama- 
tion. He  was  a  valuable  recruit.  Garrick  allowed  him  to 
come  forward  in  his  own  great  part  of  Richard,  in  which  his 
tremendous  energy  brought  him  success.  The  town  came 
rushing  to  see  him.  It  was  assumed,  as  of  course,  that  Gar- 
rick was  dying  with  secret  spleen  and  envy;  and  when  a 
green-room  wit  repeated  to  him  some  verses  on  the  new 
actors — 

"  The  Templars  they  cry  Mossop, 
The  ladies  they  cry  Ross  up, 
But  which  is  the  best,  is  a  toss-up." 

a  very  natural  smile  on  his  part  was  given  out  as  an  intense 
relish  and  enjoyment  of  "the  sneer."  There  was  neither 
"  sneer,"  nor  "  relish,"  nor  currying  favour.  The  whole  was  a 
bit  of  green-room  nonsense,  for  which  Mossop's  name,  offering 
a  facility  for  rhyming,  was  accountable.  He  was  at  first 
modest  in  his  success,  and  judiciously  advised  by  the  manager 
to  try  gentlemanly  parts,  where  there  was  a  great  opening. 
But  very  soon  was  to  come  the  old  suspicion,  then  jealousy, 
and  the  whispers  of  ill-natured  friends  that  he  was  kept  out  of 
"  roaring"  and  tempestuous  parts  by  the  manager's  envy. 
Miss  Bellamy,  aided  by  what  old-fashioned  writers  were 

ford,  had  remarked  an  odd  coincidence,  that  on  the  day  that  Garrick  was 
present**?,  Quin  had  been  stopped  by  a  highwayman  on  Hounslow  Heath. 
"  So  different,"  he  said,  sarcastically,  "  is  the  fate  of  real  and  imaginary 
heroes." 


144  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1750 — 

fond  of  calling  "an  agreeable  figure, "  continued  to  attract 
She,  too,  began  to  contribute  her  share  to  the  manager's 
troubles,  conceiving  that  every  action  of  his  was  directed 
to  annoy  her,  or  gratify  a  deep-rooted  spite ;  and  it  is  almost 
amusing  to  see  how  she  could  twist  even  his  most  good- 
natured  actions  into  evidence  of  this  animosity.  Yet  his 
good-humour  never  varied,  and  the  petulant  young  actress 
forfeited  no  advantage  by  her  behaviour.*  The  record  of  her 
humours  becomes  almost  amusing. 

Now  he  was  to  bring  forward  a  most  important  revival ;  a 
play  full  of  breadth,  character,  and  wit,  Ben  Jonson's  "  Every 
Man  in  his  Humour,"  a  piece  sufficiently  classical  to  have  a 
wholesome  effect  on  the  public.  He  first  prepared  it  carefully 
for  the  stage,  by  a  jealous  pruning  of  everything  old-fashioned, 
or  likely  to  interfere  with  the  easy  progress  of  the  story — 
which  was  indeed  judicious  preparation.  But  he  also,  accord- 
ing to  his  favourite  practice,  added  a  scene  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  act,  which  really  supplies  "  business,"  and  heightens  the 
interest. 

Never  was  play  so  perfectly  "cast"  or  so  diligently  re- 
hearsed. Garrick  was  suited  to  a  nicety  in  Kitely,  whose  fitful 
changes  and  passions  gave  him  good  scope  for  play  of  feature, 
and  inflections  of  voice.  Woodward  could  not  have  had  a 
finer  part  thaxi Bobadil,  nor  Bdbadil  a  finer  actor;  for  it  eminently 
fitted  his  solid  and  classical  humour,  a  humour  now  lost  to  the 
stage.  Indeed,  it  was  long  thought  to  have  been  his  master- 
piece. Yates,  as  Brainvnrm,  Boss  and  Palmer  as  Wellbred  and 
Young  Knowell,  were  all  good  selections,  and  the  manager 
was  fortunate  enough  to  find  actors,  otherwise  obscure,  who 
made  for  themselves  reputations,  in  even  the  minor  parts  of 
this  great  play. 

In  the  green-room  Garrick  trained  them  himself,  teaching 
them  his  own  readings  and  inflections.  These  Woodward 
appeared  to  adopt  with  much  humility.  But  one  morning, 
during  the  manager's  absence,  Woodward,  in  unusual  spirits, 
undertook  to  give  his  brethren  a  specimen  of  the  way  he 
meant  to  deal  with  his  part  on  the  night  in  question,  which 
was  wholly  different  from  the  one  in  which  he  had  been  so 

*  She  describes  how  one  night  a  butcher's  wife  fell  asleep  in  the  boxes, 
and  began  muttering  "  Rumps  and  burrs  ! "  As  she  slept,  the  associations 
of  her  husband's  profession  found  their  way  into  her  dreams.  It  was  no- 
torious that  the  manager  had  an  almost  morbid  horror  of  the  slightest 
interruption  during  his  acting,  and  these  extraordinary  sounds  threw 
him  into  confusion.  He  called  out  sharply,  "  What  is  that ! "  forgot  his 
part,  and  introduced  rambling  passages  from  other  plays ;  all  which  the 
young  actress  maliciously  records. 


1752.]  mossop.  145 

carefully  instructed.  During  this  performance,  Garrick  arrived 
unperceived,  and  listened  quietly.  The  way  in  which  he 
treated  this  little  bit  of  duplicity  is  excellent  testimony  to  his 
fairness  and  good-humour.  "Bravo,  Harry,"  he  cried,  "upon 
my  soul,  bravo!  Why,  now  this  is — no,  no!  I  can't  say 
this  is  quite  my  idea  of  the  thing.  Yours  is,  after  all — to  be 
sure,  rather — ha !"  The  actor  was  a  little  confused,  and  said, 
with  true  duplicity,  that  he  meant  to  act  the  part  according  to 
the  manager's  views.  "No,  no!  by  no  means,  Harry,"  said 
the  other,  warmly ;  "you  have  actually  clinched  the  matter. 
Bid  why,  dear  Harry,  would  you  not  ammun&ate  before?"  In  that 
question  was  an  epitome  of  all  his  managerial  troubles.  In  the 
shifts  and  artful  tricks  of  his  actors,  who  assumed  that  bis 
straightforwardness  must  be  a  cloak  for  shifts  and  ends  like 
their  own,  he  always  felt  the  same  friendly  inquiry  on  his  lips, 
"  Why  not  communicate  before  1 " 

How  the  great  actor  looked  as  Kilehj,  and  how  ho  "dressed" 
the  part,  we  can  know  from  the  fine  picture  by  Reynolds,  and 
from  the  mezzotint  worthy  of  the  picture — where  we  see  him 
in  his  full  Spanish  cloak  and  white  collar  of  many  points,  and 
slashed  sleeves  ;  where  his  expression  is  surprisingly  altered  by 
a  short,  dark  wig,  divided  down  the  middle,  and  "  fuzzed  out" 
at  the  sides.  The  play  was  acted  with  complete  success — 
though  it  was  said  that  the  audience  took  some  time  before 
they  could  surmount  the  old-fashioned  tone.  Yet,  while  he 
paid  this  tribute  to  the  fresh,  open  air  of  character  and 
healthy  humour,  he  was  hankering  after  the  insufferable  stagy 
models,  which  were  enough  to  stifle  everything  that  was  true 
or  natural.  Thus  the  very  night  before  Ben  Jonson's  play, 
Phmlra  and  Bippolytus  were  ranting  their  mythological  WOC3, 
and  declaiming  sorrows  many  thousand  years  old. 

But  he  atoned  for  this  by  presenting  Foote's  bright  and 
lively  comedy  of  "Taste."  Its  design  was  "to  satirise  the 
ignorant  affectation  with  which  the  fashion  of  the  day  gave 
eager  welcome  to  anything  with  the  appearance  of  age  upon 
it,  and  turned  away  scornfully  from  modern  art,  however 
meritorious."*  With  what  wit  and  exuberant  buoyancy  he 
carried  out  that  design  may  be  gathered  from  reading  even  a 
page  of  this  little  piece.  All  the  essayists  were  busy  with 
this  popular  fancy,  which  endured  for  many  years,  until  Gold- 
smith's Mrs.  Croker  came  home  from  the  auction  room,  where 
the  deaf  Dowager  was  bidding  away  against  herself.  Not 
the  least  part  of  the  entei  Lainment  was  Garrick's  prologue. 

*  Fontar,  Foote,  p.  3"8. 


146  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1750 — 

But  "  Taste,"  though  Carmine  and  Lady  Pentvceazle  were  enter- 
taining to  a  degree,  was  but  coldly  welcomed,  and  did  not  run 
the  regular  "  nine  nights."  This  failure  he  tried  to  redeem  by 
yet  another  of  the  dreary  "  classical "  pieces — a  play  by  a 
heavy  scholar,  Dr.  Francis,  and  constructed  on  the  usual  French 
model.  This  was  called  "Eugenia,"  which,  after  dragging 
through  its  nine  nights,  was  laid  to  rest 

With  the  new  season  came  a  more  important  production ; 
and  Garrick,  always  true  to  his  friends,  brought  out,  in  Febru- 
ary, '52,  Edward  Moore's  pathetic  but  lugubrious  piece  of  the 
^Gamester ; "  with  only  languid  success.  It  was  played  but 
a,  few  nights.  The  vice  of  gaming  was  then  the  "  rage  " — its 
palace  was  "White's,"  where  fortunes  were  won  and  lost 
But  the  town  did  not  relish  the  unpleasant  moral  It  is  said 
that  this  drama  marks  an  era  in  the  stage,  and  this  was 
the  first  tragedy  that  departed  from  the  conventional  garb  of 
blank  verse ;  it  being  assumed,  on  the  authority  of  a  tyranni- 
cal French  tradition,  that  it  was  impossible  to  suffer  or  die 
save  in  the  stately  measure  of  blank  verse.  It  therefore  has 
the  same  relation  to  the  English  stage  that  Victor  Hugo's 
"  Ernani "  has  to  the  French — a  play  over  which  the  terrific 
battle  of  the  classic  and  romantic  schools  was  fought.  Gar- 
rick touched  it  a  good  deal,  and  is  said  to  have  added  a  whole 
scene  in  the  fourth  act 

The  month  of  March  brought  a  dreary  play  of  Dr.  Young's, 
of  "  Night  Thoughts  "  celebrity.  livy  was  actually  resorted 
to  for  the  story  of  this  heavy  performance,  and  the  audience 
saw  such  abstractions  (such  they  were  for  stage  purposes)  as 
"Philip  of  Macedon,"  "Perseus  and  Demetrius,"  and  "Erix- 
enes,"  the  Thracian  princess,  masquerade  across  the  stage. 
When  Miss  Bellamy  appeared  in  the  green-room,  after  some 
little  "sulk,"  the  manager  said,  "Ah!  ah!  madam,  you  are 
come  at  last !  It  is  unfortunate  for  us  that  the  doctor  in- 
sisted that  you  were  to  be  his  heroine."  The  pettish  actress 
here  affected  to  be  indifferent,  said  that  Pritchard  would  do  it 
far  better,  and  resigned  it  formally,  to  the  consternation  of 
Dr.  Young,  who  protested  against  such  a  step,  "  which  did  not 
seem  to  please  the  manager.  Indeed,  he  appeared  to  be  much 
mystified  at  my  sang-frotd"  " The  Brothers  "  had  only  the 
usual  "success  of  esteem,"  which  seemed  to  attend  on  such 
solemn  performances.  It  is  remarkable  as  one  of  the  many 
"  clergymen's  plays  "  which  were  given  to  the  stage  in  a  per- 
fect series.  The  two  brothers  were  well  played  by  Mossop 
and  Garrick.  The  worthy  doctor  must  have  been  astonished 
at  a  coarse  epilogue  of  Mallet's,  which  came  as  a  surprise  upon 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  147 

the  author,  as  he  sat  in  (Jarrick's  box  to  hear  his  own  play. 
He  heard  himself  alluded  to  thus  strangely — 

"  The  man  must  be  a  widgeon  ; 

Drury  may  propagate;  but  not  religion, — " 

and  this,  too,  emphasized  by  Mrs.  Clive  in  her  broadest  man- 
ner. Naturally  indignant,  he  substituted  another,  which 
wound  up  with  a  true  national  flourish,  and  touched  the  right 
key  in  the  bosom  of  the  pit — 

"  Shout,  Britons,  shout !  auspicious  fortune  bless  1 
And  cry  '  Long  live — our  title  to  success  t '  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BEDFORD. — 1752. 

At  the  Bedford  Tavern  was  to  be  found  a  little  society  of 
critics,  calling  themselves  the  Shakspeare  Club,  who  affected  to 
give  laws  on  all  things  concerning  the  stage,  and  conspicuous 
among  whom  was  a  certain  Fitzpatrick,  destined  to  have  a  con- 
siderable share  in  Garrick's  history.*  He  was  an  Irish  gentle- 
man of  a  cheerful  character,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  Eng- 
land under  the  well-known  Dr.  Peter  Whalley.  With  a  great 
deal  of  the  combative  impetuosity  of  his  countrymen,  he  was 
well  accomplished,  able  to  unite  the  pursuits  of  a  West-end 
man  of  fashion  with  the  more  profitable  one  of  a  city  merchant, 
.and  could  even  find  time  to  look  after  dramatic  interests  at  the 
Bedford.  He  had  travelled;  wrote  lively  pieces;  was  nick- 
named the  "  pale-faced  orator ; "  and  was  looked  to  as  the 
champion  of  the  rights  of  the  audience  in  any  theatrical  dis- 
pute. His  friend  Murphy  insists  particularly  on  his  "  elegant 
manners  and  accomplishments ; "  but  the  tremendous  Churchill 
etching — which,  as  Mr.  Forster  has  acutely  said,  is  drawn  with 
such  art  and  mastery  as  to  be  above  the  narrow  limitations  of 
a  particular  individual  or  country — had  not  yet  been  painted. 
His  effeminate  face  and  macaroni  airs  were  recognized  every- 
where. He  could  turn  an  essay  pleasantly,  and  write  an  agree- 
able letter.  He  had  travelled,  and  knew  all  the  actors  and 
actresses.     He  was  fondly  regarded  by  his  friends,  chiefly  Irish, 

*  The  "  Bedford  Arms  "  is  linked  to  our  own  day  by  the  recollections  of 
one  Stacey,  who  was  connected  with  it  for  more  than  fifty  years.  He  re- 
membered a  shilling  Whist  Club,  to  which  Goldsmith,  Churchill,  Hogarth, 
Fielding,  and  many  more  belonged.  Stacey  described  the  quarrel  between 
Hogarth  and  Churchill ;  the  latter  "  a  stupid-looking  man."  See  "  Smith's 
.London." 

L  2 


148  THE  LITE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

who  had  come  to  town  to  push  their  fortune,  or  enjoy  town, 
and  who  included  James  Murphy  French*  Arthur  Murphy, 
Beau  Tracey,  George  Colman,  Whalley,  together  with  Paul 
Hiffernan,  Goldsmith's  "  Hiff,"  afterwards  to  nave  the  distinc- 
tion of  frightening  Foote,  and  whom  the  frequenters  of  the 
Bedford  were  warned  against  as  a  spy.  To  such  a  coterie — 
— young,  vivacious,  and  needy — Garrick  and  his  theatre  were 
naturally  an  object  of  interest 

The  new  actor,  Mossop,  had  been  received  with  welcome  by 
his  countrymen ;  their  praises  stimulated  him,  and  it  was  their 
chorus  of  compliment,  led  by  Mr.  Thady  Fitzpatrick,  that  first 
sowed  the  seeds  of  jealousy.  Very  soon  the  actor,  though  he 
was  gaining  ground  steadily  with  the  public,  began  to  have  the 
usual  suspicions  and  jealousies.  Garrick  had  some  object  in 
keeping  him  such  parts,  though  some  of  them  were  Garrick's 
own  "  battle-horses •"  and  he  now  began  to  demand  "  lovers' n 
parts,  like  Barry's,  at  the  other  house.  How  unsuited  would 
have  been  his  rude,  unmusical  voice,  his  stiff,  uncouth  gestures, 
ruled  by  "  military  plan,"  even  a  nineteenth  century  reader  can 
understand.  But  Fitzpatrick  was  at  his  ear,  and  finding  him 
in  this  temper,  artfully  worked  upon  and  inflamed  his  griev- 
ances. Thus  encouraged,  Mossop  sullenly  persisted  in  his  de- 
mands. Garrick,  ever  gentle  and  moderate,  calmly  reasoned 
with  him.  He  even  showed  him  the  slender  receipts  of  the 
theatre  on  nights  when  the  tragedian  was  allowed  his  whim, 
and  played  in  some  part  unsuited  to  him.  Such  moderation 
was  quite  thrown  away.  Btts  grievances  only  became  more 
inflamed ;  and,  worked  on  by  his  friends,  he  was,  after  the 
usual  quarrel,  to  leave  the  theatre  abruptly.  Later,  almost  as 
a  matter  of  course,  Garrick  was  to  forgive  and  forget  this  treat- 
ment, and  receive  him  back  on  precisely  his  old  footing. 
Another  member  of  this  party  was  the  notorious  Dr.  Hill,  or 
Sir  John  Hill,  as  he  called  himself,  who  was  seen  driving  about 
in  his  chariot,  and  became  later  one  of  the  most  notorious 
"  quack  doctors  "  of  his  time.  He  was  certainly  a  remarkable 
character,  uniting  prodigious  powers  of  "  hack-work  " — a  love 
of  science  that  made  him  steal  plants  from  the  gardens  he 
visited — with  the  meanest  nature,  and  a  cowardice  that  seemed, 
a  disease.  He  stands  apart  in  the  curious  line  of  characters  of 
the  past  century.  His  "Vegetable  Kingdom,"  in  twenty-six 
great  volumes,  is  an  astounding  monument  of  industry,  and  a 
respectable  contribution  to  botanical  knowledge.  He  wrote 
novels,  natural  history,  supplements  to  dictionaries  (true  hack- 
work), essays  on  gems  and  on  medicine.  Later  he  became  the 
Hollo  way  of  his  day;  and  in  many  an  old  newspaper  the  eye 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  149 

will  often  meet  with  "  Hill's  Tincture  of  Valerian,"  "  Essence 
of  Waterdock,"  "  Balsam  of  Honey,"  or  "  Elixir  of  Bardana," 
nostrums  by  which  he  made  a  fair  subsistence.  The  extraor- 
dinary feature  in  his  nature  was  his  scurrilous  courage- — on 
paper — and  his  no  less  abject  pusillanimity  when  called  to  ac- 
count for  his  outrages.  He  had  a  libellous  periodical,  called 
"  The  Inspector,"  which  he  wrote  entirely  himself,  and  which 
was  said  to  have  brought  him  in,  in  a  single  year,  no  less  a 
sum  than  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  In  this  organ  he  assumed 
the  airs  of  a  public  critic,  could  air  his  own  opinions  and  his 
own  wrongs  and  animosities  with  an  amusing  vanity.  For  an 
attack  on  a  Mr.  Brown  he  was  publicly  chastised  in  Eanelagh 
Gardens.  He  was  exposed  a  hundred  times,  yet  could  not  be 
put  down.  He  tried  to  get  into  the  Koyal  Society,  and  his 
qualifications  were  certainly  equal  to  those  of  some  of  its  mem- 
bers ;  and  when  he  was  rejected,  held  up  two  old  patrons  who 
had  opposed  his  admission  in  the  most  outrageous  manner.  He 
would  invite  all  the  ambassadors  to  dinner ;  for  his  insufferable 
effrontery  would  seem  at  last  to  have  made  way  for  him.  He 
was  seen  at  all  the  coffee-houses,  at  masquerades  and  prome- 
nades, invariably  in  the  front  row  at  the  theatres,  exciting  at- 
tention by  his  splendid  dress  and  singular  behaviour.  When 
there  was  loud  applause  for  the  King,  the  doctor  was  seen  to 
rise,  and  bow  gravely  to  his  Majesty.  As  with  his  position, 
so  it  was  with  his  title,  which  no  one  disputed,  and  "  Sir  John  " 
was  he  called  always,  to  his  death.  He  had  tried  his  hand  at 
all  things — had  been  one  of  Macklin's  curious  company  col- 
lected at  the  Haymarket,  and  had  played  Liidovico  with  Foote. 
Every  one  could  contribute  some  incident  to  his  degrading 
biography,  and  he  was  ready  to  do  battle  with  all — in  print — 
on  the  same  terms.  He  was  engaged  in  such  a  controversy 
with  "  Kit  Smart,"  the  chief  of  hack  poets,  who  had  actually 
written  a  whole  canto  on  the  doctor— a  "  Hilliad  "  in  which 
occurred  the  extraordinary  line — 

"  Th'  insolvent  tenant  of  incumbered  space," — 

Such  was  an  ally  of  Fitzpatrick  and  his  coterie,  and  such 
was  a  fair  specimen  of  the  unscrupulous  enemies  who  were 
round  Garrick.  The  origin  of  his  enmity  to  Garrick  we  do 
not  know  very  clearly.  Murphy  says  it  was  owing  to  reasons 
"best  known  to  himself,"  which  does  not  explain  much; 
but  he  certainly  vented  his  spleen  in  an  elaborate  paper,  in 
which  he  very  artfully,  because  temperately  and  critically,  de- 
preciated Garrick  and  exalted  Barry.  But  perhaps  what 
Garrick  would  have  most  resented  was  the  friendly  defence  of 


150  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

his  short  stature.*  Yet  in  Barry's  instance,  his  disproportion 
to  Mrs.  Cibber  was  quite  overlooked ;  and  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple the  audience  now  quite  forgot  Garrick's  short  stature, 
and  he  had  left  off  wearing  cork  soles  in  consequence.  Garrick 
showed  that  he  was  offended  by  this  exaltation  of  a  rival,  for 
his  little  petty  vanities  were  worn  upon  his  sleeve,  and  he 
always  foolishly  showed  that  he  was  hurt. 

Yet  more  were  preparing  for  the  coming  fray.  A  young 
Irishman — an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Roscius — had  actually 
established  a  journal  for  the  purpose  of  sounding  the  praises 
of  his  hero.  He  had  come  up  to  London,  according  to  the 
usual  routine  with  all  needy  Scotch  and  Irish ;  was  in  Alder- 
man Ironside's  counting-house  in  the  City — seen  often  at  the 
Bedford  and  George's  at  Temple  Bar,  and  had'  thus  become 
acquainted  with  Foote,  and  many  of  the  leading  wits  and 
critics.  At  the  Bedford  he  had  met  Hill,  and  it  was  a  fresh 
bit  of  ill-luck  for  the  unhappy  u  Inspector "  that  his  manner 
and  style  of  writing  should  actually  have  stimulated  the  youth 
to  try  and  put  him  down.  In  his  fifth  number  he  rushed  at 
the  doctor,  describing  him  as  a  man  who  had  taken  on  himself 
"to  prescribe  fashions  to  the  ladies,  and  wire  wigs  to  the 
gentlemen ;  intrigues  to  rich,  and  taste  to  pretty,  fellows," 
pestering  the  town  with  dissertations  on  fossils,  minerals,  and 
insects,  "that  never  existed  but  in  his  own  imaginations," 
that  then  "  emboldened  by  a  kind  of  negative  applause,  tJiat 
of  being  endured"  he  proceeded  to  greater  lengths.  Then  came 
a  parody : 

"  Three  great  wise  men  in  the  same  era  born, 
Britannia's  happy  island  did  adorn  ; 
Henley  in  cure  of  souls  displayed  his  skill, 
Rock  shone  in  physic,  in  both  John  Hill ; 
The  course  of  nature  could  no  further  go, 
To  make  a  third,  he  joined  the  former  two." 

This  "ingenious  young  gentleman "  conducted  his  "  Gray's 
Inn  Journal "  with  vivacity,  and  never  lost  the  opportunity  of 
praising  his  hero.  Such  persistent  advocacy  certainly  laid 
Garrick  under  an  obligation  which  he  never  tried  to,  avoid. 
To  Murphy  it  became  eternal — the  basis  of  exactions  almost 
extravagant,  and  the  extenuation  of  the  most  outrageous  be- 
haviour.    Such  was  the  Bedford  coterie. 

During  the  last  two  or  throe  seasons,  Rich  had  been  seized 

*  Hogarth  showed  by  a  clever  pen  and  ink  sketch  that  Garrick,  being 
elegantly  made  and  in  the  proper  "  proportion,"  was  really  as  tall  as  a  taller 
but  stouter  man,  such  as  Quin.  He  drew  the  figures  side  by  a  side  with  a 
scale,  &c. 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  151 

with  a  more  extravagant  fit  than  usual  of  enmity,  and  grati- 
fied his  spleen  by  several  strange  and  unworthy  acts.  He  had 
tried  to  injure  Garrick  by  coarse  ridicule.  He  had  given  a 
rude  burlesque  of  Garrick's  procession  in  "Henry  the  Fourth," 
and  made  one  of  his  singers  travesty  a  popular  song  in  Gar- 
rick's  Pantomime.  T^is,  however,  was  perhaps  fairly  incident 
to  dramatic  warfare.  But  less  justifiable  was  his  hiring  a  pro- 
fessional mimic  to  take  off  Garrick's  peculiarities.  He  had 
lately  clegraded  the  boards  of  Covent  Garden  by  a  dancer  on 
"  the  slack-wire,"  and  in  a  strange  entertainment  called  "  The 
Fair  "  had  imported  a  collection  of  wild  animals — bears,  mon- 
keys, ostriches,  "  the  Ornuto  savage,"  with  other  such  extrava- 
gances. In  a  new  FSerie,  therefore,  when  Woodward  pro- 
posed ridiculing  this  barbarous  show,  but  not  Eich  himself, 
Garrick  made  no  objection.  Hill,  however,  recollecting  his 
old  grudge,  affected  to  be  very  indignant  at  this  freedom; 
talked  of  "  poor  Rich,"  and  went  as  far  as  to  hint  that  the 
bloods  and  bucks  of  the  Temple  should  attend  in  force  to  sack 
the  theatre,  fling  the  sconces  on  the  stage,  and  tear  up  the 
benches.  This  was  going  too  far,  and  there  were  plenty  ready 
to  take  such  a  hint. 

One  night  as  Woodward,  the  Harlequin,  was  being  carried 
across  the  stage  in  a  sedan  chair,  some  disapprobation  was 
shown  among  the  audience,  and  an  apple  was  thrown,  which 
broke  the  glass  of  the  chair.  Woodward  at  once  leaped  out, 
picked  up  the  apple,  and  seeing  a  gentleman  very  excited  in 
one  of  the  side  boxes,  bowed  to  him,  and  said  very  signi- 
ficantly, "I  thank  you,  sir!"  .This  gentleman  proved  to  be 
Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  the  merchant  and  man  of  fashion.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  both  parties  rushed  to  take  the  public  into 
confidence.  Dr.  Hill,  in  his  "Inspector,"  gave  Fitzpatrick's 
version,  which  was,  that  Woodward  came  up  to  the  box,  and 
said,  insultingly,  "  I  have  noticed  you,  and  shall  meet  you 
again ! "  Woodward  on  this  went  to  a  magistrate,  and  took 
,  the  unusual  course  of  making  an  affidavit  as  to  the  words  he 
had  used,  "  Sir,  I  thank  you !  "  Fitzpatrick  made  a  counter- 
affidavit  before  another  magistrate,  and  Woodward  was  corro- 
borated by  witnesses  who  had  heard  the  whole  transaction  on 
the  stage,  and  had  even  been  present  at  the  Bedford  when 
Fitzpatrick  came  in  and  gave  a  version  of  the  words,  which  was 
exactly  Woodward's. 

These  were  but  small  troubles.  The  theatre  was  prospering, 
even  though  the  bishops  had  come  to  the  Chamberlain  with  a 
memorial  to  stop  all  performances  during  Passion  week.  This 
was  accorded  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1753,  and  from  that 


152  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

time  panoramas  and  lectures  on  astronomy  were  privileged  to 
take  the  place  of  plays  and  comedies. 

Gradually  Drury  Lane  was  gaining  its  old  strength.  With 
the  new  season  that  began  in  September,  '53,  returned,  re- 
pentant, the  revolted  Cibber,  to  be  received  by  the  manager 
with  his  unfailing  good-humour — a  good  substitute  for  the 
pretty  and  petulant,  but  untrained,  Bellamy,  who  had  passed 
over  to  the  other  house.  Now  was  Macklin  taking  his  "  fare- 
well benefit "  on  the  stage  of  his  enemy,  and  speaking  a  pro- 
logue written  for  him  by  that  enemy — perhaps  to  the  surprise 
of  the  public — but  not  to  the  surprise  of  those  who  knew 
Garrick's  superiority  to  petty  resentment.  Macklin's  daughter 
was  also  engaged — a  kindly  provision  now  that  her  father  was 
quitting  the  stage,  or  pretending  to  do  so.* 

Garrick's  usual  good  fortune  brought  to  his  house,  and  not 
to  Covent  Garden,  the  Mrs.  Graham,  who  afterwards  became 
Mrs.  Yates.  Even  then  her  great  beauty,  fine  presence,  and 
immature  talent  made  a  deep  impression ;  and  later,  wisely 
listening  to  careful  instruction,  and  furnished  with  opportuni- 
ties by  the  illness  of  rivals,  she  took  her  place  as  one  of  the 
grand  actresses  of  the  century.  She,  with  Mrs.  Cibber,  Prit- 
chard,  Garrick,  and  Mossop,  made  a  strong  cast  for  any  play, 
and  they  first  appeared  together  in  Glover's  "Boadicea."t 
The  piece,  however,  had  the  fate  of  its  predecessors  — 
"  dragged "  on  for  a  few  nights,  and  was  then  consigned  to 
the  shelf.  How,  after  such  lessons,  the  production  of  a  series 
of  plays  could  be  persisted  in,  considering  the  cost,  trouble,  and 
time  necessary,  seems  incomprehensible.  But  his  next  venture 
helps  us  a  little  to  the  secret.  Garrick  lived  as  much  in  the 
world  as  on  his  stage.  He  knew  wits,  politicians,  persons  of 
quality,  lords  and  ladies  in  plenty.  The  clergyman-dramatist, 
who  had  laboured  out  his  leaden  five  acts  on  the  story  of 
Hippolytus,  or  -^Eneas,  or  Eurydice,  seeing  Mr.  Garrick 
dining  with  "  my  lord,"  might  readily  ask  "  my  lord  "  to  say  a 
word  for  him  to  the  great  manager.  From  the  pressure  of 
private  friendship,  the  importunity  of  strangers,  or  the  interest 
of  the  great,  he  was  driven  to  produce  things  which  his  judg- 
ment scarcely  approved. 

Thus,   after    the  failure  of    "Creusa" — Mr.   Whitehead's 

*  He  gave  out  that  he  was  going  to  open  a  tavern.  Foote  said,  "  He  will 
first  break  in  trade,  and  then  break  his  word." 

t  The  "  amiable "  author  insisted  on  reading  his  play  in  the  green- 
room. But  his  voice  was  harsh  and  his  elocution  bad  ;  and  when  Mr. 
Garrick  offered  to  relieve  him  for  an  act  or  two,  he  rather  touchily 
declined. 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  153 

adaptation  from  a  Greek  poet — he  was  driven,  by  this  weighty 
pressure,  to  bring  out  another  play  of  the  same  class.  There 
was  s  certain  Beverend  Mr.  Crisp — the  "Daddy  Crisp "  of 
Miss  Burney— who  was  an  artist,  a  fanatico  in  music,  a  scholar, 
and  general  dilettante — and  who,  according  to  the  inevitable 
course,  fancied  he  was  also  qualified  for  the  drama.  In  course 
of  time  he  produced  a  laborious  five-act  play  on  the  subject  of 
Virginia.  He  had  fashionable  friends,  among  others  Lord 
Coventry — the  "  Cov."  of  the  clubs— one  of  the  wild  "  set "  at 
Al mack's.  This  competent  judge  pronounced  it  good,  and, 
what  was  of  more  importance,  got  the  great  Mr.  Pitt  to  read 
and  approve  it ;  for  in  these  times,  just  as  classical  scholars 
and  clergymen  seemed  to  be  ex-offido  qualified  to  write  plays, 
so  the  judgment  of  a  Minister  became  of  equal  importance  as 
a  criticism.  Garrick  knew  the  value  of  such  approval.  He 
received  the  piece  with  the  courtesy  due  to  such  a  recommen- 
dation ;  but  on  one  pretext  or  another,  put  it  aside  for  years. 
In  despair,  the  author  thought  of  a  happy  resource.  The  lovely 
Gunning,  now  Countess  of  Coventry,  about  whom  all  London 
was  mad,  drove  to  Southampton  Street,  and  sent  in  for  Mr. 
Garrick.  Mr.  Crisp's  "  Virginia  "  was  accepted  and  brought 
out  Brought  out,  too,  with  all  speed;  but  nothing  could 
galvanize  it ;  not  even  Garrick's  grand  "  point,"  when  Virginia 
was  claimed,  and  he  stood  in  a  dull  amazement  for  many 
moments,  showing  a  speechless  struggle  going  on  in  his  face, 
then  bursting  into  a  slow  sobbing  exclamation  —  "  Thou 
Traitor  !  "*  Later,  as  an  alternative,  came  a  revival — a  pro- 
tracted bit  of  French  declamation — "  Zara,"  modelled  on  Vol- 
taire's "Zaire,"  which  dragged  through  five  long  acts.  Garrick 
was  "  a  most  venerable  and  pathetic  old  man,"  says  Murphy. 
We  can  see  him,  as  he  then  appeared,  with  long  white  woolly 
hair,  and  a  flowered  dressing-gown,  standing  with  Mrs.  Yates, 
whose  dress  is  absolutely  gorgeous.  Never  did  actress  appear 
so  magnificently  clad,  glittering  with  a  profusion  of  laces,  tags, 
a  cloud  of  furbelows,  and  a  monster  head-dress  that  seemed  a 
perfect  pyramid  of  jewels,  hair,  and  decorations,  t 

*  Nor  could  the  new  and  charming  actress,  Mrs.  Graham,  help  to  give 
it  life.  In  a  lew  nights  it  went  to  the  Limbo  of  blank  verse  playi— a  fate 
which  the  author  hud  to  the  account  of  "  careless  performers,"  Garrick's 
hostility,  and  public  prejudice.  When  the  plaj  was  finally  laid  on  the 
abelf,  he  struggled  for  years  to  obtain  a  second  hearing.  His  noble  friend, 
Coventry,  with  a  man  of  fashion's  wisdom,  looked  it  over  again,  and  ad. 
vised  him  to  make  some  change.  The  author  took  back  his  play  eagerly, 
and  for  months  worked  ou  it    But  Garrick  was  firm. 

t  See  the  fine  print  in  the  British  Museum.  "  Half  the  battle,"  iu  one 
of  these  new  declamatory  plays,  was  the  actresses'  dress ;  and  in  all  tho 


154  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

The  season  of  1754  began  with  fresh  spirit  and  rivalry. 
Sheridan  had  come  over  from  Dublin,  and  Barry  had  left  Rich, 
complacently  prophesying  that  ruin  would  attend  on  his  de- 
sertion.* Sheridan  came  with  new  plays  and  new  characters, 
and  with  his  style  in  certain  characters  vastly  improved.  He 
did,  indeed,  fall  into  the  common  mistake  of  choosing  unsuit- 
able parts,  and  "rattled  the  ear  where  he  should  have  touched 
the  heart."  But  in  Coriolanus  he  was  fine ;  and  it  must  have 
been  amusing  to  have  gone  from  one  theatre  to  the  other,  and 
heard  the  two  stormy  actors  lustily  thundering.  He  had 
learned,  in  Bichard,  not  to  die  in  sprawling  agonies  and 
gymnastic  convulsions — a  common  weakness  with  the  leading 
players.  Woffington,  too,  had  come  back  to  town,  after  being 
fooled  and  flattered  in  the  Dublin  green-room  in  the  most 
extravagant  way.  There  she  heard  that  Cibber  wanted  her 
powers;  Pritchard  her  address  and  spirit,  Clive  her  humour, 
Macklin  her  judgment,  Bellamy  her  tenderness,  and  all  human 
nature  her  accomplishments,  t  One  of  her  freaks  was  play- 
ing Lothario.  The  warm  passion  of  that  character  was  de- 
livered with  a  "  finical  delicacy."  Her  audiences,  too,  were 
falling  off.  She  changed  the  scene,  and  was  received  with 
welcome  and  admiration  in  London.  Such  was  the  advantage 
then  for  players  in  these  two  great  theatrical  communities. 

Garrick  led  off  the  season  with  a  capital  revival.  A 
friendly  whisper  came  from  the  Court,  that  the  King  had  been 
talking  over  the  pleasure  he  once  had  in  seeing  Wilks  and 
Mrs.  Oldfield  play  in  an  old  comedy  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  ;  and  Garrick,  whose  eyes  always  turned  fondly  to 
Court,  and  whose  loyalty  verged  on  obsequiousness,  had  it  put 
in  rehearsal  at  once.  This  was  "  The  Chances,"  which  Shef- 
field, Duke  of  Buckingham,  had  altered  and  adapted,  and 
which  Garrick  himself  now  carefully  retouched  and  pruned 
down.  The  Drury  Lane  pit  had  a  prospect  of  seeing  some- 
thing with  true  life  and  motion,  and  character ;  and  to  men 
like  Ralph,  who  objected  that  new  plays  were  not  brought 
out,  might  have  been  retorted  that  gay  comedies,  so  old,  and 
of  such  a  pattern,  were  newer  and  more  welcome  than  the  poor 

agreements  which  were  made  with  actresses,  this  question  of  allowance  for 
so  many  dresses  was  always  fiercely  pressed  and  debated.  This,  indeed, 
was  one  of  the  redeeming  points  in  the  "  Tragedy  Queen  "  parts — they 
gave  a  fine*  opening  for  magnificence. 

*  One  of  his  enemies  in  Dublin  thus  described  him: — "His  Romeo  la 
horrible  among  the  most  horrible  ;  and  aa  he  wants  ease  and  life,  he  has 
judiciously  determined  to  play  Celadon  in  '  The  Comical  Lover.*  It  would 
require  the  pen  of  a  Scarron  to  describe  his  appearance." — Digge*. 

T  Digges,  in  Jesse  Foote's  "  Life  of  Murphy." 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  155 

stuff  of  the  Crisps  and  Franklins  he  was  bringing  forward. 
Garrick  was  delightful  in  Don  Juan.  Mrs.  Cibber,  however, 
was  scarcely  at  home  in  the  gay  Constantia,  and  her  solemn 
and  infinitely  sweet  accents  could  not  lend  themselves  to  the 
vivacity  of  a  gay  coquette.  How  unsuited  she  was  may  be 
conceived  when  we  know  that  later  it  was  taken  up  and 
"  made  "  by  the  lively  Abington. 

But  here  was  another  clergyman,  Dr.  Brown,  in  the  green- 
room, with  a  tragedy  of  the  same  wearisome  old  pattern,  full 
of  ZelimSj  Ottomans,  Achmets,  and  Barbarossas,  of  bombastic 
Easterns,  and  turgid  declamation.  Garrick,  however,  put 
movement  into  this  play,  by  suggesting  to  the  author  various 
rather  hackneyed  stage  devices.*  Mossop  had  here  a  splendid 
opening  for  tearing  of  a  part  to  tatters  in  the  barbarian  Bar- 
barossa,  and  with  stentorian  lungs  roared  tyranny,  and  de- 
fiance, and  cruelty,  according  to  the  popular  ideal  of  Eastern 
despots.  It  was  indeed  the  redudio  ad  absurdum  of  the  style ; 
but  it  had  success  from  its  very  extravagance. 

A  bell  was  heard  to  toll,  about  which  there  was  a  little 
history.  Garrick  had  purchased  it  specially,  at  an  enormous 
expense,  to  toll  during  his  "  Borneo  "  procession,  in  opposition 
to  Rich's.  It  however  failed  in  this  respect,  and  then  did 
most  effective  duty  in  tolling  for  the  execution  of  Pierre,  in 
"  Venice  Preserved."  t 

*  Barbarossa  is  the  most  "swearing"  of  stage  heroes.  His  language 
was  at  times  awful.  His  favourite  oath  is  "By  hell ! "  " Curse  the 
traitors ! "  *'  Perdition  on  thy  falsehood  !  "  "  Accurst  art  thou,"  "  Curse 
their  womanish  hearts/'  are  some  of  his  mildest  expressions. 

After  scenes  of  ranting,  a  discovery  which  has  often  since  furnished  food 
for  laughter  and  burlesque,  is  thus  made  : — 

"  Othman. —  Besides,  he  wears 

A  mark  indelible,  a  beauteous  scar, 
Made  on  his  forehead  by  a  furious  pard, 
Which,  rushing  on  his  mother,  Selim  slew. 
Achmet. — A  scar  ! 
Othman. — Ay,  on  his  forehead. 
Achmet  {lifting  his  turban). — What,  like  this  ? 
Othman  (kneels). — Whom  do  I  see  ? 
Am  I  awake  !  my  prince  ! 
My  honour'd,  honour'd  king  ! " 
We  may  compare  with  this,  the  modern  : — 

"  Cost. — Tell  me,  ah !  in  mercy  tell  me,  have  you  such  a  thing  as  a 
strawberry  mark  on  your  left  arm  ? 
"Box.— No  \ 

"  Cox. — Then  it  is  he  !  my  long-lost  brother." 

The  same  extraordinary  token  of  recognition  was  introduced  in  "  Zara," 
where  a  "  cross  "  on  a  daughter's  arm  is  the  means  of  restoring  her  to  her 
parents, 
t  It  seems  more  than  probable  that,  like  another  famous  manager  of 


156  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

The  February  of  '55  was  to  find  him  freely  "tampering" 
with  Shakspeare,  as  Cibber  and  others  before  him  had  done. 
An  operetta  called  "  The  Fairies  "  was  brought  forward,  the 
music  by  a  Mr.  Smith,  a  pupil  of  Handel's,  and  the  "  book  "  of 
which  was  adapted  from  the  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 
For  this  rude  laying  of  hands  on  a  sacred  object  he  was 
roughly  brought  to  account.  His  cutting  up  this  play  and 
"The  Tempest"  into  operas  was  certainly  a  foolish  and  in- 
judicious step.  And  though  his  was  not  the  profane  hand 
that  did  the  work — as  is  commonly  said — it  was  done  by  his 
direction,  and  on  his  encouragement.* 

It  should  be  recollected  that  every  one  had  tried  his  hand 
at  restoring,  and  patching,  and  alteration,  so  that  it  was 
excusable  in  Garrick  to  follow  the  public  taste.  It  must 
be  sai(J,  too,  that  his  idea  was  not  to  give  the  "Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,"  but  an  opera  founded  on  the  story, 
using  the  poet's  dialogue  where  it  was  possible.  The  whole 
was  indeed  meant  to  bring  out  two  Italian  singers,  Signor 
Curioni  and  Signora  Passerini,  who  had  some  twenty-seven 
songs :  for  he  hankered  after  these  exotics,  and  always  had 
his  agents  in  foreign  countries,  looking  out  for  artistes.  But 
his  real  justification,  as  it  might  have  seemed  to  him,  was  the 
high  authority  of  Warburton.  It  would  be  hard  for  any  one 
not  to  be  encouraged  by  such  an  extravagant  compliment  as 
the  following:  "Besides  your  giving  an  elegant  form  to  a 
monstrous  composition,  you  have,  in  your  own  additions, 
written  up  to  the  best  scenes  in  this  play,  so  that  you  will 

fiction,  who  was  anxious  to  have  his  "  pumps  and  washing  tubs  "  turned 
to  profit,  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Brown  to  bring  in  his  belL  The  doctor  managed 
it  in  this  way  : — 

"  Bar.-—  For  the  bell 

Ev'n  now  expects  the  sentinel  to  toll 
The  signal  of  thy  death. 
Sdim. — Let  guilt  like  thine  tremble  at  death. 
Bar. — Then  take  thy  wish  ; 

(BeU  tolls.) 
There  goes  the  fatal  knell." 

But  the  doctor  forgot,  what  Johnson  soon  found  out,  that  the  use  of  bells 
was  unknown  to  the  Mahometans,  and  that  Dr.  Young  had  used  the  same 
device  effectively  in  his  play.  "We  are  not  to  be  made  April  fools 
of  twice,"  said  Johnson,  roughly.  And  soon  it  became  a  favourite  jest  at 
his  expense  ;  and  Murphy,  iu  one  of  his  insane  fits  of  exasperation,  would 
write  to  him  tauntingly,  "  You,  who  rang  a  bell  among  the  Turks  1  " 

*  Nothing  can  be  more  explicit  than  his  denial  of  authorship.  "  If  you 
mean,"  he  wrote  to  a  person  who,  while  offering  a  play,  taunted  him  with 
turning  Shakspeare  into  an  opera — "  if  you  mean  that  I  was  the  person 
who  altered  the  '  Midsummer  Night's  Dream '  and  '  The  Tempest '  into 
operas,  you  are  much  mistaken." 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  157 

easily  imagine  I  read  the  reformed  '  'Winter's  Tale '  with  great 
pleasure.  You  have  greatly  improved  a  fine  prologue." 
After  this,  it  is  hard  to  say  a  word  against  Garrick. 

A  detailed  setting-out  of  the  annals  of  a  theatre  becomes 
about  as  monotonous  as  reading  a  catalogue  raUonnd  ;  a  theatri- 
cal history  will  take  the  shape  of  an  abstract  of  so  many 
playbills.  This  seems  almost  unavoidable ;  for  looking  over 
the  long  line  of  theatrical  biographies,  we  find  that  each 
unavoidably  falls  into  a  series  of  play  succeeding  play,  theatre 
succeeding  theatre,  and  engagement  following  engagement. 
The  story  of  a  manager's  life  is  specially  open  to  this  objection. 
But  we  shall  only  delay  very  little  longer,  and  anticipate  some 
of  these  Shakspearean  revivals.    - 

For  the  next  season  of  1755-6  he  prepared  "The  Winter's 
Tale,"  altered  with  freedom.*  Yet  the  alteration  was  not  un- 
skilfully done.  There  was  a  charming  song  by  Mrs.  Cibbcr, 
in  the  true  pastoral  key: — 

"Come,  come,  my  good  shepherds,  out  Hocks  we  must  shear; 
In  jour  holiday  suits  with  your  laseea  appear  ! 
The  happiest  folk  «re  acquitteD  and  free, 
And  who  are  so  guileleti  and  hippy  aa  we  1 "  ■(■ 

Garrick  himself  played  Leontes,  and  with  masterly  effect  in 
the  statue  scene.  It  was  said,  too,  that  had  he  retained  the 
original  version  of  the  play,  he  would  have  doubled  the  attrac- 
tion of  his  own  part;  which  shows  the  self-denial  which 
regulated  his  theatrical  plans,  and  the  due  subordination  of 
himself  to  the  general  effect  of  the  stage.  To  him,  also,  wu 
owe  the  capital  Shakspearean  farce  of  "Katharine  and  Petru- 
chio,"  which  now  keeps  the  stage,  and  probably  will  always 

*  Garrick  had  the  temerity,  in  his  prologue,  to  boast  that  it  wu  his 
"  Joy — my  only  plan 
To  low  no  drop  of  t&at  immortal  man." 
Bat  it  was  said,  happily  enough,  that  he  had  certainly  "  lost,  a  whole  pail- 
ful of  him  "  here. 

t  A  line  was  repeated  with  praise  to  Johnson,  as  from  this  song— 
"  I'd  smile  with  the  simple,  and  feed  with  the  poor." 
He  was  very  happy  in  hit  ridicule  of  it : — "  Nay,  my  dear  lady,  this  will 
never  do.  Poor  David  !  '  Smile  with  the  simple  ! '  What  folly  is  that. 
And  who  would  feed  with  the  poor  that  can  help  it  1  No,  no  ;  let  me 
amile  with  the  wise,  and  feed  with  the  rich."  This  "sally"  was  reported 
to  Garrick  by  the  good-natured  Boa  well,  who  "  wondered  to  find  his  sensi- 
bility aa  a  writer  not  a  little  irritated  by  it."  The  actor  might  well  have 
been,  for  what  he  had  written  waa  that  "  content  and  sweet  cheerfulness  " 
were  what  smiled  with  the  simple,  and  not  "  I'd  smile."  But  this  is  only 
a  alight  specimen  of  the  misrepresentation  that  attended  the  actor  all 
through  his  life. 


158  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1752. 

keep  it,  in  that  shape.  The  animosity  well  known  to  exist 
between  Woodward  and  Mrs.  Clive  gave  a  life  and  interest  to 
the  piece;  it  was  said  that  the  actor  threw  her  down  with  a 
violence  more  than  was  warranted  by  the  situation.  The 
fierce,  and  real,  resentment  of  the  actress  at  this  treatment — 
her  rage,  which  she  could  hardly  control,  all  fell  in  excellently 
with  the  tone  of  the  piece,  and  delighted  the  audience.  Then 
followed  "  The  Tempest,"  fashioned  into  an  opera,  with  Mr. 
Beard,  the  popular  ballad  singer,  as  Prospero.  This,  as  I  have 
mentioned,  was  no  more  than  fashioning  an  opera  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  play,  just  as  Hale>y  used  to  do  in  the  present 
century.  Still  it  was  thought  sacrilege  enough  for  a  single 
season;  and  there  were  plenty  who  cared  very  little  for  Shak- 
speare,  ready  to  raise  the  cry.  Theo.  Gibber,  whose  father 
had  been  the  grand  offender,  delivered  a  lecture  at  the  Hay, 
in  which  he  affected  deep  indignation.*  When  Garrick  played 
Hamlet  again,  an  idea  occurred  to  him  of  getting  Woodward 
to  give  a  serious  tone  to  the  character  of  Pofonius,  instead  of 
the  usual  buffooning  air  with  which  low  comedians  always  in- 
vested it  The  experiment  failed;  the  audience  could  not 
understand.  After  this,  who  could  blame  Garrick  for  some- 
times leaving  the  true  legitimate  path  in  his  choice  of  enter- 
tainments, or  for  taking  freedoms  with  Shakspeare?  Mossop's 
wrongs,  and  the  sense  that  he  was  "  kept  down  "  by  jealousy, 
had  made  him  leave  the  theatre  in  disgust.  There  remained 
friends  and  "  bottle-holders  "  who  had  made  use  of  him  merely 
to  annoy  the  manager,  and  who  inflamed  his  jealousy  solely 
to  that  end.  Yet  Mossop  seems  to  have  had  no  reasonable 
cause  of  complaint,  as  he  had  acted  over  thirty  nights,  and 
always  in  fine  and  important  characters,  such  as  Barbarossa, 
Macbeth,  Richard,  and  Coriolanus.  Garrick  begged  of  him  to  stay, 
but  he  was  not  to  be  soothed,  and  went  away  to  Ireland.  He 
left  behind  him  an  angry  and  discontented  "party";  and  very 
early  the  manager  was  to  receive  a  rude  check,  and  discover 
the  fatal  truth  that  a  theatrical  audience  is  the  most  fickle 
thing  in  the  world,  and  will  turn  upon  its  most  cherished 
favourite  at  the  first  moment  of  ill-humour.  With  this  coming 
trouble,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  his  personal 
enemies  were  associated. 
Then  followed  "All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,"  and  "Rule  a 

*  "The  'Midsummer  Night's  Dream'  has  been  minced  and  fricasseed 
into  a  thing  called  '  The  Fairies/  '  The  Winter's  Tale '  mammocked  into  a 
droll,  and  '  The  Tempest '  castrated  into  an  opera.  ....  Yet  this  sly 
Prince  would  insinuate  that  all  this  ill-usage  of  the  Bard  is  owing,  for- 
sooth, to  his  love  of  him." 


1752.]  THE  BEDFORD.  159 

Wife  and  have  a  Wife,"  in  which  Mrs.  Cihber  perversely 
claimed  the  lively  Esitfania;  but  had  to  resign  it,  after  a  single 
night,  to  the  better  genius  of  Mrs.  Pritchard.  It  properly 
belonged  to  Clive,  but  rumour  said  that  "she  was  kept  out  of 
her  part "  by  the  jealousy  of  Woodward  and  Garrick.  As  to 
the  latter,  we  have  seen  enough  of  him  by  this  time  to  know 
that  he  could  sacrifice  everything  to  the  interest  of  a  play; 
and  the  change  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the  ill-judged  claim 
of  Cihber,  whose  whims  had  to  be  consulted.  That  actress, 
now  growing  subject  to  sudden  fits  of  illness,  and  with  some 
of  her  charms  failing,  capriciously  used  the  power  given  her 
by  her  articles,  to  select  gay  and  youthful  parts.  Then  he 
revived  his  little  farce  of  "  Lethe,"  with  a  new  character  for 
himself — Lord  Ckalkstoiie — and  allowed  Murphy,  who  was  en- 
gaged at  the  theatre,  and  already  plaguing  him,  to  bring  out  a 
new  farce  for  his  own  benefit. 

Having  to  face  this  crowd  of  enemies,  always  on  the  watch, 
it  was  not  long  before  a  serious  rebuff  came.  Fitzpatrick,  and 
the  partizans  of  Mossop,  were  now  to  find  the  opportunity  they 
sought  It  was  known  at  the  Bedford  that  he  had  long  been 
preparing  a  spectacle  that  should  be  above  all  competition.  It 
was  hardly  wonderful  that  he  should  bo  so  attached  to  pageants 
and  processions,  as  these  were  the  attractions  which,  after  his 
own  acting,  brought  most  money  to  the  theatre.  He  clung 
to  them  through  many  shocks;  and,  after  the  rough  treatment 
he  was  now  to  receive  on  presenting  "  The  Chinese  Festival," 
we  may  admire  his  constancy  and  perseverance.* 

*  There  hit  many  caricatures  ridiculing  this  weakness  ;  one  represents 
Garrick,  with  the  "  book  "  of  one  of  his  shows  in  his  hand,  with  Meimink, 
the  mechanist,  teside  him,  shouting  "  Processions  fur  ever  !  "  and  a  crowd 
of  men  with  hammers,  Ac.     Underneath  are  the  line*  : — 
"  Behold  the  Muses,  Roacius,  sue  in  vain, 
Tailors  and  carpenters  usurp  their  reign  !  " 
In  another,  Garrick  is  shown  walking  aver  the  works  of  Shakspeare,  Rone, 
and  others. 


160  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1755 — 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE  CHINESE  FESTIVAL — WOFFINGTON'S  RETIREMENT. — 

1755-1757. 

For  Garrick  the  charms  of  French  life  and  the  attractions 
of  the  French  stage  had  always  a  sort  of  fascination.  The 
exquisite  and  elegant  touch  of  that  nation  in  all  theatrical 
matters  was  well  appreciated  by  him,  and  his  eyes  were  always 
turning  towards  Paris  for  French  books,  French  players, 
French  devices  in  scenery  and  decoration,  and  French  artists. 
His  own  recent  visits  where  he  had  made  many  friends,  had 
strengthened  this  penchant.  In  the  autumn  of  1754 — perhaps 
finding  his  audiences  dulled  by  their  late  heavy  doses  of 
weary  legitimate  comedy — he  had  begun  to  think  of  a  grand 
coup,  which  should  impart  variety  and  rouse  their  apathy.  A 
favourite  stock-charge  against  the  manager  had  been,  that  he 
conducted  his  theatre  too  penuriously  in  the  matter  of  decora- 
tions and  dresses,  and  relied  on  the  cheap,  unadorned  attrac- 
tions of  his  own  declamation.  Such  speeches  were  not  slow 
in  reaching  his  ears,  and  he  was  now  to  give  them  a  triumphant 
refutation. 

There  was  in  Paris  a  certain  Jean  George  Noverre,  a  Swiss 
dancer,  of  some  celebrity,  but  better  known  at  the  little 
theatres  of  the  small  Courts  of  Europe  than  he  was  at  Paris. 
He  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  as  a  maitre  de  ballet,  and  in  the 
more  feminine  role  of  "male  dancer";  and  Garrick  had  heard 
from  his  French  friends  of  his  abilities.  He  accordingly 
opened  negotiations  with  him,  through  a  M.  Silvain.  His  first 
offers  were  declined — Noverre  demanding  the  modest  sum  of 
350  guineas,  with  a  free  benefit*  subject  to  no  deductions. 
He  obtained  his  terms,  with  the  exception  of  the  "  no  deduc- 
tions "  from  the  benefit  night,  which  he  consented  to  give  up, 
as  it  was  not  the  custom  in  England.  A  "  jolie  danseuse,"  his 
sister,  was  also  engaged  on  his  own  terms. 

At  last  all  was  arranged,  and  Garrick  having  conceded 
everything,  was  told,  in  a  tumult  of  grateful  rapture,  "that 
his  style  was  delicious ;  that  he  was  a  divine  creature ; "  and 
the  male  dancer,  with  his  "decorations"  and  his  figurantes, 
started  for  England.  It  will  be  guessed  what  a  costly  venture 
this  was,  and  what  a  serious  outlay  had  been  incurred;  the 
result  was  to  be  a  truly  splendid  spectacle,  which  could  not  fail 
to  be  successful  and  profitable. 


1757.]  THE  CHINESE  FESTIVAL.  161 

But  there  were  dangers  approaching,  which  a  skilful 
manager  —  knowing  the  childish  unreasonableness  of  the 
general  public,  whose  servant  he  must  be — might  have  fore- 
seen. From  the  beginning  of  the  year,  the  relations  between 
England  and  France  had  been  very  critical.  In  the  month  of 
November,  1755,  when  Noverre  and  his  grand  spectacle,  "The 
Chinese  Festival,"  was  ready,  the  countries  were  actually  on 
the  eve  of  a  war.  The  low  prejudices  of  the  mob  were 
aroused  against  everything  French,  and  the  enemies  of  the 
manager  of  Drury  Lane  were  not  slow  to  raise  the  cry  that 
there  was  a  gang  of  "frog-eating"  Frenchmen  and  French 
women  brought  over  to  take  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of. 
honest  Englishmen. 

Some  days  before  the  piece  was  brought  out,  the  managers 
became  conscious  of  the  danger,  but  it  was  then  too  late.  All 
the  expense  had  been  incurred.  A  temperate  appeal — evi- 
dently inspired  by  Garrick — appeared  in  the  papers.  It  stated 
that  the  contract  had  been  signed  more  than  a  year  ago,  and 
before  the  disturbed  relations  between  the  countries  could  have 
been  thought  of.  As  to  their  being  French  dancers,  there  were 
no  more  than  were  usually  at  any  of  the  theatres.  Mr.  Noverre 
and  his  sisters  were  Swiss,  and  what  was  more,  of  A  Protest- 
ant family.  (It  is  humiliating  to  think  that  the  history  of  in- 
tolerance must  be  pursued,  even  behind  the  scenes.)  His  wife 
and  her  sisters  were  Germans.  Of  the  whole  corps — amount- 
ing to  sixty — forty  were  English.  This  was  a  fair  and  con- 
vincing appeal ;  but  argument  with  a  mob  is  hopeless. 

The  night  arrived — the  8th  of  November — suspiciously  near 
to  the  great  Guy  Fawkes  anniversary.  With  all  these  exer- 
tions, the  decorations  were  not  quite  ready.  Noverre,  who  had 
written  a  scientific  work  on  Dancing,  had  exhausted  himself  in 
splendid  devices — exhibiting  all  the  popular,  and  perhaps  in- 
accurate, notions  of  Chinese  dress,  music,  dancing,  and  habits. 
Not  content  with  his  appeal,  Garrick  had,  as  he  fancied,  by  a 
master-stroke,  secured  the  attendance  of  the  old  King,  respect 
for  whom,  he  thought,  would  restrain  the  audience. 

The  opening  piece  passed  off  without  interruption ;  but  as 
soon  as  the  curtain  rose  upon  the  "  Chinese  Festival,"  a  storm 
of  fury  broke  out ;  all  was  noise,  storm,  and  confusion  in  a 
moment.  It  would  be  neither  seen  nor  listened  to.  Mr.  Lacy 
asked  what  the  cause  of  the  uproar  was,  and  went  away,  laugh- 
ing heartily.  The  Babel  was  almost  terrific ;  the  curtain  had 
to  be  let  down.  The  question  then  was,  what  was  to  be  done  ? 
Lacy,  always  prudent  and  discreet,  was  for  yielding  and  with- 
drawing the  piece ;  but  Garrick,  with  more  courage — or,  as  his 


162  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1755—^ 

detractors  would  have  said,  with  a  careful  eye  to  all  the  money 
he  had  laid  out — was  determined  on  going  on.  An  interval  of 
some  days  was  allowed  to  elapse,  and  Garrick  thought  that  by 
playing  one  of  his  best  parts  he  might  disarm  the  mob.  But 
each  night  things  only  grew  worse.  It  was  noticed  that  there 
was  an  aristocratic,  or  f  rench  party,  in  the  boxes-noblemen, 
who  got  all  their  gorgeous  bleu  de  Ro%  suits  over  from  the  Paris 
tailors,  and  who  .were  vehement  in  applauding  the  French 
dancers.  On  the  Friday  following,  the  King  was  got  to  come 
again,  through  the  agency  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton ;  and  Gar- 
rick, who  had  never  yet  played  before  him,  was  to  give  one  of 
his  best  parts. 

The  tumult  went  on  for  several  nights  more.  At  last,  on  the 
sixth,  the  lords  and  gentlemen  leaped  on  to  the  stage  with 
drawn  swords — ladies  caught  up  the  enthusiasm,  and  pointed 
out  delinquents.  This  only  infuriated  the  mob,  who  now  began 
to  think  of  venting  their  fury  on  the  theatre.  The  benches 
were  torn  up,  the  decorations  dragged  down,  the  lustres  de- 
molished, and,  finally,  M.  Boquet's  costly  "  machines  "  were  all 
destroyed.  It  was  proposed  to  fire  the  house,  but  this  was 
happily  prevented.  From  the  stage  the  management  had  to 
announce  that  they  yielded,  and  would  play  the  piece  no  more ; 
in  return  for  which  concession  the  mob  repaired  at  once  to 
Southampton-street,  where  they  demolished  all  Garrick's  win- 
dows, and  did  other  damage.  Indeed,  he  was  apprehensive 
that  his  life  was  in  danger,  and  obtained  a  guard  of  soldiery 
from  his  friends  in  power.  Thus  he  learned  how  frail  was  the 
tenure  of  a  player's  popularity. 

It  is  said  that  the  whole  of  this  riot  was  deliberately  organ- 
ized. Footed  capital  stroke,  in  one  of  his  farces,  was  founded 
in  truth,  when  he  described  "  the  patriot  gingerbread  baker  in 
the  Borough,  who  would  not  endure  three  dancers  from  Swit- 
zerland because  he  hated  the  French."  The  loss  reached  four 
thousand  pounds,  and,  after  all,  the  piece  itself  was  said  to 
have  been  the  dullest  show  of  pantomime  ever  put  on  the 
stage.  But  this  may  be  doubted.  Garrick  himself  had  excel- 
lent taste,  and  the  French  stage,  at  this  time,  was  pre-eminent 
in  "decors" 

Nothing,  however,  could  have  been  more  spirited,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  more  temperate,  than  Garrick's  behaviour. 
About  ten  days  later,  when  the  unlucky  dancers  had  been  sent 
away,  a  scene  more  dramatic  than  anything  in  the  bright 
comedy,  appointed  for  the  night,  took  place.  As  Roscius 
made  his  rentrfo  in  Archer,  there  were  angry  murmurs  of 
"Pardon!"  "Beg  pardon!"  on  which  he  advanced  slowly, 


1757.]  THK  CHINESE  FESTIVAL.  163 

bowing,  with  infinite  respect,  and  at  the  same  time,  infinite 
firmness.  He  then  explained  how  he  had  been  treated,  wan- 
tonly and  malignantly — by  individuals,  both  as  respected  his 
property  and  his  character.  He  gratefully  acknowledged  all 
the  favours  that  had  been  heaped  on  him  during  his  career ; 
but  declared  that,  unless  he  was  that  night  permitted  to  per- 
form his  duty  to  the  best  of  his  ability — he  was  above  want, 
and  superior  to  insult — he  would  never  appear  on  the  stage 
again.  As  he  spoke,  all  murmurs  died  away:  what  he  said 
went  home  to  every  heart.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause, 
then  a  shout,  prolonged  for  many  moments,  made  the  old 
rafters  ring.  In  all  the  records  of  theatrical  difficulties  there 
is  nothing  to  equal  this  victory.  Murphy  and  Davies,  his  two 
biographers,  omit  all  mention  of  this  creditable  scene.  Yet 
Murphy  was  engaged  at  the  theatre,  and  must  have  been  actu- 
ally listening,  and  Mrs.  Davies  was  playing  in  the  first  piece. 

At  the  other  house,  Barry,  newly  returned  from  Dubtin, 
was  declaiming  with  a  renewed  passion  and  sweetness  that 
caused  a  fresh  furore — this,  too,  with  the  disadvantage  of  hav- 
ing lost  his  tender  Juliet,  Mrs.  Cibber.  Instead,  he  played 
with  a  lady  of  slender  gifts,  but  whom  he  had  infatuated  with 
his  charms.  In  that  fine  bit  of  old-fashioned  exaggeration, 
the  "  Rival  Queens,"  with  Statira  and  Boxana,  superb  in  their 
declamation,  he  was  literally  enchanting.  The  piece  was 
mounted  with  great  pomp,  and  superb  dresses.  He  was  the 
impassioned  and  melting  lover,  the  furious  and  phrenzied  war- 
rior, by  turns ;  his  agony  of  remorse  thrilled  all  hearts,  and 
his  madness  was  terrible.  The  tragedy  queens,  Woffington 
and  Bellamy,  had  their  furious  jealousies  behind,  as  well  as 
before,  the  curtain ;  and  an  unseemly  squabble  arose  between 
the  two  ladies,  which  Foote — acting  at  the  same  house,  and  in 
pieces  with  them — with  his  usual  personality,  chose  to  make 
up  into  a  farce,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  town.*  Pre- 
sently Barry  was  to  revive  the  old  comparison  between  him 
and  Garrick,  by  appearing  in  King  Lear.  His  fine  figure  and 
melodious  voice  had  made  him  so  popular  that  this  was  seized 
on  as  a  representation  infinitely  superior  to  Garrick's;  yet 
there  was  no  competition  intended  by  either  of  the  players — 
certainly  not  by  Garrick,  who,  as  far  as  I  can  discover,  played 
it  only  four  times  during  the  season,  and  not  once  after  Barry 
had  begun  to  play.  This  self-denial  was  the  more  praise- 
worthy, as  the  best  judges  admitted  that  he  was  superior; 

*  It  was  called  "  The  Green-room  Squabble."  No  tie  or  sense  of  de- 
cency could  restrain  this  wit 


164  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1755 

and,  indeed,  considering  Barry's  special  gifts  in  tender-lover 
parts  and  heroes,  his  voice,  eyes,  figure,  and  grace — four  splen- 
did advantages  that  would  carry  all  before  them — he  would 
scarcely  have  suited  the  old,  distraught  king.  He  was  too 
stately,  and  too  tall,  and  in  the  mad  scenes  started  and  took 
too  long  and  hasty  strides.  Garrick  had  all  the  fruits  of  study.* 
But  Mr.  Taylor,  who  saw  both  these  famous  players  in  this 
part,  unhesitatingly  decides  for  Garrick ;  and  though  his  re- 
collection was  a  little  dim,  recalled  the  white  handkerchiefs 
fluttering  in  every  box  as  Garrick  acted ;  whereas,  though  ho 
had  a  sense  of  Barry's  fine  and  handsome  figure,  there  was  a 
general  air  of  coldness  over  his  reading. 

This  new  season,  also,  found  Mossop  back  again  under  his 
"  envious  "  rival's  flag.  He  had  returned  from  Ireland,  where 
Garrick  had  taken  care  to  recommend  him  strongly  to  the 
good  offices  of  Lord  Hartington.  He  was,  indeed,  infinitely 
above  petty  resentment.  This  year,  too,  showed  his  surprising 
tact  in  discovering  useful  recruits;  and  his  company  being 
strengthened  with  a  young  actress  from  Richmond  Theatre 
later  to  be  the  vivacious  Mrs.  Abington,  with  Miss  Pritchard, 
and  Foote,  the  rivalry  between  the  theatres  was  carried  on 
with  renewed  spirit.  He  was  good-natured  enough  to  play 
his  Borneo  for  the  young  ddbutante's  Juliet ;  and,  what  was  more 
indulgent  still,  played  his  Benedick  to  her  untrained  Beatrice. 
But  though  she  had  many  fascinations,  a  beautiful  face,  that 
was  seen  bathed  in  tears  as  her  mother  led  her  on,  her  attrac- 
tion was  not  enduring.  On  the  first  of  November,  1756,  he 
appeared  in  a  new  character — one  that  was  to  be  always  popu- 
lar to  the  end,  and  which  perhaps  he  did  not  think  would  be 
the  one  in  which  he  should  make  his  last  bow — Don  Felix  in 
the  gay  "Wonder."  He  refused  "Douglas" — one  of  the  few 
mistakes  as  to  speculation  he  made  in  his  life,  but  accepted 
Foote's  amusing  "  Author."    The  latter  took  care  that  the  vie- 

*  As  usual,  an  epigram  or  two  went  off,  happily  hitting  the  nice  distinc- 
tion between  both.     One  was  by  Mr.  Berenger : — 

"  The  town  has  found  out  different  ways 
To  praise  the  different  Lean ; 
To  Barry  they  give  loud  huzzas, 
To  Garrick— only  tears." 

Another  was  quite  as  happy— 

"  A  lung — nay,  every  inch  a  king, 
Such  as  Barry  doth  appear ; 
But  Garrick's  quite  a  different  thing, 
He's  every  inch  King  Lear." 

Theophilus  Cibber,  still  writing  against  Garrick,  sneered  at  the  first  of 
these,  and  affected  to  consider  it  came  from  Garrick  himself. 


1757.]  woffington's  retirement.  165 

tim  he  gibbeted  in  this  piece — a  friend  and  intimate  of  his  own 
friend  Delaval — should  be  in  the  boxes  to  see  himself  held  up 
to  ridicule. 

Garrick  was  now  carrying  out  a  curious  little  whim — train- 
ing a  small  dramatic  class  of  children,  whom  he  brought  out 
in  a  little  piece  he  wrote  for  them  expressly.  But  though 
dramatic  talent  is  not  to  be  even  fostered  by  such  means,  he 
was  repaid  by  the  experiment  producing  him  at  least  one  valu- 
able actress — Miss  Pope.  At  the  same  time,  while  his  ranks 
were  thus  strengthened,  those  of  the  other  house  sustained  a 
serious  loss  in  the  abrupt  withdrawal  of  its  leading  actress ; 
and  on  one  May  night,  in  1757,  a  strange  and  dramatic  scene 
was  to  take  place  at  the  other  house.  It  was  long  remembered 
at  Covent  Garden  Theatre  how,  when  she  was  repeating  the 
ssage  in  RosaliruTs  epilogue,  "If  I  were  among  you  I  would 
:iss  as  many  of  you  as  had  beards  that  pleased  me/1  she 
faltered,  gave  a  piercing  scream,  and  tottered  to  the  wing. 
She  was  given  over,  and  she  lay  at  the  point  of  death  for 
many  dayS.  She  lingered  on  two  or  three  years.  We  can 
accept  the  story  of  her  conversion  to  Methodism,  and  of  her 
-devoting  the  rest  of  her  life  to  piety.  Such  might  have 
been  the  case,  but  the  embassy  of  "Colonel  Caesar  of  the 
•Guards,"  which  was  not  long  before  her  death,  is  scarcely  con* 
sistent  The  story  of  her  building  the  almshouses  at  Tedding- 
ton  is  placed  to  the  account  of  the  same  change  of  life.*  On 
her  death-bed,  however,  she  sent  for  Mrs.  Bellamy — her  old 
enemy — the  "  Rival  Queen  "  who  had  dared  to  dress  against 
her,  and  owned  to  her  that  she  had  once  got  an  admirer  to 
show  Mr.  Fox  a  letter  of  Mrs.  Bellamy's,  in  the  hope  of  injur- 
ing her  with  that  statesman.  This  seemed  an  act  of  grace. 
To  her  the  English  stage  is  infinitely  indebted,  not  merely  for 
a  legacy  of  fine  and  varied  acting,  but  for  a  previous  lesson  of 
duty  to  herself,  to  the  theatre,  and  to  the  public.  The  testi- 
mony of  prompters  and  managers  to  this  loyalty  are  extraordi- 
nary. She  often  played  six  nights  in  the  week,  and  never 
was  known  to  have  those  "  occasional  illnesses  which  I  have 
seen,"  says  one  who  knew  her  well,t  "  assumed  by  capital  per- 
formers, to  the  great  vexation  and  loss  of  the  manager,  and 
disappointment  of  the  pubtic."  "  She  never,"  says  a  Dublin 
stage-manager,  "disappointed  one  audience  in  three  winters 
either  by  real  or  affected  illness ;  and  yet  2"  have  often  seen  her 

*  Mr.  J.  W.  Cole,  who  investigated  this  point,  discovered  that  the  alms- 
houses were  built  a  century  before.  A  new  one  was  added  more  than 
twenty  yean  after  her  death. 

+  Hitchcock. 


166  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1755 — 

on  the  stage  when  she  ought  to  liave  been  in  her  bed"  "To  her 
honour,"  says  another  friend,  "  be  it  ever  remembered,  that 
while  thus  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory,  courted  and  caressed  by 
all  ranks  and  degrees,  she  made  no  alteration  in  her  behaviour; 
she  remained  tlie  same  gay,  affable,  obliging,  good-matured  Woffing- 
ton  to  every  one  around  her.  Not  to  the  lowest  performer  in  the 
theatre  did  she  refuse  playing  for — out  of  twenty-six  benefits 
she  acted  in  twenty-four!"  Two  warm  and  graphic  pic- 
tures— and  a  most  satisfactory  tribute  to  her  merit.  She 
had  an  equal  concern  for  the  dignity  of  the  drama  in  her 
selection  of  characters,  in  which  she  resembled  Garrick.* 

She  was  always  ready  to  take  an  inferior  part  in  a  play, 
when  even  the  leading  character  was  hers  by  right ;  and  she 
has  been  known  to  resign  Ophelia  to  play  the  Queen — to  take 
Lady  Percy  instead  of  Lady  Anne — and  carry  out  the  same 
principle  in  many  other  pieces,  to  suit  the  interest  of  the  play, 
or  convenience  of  the  manager.  This  principle  obtains  on  the 
French  stage,  where  the  interest  of  the  piece  appears  to  be 
considered  the  first  object ;  but  it  may  seem  old-fashioned  to 
the  English  players  of  our  time. 

Thus  the  old  romance  had  ended,  and  that  short  career — 
not  twenty  years  in  length — was  stopped.  But  decay  had 
already  set  in — the  old  charms  had  already  begun  to  lose  their 
spell — the  fine  face  had  been  worn  by  sudden  and  mysterious 
strokes  of  sickness — the  voice  was  growing  more  shrill — and 
her  admirers  had  fallen  away.  These  were  warnings  that  a 
life  of  racket  and  dissipation  could  not  go  on. 

Garrick  must  have  heard  of  this  tragic  finale  to  his  old 
love's  career  with  regret  ;t  and  we  know  that  when  the  sick 
and  broken  creature  was  lingering  on  at  Teddington,  for  a 
couple  of  years  more,  he  showed  his  old  regard  by  an  act  of 
true  kindness.     Over  her  grave  in  Teddington  churchyard 

*  Her  ripertoire  included  such  varied  characters  as  Ophelia,  Lady  Brute, 
Rosalind,  Helena,  Mrs.  Sullen,  Lady  Betty  Modish,  Cordelia,  Lady  Anne, 
Mrs.  Ford,  Lady  Townly,  Portia,  Belinda,  Maria,  Viola,  Isabella,  Jane 
Shore,  The  Lady  in  "  Comus,"  Desdemona,  Lady  Macbeth,  EsHfania,  Con- 
stance, Violante— characters  all  of  the  "  first  force  "  and  most  refined  class. 

t  I  have  discovered  among  the  Dublin  Patent  Rolls  a  list  of  "  converts," 
who  made  a  formal  adhesion  to  the  Established  Church  of  the  country,  and 
her  name  is  among  the  number :  "  filed  at  Tholsel,  January  22,  1756," 
barely  a  year  before,  while  she  was  squabbling  with  Mrs.  Bellamy.    This 

{ roves  the  truth  of  the  story,  so  often  told,  of  her  conforming  to  obtain  a 
egacy  from  old  Owen  Swiney.  A  creature  of  her  life  was  not  likely  to 
adopt  or  abandon  any  religion  from  principle  ;  and  she  had,  in  fact,  long 
before  given  up  the  faith  she  had  been  born  in.  I  find,  in  Che t wood's  little 
book,  a  prologue  spoken  by  her  in  the  invasion  times  of  1745,  in  the  most 
violent  "  anti-Popish  "  strain. 


1757.]  TATE  WILKINSON.  167 

may  be  now  read  a  conventional  inscription.  We  might 
almost  prefer  the  simple  praise  of  the  warm  and  humble 
friend,  "she  remained  the  same  gay,  affable,  obliging,  good- 
natured  Woflington ! " 


BOOK     THIIE     POTTETH. 

THE  MANAGER. 

CHAPTER  I. 

TATE  WILKINSON — THE  COUNTRY  TOWN  THEATRE — THE 

MIMICS. — 1 757-58. 

The  new  season  of  1757-8  had  little  that  was  noteworthy  in 
its  theatrical  management,  save  that  the  manager  appeared  in 
the  new  character  of  Biron,  with  great  success — in  a  poor 
piece  of  Home's,  called  "Agis";  and  also  in  a  lively  and 
humorous  farce  of  Murphy's,  "  The  Upholsterer,"  which,  with 
a  little  alteration,  would,  even  now,  bear  revival.  Some  of 
those  old  farces  are  more  properly  comediettas,  and  their 
humour  was  the  humour  of  character,  not  of  impossible  situa- 
tion and  grotesque  mannerism.  Shirley's  "Gamesters"  and 
"  Henry  IV."  furnished  the  manager  with  the  new  characters 
of  Wilding  and  the  King. 

At  the  end  of  the  season  he  lost  Woodward — an  admirable 
comedian — but  the  loss  was  in  some  sense  lessened  by  the 
addition  to  his  troop  of  the  graceful  and  gentlemanly  O'Brien. 
Woodward's  desertion  was  attended  with  a  display  of  greed 
quite  characteristic.  He  was  well  worked,  but  he  had  the 
largest  salary  ever  given  to  a  comic  player,  with  an  extra 
benefit  for  his  Harlequin  labours.  He  was  not  content,  and 
wished  to  tie  the  managers  down  to.  the  strange  agreement, 
that  they  should  in  future  give  him  as  much  as  they  should 
ever  give  to  any  performer.  Garrick  could  not  agree  to  this ; 
and  woodward  went  away  to  Dubtin,  to  lose  all  his  savings 
in  a  most  disastrous  speculation,  to  return  penniless,  and,  with 
true  meanness,  try  and  ingratiate  himself  with  a  London  au- 
dience by  abuse  of  the  people  whom  he  had  left.  To  them  he  had 
the  hardihood  to  return  later,  but  was  hooted  from  the  boards, 
and  not  allowed  a  hearing.  The  stage,  certainly,  if  it  contri- 
butes a  handsome  chapter  to  the  history  of  human  folly  and 


168  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

meanness,  can  also  illustrate  the  truth  that  honour  and  manli- 
ness are  the  best  policy  in  the  world.*  Garrick  in  the  next 
season,  1758,  took  up  the  character  of  Marplot,  in  which  ht 
hoped  to  eclipse  the  recollection  of  the  deserter  Woodward. 
But  his  fine  face  was  thought  not  to  be  vacant  enough. 
Rather  when  a  character  has  been  long  in  possession  of  a  per- 
former it  becomes  identified  with  his  face. 

Garrick,  unhappily  destined  to  see  more  of  the  ungracious 
side  of  human  nature  than  any  other  person,  was  now  to 
encounter  Dr.  Hill  in  the  new  and  strange  shape  of  a  farce 
writer — a  piece  called  "The  Rout,"  which  was  put  into  his 
hands  to  be  played  for  an  hospital,  f  He  was  perhaps  afraid 
that  it  would  not  be  received  well  by  Garrick,-  or  the  public  if 
he  gave  his  real  name,  and  it  was  announced  as  being  from  the 
pen  of  "  a  person  of  quality."  Everything  about  this  queer 
adventurer  was  to  be  in  character.  In  a  few  days  he  threw  off 
his  disguise,  and  demanded  a  benefit.  Garrick  would  have, 
readily  gratified  him,  but  when  the  audience  discovered  the 
author  they  would  not  endure  his  play.  Garrick  paid  dearly 
for  his  weakness,  and  found  this  gad-fly  stinging  him  in  all  the 
newspapers,  attacking  him  with  verses  and  doggerel.  He  held 
up  Garrick's  pronunciation  in  "  A  Petition  for  the  Letter  I," 
which  he  said  was  quite  neglected  by  the  actor ;  and  who,  like 
Kemble  later,  was  turning  "virtue"  and  "fiercely,"  into 
"  vurtue,"  and  "  fersely."  There  must  have  been  some  truth 
in  this  charge,  as  Garrick  was  nettled  into  a  sort  of  retort, 
which  had  some  wit,  or,  at  least,  smartness ;  and  in  which  he 
hoped  "that  I  might  be  never  taken  for  U"t 

During  the  season  the  audience  were  entertained  with  a  fine 
spectacle,  and  their  favourite  as  Antony — in  Shakspeare's  play — 
but  here  again  he  failed,  wanting  height  and  dignity  for  the 
part.  Another  new  piece  was  the  quarrelsome  Murphy's 
"Orphan  of  China,"  which  at  last  came  before  the  public, 

*  Foote,  though  taking  Garrick's  pay,  seems  to  have  had  some  share  in 
stirring  up  Woodward  to  this  "  strike."  In  the  half- bau  ten  ng  way,  with 
one  of  those  "  good  things  "  in  which  he  tried  to  mask  his  ill-nature,  he  told 
him  he  was  made  a  "  common  hackney  of,"  and  in  consequence  of  the 
ground  gone  over  in  his  Harlequin  feat,  &c,  was  entitled  to  be  paid  by 
either  time  or  distance. 

t  At  this  time  we  find  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  making  him  a  loan  of 
£500,  and  offering  him  as  much  more  in  generous,  cordial  terms. 

$  More  bitter  was  this  thrust  at  the  doctor's  quack  medicines  :— 

"  Thou  essence  of  dock,  valerian,  and  sage, 
At  once  the  disgrace  and  the  pest  of  this  age  ; 
The  worst  we  cau  wish  thee  for  all  thy  damn'd  crimes, 
Is  to  take  thy  own  physic,  and  read  thy  own  rhymes." 


1758.]  TATE  WILKINSON.  169 

after  many  secret  vicissitudes,  to  be  related  presently.  By 
this  time  he  had  "  made  money,"  and  was  ready  to  advance  a 
substantial  sum  to  his  friend  Lord  Hartington,  then  Irish 
secretary,  to  pay  off  a  mortgage.  That  nobleman  continued 
very  friendly  to  him,  though  at  Burlington  House  the  strange 
caprices  of  "  My  Lady,"  and  the  curious  confusion  that  seemed 
to  reign  in  her  household,  made  harmony  not  a  little  difficult. 
Lately  there  had  been  a  quarrel,  now  everything  was  happily 
made  up. 

At  Southampton  Street,  with  his  charming  wife,  whose 
advice  in  all  matters,  even  in  points  concerning  his  theatre, 
was  becoming  invaluable  and  necessary  to  him,  he  found  com- 
fort and  relaxation.  Once  inside  that  house  he  seemed  to  lay 
down  all  anxieties. 

On  one  morning  a  letter  was  brought  in  at  Southampton 
Street^  introducing  a  young  man  who  wished  to  go  on  the 
stage.  Garrick  received  him  kindly,  listened  to  his  declama- 
tion, which  was  poor  enough,  and  comforted  the  aspirant  by 
telling  him  that  his  shyness  was  a  very  good  sign  of  success. 
This  young  fellow  had  hung  about  the  green-room  at  Covent 
Garden,  and  for  all  this  shyness,  was  a  pert,  forward,  impu- 
dent gamin,  whose  precocious  talents  of  mimicry  had  been 
overpraised  by  friends.  He  offered  to  "  take,  off  "  some  of  the 
well-known  actors  to  show  the  manager  his  gifts.  "  Nay,  now," 
said  Mr.  Garrick,  in  his  peculiar  mixture  of  hesitation  and  re- 
petition, which  made  his  talk  a  favourite  subject  of  imitation, 
"  Nay,  now,  sir,  you  must  take  care  of  this,  for  I  used  to  call 
myself  the  first  at  this  business — "  But  the  young  fellow  knew 
the  manager's  weak  place.  He  began,  leading  off  with  Foote. 
The  likeness  amused  the  manager  immensely,  and  the  perform- 
ance was  repeated.     "Hey,  now!  now — what — all,"  went  on 

Really  witty  was  a  second  attack  that  appeared  in  a  few  days : — 
"  Their  wish  must  be  in  form  reversed, 
To  suit  the  doctor's  crimes  ; 
For  if  he  takes  his  physic  first, 
He'U  never  read  his  rhymes."* 

*  I  find  among  Garrick's  papers  the  first  draft  of  one  of  these  epigrams, 
which  is  very  poor  indeed — 

"  Your  own  receipe  take,  try  the  force  of  its  juice, 
And  by  that  we  shall  judge  of  its  merit  and  use." 

Garrick  had  a  final  cast  in  a  very  happy  shaft  which  transfixed  the  quack 
doctor,  and  silenced  him — 

"  For  farces  and  physic  his  equal  there  scarce  is ; 
His  farces  are  physic  :  his  physic  a  farce  is." 

For  its  point,  brevity,  and  Hudibraatic  turn,  its  severity,  and,  at  the 
came  time,  comic  aim,  this  epigram  deserves  a  very  high  place. 


170  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

Mr.  Garrick.  "  How — really  this — this — is — why,  well,  well, 
well,  do  call  on  me  on  Monday,  and  you  may  depend  on  my 
doing  all  I  can  for  you."  This  broken  style  of  speech  was 
Mr.  Garrick's  characteristic  when  addressing  his  inferiors,  and 
was,  in  fact,  his  managerial  manner,  and  may  have  been  found 
very  useful  in  helping  him  to  a  sort  of  vague  generality,  with- 
out committing  him  to  any  positive  declaration.  It  was  not  a 
bad  auxiliary  for  one  who  was  asked  for  so  much,  and  had  to 
refuse  so  much. 

On  the  Monday  the  youth  came  again,  and  was  welcomed 
warmly.  He  was  told  that  inquiries  had  been  made  about  his 
widowed  mother,  and  that  he  was  to  be  put  on  the  books  at 
thirty  shillings  a  week — a  fortune  indeed.  The  youth's  name 
was  Tate  Wilkinson,  who  has  left  behind  a  very  curious  his- 
tory of  himself  and  other  players,  which  is  a  mass  of  truth, 
falsehood,  and  blunders ;  a  mass,  too,  of  meanness,  vanity,  and 
egotism. 

This  indulgence  to  young  Wilkinson,  as  well  as  all  Garrick's 
subsequent  kindness,  was  not,  as  he  insinuates  it  was,  from  de- 
light at  Mr.  Foote  being  caricatured,  but  may  be  much  more 
naturally  explained.  Wilkinson's  father  had  been  rector  of 
the  Savoy  chapel,  where  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  perform- 
ing marriages,  in  defiance  of  a  severe  marriage  law  recently 
passed.  Vernon,  an  actor  of  Garrick's  company,  had  been 
married  in  this  fashion  to  a  Miss  Poitier,  and  the  manager, 
always  anxious  that  order  and  decency  should  characterise 
everything  belonging  to  his  theatre,  sent  for  the  culprits.  He 
was  assured  they  were  married,  the  certificate  was  produced, 
and  then  it  was  discovered  it  had  been  performed  in  this 
illegal  way,  by  one  Grierson,  the  deputy  of  W  ilkinson.  George 
Garrick  had  married  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Carrington,  a  King's 
messenger  at  Somerset  House,  and  at  his  instigation  the  law 
was  put  in  force,  the  unfortunate  clergyman  tried,  and  sen- 
tenced to  transportation.  He  died  on  shipboard  from  the 
shock  and  disgrace,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Garrick 
was  anxious  to  do  all  he  could  for  the  son  of  the  man  on  whom 
he  had  so  indirectly  brought  such  misfortunes. 

"  I'm  on  the  wing,  young  gentleman,"  went  on  Mr.  Garrick, 
"and  have  to  bo  at  Hampton  to  dinner,  so  my  time  is  short;" 
and  then  begged  of  him  to  repeat  his  imitations.  When  he  got 
to  Barry  and  Woffington  in  "  Macbeth,"  Mr.  Garrick  was  highly 
amused,  and  laughed  heartily;  but  when  Wilkinson  stopped,  a 
concealed  laugh  was  heard,  and  a  green  double  door  opening,  re- 
vealed the  charming  Mrs.  Garrick,  who  had  been  placed  there 
by  her  husband  to  listen — "  a  most  elegant  lady,"  she  seemed 


1758.]  TATE  WILKINSON.  171 

to  him — who  apologised  with  true  foreign  grace,  owning  that 
when  he  came  to  Woffington  she  could  not  restrain  herself. 
Here,  perhaps,  was  the  true  woman's  triumph  over  a  rival. 
There  was  a  tempting  vision  of  a  little  breakfast  parlour  be* 
yond,  whence  they  had  both  come  in.* 

Wilkinson's  behaviour  to  his  kind  patron  was  of  a  piece  all 
through.  A  small  part  had  been  sent  to  him  in  "  Coriolanus," 
and  he  actually  thought  he  had  annoyed  the  manager  by  taking 
it,  but  he  had  determined  to  make  it  a  means  of  exhibiting  his 
own  detestable  out-of-place  mimicry  of  Barry.  No  doubt  he 
could  not  keep  this  design  to  himself ;  for  at  rehearsal,  as  soon 
as  the  manager's  eyes  fell  upon  him,  he  broke  out  into  his  usual 
odd  interjections — "  Why  hey,  now — what  hey,  a — I  think  now 
that  you — why — why,  Cross — how  now — here  you — you  have 
sent  this  part  to  this  lad ;  I  must  not  trust  him  with  this  Vd- 
scius.  You  know  I  must  have  some  steady  person  to  depend 
on — Packer,  now,  hey,  Packer — for  if  Wilkinson  does  it,  he 

will  be  at  some  of  his  d d  tricks,  or  be  taking  off,  or  some 

d d  this  or  other.  Do,  Cross,  take  the  part  from  him,  and  we 

will  get  him  something  else."  The  company,  always  obsequious 
to  a  manager,  and  always  enjoying  each  other's  mortifications, 
laughed  and  smiled ;  and  Mr.  Garrick  turned  to  them,  laughing 
too.  "  Did  you  ever  see  now  such  an  exotic  ?  Why,  he  would 
have  destroyed  my  whole  play,  and  be  d d  to  him." 

The  manager  passed  over  much  petulance,  and  even  insolence, 
for  the  youth  was  scarcely  nineteen.  He  good-naturedly  al- 
lowed him  to  go  on  strolling  tours ;  and  to  one  of  these  we  owe 
a  charming  little  picture,  which,  as  it  shows  Garrick  in  a  very 
engaging  and  pleasant  view,  I  shall  be  pardoned  for  dwelling 
on. 

It  was  the  day  of  strolling  companies.  England  was  divided 
in  theatrical  "  circuits,"  which  the  country  managers  went  regu- 
larly, like  the  gentlemen  of  the  law.  Engaged  on  one  of  these, 
Wilkinson  had  found  his  way  down  to  Portsmouth.  His  pic- 
ture of  the  place  is  very  graphic,  full  of  drumming  and  drill- 
ing, with  the  fleet  lying  out  in  the  roads,  and  "the  gallant 
Rodney "  on  shore.  It  was  all  drawbridges  and  lines,  and 
military  gates  and  posts,  where  the  visitor  was  stopped  and 
questioned.  Officers  of  the  navy  and  army  filled  the  streets. 
The  little  theatre  of  the  place  was  iure  to  have  support  from 
such  a  constituency. 

One  night,  when  he  was  playing  Hamlet,  and  Moody  Grave- 

*  I  often  pais  the  house  in  Southampton  Street,  and  can  see  the  hand- 
somely carved  doorway,  and  panels  of  the  room  in  which  this  lively  incident 
occurred. 


172  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

digger,  the  manager  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  whispered 
hurriedly,  "  Take  care,  for  Mr.  Garrick  is  in  the  pit ! "  We 
may  conceive  the  sensation  behind  the  scenes;  every  one 
thinking  that  the  eye  of  "  the  London  Manager  "  was  on  him 
or  her.  Next  morning  came  a  message  from  the  Fountain 
Tavern,  with  Mr.  Garrick's  compliments  to  Mr.  Wilkinson — 
— would  he  come  and  breakfast  with  him  ?  Surprised  and 
overjoyed,  the  actor  hurried  away,  and  was  greeted  heartily  at 
the  Fountain  Tavern  by  his  old  manager.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  charming,  or  even  engaging,  than  Garrick's  beha- 
viour. He  was  out,  he  told  the  other,  on  a  little  holiday,  stay- 
ing with  a  Dr.  Garney,  out  at  Wickham,  some  eight  miles  off — 
an  old  friend  to  whom  this  visit  had  been  promised  for  years. 
Mrs.  Garrick  was  there  also ;  and  Mr.  Garrick  said  he  had  been 
charged  by  her  and  the  doctor  to  make  Mr.  Wilkinson  fix  his 
own  day,  and  come  out  to  them.  "  A  visit,"  added  Mr.  Gar- 
rick, kindly,  "which  we  shall  all  return."  After  breakfast 
they  went  out  to  see  the  town,  Mr.  Garrick  actually  leaning 
on  Mr.  Wilkinson's  arm — "an  honour  I  dreamed  not  of.' 
They  walked  on  the  ramparts,  saw  the  dockyards,  and  all  the 
time  Mr.  Garrick  was  asking  about  his  young  friend's  pros- 
pects, and  how  he  was  doing,  and  congratulatea  him  on  being 
such  a  favourite.  Indeed,  it  needs  not  Wilkinson  to  tell  us 
that,  "  Whenever  Mr.  Garrick  chose  to  throw  off  dignity  and 
acting,  and  was  not  surrounded  by  business  to  perplex  him,  he 
had  it  in  his  power  to  render  himself  a  most  pleasing,  improv- 
ing, and  delightful  companion."  He  was  in  such  good  spirits 
that  at  lunch-time  he  had  a  bottle  of  hock  made  into  a  cool 
tankard  "  for  luck." 

On  the  appointed  day,  Wilkinson  drove  out  in  a  post-chaise 
to  Dr.  Garney,  dressed  in  gold  lace,  like  a  gentleman.  He  was 
received  by  Garrick,  as  he  says,  "as  his  son."  The  doctor  and 
his  wife  were  "  good  "  people,  and  made  him  welcome.  So, 
also,  did  Mrs.  Garrick.  "  She  was,  in  truth,  a  most  elegant 
woman ;  grace  was  in  her  step."  Garrick  showed  him  the 
place,  which  was  charming — "a  little  paradise" — with  exquisite 
views,  gardens,  conservatories,  and  a  lofty  observatory  built  by 
the  doctor  himself.  He  "ran  and  skipped  like  a  lad  of 
twenty."  He  delighted  Wilkinson  by  complimenting  him  on 
his  dress,  merely  objecting  to  the  buckles,  which  were  large  for 
the  mode,  and  rather  too  like  a  sailor's.  The  actor's  heart  was 
rejoiced  at  being  treated  "  like  a  man  of  fashion  "  at  dinner. 
Garrick  spoke  of  the  benefit  night,  and,  turning  to  the  doctor 
and  his  lady,  said  that  he  would  take  it  as  an  obligation  to 
himself  if  they  would  give  their  patronage  to  his  friend,  Mr. 


175S.]  THE  COUNTRY  TOWN  THEATRE.  173 

"Wilkinson.  At  ten  o'clock,  after  a  pleasant  game  on  the 
bowling-green,  Mr.  Garrick  saw  him  out  to  his  chaise,  gave 
him  some  parts  to  study,  and  said  he  hoped  there  would  be  no 
impropriety  in  fixing  a  bespeak  for  Friday;  "and  we  desire, 
Wilkinson,  you  will  fix  on  a  favourite  character,  and  do  your 

best  for  the  credit  of  both ;  and,  d n  it,  Tate,  Mrs.  Garrick 

expects  you  will  have  a  dish  of  tea  ready  after  her  jaunt,  by  way 
of  relaxation  "  (this  was  an  allusion  to  a  Monologue) ;  "  and  if 
you  disappoint  us,  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Garney  and  all  the  party 
will  be  very  angry,  so  take  care."  Thus  ended  a  very  happy 
day  for  the  young  actor. 

We  may  conceive  the  sensation  Wilkinson's  news  produced 
in  the  company.  But  he  was  not  to  have  the  lion's  share,  as 
he  had  fondly  hoped.  There  was  a  sort  of  tmeute,  each  actor 
being  eager  to  have  his  favourite  and  most  conspicuous  part,  so 
as  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  London  manager.  Mr.  White,  the 
jeune  premier,  very  dirty  and  unshaven  about  his  face,  and  fond 
of  morning  gin,  asked,  with  bitter  contempt,  "  Who  is  Mr. 
Ga-ick?  Mr.  Ga-ick  has  no  command  over  the  Portsmouth 
company.  I  think  Mr.  Ga-ick  cannot  be  displeased  with  my 
Madieath,  though  I  want  no  favour  from  Mr.  Ga-ick."  All 
combined  against  Wilkinson's  monopoly,  and  the  "Beggars' 
Opera  "  was  fixed  on,  as  giving  a  fair  chance  to  all.  Wilkinson 
might  indeed  have  his  Monologue,  and  a  short  leading  part,  as 
it  was  for  his  benefit. 

All  the  genteel  people  of  the  neighbourhood,  hearing  of  the 
"  bespeak, '  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick  were  coming  in, 
crowded  to  the  little  box-office ;  and  when  Friday  night  came 
round  there  was  really  a  crammed  house.  The  "Beggars' 
Opera  "  began,  but  the  great  party  had  not  come.  The  first 
act  went  by,  the  second  began ;  and  then  actors  and  audience 
began  to  grow  dissatisfied,  thinking  they  had  been  brought 
there  under  a  pretence.  In  particular,  Mr.  White  was  scorn- 
ful and  an<ny,  some  of  the  best  bits  of  his  Macheath  having 
been  played  through.  But  towards  the  end  of  the  act  the 
party  from  Wickham  entered,  and  took  their  places — the  eyes 
of  the  whole  house  on  them.  It  was  noticed  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Garrick  and  party  paid  the  closest  attention,  and  ap- 
plauded heartily.  We  may  be  sure  that  night  was  long  re- 
membered at  the  Portsmouth  little  theatre;  and  it  seems  a 
fresh  picture,  and  its  primitiveness  and  rustic  character,  coming 
after  the  London  worldliness,  must  have  been  enjoyed  by 
Garrick  himself. 

After  the  play,  there  was  supper  at  the  Rainbow  Tavern,  at 
which  various  local  persons  of  distinction  came  in,  and  paid 


174  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

their  compliments  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick.  Before  them  all, 
Mrs.  Garrick  delicately  and  kindly  thanked  Wilkinson  for  his 
performance.  At  some  time  past  midnight  she  retired,  having 
to  sleep  at  the  house  of  one  of  Dr.  Garney's  friends,  these 
good  people  "  not  hearing  "  of  her  staying  at  a  tavern.  Mr. 
Grarrick,  who,  says  Wilkinson,  "  never  failed  in  attention  to 
his  lady,"  would  not  suffer  her  to  go  with  the  servant,  and 
wrapping  himself  up  in  a  handsome  sea-captain's  cloak  which 
belonged  to  Mr.  Wilkinson,  attended  her  up  the  street. 
When  he  returned  he  said  he  was  quite  pleased  with  his  walk, 
as  it  had  made  him  acquainted  with  Mr.  Wilkinson's  snug 
roqudcmre,  which  he  thought  would  be  exactly  the  sort  of  thing 
for  him  during  the  winter  months  between  Southampton 
Street  and  the  theatre,  and  save  him  many  a  sedan-chair 
journey.  He  therefore  commissioned  Tate  to  get  him  one  in 
Portsmouth,  and  bring  it  up  to  London.  It  was  a  very  plea- 
sant night.  They  sat  till  past  three.  Great  consideration  and 
homage  was  paid  to  the  illustrious  guest,  who  never  appeared 
in  so  pleasant  a  light.  The  whole  of  this  scene  does,  indeed, 
exhibit  him  to  the  greatest  advantage — the  guest  of  the  good, 
honest  Garneys,  his  old  friends  —  free,  unrestrained,  not 
"  stuck  up,"  and  full  of  an  engaging  bonJwmie.  Such  treat- 
ment, at  least,  should  have  laid  the  young  actor  under  fast 
obligation. 

This  season  also  saw  the  entry  of  another  good  actor  upon 
Garrick's  boards.  Foote  now  found  it  his  interest  to  ask 
for  an  engagement,  which  was  as  cheerfully  accorded  as  it 
was  asked;  and  in  one  of  his  brisk,  lively  lampoons,  "The 
Author,"  "  took  off,"  with  extraordinary  success,  an  unfortu- 
nate Welsh  gentleman,  Mr.  Apreece.  This  victim  had  at  last 
found  out  that  the  whole  town  were  laughing  at  him,  and  now 
applied  fpr  redress  to  the  author  and  actor,  with  whom.. it 
being,  as  Davies  says,  a  question  of  money,  there  was  to  be  no 
room  for  humanity.  He  then  came  to  Garrick,  and  though  he 
mixed  his  complaints  with  some  bluster,  was  received  with 
good-nature,  good  sense,  true  sympathy,  and  perhaps  a  little 
pleasant  humour,  and  was  sent  away  comforted,  with  a  useful 
piece  of  advice.*  That  advice  he  followed,  and  with  the  best 
results.  Garrick  told  him  that  he  was  merely  a  sharer  in  the 
venture,  that  Foote  and  Lacy  had  a  voice  in  the  matter,  and 
bade  him,  therefore,  apply  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  the 
Chamberlain.     He  did  so,  and  succeeded. 

*  Apreece  even  talked  of  challenging  Foote,  which  only  provoked  a  laugh 
from  Garrick.  "  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "  he  would  shoot  you  through  the 
guts  before  you  had  time  to  suck  two  oysters  off  your  wrist." 


1758.]  THE  MIMICS.  175 

The  unhappy  gentleman  and  his  lady,  indeed,  could  not 
walk  the  streets  without  being  publicly  addressed  as  "  Here's 
Dicky ! "  or  "  Here's  Becky ! "  On  the  very  day  of  a  benefit* 
when  Wilkinson  and  Foote  were  on  the  Drury  Lane  stage, 
busy  rehearsing  "Mrs.  O'Shocknesy,"  a  new  personality, 
arrived  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  order  peremptorily  forbidding 
the  piece.  It  was  too  late  to  appeal,  and  nothing  could  be 
done.  To  the  small  mimic  it  was  only  the  deprivation  of  a 
short  burst  of  buffoonery ;  but  the  greater  one  was  quite  over- 
come. He  stood  there,  shocked,  pale,  and  dejected  at  being 
thus  restrained  from  exhibiting  his  victim.  Even  Mrs.  Clive, 
who  had  been  jeering  him  on  the  idea  of  his  playing  Shylock, 
almost  sobbed  over  the  blow  that  had  overtaken  "her  dear 
Foote,"  and  poured  out  execrations  on  the  tyrant  Chamberlain. 
But  there  was  no  remedy,  and  another  piece  was  substituted. 

With  Tate  Wilkinson's  aid,  we  have  an  excellent  picture  of 
Drury  Lane  at  a  morning  rehearsal.  We  can  see  the  actors  all 
gathered  in  a  group  in  the  cold  demvjour  of  the  stage,  and 
laughing  heartily  at  the  rough  and  droll  Mr.  Foote,  who  is 
"rattling  "  away,  saying  the  best — that  is,  the  most  personal — 
things  that  come  into  his  head.  He  might  be  even  criticizing 
the  manager,  whose  acting  he  always  affected  to  pooh-pooh. 
"  Yes,  the  hound  had  a  something  clever,  but  no  part  of  his 
could  be  put  beside  old  Cibber's  Sir  John  Brute  or  Lord  Fop- 
pington."  From  Foote  came  half  the  stories  about  Garrick's 
"  stinginess,"  which  he  did  not  scruple  to  tell  before  Garrick 
himself.  At  the  end  of  a  rehearsal  he  suddenly  looks  at  his 
watch — "Bless  me!  how  we  have  been  laughing  away  our 
time,  it  is  past  three  o'clock.  Have  you  and  Mrs.  Garrick 
enough  for  a  third  without  infringing  on  your  servants,  for  I 
know  they  are  on  board  wages.  Besides,  the  kitchen  fire  may 
be  out,  if  this  be  one  of  your  cold  meat  days,  or  one  of  Mrs. 
Garrick's  fast  days."  This  was  considered  rare  wit,  and  made 
the  actors  laugh ;  and  Mr.  Garrick,  always  sensitive  and  even 
timid  before  such  attacks,  could  only  laugh  himself,  a  little 
ruefully.  He  still  would  come  up  with  a  smile  and  a  manager's 
complacency  to  join,  as  Wilkinson  says,  with  an  easy  affected 
affability  and  equality,  which  is  quite  intelligible,  and  would 
enjoy  and  approve  with  the  rest.  Foote's  quick  wit  and 
penetration  soon  told  him  that  Garrick  shrank  from  his 
strokes  as  from  an  east  wind.  He  worked  on  these  fears,  and 
knew  that  Garrick  would  be  miserable  if  he  was  included  in 
the  list  of  Dodds,  Melcombes,  Faulkeners,  Apreeces,  Lang- 
fords,  whom  he  had  taken  off.  "I  know  his  mean  soul  so 
perfectly,"  Foote  would  say  to  his  pupil,  "  that  if  I  tell  him 


176  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

with  a  grave  face  I  have  his  figure  made  and  dressed  up  in  my 
closet,  he  will  do  anything  for  me."  "With  all  this,  Garrick's* 
enemy  owns  that  he  often  lent  large  sums  of  money  to  Foote 
when  he  was  in  sore  straits — services  which  the  latter,  in  his 
rough  off-hand  way,  always  imputed  to  the  "dirty  little 
hound's  "  fears  of  him. 

Foote's  new  plan  was  to  give  an  entertainment,  "  The  Diver- 
sions of  the  Morning,'1  which  had  had  enormous  success  in 
Dublin,  and  the  point  of  which  lay  in  absurd  imitations  of  the 
various  actors  at  the  other  house.  This  part  of  the  show  was 
Wilkinson's,  who  appeared  as  Foote's  pupil;  but  as  Foote  was 
the  leading  spirit  of  the  whole,  I  have  no  doubt  that,  to 
Garrick,  these  imitations  were  glossed  over,  or  kept  in  the 
background.  Wilkinson's  mimicry  of  Woflington's  shrill  voice 
had  made  the  Dublin  audience  scream  with  laughter,  and  it 
was  hoped,  would  have  the  same  effect  here. 

The  now  broken  actress  heard  of  this  scheme  of  Foote  and 
his  pupil.  She  knew  how  successfully  her  tones  had  been 
taken  off  for  the  Irish  galleries.  The  famous  Toast  had  long 
been  "  protected,"  to  use  the  gentle  phrase  of  the  day,  by  a 
"  Colonel  Caesar,  of  the  Guards,"  and  this  officer  now  came  to 
wait  on  Mr.  Garrick,  to  protest  against  any  mimicry,  adding  he 
should  be  obliged  to  hold  Mr.  Garrick  responsible  as  a  gentleman 
and  a  man  of  honour.  It  must  not  be  fancied  that  there  was 
any  chivalry  in  this  championship.  She  had  promised  to 
leave  him  all  her  fortune — a  promise  that  was  not  kept — and 
the  colonel  was  keeping  jealous  watch  lest  she  changed  her 
disposition.  But  there  was  no  need  so  to  appeal  to  Garrick. 
Garrick  at  once  sent  for  Foote,  told  him  plainly  his  honour 
was  engaged,  and  that  there  must  be  no  approach  to  "  taking 
off"  Mrs.  Wofiington,  an  interdict  received  ruefully  enough. 
The  performance  went  off  with  great  success.  Barry,  Sheridan, 
and  the  obscurer  Sparks,  who  belonged  to  the  other  house, 
were  all  "  taken  off,"  instead,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the 
audience.  The  whole  was  new.  Foote's  admirable  versatility 
would  carry  anything  through,  and  it  was  announced  for  the 
next  night 

Next  morning  came  news  that  the  actors  at  the  other 
theatre  were  furious  ;  that  Sparks  had  taken  to  his  bed  from 
vexation  and  mortification.     Foote  burst  out  with  his  rough 

"  wit,"  that  it  must  be  a  d d  lie,  "  for  he  had  met  Mrs. 

Sparks  with  two  pounds  of  mutton  chops  on  a  skewer  for  her 
husband's  dinner, '  a  stroke  that  produced  a  roar.  But  in  a  few 
days  the  unhappy  Sparks  came  himself,  to  beg  humbly  of  the 
manager  that  he  would  take  pity  on  him,  and  not  allow  his 


1758.]  THE  MIMICS.  177 

reputation  to  be  destroyed  by  this  ridicule,  and  that  he  was 
indeed  miserable.  "  Why  now,  hey,  Sparks,"  was  the  reply, 
u  why  now,  hey — this  is  so  strange  now,  hey — a — why  Wilkin- 
son, and  be  d d  to  him,  they  tell  me  he  takes  me,  and  he 

takes  Foote  off,  so  you  see  you  are  in  very  good  company." 

Garrick  went  down  to  his  theatre  at  noon,  walked  up  and 
down  with  great  state,  and  then  sent  for  the  smaller  mimic. 
He  came,  full  of  pride  and  glee,  thinking  of  compliments  and 
rewards ;  but  the  manager  addressed  him  sternly : — "  Now — 
hey — now  why  will  you  take  such  liberties  with  gentlemen  ? 
You  never  consulted  me,  or  told  me  you  were  going  to  take  off 
people,  as  you  call  it..  Hey — why  now — I  never  take  such 
liberties  myself.  Indeed  I  once  did  it,  but  I  gave  up  such  im- 
pudence. You  and  Foote  think  you  are  the  managers  of 
this  theatre.  But  to  convince  you  to  the  contrary — and  be 
d -d  to  you* — I  here  order  you,  before  them  gentlemen,  to 

f've  up  the  practice ;  and  if  you  dare  to  disobey  my  orders, 
will  fine  you  in  the  full  penalty  of  your  article."  The  actors 
standing  around  enjoyed  this  rebuke ;  for  they  disliked  the 
companion  whose  trade  flourished  by  ridiculing  their  order.  He 
stood  there  filled  with  mortification.  Mrs.  Clive  swept  by  him 
and  said,  in  her  most  flippant  waiting-maid  manner — "Fie, 
young  man,  fie !  She  indeed  took  off  actors,  but  it  was  only 
squalling  Italian  devils  like  the  Mingotti,  who  came  over  to 
take  the  bread  out  of  our  mouths."  Mossop  then  stalked  up 
to  him — the  true  tragedian — "erect  with  military  plan" — 
"his  gills  all  swelling;  eyes  disdainful,  and  hand  upon  his 
sword,  and  breathing  hard.  '  Mr.  Wilkinson !  (phew !)  sir-r. 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  sir,  I  say — how  dare  you  (phew !)  make  free  in 
a  public  theatre,  or  even  in  a  private  party,  with  your 
superiors  ?  If  you  were  to  take  such  a  liberty  with  me,  sir,  I 
would  draw  my  sword,  sir,  and  run  you  through  the  body. 
You  should  not  live,  sir/'"\  He  then  swept  away  magni- 
ficently. This  is  indeed  an  amusing  scene.  When  he 
was  gone  Garrick  could  not  restrain  his  laughter,  in  the 
midst  of  which  Foote  entered  quickly,  humming  a  French 
song.  "  Hallo,"  he  called  out,  "  all  got  together,  as  if  the  last 
act  on ! "  He  was  all  in  a  bustle ;  wanted  to  ^x  plays  with 
the  manager,  from  whose  house  he  had  just  come.  But  Gar- 
rick put  on  an  air  of  "  much  serious  consequence,"  and  told 

*  This  was  a  playful  use  of  the  expression,  to  which  Mr.  Garrick  was  very 
partial 

t  Wilkinson  was  a  very  excellent  mimic,  and  had  a  very  good  memory ; 
to  these  portraits  of  Mossop's  and  Garrick's  manner  may  be  taken  as  per- 
fectly faithful    They  are  exceedingly  good  and  graphic. 

N 


178  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1757 — 

him  how  things  stood,  and  that  there  must  be  no  more 
"taking  off"  of  actors.  Foote  said  nothing,  and  accepted  this 
command.  "  If,  indeed,  now,"  said  Mr.  Garrick,  "  if  Wilkin- 
son could  have  taken  me  off — as  Mrs.  Garrick  says — as  to 
that,  now,  I  should  have  liked  it  vastly,  and  so  would  Mrs. 
Garrick — " 

He  had  often  said  jokingly  to  the  mimic,  "  Hey,  now,  what 
would  you  make  of  me  ? "  To  which  the  other  would  obse- 
quiously reply  that  he  never  could  form  any  likeness  whatever, 
for  his  manner  and  tones  were  so  natural,  and  his  voice  "  so 
melodious,  that  any  imitation  was  impossible."  This  sort  of 
flattery  was  the  ordinary  food  served  up  to  the  manager  by  his 
company;  and,  indeed,  he  could  not  think  it  flattery,  for  it  was 
only  what  he  read  in  the  papers  every  day,  and  what  he  heard 
from  every  mouth. 

On  the  same  night,  when  the  audience  found  they  were  to 
be  deprived  of  their  "  imitations,"  a  sort  of  confusion  arose, 
with  loud  cries  and  shouting.  Mr.  Garrick  had  the  "lights 
lowered  "  to  show  that  the  play  was  over,  and  very  indignantly 
accused  Wilkinson  of  having  employed  persons  to  get  up  this 
riot.  It  indeed  looked  suspicious.  Foote  had  to  go  out  and 
pacify  them.  He  explained  the  matter,  and  the  reason  of  the 
omission,  which  was  to  avoid  giving  pain  to  certain  performers 
— an  explanation  that  was  received  with  open  marks  of  con- 
tempt. He  then  added,  with  a  malice  and  love  of  mischief 
quite  in  keeping  with  what  we  know  of  his  character,  that  he 
believed  Mr.  Wilkinson  was  at  full  liberty  to  exercise  his  talents 
on  Mr.  Garrick's  peculiarities — and  certainly  on  his  (Mr. 
Foote's) — if  that  could  give  them  any  entertainment.  This 
was  a  true  specimen  of  his  humour,  and  he  no  doubt  often 
chuckled  over  it,  and  told  it  as  a  "  good  thing."  The  audience 
were  not  slow  to  take  the  hint.  The  cry  was  for  Wilkinson, 
who  was  in  the  green-room.  The  unsuspecting  Garrick  pushed 
him  on.  "  Hey,  why,  now,"  he  said,  "  as  they  insist,  I  do  not 
see  that  I  am  to  run  the  risk  of  a  riot  in  my  theatre  to  please 
Sparks  and  the  rest  of  them.  Why,  if  they  are  not  satisfied 
with  your  taking  off  Mr.  Foote  as  a  dish,  why  it  is  a  pity  you 
could  not  give  me.  But  that,  you  say,  is  not  possible  with 
success ;  so,  why,  now,  make  haste,  and  so  as  you  have  begun 

your  d d  'taking  off/  why,  go  on  with  it,  and  do  not  in  future 

plague  me  with  your  tricks."  The  exotic  was  pushed  on,  began 
his  performance,  gave  Foote,  and  was  for  retiring,  when  the  house 
demanded  more ;  and  then,  quite  overset  by  this  encourage- 
ment, he  proceeded  to  give  Mr.  Garrick  in  three  specimens : 
from  Lear,  where  he  raged ;  from  Biron\  where  he  was  pathetic ; 


1578.]  THE  MIMICS.  179 

and  from  Hamlet,  where  he  was  distraught  This  was  an  un- 
worthy trick,  for  it  was  turning  the  manager  into  ridicule  in 
his  own  theatre,  and  before  his  own  audience.  After  this,  the 
young  fellow  complained  bitterly  that  he  received  no  bonus 
from  either  Garrick  or  Mr.  Foote  for  all  his  labours.* 

As  might  be  expected,  a  quarrel  broke  out  between  the 
smaller  and  the  greater  mimics.  In  Dublin  they  used  to  meet 
in  Trinity  College  gardens,  surrounded  by  friends  and  admirers, 
and  snort  defiance  as  they  passed.  His  pupil,  on  his  return, 
repaired  to  Mr.  Garrick,  and  made  a  demand  for  salary  for  the 
week  or  two  he  had  been  in  London.  Mr.  Garrick  was  rather 
angry  at  the  boldness  of  this  request,  after  all  his  indulgence. 
Wilkinson  then  took  another  tone,  and  "  boldly  told  him  "  he 
would  make  him  accountable  for  the  loss  of  salary  and  benefit, 
which  he  would  charge  at  £200,  to  say  nothing  of  the  breach 
of  article,  and  they  would  see  what  a  Court  of  Justice  would 
say  to  the  matter !  On  this  Garrick  foolishly  gave  way.  In 
truth,  they  all  knew  his  weak  places,  and  how  to  work  upon 
them ;  and  this  Wilkinson,  one  of  those  who  tried  him  most 
sorely,  said,  "There  was  no  one  like  Murphy  for  calm  and 
leisurely  harassing  of  the  manager.  That  gentleman,'1  he 
added,  forcibly,  "  could  tease  his  soul  and  gall  his  gizzard  whenever 
he  pleased,  or  judged  himself  wronged." 

*  Here  was  a  specimen  of  the  class  of  stories  that  circulated  in  the 
green-rooms  about  Mr.  Garrick's  meanness  and  "  stinginess."  A  bottle  of 
wine  was  brought  out  in  the  middle  of  the  day  at  Southampton  Street. 
After  the  second  glass  Mr.  Wilkinson  was  asked  if  he  would  have  more, 
while  at  the  same  moment  the  cork  was  carefully  replaced  in  the  bottle. 
Yet,  when  the  retailer  of  this  story  was  a  short  time  after  setting  out  for 
Dublin  by  the  coach  at  midnight,  he  was  to  experience  the  good-nature  of 
his  patron.  He  found  that  he  had  packed  up  all  his  money  with  his 
clothes,  and  with  this  rather  lame  excuse  posted  off  to  Southampton 
Street.  He  found  Mr.  Garrick  in  his  night-cap,  who  received  him  good- 
naturedly.  The  youth's  modest  request  was  that  the  manager  would  lend 
him  fifteen  guineas,  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  unpacking  his  trunk.  Mr. 
Garrick  said  he  was  heartily  welcome,  and  made  it  twenty.  Wilkinson 
says,  "  I  do  believe  I  was  here  welcome  to  the  sum  in  the  humour  he  then 

was,  even  had  he  never  received  it  again And  I  dare  aver,  with 

sincerity,  he  at  times  did  generous  actions." 


N  2 


180  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 


CHAPTER  IL 

ARTHUR  MURPHY. — 1759. 

The  speech  quoted  at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter  may  fairly 
usher  in  Mr.  Arthur  Murphy,  that  clever,  epicurean,  versatile, 
Irish  "man  of  parts" — and  adventurer,  as  he  might,  in  its- 
more  honourable  sense,  be  styled.  With  no  other  capital  than 
good-humoured  manners,  ready  wit  and  speech,  a  certain  quick- 
ness and  "  handiness  "  in  doing  what  they  undertook,  and  often 
a  brilliancy  that  made  them  welcome  as  "good  company,"  many 
clever  Irishmen  came  to  London  to  seek  their  fortune.  Their 
position  was  doubtful — they  were  alone  in  a  strange  land,  and 
their  success  was  resented  by  those  to  whom  they  were  superior 
in  ability,  but  inferior  in  station.  This  often  produced  a  sen- 
sitiveness, and  a  constant  suspicion  as  of  something  meant  as 
an  offence,  which  in  part  explains  the  singular  behaviour  of 
Arthur  Murphy,  who  was,  perhaps,  the  best  illustration  of  the 
class. 

A  kind  of  "  Bohemian,"  he  was  to  be  a  player,  a  barrister, 
and  a  hack  writer  for  the  booksellers ;  to  live  freely,  and  not 
very  decorously;  to  jumble  together  circuit  and  the  green- 
room, the  bar  and  the  stage ;  to  write  "  opinions "  and  suc- 
cessful plays.  Almost  within  a  few  weeks  he  had  appeared  on 
the  stage  at  Drury  Lane,  and  on  the  no  less  dramatic  boards- 
of  Westminster  Hall.  Yet  with  this  curious  unsteadiness  he 
ended  respectably,  and  was  offered  legal  office  three  times. 
His  sudden  fits  of  anger,  and  repentance  as  sudden ;  his  "  end- 
ing their  friendship,"  and  renewing  it  again ;  his  sulks,  petu- 
lance, and  self-humiliation,  make  up  a  strange  spectacle.  He 
harassed  Garrick  almost  to  the  day  of  his  death,  yet  had 
praised  him  lavishly  in  his  "  Gray's  Inn  Journal."  For  every 
service  rendered  to  Garrick  during  his  lifetime  a  very  hand- 
some reward  seemed  to  be  expected ;  and,  it  must  be  said,  no 
man  ever  lay  a  shorter  time  under  an  obligation.  When  the- 
journal  stopped,  and  the  Irish  youth  was  in  debt,  he  set  him- 
self to  write  a  farce,  which  Mr.  Garrick  at  once  agreed  to  per- 
form. Prior  engagements,  however,  made  him  fix  the  begin- 
ning of  the  new  season  for  bringing  it  out.  The  cause  of 
offence  is  almost  amusing,  on  account  of  the  far-fetched  sensi- 
tiveness it  betrays.  It  hurt  his  vanity,  Murphy  said,  that  any 
one  should  know  he  had  given  the  manager  a  piece  which  he 
did  not  think  proper  to  produce. 


1759.]  ARTHUR  MURPHY.  181 

As  an  actor  he  showed  his  sensitiveness  quite  as  much  as 
when  an  author.  He  was  treated,  he  thought,  with  "  indig- 
nity. "  But  it  was  when  he  set  himself  to  write  a  tragedy — or 
rather,  to  adapt  a  play  of  Voltaire's  from  the  French — that 
his  extraordinary  disposition  showed  itself.  It  is  curious  to 
think  that  this  poor  performance  should  have  let  loose  a  tide 
of  the  stormiest  and  meanest  passions  of  fury,  envy,  suspicion, 
hatred,  scurrility. 

In  his  "  Life,"  Murphy  affects  to  give  a  calm,  cool  account 
of  the  quarrel  attending  this  "Orphan  of  China;"  but,  it 
must  be  said,  not  an  ingenuous  one.  In  1756,  and  not  two 
years  later,  when  Murphy  makes  the  transaction  begin,  Murphy 
had  three  acts  of  his  play  ready.  A  meeting  was  appointed 
at  Berenger's,  Garrick's  friend,  and  it  was  there  read.  Murphy 
thought  Mr.  Garrick  wished  "  to  crush  his  labours  in  the  bud." 
He  burst  into  a  fury,  and  poured  out  all  that  he  had  on  his 
mind,  with  great  heat  and  violence.  A  friend  showed  him 
there  was  no  ground  for  such  absurd  suspicions,  and  got  him 
to  write  an  apologetic  letter,  owning  the  mistake,  acknowledg- 
ing he  was  "  quick  to  err,"  proud  of  Mr.  Garrick's  acquaint- 
ance, and  hoping  that  he  would  act  the  "  Orphan  "  at  his  own 
time  and  pleasure.  In  the  interval,  the  angry  author  had  de- 
manded back  his  play,  and  offered  it  to  the  other  theatre, 
where  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  welcomed  heartily. 
Garrick,  in  his  answer,  said  that  this  step  was  an  utter  bar  to 
his  receiving  back  a  play  that  had  been  thus  withdrawn  from 
him. 

Stung  to  fury  by  this  rejection,  Murphy  sat  down,  and,  only 
a  few  hours  after  the  first  penitent  letter  had  arrived,  Garrick 
was  amazed  at  receiving  another  couched  in  such  offensive  and 
outrageous  terms  that  the  writer  wrote  to  withdraw  it,  and 
long  after  made  it  a  condition  of  reconciliation  that  it  should 
be  given  up.  In  this  he  threatened  revenge  and  attacks  in 
the  papers.  Garrick,  wounded,  wrote  back  that  the  friendship 
so  warmly  desired,  and  which  he  so  freely  gave,  he  now  as 
willingly  took  back,  with  an  assurance  that  it  should  never  in- 
commode him  again. 

Time  passed  away.  Once,  when  Garrick  was  dining  at 
Holland  House,  Walpole  and  Fox  repeated  lines  out  of  the 
play,  to  Garrick's  utter  surprise.  Heat  last  said — "I  perceive 
you  have  been  reading  what  I  have  been  reading  ?  "  "  Yes," 
said  the  other,  "  and  we  have  been  admiring  what  we  are  sure 
you  admire."  An  opinion  from  such  a  quarter  was  enough  to 
throw  Garrick  into  one  of  his  weak  fits  of  indecision.  Per- 
haps he  had  made  a  mistake.     A  few  days  later  he  wrote  to 


182       %  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

beg  that  the  play  might  be  sent  to  him  for  re-consideration, 
saying  that  "  in  his  hurry  he  might  have  passed  an  erroneous 
judgment."  The  result  was  that  in  a  week's  time  he  sent  it 
back,  with  a  very  polite  note,  to  the  effect  that  he  was  pre- 
pared to  act  it  early  in  the  following  year. 

Murphy's  family  was  in  great  straits.  His  brother  was 
going  out  to  Jamaica.  His  mother  was  a  charge  on  him ;  thus, 
so  far  as  his  struggles  went,  he  was  entitled  to  some  sympathy. 
On  this  renewal  of  intercourse  he  had  a  farce  by  him,  "  The 
Upholsterer,"  which  he  began  to  press  upon  Garrick,  but  who 
was  afraid  to  touch  it  from  its  political  tone.  He  soon,  how- 
ever, found  out  the  meaning  of  this  eagerness — the  outfit  of 
the  brother,  &c. ;  and  this  "  stingy "  man,  who,  for  his  thrift 
and  nearness  was  the  butt  of  a  hundred  jesters,  from  Foote 
downwards,  sent  a  private  offer,  and  "such  an  offer"  as 
covered  Murphy  "  with  confusion."  Garrick  sent  him  a  sup- 
ply of  money;  more,  too,  should  be  forthcoming  when  wanted. 
"AH  I  desire  in  return  is  that  you  will  not  make  any 
speeches  on  the  occasion.  Your  letter  has  said  too  much,  and  all 
I  shall  say  is  that  I  am  happy  it  is  in  my  power  to  convince 
you  how  much  I  am  yours. — D.  G."  These  were  coals  of  fire. 
Garrick's  kindness  brought  out  the  raptures,  which  pecuniary 
gratitude,  the  most  obstreperous  of  all  effusions  of  the  heart, 
could  prompt.  "  You  are  determined  to  overwhelm  me  with 
civility  and  friendship.  .  .  .  Mr.  Garrick's  head  and  heart 
would  be  of  use  to  any  man  in  England,  and  to  me  the  offer  is 
an  honour." 

He  should  have  recollected  these  transports  only  a  few 
weeks  later,  when,  in  exultation  at  the  success  of  his  farce,  he 
began  again  to  press  his  "  Orphan  "  on  the  manager.  In  no- 
thing is  a  manager  so  helpless  as  in  the  matter  of  date  and 
time  for  his  production  of  plays.  He  now  affected  to  believe 
that  there  had  been  an  engagement  to  bring  out  his  play 
at  once,  and  on  discovering  that  this  could  not  be  done,  all  his 
professed  gratitude  disappeared.  He  burst  into  an  aggrieved 
letter.  He  was  sorry  Mr.  Garrick  did  not  think  proper  to 
explain  himself.  He  looked  on  the  question  as  "  highly  un- 
lucky, nice,  delicate,  and  only  likely  if  agitated  any  more  to  fur- 
nish matter  to  the  talking  world ; "  (one  of  Murphy's  favourite 
threats  to  his  patron  was  to  publish  all  their  letters,  and  see 
what  the  "  talking  world "  would  say  then).  He  wished  to 
put  an  end  to  "wrangling,"  and  "to  pursue  his  studies  in 
peace;"  and  with  this  view  proposed  that  the  piece  should 
stand  third  after  two  other  new  ones,  and  be  produced  next 
season  or  the  season  after,  in  its  turn.     In  October,  1758, 


1759.]  ARTHUR  MURPHY.  183 

Garrick  sent  for  it  once  more,  understanding  that  it  Was  at 
last  completed.  Even  then,  though  writing  with  obsequious- 
ness, Murphy  adds  a  postscript  almost  offensive  —  "that 
whatever  was  to  be  said,  he  hoped  it  would  not  reach  him 
through  the  channel  of  a  little,  mean,  paltry  Irish  tale-bearer" 

The  result  was  that,  after  a  fortnight's  consideration,  the 
manager  returned  it — not  with  "  a  peremptory  declaration  " 
that  it  was  inadmissible,  as  Murphy  says,  but  with  an  offer  to 
see  him  and  explain  what  he  found  fault  with,  or  take  the 
trouble  of  writing  it  down.  Murphy  wrote  back  to  demand 
reasons  in  writing,  saying,  sneeringly,  that  a  personal  inter- 
view only  led  to  "  conversation  wit,"  and  it  would  be  highly 
desirable  to  know  Mr.  Garrick's  opinion,  as  Murphy's  own' 
opinion  was  backed  by  persons  whose  understandings  are  not 
thought  inconsiderable.  The  reasons  were  sent;  and  then 
he  took  a  new  tone,  and  told  Garrick  plainly,  that  being  in 
possession  of  his  promise,  "  he  would  not  be  trampled  on  by 
any  man  whatever."  He  obtained  a  meeting  at  Vaillant's, 
which  his  suspicious  soul  imagined  was  the  result  of  success- 
ful intimidation.  A  very  angry  discussion  ensued;  but,  as 
usual,  Garrick  gave  way,  and  himself  proposed  to  refer  the 
matter  to  Murphy's  own  friend,  Whitehead.  He  concluded — 
"  As  I  have  really  no  time,  health,  or  inclination  to  continue 
these  illiberal  wranglings,  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  am 
silent  henceforth."  He  might  well  allude  to  "  an  unkind 
return  for  the  best  wishes  and  the  best  offices  in  my  power." 
Murphy  again  retorts,  threatens  "publication;"  argues  about 
the  criticisms  on  his  play,  adding  a  sneer  about  "  you  who 
rang  a  bell  among  the  Turks"  (alluding  to  the  blunder  in  "  Bar- 
barossa"),  and  concludes  with — "Whenever  you  are  called 
upon,  I  am  sorry  Mr.  Murphy  cannot  appear  in  your  defence; 
truth  and  his  own  feelings  for  very  indelicate  treatment,  have, 
I  am  afraid,  retained  him  on  the  other  side." 

Whitehead's  decision  soon  arrived  from  Bath.  He  had 
professed  merely  to  say  whether  he  himself  approved  of  it ; 
now  he  went  further,  and  declared  he  thought  the  public 
would  also  approve.  But  he  proposed  many  alterations. 
Garrick  at  once  loyally  gave  way,  and  took  up  the  piece  with 
ardour.  But  he  wished  the  play  to  be  put  off  for  a  month, 
saying  if  it  were  not,  he  could  not  do  the  leading  character. 
This  was  a  fresh  grievance.  "  You  had  an  opportunity,  by 
acting  genteelly  on  this  occasion,  of  making  me  blush  for  some 
things  that  have  happened;  but  revenge  perhaps  is  more  agree- 
able. The  part  was  then  given  to  Mossop.  Garrick  then 
offered,  with  unruffled  temper,  if  there  was  a  delay  of,  ea,^  *> 


184  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 

fortnight,  to  undertake  the  part  still;  and  this  arrangement 
was  grudgingly  accepted. 

On  the  25th  of  February,  1759,  the  long  battled-for  "Orphan 
of  China"  was  brought  out  with  all  splendour.  Boquet's 
scenery  for  the  unlucky  "  Chinese  Festival "  could  now  be 
utilized  without  offence ;  and  to  add  to  these  attractions,  Gar- 
rick  surpassed  himself.  Mrs.  Yates  was  magnificent.  From 
that  night  her  reputation  was  made.  Fitzherbert  had  made 
up  a  special  dinner  party  for  the  author,  on  the  day  of  perform- 
ance, at  the  Eose  Tavern,  close  to  the  theatre.  It  included 
Hogarth,  Foote,  Delaval,  and  some  more.  The  author's  heart 
was  in  his  mouth  ;  and  during  dinner  a  letter  was  brought  in 
from  Mrs.  Cibber,  lamenting  that  she  was  not  to  play,  but  say- 
ing she  would  put  up  her  prayers  for  his  success.  "Catholics," 
said  the  lively  Foote,  whom  neither  friend  nor  occasion  could 
restrain,  " always  pray  for  the  dead"  But  when  success  was 
assured,  and  the  house  ringing  with  applause,  the  same  great 
jester  came  running  to  congratulate. 

Looking  back  on  the  whole  of  this  odd  controversy,  we  must 
own  that  Garrick  was  right — right  in  the  logic  as  well  as  in 
the  calmness  and  moderation  of  his  conduct.  It  furnishes  an 
illustration  of  his  curious  character.  He  showed  an  indecision 
and  want  of  firmness — more  developed,  when  he  discovered 
that  the  other  was  magnifying  the  matter  into  a  serious  busi- 
ness. From  his  good-natured  deference  to  every  one's  advice, 
and  his  morbid  uneasiness  at  what  he  heard,  he  often  in  small 
matters  found  his  judgment  change  with  the  hour.  This  was 
one  of  his  infirmities.  But  it  must  be  recollected  that  many  a 
noble  nature  would  have  considered  the  game  scarcely  worth 
the  candle,  and  would  have  preferred  the  luxury  of  punishing 
so  annoying  an  adversary  to  any  profit  This  was  but  one 
little  episode,  though  Murphy  had  the  effrontery  to  write  in 
his  "  Life  "  that  it  was  their  first  and  last  quarrel.  For  years 
after,  almost  to  the  end  of  his  days,  Garrick  had  to  endure  a 
whole  purgatory  of  insults,  resentments,  and  angry  bursts — 
always  met  by  the  same  gentle  treatment,  by  remonstrance, 
explanation,  good-nature,  and  concession.  And  yet  this  man, 
the  object  of  this  kindness,  could  say,  after  his  patron's  death, 
"Off  the  stage,  sir,  he  was  a  wretched,  sneaking  fellow."* 

*  Mr.  Rogers  used  to  relate  the  dialogue  with  great  humour.  "  Mr. 
Murphy,  sir.  you  knew  Mr.  Garrick  ? "  "  Yes,  sir,  I  did  ;  and  no  man 
better."  "  Well,  sir,  what  didyou  think  of  his  acting  ?  "  After  a  pause — 
"  Well,  sir,  off  the  stage,  he  was  a  mean,  sneaking  little  fellow.  But  on 
the  stage " — throwing  up  his  eyes  and  hands — "  Oh,  my  great  God  !  " 
This  was  the  invariable  formula ;  nothing  leas  general  could  be  obtained 
from  him. 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  185 


CHAPTER  IE. 

THE  PLAYWRIGHTS. — 1759. 

But  Murphy  represented  only  one  of  a  whole  class.  There 
was  a  race  of  needy  but  clever  adventurers  who  looked  towards 
Garrick  as  their  prey,  and  followed  the  same  tactics  to  obtain 
his  aid  and  patronage.  London  swarmed  with  lively  but  un- 
scrupulous men,  who  were  living,  as  the  phrase  went^  upon 
their  wits.  Among  this  class  the  weak  points  of  the  manager 
were  notorious.  The  favourite  tactics  were  first  cajolery  and 
flattery,  and  when  these  failed,  hectoring  and  terrorism.  The 
accepting  a  play  was  but  feeding  the  appetite.  It  was  ground 
for  a  fresh  claim.  The  rejecting  a  play  was  the  unpardonable 
sin.  Did  a  man  write  a  poem,  or  a  history,  or  compile  a  voy- 
age, and  take  it  to  a  bookseller,  that  potentate's  decision,  given 
bluntly,  was  accepted  without  a  word.  But  with  a  manager  it 
was  a  different  thing,  and  with  a  Garrick  more  different  than 
with  any  one  else.  He  was,  besides,  himself  sensitive,  timo- 
rous, and,  above  all,  shrank  from  giving  pain,  and  we  may  be- 
lieve had  a  rather  foolish  complacency  in  his  own  gifts  of 
diplomacy,  and  his  power  of  writing  "  a  good  letter." 

If  ever  there  was  one  of  his  clients  who  should  have  been 
bound  to  him,  it  was  Mr.  Balph.  This  man,  whom  Pope  had 
found  a  corner  for  in  the  "  Dunciad,"  giving  him  two  wonder- 
ful lines — 

"  Silence  !  ye  wolves,  while  Ralph  to  Cynthia  howls, 
Making  night  hideous— answer  him,  ye  owls  ! " 

had  a  favourite  play  called  the  "  Astrologer,"  which  he  had 
offered  to  many  managers,  and  at  last  induced  Garrick  to  bring 
out,  at  Drury  Lane,  in  1744.  It  was  a  complete  failure — such 
a  failure  that  the  audience  had  to  be  dismissed.  Garrick, 
who  had  a  sort  of  regard  for  him,  later  actually  went  to  Mr.  . 
Pelham,  and  obtained  a  pension  for  him  of  £200  a  year.*  This  \ 
was  enough,  and  it  was  observed  that  he  at  once  seemed  to 
take  a  dislike  to  his  friend.  Davies  believes  it  was  from 
another  play  being  declined.  Later  this  grudge  was  worked 
up  into  open  hostility,  and  a  bitter  and  well-known  pamphlet, 
which  shall  be  noticed  later,  full  of  attacks  on  Garrick  and  his 

*  Garrick  himself  told  how  the  Minister  received  his  request.  He  had 
made  it  a  rule,  he  said,  never  to  purchase  or  reward  political  writing  ; 
"  but  as  Mr.  Ralph  is  your  friend,  I  shall  do  it  with  pleasure." 


186  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

management,  was  the  very  triumph  of  ingratitude.  On  this 
even  (Wrick's  forbearance  gave  way,  and  he  renounced  his 
acquaintance.  The  hope  of  keeping  every  one  "in  good 
humour  "  is  the  most  futile  and  delusive  of  human  weaknesses ; 
and  from  any  one  in  office  a  decisive  answer  causes  far  less 
hostility  than  a  refusal  given  after  excuses  and  postponements 
— meant  to  be  soft  cushions  to  break  the  falL 

One  of  the  most  curious  features  in  these  little  histories  is 
that  men,  otherwise  respectable,  who  enjoy  with  posterity  a 
reputation  for  decency  and  honour,  should  in  this  relation  with 
him  become  changed,  and  descend  to  the  meanest  display  of 
spite  or  intimidation.  Garrick  had  read  in  "  Roderick  Ran- 
dom "  a  bitter  and  rancorous  sketch  of  himself  and  his  friend 
Lyttleton.  He  had  seen  his  own  portrait  under  the  name  of 
Marmozet — an  awkward  association,  and  welcome  to  those  who 
were  fond  of  talking  of  "  Little  Davy,"  and  the  "  little  hound." 
Yet>  as  he  read  this  offensive  picture,  he  must  have  only  dimly 
recalled  a  raw  Scotch  youth  who  had  plagued  him  years  before 
with  a  Scotch  tragedy  called  "  The  Regicide,"  and  who  had 
pursued  him  from  town  to  country,  had  struggled  to  reach  him 
through  patronising  lords — in  short,  by  the  circuitous  agency 
by  which  literary  labour  had  then  to  be  advanced.  The  author 
"  had  been  in  company  with  a  gentlewoman  who,  having  heard 
of  my  tragedy,  told  me  she  was  acquainted  with  the  wife  of  a 
gentleman,  who  was  very  well  known  to  a  lady,  who  had  great 
interest  with  a  person  who  was  intimate  with  Earl  Sheerwit" 
Thus  he  would  seem  at  last  to  have  wrung  a  sort  of  conditional 
approbation  and  half -promise  from  Garrick.  If  we  may  accept 
the  whole  of  Mr.  Marmoset's  behaviour  as  a  literal  portrait, 
which  represents  that  actor  as  praising  the  piece  to  the  author's 
face,  suggesting  alterations,  promising  to  consider  it  next  sea- 
son, and  finally  pronouncing  it  unfit  for  the  stage — for  such 
was  very  much  Garrick's  way — it  really  amounts  to  no  more 
than  the  good-natured  excuses  with  which  a  considerate  and 
over-delicate  man  deals  with  a  troublesome  and  persevering 
claimant.  Garrick  was  not  a  manager  at  the  time,  merely  an 
actor :  the  piece  itself  was  wretched,  as  the  author  was  to  dis- 
cover when  he  appealed  to  the  public.  Yet  the  conventional 
promise,  excuses,  &c,  which  every  new  play-writer  must  ex- 
pect, scarcely  deserved  such  personality  as  the  following  : — 

"It  is  not  for  the  qualities  of  his  heart  that  this  little 
parasite  is  invited  to  the  tables  of  dukes  and  lords,  who  hire 
extraordinary  cooks  for  his  entertainment:  his  avarice  they 
see  not,  his  ingratitude  they  feel  not,  his  hypocrisy  accommo- 
dates itself  to  their  humours,  and  is  of  consequence  pleasing: 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  187 

but  he  is  chiefly  courted  for  his  buffoonery,  and  will  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  choicest  parties  for  his  talent  of  mimicking 
Punch  and  his  wife  Joan."*  Not  content  with  this  attack,  he 
had  followed  it  up  with  another,  in  which  he  made  Peregrine 
Pickle  criticize  the  great  actor  and  Quin,  in  the  most  contemp- 
tuous terms. 

Some  years  passed  by,  and  on  the  execution  of  Byng,  a 
nautical  ardour  had  seized  on  the  British  public.  Smollett,  to 
suit  the  present  humour,  wrote  a  piece  in  the  "  Rule  Britan- 
nia" vein,  where  the  changes  were  rung  to  the  tune  of 
"  British  Tars  "  and  "  British  Oak,"  and  had  the  effrontery  to 
submit  it  to  Garnet  But  faithful  to  his  prudent  principle, 
which  made  resentment  subordinate  to  interest — for  Smollett 
was  at  this  time  connected  with  "  The  Critical  Review,"  an 
organ  of  much  personality — or,  perhaps,  making  due  allowance 
for  the  heat  of  youth,  he  received  the  piece,  which  was  indif- 
ferent enough,  and  behaved  with  extraordinary  generosity  and 
conciliation  to  its  author.  He  even  suspended  the  regular 
rules  of  the  theatre  in  his  favour,  gave  him  the  fourth  night 
for  his  benefit  instead  of  the  ninth — a  most  important  change 
as  regards  the  "run"  of  a  piece;  played  Lusignan  for  his 
benefit;  and  wrote  him  a  warm  letter  about  a  mistake  which 
had  been  made  in  the  charges  of  the  theatre.  This,  he  said, 
"  had  given  him  much  uneasiness ; "  but  though  it  was  very 
reasonable  to  charge  the  full  expense,  he  could  not  agree  that 
Dr.  Smollett  should  make  the  first  precedent.  He  therefore 
returned  him  the  difference.! 

Gossips  indeed  reported  that  Smollett  had  gone  about 
speaking  disrespectfully  of  the  manager,  who  had  himself  come 
obsequiously  soliciting  this  piece.  The  author  wrote  in  fear, 
lest  such  stories  should  have  been  carried  to  Garrick.  He  re- 
pudiated them  warmly,  and  added  this  remarkable  acknowledg- 
ment : — "  Perhaps  the  same  insidious  efforts  had  been  made  to 
influence  former  animosities,  which  on  my  part  are  forgotten 
and  self-condemned." J  Not  long  after,  when  "  The  History  of 
England"  appeared,  Garrick  found  there  an  amende,  in  the 
shape  of  a  handsome  and  critical  compliment.  Reviewing  the 
social  progress  of  England,  Smollett  wrote : — "  The  exhibitions 
of  the  stage  were  improved  to  the  most  exquisite  entertain- 

*  M  Roderick  Random,"  chap.  63. 

t  The  night's  expenses  of  the  theatre,  "  before  drawing  up  the  curtain," 
were  about  ninety  pounds.  It  used  to  be  forty-five.  On  a  benefit  night 
the  charge  to  the  author  of  an  original  piece  was  sixty  guineas ;  to  an 
adaptor  eighty  guineas. 

X  life  of  Smollett,  prefixed  to  his  works. 


188  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

ment  by  the  talents  and  management  of  Garrick,  who  greatly 
surpassed  all  his  predecessors  of  this,  and  perhaps  every  other 
nation,  in  his  genius  for  acting,  in  the  sweetness  and  variety 
of  his  tones,  the  irresistible  magic  of  his  eye,  the  fire  and 
vivacity  of  his  action,  the  elegance  of  attitude,  and  the  whole 
pathos  of  expression." 

The  success  of  "Douglas,"  the  Scotch  play,  which  had 
a  "  run  "  at  Covent  Garden,  seemed  to  have  been  welcomed  by 
a  party — not  for  the  author's  sake — but  because  it  was  believed 
that  Mr.  Garrick,  who  had  declined  it,  was  infinitely  mortified. 
Here,  as  in  the  case  of  Dodsley's  "Cleono,"  and  Murphy's 
"  Orphan  of  China,"  which  was  almost  forced  upon  him,  they 
saw  proof  of  his  incompetent  judgment;  or,  as  it  was  in- 
sinuated, of  the  mean  motives  which  made  him  actually  post- 
pone his  interest  to  the  indulgence  of  petty  spite.  It  will 
hardly  be  credited  that  this  was  gravely  sent  abroad;  the 
authors  themselves  and  their  friends  believing  that  the  worst 
motive  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  indifference  to  their  talents ; 
and  chuckling  over  the  public  reversal  "of  Mr.  Garrick's 
judgment."  It  was  the  common  accusation  made  by  Ralph  in 
the  pamphlet,  "  The  Case  of  Authors  by  Profession,"  that  he 
would  not  produce  new  plays.  When  we  consider  the  quality 
of  the  drama  written  by  the  man  who  put  forward  this  charge 
— and  which  is  ludicrous  from  its  turgid  bombast — the  accusa- 
tion loses  all  its  force.  The  list  of  new  plays  brought  forward 
by  Garrick  during  his  thirty  years  of  management,  is  sur- 
prisingly long.  There  was  almost  foundation  for  its  being 
said  that  he  produced  too  many  pieces.  With  far  more 
respect  must  be  received  Goldsmith's  complaints  to  the  same 
effect ;  and  when  we  think  of  the  brilliant  line  of  comedies  we 
would  have  had  to  relish  now — instead  of  merely  two ;  that 
had  Garrick  but  have  encouraged  him,  and  accepted  piece* 
like  the  " Good-Natured  Man,"  instead  of  the  bales  of  "Vir- 
ginias," "  Boadiceas,"  and  such  stuff,  he  would  have  laid  play- 
goers under  eternal  obligations.* 

The  play  of  "Douglas,"  written  at  Edinburgh,  with  an 
ostentatious  parade,  read  and  criticized  by  the  local  juntos,  was 
taken  up  to  London  with  great  solemnity  by  a  party  of 
virtuosi,  with  a  view  of  restoring  the  British  drama,  and  sub- 
mitted to  Mr.  Garrick.  He  discovered  what  seemed  to  him 
serious  objections,  both  in  the  simplicity  of  the  plot  and  its 
treatment,  which  were  sufficient  reasons  for  not  accepting  it 

Such  is  the  reason  given  by  Davies;  and  Carlyle,  Home's  most 

*  Forster's  Goldsmith. 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  189 

intimate  friend,  who  had  transcribed  the  play,  and  knew  its 
history,  says  that  Garrick  had  rejected  it  as  "  totally  unfit  for 
the  stage. M  He  speaks  also  of  his  "  want  of  truth  and  judg- 
ment.'*  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  "  Douglas  "  we 
read  now  was  not  the  "Douglas"  offered  to  Garrick.  That 
was  full  of  long  and  solemn  prayers,  delivered  on  the  stage, 
and  of  strange  oaths  and  extravagances.  It  was  largely 
altered  after  Garrick  had  rejected  it ;  yet  more  largely  altered 
the  day  after  representation,  and  again  more  altered,  after 
about  a  week's  performance.  Garrick,  therefore,  in  all  proba- 
bility, read  a  crude,  long-winded,  declamatory  production.  Dr. 
Johnson  also  endorsed  Garrick's  verdict,  and  noisily  insisted 
there  were  not  ten  good  lines  in  the  whole,  and  these  ten  he 
would  allow  to  be  picked  out  separately.*  When  a  weak 
speech  was  quoted  to  him  about  sincerity  and  its  inflexibility, 
this  wonderful  man,  prepared  at  all  points,  demolished  it  by  a 
noble  passage  from  Juvenal  on  the  same  subject :  "  and  after 
this,"  he  roared,  "  comes  Johnny  Home,  with  his  earth  gaping 
and  destruction  crying ! " 

The  play  was  taken  back  to  its  native  town,  brought  out  at 
Edinburgh  with  rapture,  and  pronounced  to  be  the  finest 
thing  since  Shakspeare.  It  later  found  its  way  to  London,  was 
produced  at  Covent  Garden,  and  had  much  success.  Murphy 
says  it  was  as  "though  the  manager  had  brought  down  a 
judgment  on  himself,"  that  he  was  constrained  to  accept  very 
inferior  plays  from  the  same  author.  But  even  now  it 
remains  more  a  poem  than  a  play.f  And  there  was  this  final 
reason — which  was  at  the  time  noised  about  to  his  discredit — 
that  the  leading  male  part  would  have  been  quite  overpowered 
by  Mrs.  Pritchard  or  Mrs.  Cibber  in  the  female  character. 
But  the  real  difficulty  was,  who  was  to  play  Norval,  for  which 
he  was  a  little  old,  and  he  had  no  one  else  of  sufficient  power 
to  put  in  the  part. 

Home  had  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  manager's  later  be- 
haviour, t    When  the  new  tragedy,  "  Agis,"  was  ready,  he  at 

*  Mr.  Forster  has  shown  that  Goldsmith,  had  he  been  present,  could 
have  quoted  five  lines  at  least,  which  are  certainly  "good  "  ones. 

+  Davies  says  that  great  interest  was  made  for  "  Douglas  "  at  Leicester 
House  "  by  some  great  persons."  The  writer  of  the  article  in  the  Quarterly 
Review,  before  alluded  to,  supplies  an  unpublished  letter  of  Garrick' i  to 
Lord  Bute,  which  proves  triumphantly  that  Garrick  had  resisted  the  pres- 
sure of  so  great  a  personage  as  Lord  Bute.  To  this  nobleman's  instances 
he  replied  in  a  very  firm  letter,  going  through  the  play,  and  stating  his 
objection  in  a  very  decided  fashion.  Nothing  can  be  more  independent  or 
manly  than  the  tone  of  this  letter. 

X  Carlyle  makes  the  curious  statement  that  Garrick  had  even  promised 


190  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

once  adopted  it  The  play  was  successful,  being  carried 
through  by  a  clique  and  a  party;  but  it  was  a  miserable  pro- 
duction. Who  shall  blame  Garrick  for  endorsing  such  stuff, 
when  Walpole  and  other  soi-disant  critics  were  in  raptures  over 
it  ?  Garrick,  no  doubt,  saw  its  defects  as  well  as  he  had  done 
those  of  "  Douglas;"  but  was  too  shrewd  and  prudent  a  direc- 
tor to  risk  giving  offence  to  the  powerful  clique  who  were 
then  ruling  the  kingdom. 

There  was  a  clever  dilettante  bookseller,  Dudsley,  who  had 
been  a  footman,  and  had  written  verses,  "The  Toy  Shop" 
and  other  trifles,  and  who  had  come  to  him  with  a  play — 
"  Cleone,"  the  immortality  to  which  even  the  meanest  scribbler 
then  looked  forward.  It  had  been  read  over,  and  corrected 
by  Dr.  Johnson — whose  most  obsequious  admirer  its  author 
was — and  had  been  submitted  to  Garrick,  who  fell  into  one  of 
the  fits  of  indecision  so  common  with  him.  He  at  first  ap- 
proved and  accepted,  then  declined — then  sent  for  it  again, 
and  once  more  declined.  It  was  again  said  that  the  part 
allotted  to  him  was  not  sufficiently  important,  and  was  over- 
shadowed by  the  heroine's.  The  manager,  though  friendly  to 
the  bookseller,  declared  it  "  a  cruel,  bloody,  and  unnatural 
play;"  and  after  the  cries  of  "murder  "  from  the  pit,  when  he 
brought  on  Johnson's  " bloody"  catastrophe  to  "Irene,"  it  was 
no  wonder  he  took  fright.  Johnson  himself,  when  the  piece 
was  read  to  him,  said  humorously,  "  Come,  let  us  go  into  the 
slaughter-house  again.  But  I  am  afraid  there  is  more  blood 
than  brains."*  It  is  a  most  "  bloody  "  play,  and  would  have 
been  now  considered  highly  "  dangerous  "  by  a  manager.  The 
disappointed  bookseller  then  took  it  to  the  other  theatre. 
Eich  accepted  it  The  author  could  secure  a  long  train  of 
patrons,  noble  and  simple.  Lord  Lyttleton  and  Dr.  John- 
son attended  the  rehearsals ;  and  it  had  great  success.  But 
the  bookseller  and  his  friends  insisted  that  Garrick  had  pur- 

to  be  the  reverend  dramatist's  second  in  a  quarrel.  "  Agis,"  the  play  of 
Home's,  he  accepted,  which  had  been  declined  by  Garrick  many  years  before 
— the  author,  in  his  disgust,  going  to  Westminster  Abbey  to  write  on 
Shakspeare's  menument,  "  I  hoped,  like  thee,  to  shake  the  British  stage ! " 
Garrick  was  really  attached  to  Home.  "My  dear  friend,"  he  wrote  to 
him  on  his  success,  "  joy,  joy,  joy,  to  you  ;  my  anxiety  yesterday  gave  me 
a  touch  of  the  gravel,  but  our  success  has  cured  it  I  am  very  happy, 
because  I  think  you  are.  Mrs.  Garrick  has  cried  over  it" — Mackcnzu't 
Life  of  Home. 

*  He  later  added  a  compliment  too  absurd  to  be  serious  :  "  Sir,  if  Otway 
had  written  this,  no  other  of  his  pieces  would  have  been  remembered." 
Which  can  only  be  received  with  gravity,  on  the  interpretation  given  to 
another  famous  compliment — of  the  piece  being  still  read  when  Homer  and 
Virgil  were  forgotten. 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  191 

posely  fixed  on  the  night  of  the  new  piece  for  a  revival  of  one  of 
his  own  great  characters — Marplot,  in  the  "  Busybody."  On 
the  following  morning  Garrick  wrote  a  warm  letter  of  congratu- 
lation. He  was  much  concerned  to  hear  such  a  thing  re- 
peated; for  he  was  certain  no  injury  had  been  done  to  the 
new  play.  Still,  if  Dodsley  would  say  what  he  wished  to  be 
done  to  make  up  for  any  injury,  Mr.  Garrick  would  comply 
at  once,  provided  it  did  not  absolutely  sacrifice  his  own  interests. 
This  meant  that  he  would  stop  the  run  of  the  new  piece.  It 
brought  out  a  fiery  answer.  After  what  had  passed  he  would 
ask  no  favour.  Garrick  had  done  all  he  could  to  destroy  his 
play.  He  renounced  his  friendship,  &c.  Garrick  wrote  him  a 
reply,  half  good-humoured,  half  contemptuous,  which  ran  thus : — 

"  Master  Robert  Dodsley — When  I  first  read  your  pee- 
vish answer  to  my  well-meant  proposal  to  you,  I  was  much 
disturbed  at  it ;  but  when  I  considered  that  some  minds  cannot 
bear  the  smallest  portion  of  success,  I  most  sincerely  pitied 
you;  and  when  I  found  in  the  same  letter,  that  you  were 
graciously  pleased  to  dismiss  me  from  your  acquaintance,  I 
could  not  but  confess  so  apparent  an  obligation,  and  am,  with 
due  acknowledgment,  Master  Robert  Dodsley,"  &c. 

But  every  one  was  not  on  the  side  of  the  bookseller. 
Warburton  wrote  Garrick  one  of  his  most  characteristic  letters. 
Dodsley  was  "a  most  wretched  fellow,"  no  man  ever  met 
"worse  return  than  you  have  done  for  your  endeavours  to 
serve  him."  He  denied  what  Garrick  had  owned,  that  the 
scholars  and  men  of  worth  "  applauded  his  trumpery — for  a 
learned  blockhead  is  a  blockhead  stilL"  The  character  of 
Warburton,  indeed,  comes  out  in  his  correspondence  with 
Garrick  with  the  clearness  of  a  photograph — overbearing,  de- 
spotic, turbulent,  but  to  his  friend  always  tolerant. 

Of  a  different  class  to  that  of  the  bookseller  was  a  dangerous 
fellow  called  Hiffernan,  whom  Garrick's  imprudence — or  pru- 
dence, as  he  would  have  called  it — made  him  try  and  con- 
ciliate. A  guinea  from  the  manager,  charitably  given  as  a  sub- 
scription to  some  book,  laid  the  foundation  for  claims ;  and 
first  presenting  a  piece  called  "  The  Wishes  of  a  Free  People," 
which  was  declined,  and  a  farce,  which  was  accepted  and 
damned,  he  grew  so  insolent  that  Lacy  threatened  to  cudgel 
him.  Garrick,  however,  was  always  indulgent,  and  often 
helped  him  in  his  necessities,  which  at  times  amounted  to 
absolute  want.  He  met  with  the  usual  return.  Not  long 
after  his  arrival  from  abroad,  this  wretch  wrote  "a  most 
bloody  libel "  both  on  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Garrick — too  shocking 


192  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

to  be  described ;  and  was  preparing  to  publish  it,  when  a  friend 
of  Gamck's  happened,  by  a  mere  accident^  to  hear  of  it  It 
was  wisely  suggested  that  a  few  guineas  would  have  more 
effect  than  any  measure  of  severity ;  and  as  Mrs.  Garrick  was 
concerned,  this  was  thought  the  best  course.  No  doubt  this 
extortion  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  proceeding. 

Garrick  had  already  been  charitably  exerting  himself  to 
better  the  wretched  man's  condition,  having  spoken  of  him  to 
his  friend  Hamilton,  and  meeting  him  not  long  before  in  Long 
Acre,  had  humanely  listened  to  the  story  of  his  complaints 
and  grievances.  He  had  long  forgotten  the  malignant  libel 
with  which  he  had  been  threatened.  Very  soon  the  unfortu- 
nate wretch  died  in  abject  want,  and  was  found  dead  in  a 
miserable  garret,  the  place  of  which  he  had  kept  carefully 
secret  from  his  acquaintances. 

Before  Garrick  was  abroad,  he  used  to  meet  a  Mr.  Graham, 
one  of  the  Eton  masters,  at  Hampton,  who  was  teaching  his 
nephews.  He  rode  with  him  at  times,  and  found  him  an 
agreeable  companion.  During  the  rides  the  Eton  master 
talked  of  a  classical  piece  on  the  subject  of  "  The  Duke  of 
Milan,"  in  which  there  was  a  duke,  a  Julio,  and  others  of  the 
usual  lay  figures — Italian,  perhaps,  only  in  name.  He  was 
good-naturedly  encouraged  by  Mr.  Garrick,  who  read  a  scrap 
or  so,  gave  him  hints,  and  promised — the  only  promise  a 
manager  can  ever  make — if  the  whole  turned  out  a  good  play, 
to  give  it  a  chance  at  his  theatre.  Mr.  Garrick  went  on  his 
foreign  tour,  and  in  the  interval  the  Eton  master  laboured 
away  at  his  "  Duke,"  finished  it,  and  sent  it  in  for  judgment 
The  manager  read  it  over  twice,  but  was  obliged  to  decline  it, 
and  appointed  a  meeting  at  the  vicar's,  to  explain  his  reasons 
more  fully. 

The  Eton  master  was  furious.  It  provokes  a  smile  to  find 
that  his  "peculiar  hardships  "  were  in  "  the  advice,  encourage- 
ment, and  praises"  he  had  received.  "How  astonishingly  in- 
consistent is  your  present  judgment  with  the  expectation  you 
were  pleased  to  form  of  me."  The  only  thing  he  will  agree  to 
is  to  refer  it  to  those  good  judges  who  differ  from  Mr.  Garrick. 
"  I  could  refer  you  to  one  whom  you  do  not  think  a  flatterer, 
who  has  said  to  me  that  the  language  is  eminently  dramatic. 
I  would  willingly  risk  the  whole  on  his  saying  it  behind  my  back" 
In  this  instance  the  Eton  master  failed.  Mr.  Garrick  coolly 
refuted  the  argument,  concluding  with,  "  Whatever  you  may 
clearly  prove,  or  whatever  you  may  think  of  my  justice  and 
humanity,  I  shall  entertain  a  good  opinion  of  them.  If  you 
can  only  think  well  of  them  by  my  acting  the  tragedy,  I  must 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  193 

be  unhappy  enough  to  lie  under  your  censure,  though  not  to 
deserve  it" 

Mrs.  Griffith  was  the  most  industrious  and  persevering  of  the 
class ;  and  having  been  tolerably  successful  with  an  adaptation 
from  the  French,  "  The  School  for  Kakes,"  plied  him  steadily 
with  proposals,  plans,  "first  acts"  of  a  new  piece,  that  would 
carry  all  before  it.  When  such  were  deemed  inadmissible, 
she,  too,  would  defend  her  work.  At  one  time  she  was  all  be- 
seeching and  pious  entreaty,  her  miserable  circumstances, 
&a ;  at  another  she  was  full  of  flatteries  and  admiration.  But 
when  a  negative  came,  the  tone  all  changed.  More  difficult 
was  it  to  deal  with  a  piece  that  came  to  him  under  the  patron- 
age of  his  friend,  Sir  Joshua.  .  It  is  a  little  test  of  the  affec- 
tionate regard  borne  to  the  amiable  painter  that  Johnson 
should  have  made  an  exception  in  his  friend's  favour,  and  read 
the  piece  quite  through.  For  others  he  merely  looked  over 
plays,  just  as  we  know  how  he  looked  over  a  book.  The 
play  was  by  Reynolds's  nephew.  It  had  been  sent  in  at  an  un- 
lucky moment,  Garrick  being  pledged  to  no  less  than  seven  five- 
act  pieces,  to  be  got  out  within  two  years.  So  he  candidly 
told  Sir  Joshua  he  could  give  no  hope  until  after  that  time — 
that  is,  supposing  he  approved  of  the  play.*  This  excuse  of 
the  seven  plays  having  precedence  was  thought  disingenuous, 
and  a  mere  pretext,  as  within  the  month  he  accepted  one  from 
Jephson.  But  a  manager  is  not  to  be  bound  down  to  every 
light  expression  he  makes  use  qf,  but,  as  in  other  professions, 
must  be  guided  as  circumstances  arise. 

The  history  of  "  Dido "  is  a  yet  more  excellent  specimen. 
It  was  sent  back  as  unsuitable.  The  author  at  once  appealed. 
It  was  submitted  "  to  eleven  gentlemen  of  acknowledged  dis- 
cernment in  literature."  "And  what  was  their  judgment 
of  the  piece  ? "  the  author  asks.     "  Why,  truly,  so  diametri- 

*  Sir  Joshua  seemed  to  be  not  a  little  annoyed  at  this  way  of  receiving 
hit  relation's  performance,  which  he  was  almost  sure  would  be  taken.  He 
wrote  to  have  it  returned  at  once  without  a  reading,  as  the  author  "would 
undoubtedly  understand  the  answer  to  be  an  absolute  refusal  to  take  it  at 
any  rate."  Garrick  was  hurt  in  his  turn  at  this  view.  So  far  from  refusing 
plays,  the  complaint  was  that  he  accepted  too  many.  "Did  Sir  Joshua 
snow  him  so  little  as  to  suppose  he  would  refuse  a  play '  so  recommended  ? ' 
When  a  disappointed  author  hears  that  I  am  so  provided,  it  is  natural  for 
him  to  imagine  and  to  say  that  /  do  not  care  to  receive  his  performance  ; 
hut  that  my  acquaintance,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  should  think  that  I  would 
say  the  thing  that  is  not,  to  clear  myself  from  a  performance  recommended 
by  him,  Dr.  Johnson,  and  Mr.  Burke,  it  not  a  little  unpleating  to  me."  To 
clear  himself  from  so  disagreeable  a  suspicion,  he  offered  to  show  his  plays, 
and  tell  the  names  of  the  authors  in  confidence.  Sir  Joshua  wrote  back 
warmly  and  generously — more  than  satisfied. 

O 


i 


194  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

cally  opposite  to  yours,  that  I  should  incur  the  censure  of 
vanity  by  committing  to  paper  even  one-half  the  praises  they 
have  bestowed  on  the  piece.  To  which  opinion,  then,  was  he 
to  incline  ?  "  Is  it  not  possible  for  even  Mr.  Garrick  to  be  de- 
ceived in  his  judgment  ? "  He  then  proposed  submitting  it  to 
a  junto  of  judges,  or  to  go  before  Mr.  Whitehead,  the  universal 
playwright's  referee,  and  who  indeed  seemed  to  decide  with 
them  always.  Garrick  was  naturally  a  little  angry,  and  wrote 
in  reply;  but  the  author  was  not  to  be  put  down,  and  rejoined, 
with  a  cool  and  measured  impertinence.  As  he  now  saw 
there  was  no  chance  for  his  piece,  he  might  at  least  have  the 
satisfaction  of  working  on  Garrick's  sensitiveness :  "  Am  I 
the  first  person  that  hath  dared  to  suspect  your  sincerity  in 
theatrical  concerns  ?  I  am  afraid  not."  Mr.  Eecd,  the  rope- 
maker,  for  such  was  the  author,  then  threw  off  all  restraint, 
threatened  to  file  a  bill  in  Chancery,  to  publish  his  case,  and 
went  about  everywhere  abusing  and  slandering  Garrick. 
Later  he  had  the  inconceivable  meanness  to  come  truckling  to 
him  with  a  new  comedy  in  his  hand.  He  was  so  anxious  to 
return  to  his  old  master,  "  to  fight  his  dramatic  battles  under 
the  banner  of  David,  King  of  Drury,  a  man  after  the  public's 
own  heart"  The  King  of  Drury  was  "the  ablest  manager 
that  ever  presided  over  a  theatre,"  &c.  It  was  now  in  his 
power  "  to  secure  my  friendship,  if  you  think  the  friendship  of 
one  who  prides  himself  on  the  character  of  an  honest  man 
worthy  your  regard." 

From  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hawkins  came  an  "Alfred,"  but  it  tra- 
velled back  to  him.  The  blackest  motives  were  at  work. 
"  Remember  I  formerly  gave  you  offence  in  the  business  of 
'  Henry  and  Rosamond;'  and  of  all  animals  I  believe  a  manager 
is  allowed  to  be  the  sorest."  Some  years  afterwards  another 
piece,  "  The  Siege  of  Aleppo,"  was  rejected,  because  "  it  was 
wrong  in  its  first  concoction."  And  yet,  like  so  many  other 
plays,  it  was  honoured  with  the  approbation  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
Mr.  Smart,  Justice  Blackstone,  and  Mr.  Warton,  who,  "  with- 
out flattery  "  (those  were  his  words)  "  pronounced  the  perform- 
ance admirable."  Quin,  too,  expressed  his  satisfaction,  and 
told  "  my  late  right  honourable  friend,  Sir  Thomas  Philips," 
that  he  would  have  liked  to  have  played  one  of  the  characters. 
"  But  the  world  will  shortly  judge  of  all  these  things "  (the 
usual  threat  of  publication).  "  After  all,  sir,  I  do  not  desire 
to  come  to  an  open  rupture  with  you ;  I  wish  not  to  exasperate, 
but  to  convince;  and  I  tender  you  once  more  my  friendship  and 
my  play" 

More  characteristic  still  was  the  behaviour  of  Mr.  Shirley, 


1759.]  THE  PLAYWRIGHTS.  195 

the  Lisbon  merchant,  whose  "Black  Prince,"  a  poor  piece,  had, 
"  by  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Garrick,  been  carried  through."  He 
later  sent  over  another  heavy  performance,  "  Electra,"  which 
the  manager  agreed  to  accept^  but  could  only  bring  out  during 
the  summer  months.  This  was  considered  so  much  "con- 
tempt" The  angry  author  came  to  England,  having  narrowly 
escaped  destruction  in  the  famous  earthquake,  and  at  once  be- 
gan a  series  of  bitter  attacks  on  the  man  who  had  so  obliged 
and  so  injured  him.  The  usual  ungenerous  topics  were  repro- 
duced, the  changes  were  rung  on  the.  stock  charges  of  vanity, 
meanness,  and  avarice.  Was  not  Mr.  Varney,  the  boxkeeper, 
sent  round  to  the  houses  of  great  ladies  to  let  them  know 
the  nights  Mr.  Garrick  was  going  to  play  ?  Who  was  it  salaried 
clergymen  to  fill  the  newspapers  with  puffs  and  eulogiums 
of  "the  incomparable  Roscius"?  Who  was  it  kept  down, 
from  a  mean  jealousy,  the  other  performers  1  This  and  much 
more  was  given  in  a  special  pamphlet,  called  "  The  Prophecy 
of  Hecate ; "  but  the  strain  was  diligently  kept  up  in  the  news- 
papers by  the  same  "  hand."  Garrick,  much  hurt,  resented 
this  behaviour  deeply;  and,  apparently  to  the  surprise  of  the 
public,  and  of  his  biographer,  "  declared  that  nothing  on  earth 
should  get  him  to  act  Mr.  Shirley's  play."  But  "  Mr.  Garrick," 
adds  Davies,  "  however  irascible,  was  far  from  being  implac- 
able. Before  he  left  the  stage,  amidst  other  sacrifices  to  good- 
humour  and  good-nature,  he  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel  between 
himself  and  Mr.  Shirley;"  and  as  an  earnest  of  his  good-will, 
or  as  a  sort  of  reparation  to  the  aggressor,  persuaded  Sheridan 
to  accept  the  "  Roman  Sacrifice,"  another  performance  of  this 
gentleman's. 

Now  Mr.  Mackenzie,  the  author  of  "  The  Man  of  Feeling," 
arrives  from  Scotland,  introduced  by  a  letter  from  the  excellent 
Dr.  Robertson.  Garrick  has  had  experience  of  Mackenzie  be- 
fore, having  had  to  wade  through  a  MS.  "  Prince  of  Tunis." 
The  Man  of  Feeling  sees  now  how  unfit  that  piece  was  for  the 
stage ;  but  "  he  has  begun  to  work  on  another  subject,  and  will  be 
glad  to  submit  the  sketch,"  &c.  Another  dramatic  figure  in 
this  group  of  friends  was  that  of  Dr.  Brown,  whose  ranting 
"Barbarossa "  became  one  of  the  stock  pieces  for  lusty  tra- 
gedians, and  whose  flat  "  Estimate  "  was  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful books  of  the  day.  Overset  by  the  success  of  his  book, 
the  doctor  projected  a  scheme  for  exhausting  the  whole  round 
of  philosophy,  beginning  with  "  The  Rise,  Union,  Progress,  Per- 
fection, and  Corruption  of  Poetry  and  Music."  No  wonder,  he 
said,  he  felt  that  he  had  got  into  a  vast  field,  and  was  for  a  while 
bewildered.    But  he  soon  had  really  good  grounds  for  such 

o  2 


196  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

elation,  when  lie  received  a  proposal  from  the  Empress  to  come 
to  St  Petersburg,  study  the  empire  and  character  of  the 
people,  and  construct  a  constitution.*  Bnt  he  fell  into  bad 
health,  which  ended  the  expedition.  From  the  disappointment 
he  destroyed  himself. 

To  Dr.  Hawkesworth  Garrick  had  given  many  little  theatri- 
cal "  jobs;"  now  the  altering  of  a  play,  now  the  writing  of  & 
piece.  When  -the  story  of  Captain  Cook's  expedition  was  to 
be  told  under  official  inspiration  from  papers,  &c,  furnished 
by  the  Admiralty,  Garrick  did  him  a  most  friendly  and  import- 
ant service.  He  went  to  Lord  Sandwich — a  quarter  where  he 
had  already  heavily  overdrawn  his  influence — and  secured  the 
duty  of  editor  and  historian  for  Hawkesworth.  How  valuable 
this  appointment  was  may  be  conceived  from  the  fact  that  the 
lucky  "hack" received  £6,000from  the  booksellers  for  his  labour. 
But  the  severe  reception  it  encountered,  the  suspicion  of  infi- 
delity set  on  foot,  and,  above  all,  the  strange  fact  of  a  lax  maga- 
zine culling  from  it  all  the  warmest  passages  to  make  a  new  art 
of  loye,  preyed  on  his  spirits,  and  drove  him  also  to  suicide. 
The  unfortunate  man  had,  of  course,  quarrelled  with  his  friend; 
but  this  friend  wrote  in  the  kindest  way  of  him.  Garrick  lost 
many  friends — Yorke,  Arden,  Hawkesworth,  and  others — by 
self-destruction. 

Such  are  only  a  few  specimens  of  the  strange  beings  who 
clustered  round  Garrick.  A  complete  history  of  their  proceed- 
ings would  fill  a  volume. 


tT 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE. — 1759. 

We  may  turn  from  this  curious  gallery — from  the  gay  colours 
of  the  stage  to  the  quieter  tones  of  the  domestic  retreats,  where 
was  the  real  life  of  the  actor — where  was  his  enjoyment  and 
his  treasure — and  where,  too,  is  to  be  seen  the  best,  brightest, 
and  most  genial  side  of  his  character.  "  Garrick  the  actor ~ 
has  been  too  much  the  conventional  idea  of  him  hitherto ;  and 

*  On  this  remarkable  compliment,  he  consulted  his  friends,  and  it  is 
amusing  to  find  him  debating  with  Garrick — "  As  to  the  point  you  speak 
of,  it  would  certainly  be  dangerous  to  carry  it  bo  fas- at  to  think  of  removing 
the  seat  of  empire;  but  to  reinstate  the  city  of  Moscow,  and  to  make  it 
one  of  the  two  seats  of  arts  and  science,  is,  I  think,  not  so  dangerous. 
However,  nothing  of  this  kind  will  I  say  to  any  soul  living  but  the  Empress 
herself.  ....  She  is  aiming  at  great  things,  but  seems  to  be  wandering  in 
the  dark." 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  197 

it  cannot  be  too  often  insisted  on  that  he  was  as  remarkable  in 
other  directions. 

A  near  view  of  his  amiable  character,  at  his  desk,  or  in  his 
garden,  is  not  in  the  least  likely  to  diminish  the  respect  and 
regard  of  those  for  whom  the  stage  Mr.  Garrick  was  a  source 
of  wonder  and  admiration.  It  seems  certain  that  if  he  had 
remained  at  his  vaults  in  Durham  Yard-rif  he  had  taken  to  the 
Bar,  or  any  other  profession,  he  would  have  risen,  by  his  virtues 
and  calm  good  sense,  his  moderation,  and  the  certain  affection 
and  esteem  all  his  friends  would  have  borne  him.  The  name 
of  Mr.  Garrick  might  have  figured  just  the  same  in  theBoswell 
gallery  of  Johnsons,  Heynoldses,  Goldsmiths,  Langtons,  and 
the  rest  We  shall  see  him  now  in  a  more  private  view,  when 
it  will  be  found  that  the  great  tragedian,  who  was  the  talk  of 
the  town,  was  not  "puffed  up"  or  upset  by  his  position,  but  was 
as  humble  and  affectionate,  and  domestic,  as  any  Jean  Bourgeois 
beyond  Temple  Bar. 

Southampton  Street  was  his  little  town  pied  de  terre.  It  was 
bound  up  with  the  theatre,  with  business,  and  interviews. 
Angry  players  and  playwrights  had  come  in  crowds,  and  sat  in 
the  little  parlour,  and  told  their  wrongs.  But  his  eyes  always 
turned  towards  the  country — to  a  delightful  corner,  within 
easy  distance  of  town,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  Thames. 

Very  shortly  after  his  marriage  he  had  looked  out  for 
a  country  place,  and  found  what  suited  him  on  the  edge 
of  the  common  at  Hampton.  He  had  lived  there  with  Mrs. 
Garrick;  and  liking  the  place,  purchased,  in  1754,  from  Mr. 
Humphry  Primatt,  the  well-known  villa,  which  will  always  be 
associated  with  his  name.  About  it  were  pretty  grounds, 
though  separated  by  the  high  road  from  a  pleasant  sward  that 
ran  Sown  to  the  river's  eSge ;  where,  within  a  year,  he  was 
building  that  little  bit  of  affectation,  more  fitted  to  Drury 
Lane  than  to  the  little  country  Villa — the  Shakspeare  Temple. 
This  absurdity  was  just  a  hint  of  the  greater  absurdity  which 
was  to  come  later — his  Jubilee.  Beside  the  villa  was  another 
house,  belonging  to  Mr.  Peele,  who  left  directions  in  his  will 
that  an  offer  of  the  property  should  be  made  to  Mr.  Garrick, 
who  he  knew  fancied  the  place.  It  was  not,  however,  to  come 
into  his  hands  without  some  litigation.*     He  had  other  pro- 

*  Sir  John  Hawkins,  who  lived  close  by,  at  Twickenham,  tells  a  charac- 
teristic story  about  this  house.  A  neighbour  also  had  his  eye  on  the  place ; 
and,  going  to  the  executors  in  Garrick's  name,  actually  obtained  a  convey- 
ance to  trustees  for  his  own  use.  Garrick  was  greatly  concerned  on  dis- 
covering this  trick,  knowing  he  would  have  a  disagreeable  neighbour ;  but 
Sir  John  showed  him  a  "  case  in  Vernon,"  which  made  out  the  transaction 


198  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 

perty,  a  little  estate  called  Hendon  Manor,  which  was  worth 
some  sixteen  thousand  pounds;  not  content  with  which,  he 
fancied  some  five  and  twenty  acres  lying  near  Hampton,  for 
which  he  made  an  offer  to  Lord  Pomfret  That  nobleman, 
however,  asked  a  large  sum,  which  Garrick  thought  was  too 
much,  but  was  willing  to  leave  it  to  the  arbitration  of  any 
two  intelligent  neighbours. 

Hampton  was  a  charming  place;  and  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand the  Garricks*  delight  in  it— in  its  pleasant  gardens, 
where  the  good  and  simple  vicar  would  come  and  take 
counsel  with  Mrs.  Garrick,  over  the  planting  of  some  rare 
laurel  cuttings;  the  grounds  and  flower-beds,  with  the  dis- 
tant view  of  the  Shakspeare  Temple.  Here  we  can  see  the 
host  and  owner  in  his  own  sphere,  and  in  all  his  natural 
gaiety,  as  Miss  Hawkins  saw  him.  Sir  John  Hawkins  would 
drop  in,  on  his  road  to  town,  and  find  the  owner  and  Mrs.  Gar- 
rick eating  figs  in  the  garden.  Walpole  and  his  Irish  printer, 
whose  fine  eyes  Garrick  would  have  purchased  for  Drury  Lane 
at  any  price,  would  come  over  to  the  Temple  with  appropriate 
verses.*  Here,  too,  guests  found  their  way  down  "to  spend 
the  day,"  and  dine,  and  after  dinner  wandered  in  the  gardens, 
and  lounged  about  the  grounds.  To  them  was  present  the 
figure  of  their  host  in  his  dark  blue  coat,  its  button-holes 
bound  with  gold  edging;  the  small  cocked  hat  also  edged 
with  lace,  and  the  waistcoat  free  and  open.  The  face  and 
features  were  never  at  rest  a  moment.  He  would  be  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  table,  chatting  on  grave  subjects  to  a 
doctor  of  law  or  music ;  when  the  wonderful  eyes,  darting  to 
this  side  and  that,  would  note  the  little  boys  of  his  guest 
scampering  gaily  round  the  garden,  and  he  would  shoot  away 
in  the  midst  of  a  sentence,  join  them,  and  be  a  boy  himself  in 
a  second.!     There  was  one  pleasant  day  when  Home,  in  the 

fraudulent.  He  accordingly  filed  a  bill  to  set  aside  the  purchase,  and  on 
the  eve  of  the  hearing  Bent  to  Sir  John  ;  but  when  the  knight  took  "  the 
case  "  down  himself  to  Drury  Lane,  he  found  the  manager  so  absorbed  in 
a  new  procession  as  to  be  quite  indifferent  to  everything  else.  This  ha 
gives  as  a  specimen  of  Garrick's  carelessness  and  forgetfulness.  But  the 
legal  reader  will  see  that  the  case  must  have  been  in  counsel's  hands,  who 
would  have  been  quite  independent  of  his  client,  or  Hawkins's  assistance. 
Even  lately,  Peele's  House  was  the  subject  of  litigation. 

*  "  Quod  spiro  et  placeo,  * 

Si  placeo,  tuum  est." 
"  That  I  spirit  have  and  nature, 

That  sense*  breathes  in  any  feature, 

That  I  please — if  please  I  do — 

Shakspeare  !  all  1  owe  to  you." 

t  Miss  Hawkins.    Enemies  fancied  they  discovered  a  difference  in  Gold* 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  199 

flush  of  his  "  Douglas "  success,  took  down  the  brothers 
Adam,  Robertson,  Wedderburn,  Carlyle,  and  some  others. 
They  brought  "  golf  clubs  " — their  national  game,  and  showed 
their  host  how  to  play.  Mrs.  Garrick  was  there,  too,  growing 
a  little  plump  by  this  time,  but  gay  and  pleasant,  and  speak- 
ing English  perfectly.  It  was  a  little  curious  that  one  of  the 
guests — Carlyle — some  ten  years  before,  should  have  been  her 
fellow-passenger  in  the  Harwich  packet  when  she  was  the 
dancer,  La  Violette,  dressed  up  in  boy's  clothes.  A  common 
mind  might  have  officiously  reminded  the  hostess  of  this  old 
and  awkward  acquaintance ;  but  Carlyle  was  a  clever  and 
accomplished  man,  who  knew  the  world,  and  he  said 
nothing.  After  dinner  the  wine  was  carried  out  to  the  Shak- 
speare  Temple.  A  charming  sward  ran  down  <to  the  river, 
and  through  a  leafy  archway  it  could  be  seen  winding  and 
glistening.  Carlyle  executed  a  wonderful  stroke  with  his 
golf,  sending  the  ball  down  the  grass,  through  this  arch,  well 
into  the  river — a  feat  which  so  delighted  Garrick  that  he 
begged  the  golf  as  a  present  and  record.  "  Yet/'  says  golf- 
player,  who  relates  it,  "this  was  all  only  his  little  vanity;" 
thus  repeating  the  unmeaning  and  parrot-cry  which  he  had 
picked  up  in  the  open  thoroughfares  of  the  town. 

Here,  too,  was  seen  Mr.  Beighton,  an  old  clergyman  of 
simple  tastes,  for  whom  Garrick  was  never  tired  of  trying  to 
"  do  something."  He  delighted  in  his  books  and  garden.  At 
his  advanced  age  he  had  to  ride,  often  across  rivers,  five  or  six 
miles  to  his  duties.  He  could  scarcely  afford  to  keep  a  curate, 
on  his  modest  thirty  pounds  a  year ;  but  Garrick  often  helped 
to  increase  his  income,  until  something  "turned  up."  "My 
dear  friend,"  would  say  the  vicar,  standing  among  his  beloved 
flower-beds,  and  taking  Garrick  by  the  hand,  and  giving  his 
head  his  "  usual  jerk  of  affection,"  "  could  I  have  fifty  pounds 
for  a  curate,  and  fifty  pounds  to  keep  up  my  little  garden,  I 
would  feel  no  ambition  beyond  it."  "And  thirty  pounds 
more,"  Mr.  Garrick  would  add,  slyly,  "  to  keep  Hannah,  your 
housekeeper?"  "Pooh,"  would  say  the  vicar,  "you  turn 
everything  into  ridicule !  Come,  let  me  show  you  the  finest 
arbor  vita  in  the  country."  And  away  he  trotted,  forgetting 
all  his  wants.  Garrick  used  to  plead  earnestly  for  this  good 
old  man  with  all  his  influential  friends.  He  got  his  old 
friend,  General  Fitzwilliams — who  was  "  about "  a  royal  Duke 
— to  promise  a  chaplaincy.     He  then  introduced  him  to  the 

smith's  and  Garrick's  mode  of  playing  with  children,  the  former  doing  it 
to  amuse  the  children,  the  latter  to  amuse  himself. 


200  THE  UFB  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

Duchess  of  Portland,  at  Bulstrode.  "She  is  very  much  his 
friend,"  said  Mr.  Garrick,  speaking  of  this  visit;  "but — " 
It  was  so  difficult  to  find  what  would  suit  him.  Finally  he 
tried  Lady  Camden,  and  her  interest  with  her  husband,  then 
Lord  Chancellor,  who  warmly  promised  to  befriend  him ;  not 
then,  but  on  the  first  opportunity.  "  For  it  would  be  a  mor- 
tifying thing  for  him  not  to  have  a  living  near  his  present 
place.  We  are  all  quite  anxious,"  said  she,  "  for  the  good  old 
man.  I  hope  it  is  no  sin  to  wish  an  unknown  person  near 
Egham  to  be  removed  to  a  better  place."  The  Chancellor  sent 
Garrick  word  that  his  recommendation  alone  would  be  suffi- 
cient, and  in  a  very  short  time  "the  good  old  man "  was  made 
quite  happy  by  a  suitable  promotion.  He  enjoyed  his  new 
happiness  but  two  or  three  years,  and  in  1771  he  died,  to  the 
great  grief  of  his  two  friends.  Lord  Camden  had  grown  to 
love  him,  and  thought  him  "  one  of  the  best  men  Christianity 
had  ever  produced;  and  whom  we  must  never  hope  to  see 
again  unless  we  go  to  Heaven."* 

This  episode  is  one  of  the  pleasant  things  in  studying  Gar- 
rick's  life,  that  it  helps  to  glimpses  of  true  goodness  and 
amiability,  and  like  Goldsmith's  story  helps  to  reconcile  us  to 
human  nature.  At  times,  and  at  very  late  and  inconvenient 
hours,  Doctor  Johnson  would  come  bursting  in,  even  when 
they  were  going  to  bed,  and  insist  on  his  supper.  Long  after, 
his  favourite  sofa  was  shown  and  reverenced.  Mrs.  Garrick 
herself  delighted  in  her  garden.  A  tulip  and  a  cedar  tree  were 
planted  there  by  her  own  hands,  with  a  "  sucker  "  from  the 
famous  Shakspeare  mulberry  tree.  The  Shakspeare  Temple, 
separated  from  them  by  the  high  road,  was  reached  by  a 
tunnel.  Mrs.  Garrick  often  stopped  in  it  to  tell  her  little  story 
of  Doctor  Johnson,  who  was  consulted  on  the  matter.  Garrick 
himself  was  inclined  to  have  a  bridge;  but  "capability" 
Brown,  the  famous  landscape  gardener,  suggested  the  tunnel, 
in  which  he  was  supported  by  the  doctor,  who  said,  gravely, 
"  David — David,  what  can't  be  over-done,  may  be  under-done." 
In  the  temple  was  the  famous  Eoubiliac  statue  of  Shakspeare, 

*  His  dear  books — the  treasure  where  his  heart  was — he  was  a  little 
nervous  about,  and  ehrunk  from  the  notion  of  their  being  "  put  up  "  under 
the  rude  operation  of  a  sale.  Tet  he  had  nothing  but  these  with  which  to 
show  his  gratitude  to  his  kind  friends ;  so  he  divided  them  into  three  por- 
tions— leaving  one  to  the  Chancellor,  one  to  Garrick,  and  the  third  to 
Becket,  the  bookseller,  another  friend.  With  true  delicacy,  the  two  first 
friends  recalled  the  pain  that  had  come  into  his  face  when  he  spoke  of  the 
prospect  of  his  little  collection  being  broken  up  after  his  death,  and  tried 
hard  to  purchase  up  the  other  share,  and  so  keep  the  whole  together ;  but 
the  bookseller,  following  the  instinct  of  his  trade,  was  for  having  it  sold. 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  201 

now  in  the  British  Museum.  The  rooms  in  the  house  were 
low,  and  not  very  large.  There  was  a  library,  a  bow-windowed 
room,  the  best  bed-room,  where  the  bed  was  in  an  alcove  that 
could  be  shut  off  from  the  room  altogether — a  French  notion 
of  Mrs.  Garrick's.*  Between  Hampton  and  the  Adelphi  were 
distributed  Garrick's  pictures.  In  the  dining-room,  over  the 
sideboard,  hung  Thomas  Da  vies,  the  faithless  biographer.  The 
man,  whose  picture  hung  in  Garrick's  dining-room,  had  the 
effrontery  to  write  the  falsehood  that  Garrick  was  so  vain  that 
he  would  admit  no  portraits  but  those  of  himself  into  his 
house.  The  truth  was,  his  walls  were  covered  with  all  kinds 
of  pictures,  and  his  portraits  were  presented  to  him  by  painter 
friends,  who  were  always  asking  him  to  sit.  There  were  the 
three  landscapes  by  Loutherburg,  one  of  his  scene  painters, 
and  which  latter  brought  good  prices;  a  small  and  delicate 
Guido;  and  a  fine  Andrea  del  Sarto,  presented  to  him  by  Lord 
Burlington,  at  Rome,  and  which  cost  that  nobleman  five  hun- 
dred pounds.  There  were  also  many  theatrical  scenes — Gar- 
rick as  Lord  Chalkstone,  as  the  Farmer,  and  as  Sir  John  Brute; 
also  as  Jaffier,  with  Mrs.  Cibber.  But  what  must  have  been 
more  interesting  than  all,  here  was  seen  the  young  and 
sprightly  Garrick  seated  with  his  friend  Wyndham,  in  the  fore- 
ground of  a  landscape,  painted  by  Hayman. 

About  the  house,  too,  was  a  good  deal  of  rare  china,  in  which 
Garrick,  with  a  nice  taste,  was  "  curious;'1  and  the  series  of 
pure  white  china  statuettes,  issued  by  the  Chelsea  Ware  Com- 
pany, representing  Garrick  as  Bichard,  Quin  as  Falstaff,  Wood- 
ward as  the  Fine  Gentleman,  and  Kitty  Clive  as  the  Lady  in 
"  Lethe,  "t  There  was  a  small  statuette  of  Garrick,  too,  as 
BosciuSy  modelled  by  some  artist  whose  name  is  unknown.  On 
the  drawing-room  walls  was  a  curious  decorated  paper,  which 
remained  long  after.  The  Shakspeare  curiosities  which  were 
the  attraction  of  the  Temple  must  have  been  the  least  interest- 
ing of  the  whole  collection.  There  was  a  theatrical  air  about 
them;  and  they  mostly  resolved  themselves  into  different 
shapes  of  the  eternal  mulberry  tree.  There  was  the  arm-chair 
made  out  of  the  same  material,  with  carvings  from  a  design 
by  Hogarth;  vases,  medallions,  &c,  and  an  inkstand.  There 
was  shown  a  delft  saltcellar,  "  which  belonged  to  Shakspeare;" 
and  a  very  doubtful  pair  of  gloves  and  a  dagger,  "  formerly 
belonging  to  Shakspeare."! 

*  A  sofa  cover  in  the  room  where  I  write  these  words  is  covered  with 
chintz  that  once  formed  Garrick's  curtains, 
t  These  figures  are  now  richerchi,  and  fetch  such  prices  as  £30  a  piece. 
X  Garrick's  enthusiasm  for  the  great  dramatist  led  him  into  accepting 


202  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1739. 

Conspicuous  among  the  choice  treasures  of  the  place  were 
the  four  famous  "Election"  pictures  of  Hogarth.*  These 
were  hung  in  the  "  Bow-room"  at  Hampton,  on  each  side  of 
the  fire-place.  They  had  been  shown  to  Garrick  when  finished, 
and  the  artist  told  him  that  he  had  resolved  on  putting  them 
up  to  raffle,  as  he  could  not  hope  to  find  a  purchaser  who 
would  give  him  the  price  he  asked — namely,  two  hundred 
guineas.  Garrick  put  down  his  name  for  five  or  ten  guineas' 
worth  of  tickets;  but  when  he  got  home  began  to  think  of 
the  begging  and  mortification  to  which  such  a  plan  would  ex- 
pose his  friend.  He  generously  determined  to  spare  his  friend 
such  humiliation,  went  back  and  purchased  the  four  pictures 
for  the  price  named,  t  After  all,  it  was  a  surprising  bargain ; 
and  some  sixty  or  seventy  years  later,  Mr.  Soane  was  glad  to 
secure  them  at  the  sale  for  his  Museum  at  seventeen  hundred 
and  thirty-two  pounds  ten  shillings.  On  the  walls  hung 
another  picture  by  the  same  admirable  master,  representing 
the  master  of  the  house  seated  at  his  table,'  "  smilingly  thought- 
ful over  an  epilogue  or  some  such  composition  (of  his  own,  you 
may  be  sure),  his  head  supported  by  his  writing  hand,  while 
madam  is  archly  enough  stealing  away  his  pen  unseen  behind. 
It  has  not  so  much  fancy  as  to  be  affected  or  ridiculous,  and  yet 
enough  to  raise  it  from  the  formal  inanity  of  a  mere  portrait.  They 
are  a  fine  contrast."  So  was  it  described  by  Dr.  Hoadly,  and 
the  last  sentence  is  a  very  happy  description  of  the  share  poetry 
and  fact  should  have  in  a  true  portrait.  In  this  picture  there 
is  a  pleasant  air  of  reverie  about "  our  sprightly  friend,"  a 
charming  slyness  and  piquancy  in  Mrs.  Garrick ;  and  the  whole 
seems  rather  to  convey  the  idea  of  lovers,  than  of  sober  mar- 
ried life.]: 

Here,  too,  were  many  of  those  surprising  theatrical  pictures 
by  Zoffany — brilliant,  yet  deep,  in  colouring,  gay,  firm,  full  of 
character,  and  almost  rivalling  Hogarth  in  tone  and  dramatic 

such  suspicious  relics.  The  "delft  saltcellar"  was  later  valued  at  two 
guineas,  and  the  gloves  at  three,  a  price  that  represented  their  value  as 
having  belonged  to  Garrick,  not  to  Shakspeare.  There  was  even  another 
pair  of  Shakspeare's  gloves  in  his  little  museum,  which  Mrs.  Garrick  be- 
queathed to  Mrs.  Siddons. 

*  Painted,  as  Mr.  Christie's  catalogue  sets  out,  modestly,  "  with  breadth 
and  agreeable  freshness  of  tone." 

t  This  was  told  by  Mrs.  Garrick  herself.  See  "  The  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine "  for  July,  1823,  p.  62. 

$  It  was  sold  to  Mr.  Locker,  of  Greenwich  Hospital,  for  £75  lis.  There 
were  other  sketches  and  pictures  of  Hogarth,  one  in  particular  of  Sir  George 
Hay,  which  went  for  only  £5,  but  which  the  auctioneer  did  not  know  to  be 
Hogarth's. 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  203 

expression.  The  charming  portrait  of  Mrs.  Garrick  holding  a 
mask  was  painted  when  she,  the  Violetta,  had  just  come  to 
England,  and  in  the  heyday  of  her  piquant  charms,  painted, 
too,  with  the  best  enthusiasm  of  the  artist ;  for  he  was  at  that 
time  one  of  her  admirers.*  Here,  again,  and  by  the  same  artist, 
were  husband  and  wife  sitting  in  their  dear  Hampton  grounds, 
"taking  tea,"  with  the  river  in  the  distance,  and  George 
Grarrick  angling.  There  were  two  small  views,  from  the 
same  hand,  of  the  villa  and  the  grounds.  Another  token 
yet  again  of  affection — the  Shakspeare  villa,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Garrick  on  the  steps,  and  their  little  dog.  These  are 
all  so  many  hints  of  happiness  and  mutual  affection.  To  the 
worldlings  of  the  time  such  repeated  exhibition  of  their 
married  content  would  be  fade  and  insipid. 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  the  enormous  mass  of  correspondence 
preserved  by  Grarrick — and  he  seemed  to  preserve  every  scrap 
that  was  addressed  to  him — there  is  not  a  single  letter  of  Mrs. 
Garrick's.  The  simple  reason  for  this  is,  that  she  had  no  occa- 
sion to  write  to  him,  as  he  was  literally  never  absent  from  her 
a  day.  When  he  went  abroad  Mrs.  Grarrick  went  abroad  with 
him ;  when  he  went  to  the  "  great  houses  "  on  visits,  Mrs. 
Grarrick  was  taken  also.  She  was  invited  behind  the  scenes, 
listened  to  the  rehearsals,  and  gave  her  judgment  The  economy 
of  the  theatre — its  accounts — everything  was  carefully  looked 
to  by  this  admirable  and  invaluable  lady.  There  was  a  charm- 
ing delicacy  and  gallantry  in  his  behaviour  to  her,  the  bloom 
of  which  was  never  lost.  Nothing  was  complete  in  either  his 
business  or  his  pleasure,  without  her.  If  a  new  actor  were  to 
exhibit  his  powers  at  Southampton  Street,  Mrs.  Garrick  was 
laughingly  put  behind  a  screen  to  have  her  share  of  the  "  fun." 
She  had  her  box  at  Drury  Lane.  When  Mr.  Grarrick  was 
painted  again  and  again  by  all  painters,  he  was  most  pleased 
with  those  paintings  where  she  was  brought  in.     There  were 

*  This  was  bought  by  the  Carre,  and  very  appropriately  was  hanging 
oyer  the  chimney-piece  in  the  dining-room  at  Hampton  until  a  few  years 
ago.  Mrs.  Can*  was  fortunate  enough  to  Becure  it  for  £23.  It  is  now  in 
the  possession  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hill,  of  Richmond.  Zoffany  was  employed 
by  Wilson  to  work  on  his  pictures,  and  at  one  of  the  exhibitions  Garrick 
detected  a  different  touch  in  Wilson's  painting.  This  helped  to  discover 
the  German  artist.  Garrick's  patronage  brought  its  own  reward ;  for 
Zoffany *s  fine  theatrical  scenes  and  perfect  likenesses  of  his  face  and  atti- 
tudes are  our  most  faithful  memorials  of  the  great  actor.  Wilson  was 
furious  and  jealous,  and  would  seem  to  have  had  Zoffany's  visits  to  Hamp- 
ton watched.  Garrick  threatened  to  have  the  spies  ducked  in  the  river. 
Nothing  is  more  curious  than  the  little  odd  glimpses  these  Garrick  letters 
give  ua  of  famous  people. 


204  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

many  husbands  who  might  pay  such  attentions;  but  none 
could  rival  the  charming  delicacy,  and  almost  lover-like  gal- 
lantry, which  he  maintained  towards  her  to  the  end.  How 
pretty  a  story  is  that  told  of  the  Dance  Picture  !  This  artist, 
then  struggling,  had  been  pushed  and  recommended  by  the 
great  actor,  and  had  just  finished  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Garrick, 
for  which  he  was  to  receive  one  hundred  guineas.  This  was  a 
present  for  Mrs.  Garrick ;  a  place  had  been  already  settled  on 
the  wall  where  it  was  to  hang,  and  the  artist  had  been  asked 
to. dinner.  During  the  dinner  the  latter  said,  as  it  were  care- 
lessly, that  Sir  Watkin  Wynne  had  seen  the  picture,  and 
offered  a  hundred  and  fifty;  and,  Dance  added,  he  intended 
to  let  him  have  it  He  must  have  been  surprised  at  this 
treatment;  but  he  was  not  thinking  of  that,  but  of  the  disap- 
pointed face  of  Mrs.  Garrick.  "  Never  mind,  dear,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  you  shall  have  a  much  handsomer  picture  than  that 
to  look  at;"  and  accordingly,  on  the  next  day,  a  very  hand- 
some mirror — mirrors  were  costly  articles  then — was  hanging 
in  the  place  selected  for  the  picture. 

There  were  some  delightful  days  at  Hampton.  The  Gar- 
ricks  were  very  important  people  in  the  place.  #  No  one  of  the 
squires  about  could  have  seen  such  good  company:  they  kept 
up  good  state,  an  excellent  table,  and  "  did  everything  "  hos- 
pitably, in  good  style.  Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley,  a  jovial  man 
about  town,  and  no  mean  judge,  always  bore  testimony  to 
this.  They  drove  into  town  in  their  well-appointed  carriage 
and  four  horses. 

At  this  place  we  see  him  in  quite  a  pastoral  light,  and  with 
the  air  of  a  Jacques  Bonhomme.  Lord  Sandwich,  when  he  was 
in  office,  was  one  year  settled  at  Hampton,  at  Lord  Halifax's 
house  on  the  Green.  A  fine  turtle  arrived  with  Sir  Edward 
Hughes  from  Ascension,  and  a  cook  had  been  brought  down 
specially  to  dress  it.  The  weather  was  hot,  and  the  turtle 
would  not  keep;  so  it  was  determined  to  ask  the  leading 
persons  of  the  neighbourhood  with  little  ceremony  and  at 
short  notice. 

A  servant  was  sent  over  to  Mr.  Garrick's,  who  coming  into 
the  yard,  saw  a  man  in  an  old  "  scratch  wig,"  an  older  hat* 
and  a  loose  great  coat,  busy  with  the  wheels  of  the  carriage, 
and  asked  him  about  his  master.  It  proved  to  be  Mr.  Gar- 
rick himself.  The  servant  was  greatly  shocked  at  his  mis- 
take, and  even  begged  to  be  excused  for  attending  in  the  par- 
lour. But  Garrick  accepted  all  apologies  in  the  most  good- 
humoured  way,  and  said  that  actually  a  compliment  had  been 
paid  him,  for  his  coachman  was  a  much  better  looking  fellow 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  205 

than  he  was.  At  that  turtle  dinner  there  was  a  large  party; 
the  unfortunate  Miss  Ray  was  of  the  number,  and  Garrick 
recollected  her  quiet  and  modest  behaviour.  The  evening 
was  very  pleasant,  and  the  Hampton  colony  were  entertained 
with  dramatic  recitations. 

Not  very  far  away  lived  a  nobleman  and  his  wife,  Lord  and 
Lady  Spencer,  who  were  his  warmest  friends,  and  who,  with 
a  constancy  not  usual  in  the  noble  persons  of  that  day,  re- 
mained his  fast  friends  to  the  end  of  his  life.  At  their  seat  at 
Althorpe,  in  Northamptonshire,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick  were  re- 
gular guests;  and  it  was  at  Althorpe,  with  these  kind  friends 
at  his  bedside,  that  he  was  seized  with  his  last  fatal  illness. 
As  Christmas  came  round,  always  came  eager  and  pressing  in- 
vitations to  Althorpe.  The  best  company  assembled  there  to 
meet  them.  Sometimes  Lady  Spencer  fixed  on  a  gay  uniform 
for  the  ladies  of  the  party;  and  Mrs.  Garrick  was  told  in  time 
of  a  "  certain  scarlet  and  white  silk/'  which  was  to  be  got  at 
"  Mr.  King's,  the  mercer's  " — a  good-natured  warning,  for  fear 
it  should  be  all  gone.  Her  letters  are,  indeed,  most  lively, 
free,  gay,  and  affectionate.  No  wonder  that  he  endorsed  them 
outside,  "  a  letter  from  heavenly  Lady  Spencer,"  from  "  charm- 
ing Lady  Spencer,"  "Lady  Spencer's  sweet  note,"  "Lady 
Spencer,  always  natural ! "  He  would  write  for  subscriptions 
for  a  friend's  book,  and  she  would  send  back  a  string  of  noble 
names,  with,  "  you  know  we  are  all  your  toadeaters — at  least, 
I  can  answer  for  myself."  This  was  in  the  "  sweet  note." 
Then  they  must  come  to  her,  "  so  do  not  shake  your  head,  and 
invent  any  excuses.  The  beds  and  rooms  are  well  aired,  and 
more  comfortable  than  at  an  inn,  and  that  would  make  the 

journey  to  Newport  Pagnell  very  easy  for  your  horses 

You  must  allow  us  to  add  that  our  servants  are  not  allowed  to 
take  anything."  At  this  pleasant  house  he  had  too  much 
good  sense  to  wish  to  "  sink  "  his  profession,  having  that  true 
respect  for  it  which  made  others  respect  it  too.  Thus,  of  a 
night,  Mr.  Garrick  would  sit  down  and  read  Shakspeare  for 
the  company;  though  he  was  sometimes  annoyed  in  find- 
ing that  Lord  March,  to  whom  anything  intellectual  was 
not  likely  to  be  entertaining,  had  gone  off  to  sleep.  The 
charming  hostess  promised  that  Lord  March  should  never 
again  be  allowed  to  assist  at  the  readings.* 

A  more  awkward  incident,  but  still  almost  ludicrous  as  "a 

*  On  another  night,  a  very  rigid-faced  lady  Bat  in  front,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  reader,  but  without  moving  a  muscle,  or  showing  a  gleam  of 
intelligence.  Mr.  Garrick  came  to  his  hostess — "  She  is  a  very  proper 
person,  I  am  sure  ;  but— but— I  cannot  read  again  if  she  be  present" 


206  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVED  GARRICK.  [1759. 

situation,"  took  place,  when  Mr.  Garrick  one  night  stood  up  in 
the  centre  of  the  drawing-room,  to  illustrate  some  stage  effect 
A  young  gentleman,  full  of  eagerness,  and  with  the  best  inten- 
tions, came  over  on  tiptoe,  and  set  down  two  lighted  candles  at 
Mr.  Garrick's  feet  The  actor,  much  disconcerted  and  annoyed 
by  this  bit  of  gaucherie,  abruptly  sat  down.  Sometimes  malicious 
creatures  of  his  own  profession  would  find  out  the  date  of 
these  visits,  and  send  on  beforehand  little  dirty  letters,  or 
rather  "covers,"  addressed  "Mr.  David  Garrick,  Player"  This 
he  felt  acutely;  it  could  not  have  the  least  effect  with  his 
host  and  hostess ;  but  he  knew  they  passed  through  the  ser- 
vants* hands.*  The  little  world  of  the  players  had  then  more 
than  its  proportion  of  such  unworthy  devices  and  mean  pas- 
sions. 

Yet  he  was  not  quite  above  the  sensitiveness  which  may 
underlie  friendship  between  a  player  and  "  a  lord."  The  best 
illustration  of  this  is  the  little  history  of  an  invitation  to 
Warwick  Castle.  He  and  his  friend  Arden  had  been 
"  strongly  pressed  to  pass  a  week  en  famille  "  at  the  castle ;  he 
thought  he  would  now  avail  himself  of  the  invitation.  They 
arrived,  were  received  by  the  housekeeper,  shown  all  the  curi- 
osities, treated  to  such  light  refreshment  as  a  cup  of  chocolate, 
and  then — bowed  out  like  ordinary  tourists.  They  were  both 
bitterly  indignant — Garrick  especially,  whom  other  lords  were 
only  too  proud  to  entertain.  He  turned  some  very  sarcastic 
rhymes  on  the  affair,  which,  like  all  the  sarcastic  rhymes 
of  the  time,  were  shown  about  and  copied,  and  soon  got  into 
print : — 

"  He  show'd  them  Guy's  pot,  but  he  gave  them  no  soup, 
No  scent  would  his  lordship  allow, 
Unless  they  had  gnawed  the  blade-bone  of  the  Boar, 
Or  the  rib  of  the  famous  Dun  Cow." 

This  is  certainly  undignified;  but  it  must  be  recollected 
that  these  lines  were  merely  written  as  a  joke,  for  his  own 
amusement  and  that  of  his  friends.  The  earl  was  perfectly 
unconscious  of  his  offence,  having  sent  some  message  which 
had  not  been  delivered. 

Fond  as  he  was  of  the  company  of  persons  of  quality — and 
no  one  more  dearly  loved  a  lord — he  never  was  inclined  to 
sacrifice  his  independence  in  the  smallest  degree,  "  or  play  the 
toady."  As  when  Lord  Essex  "got  up  "  private  theatricals  at 
Cassiobury,  and  had  invited  Lords  North,  Sandwich,  and 
Coleraine,  and  other  persons  of  distinction,  Mr.  Garrick  was 

*  Cradock. 


1759.]  HAMPTON  AND  ITS  CIRCLE.  207 

asked  also,  but  apparently  "  through "  Mr.  Cradock,  a  guest, 
which  was  scarcely  respectful,  and  rather  treating  him  as  "  the 
player."  He  pleaded  his  heavy  engagements  at  his  own 
theatre,  but  did  not  conceal  the  real  reason.  "This  filthy 
cold,"  he  wrote,  "I  partly  got  by  exhibiting  my  person  in  the 
gallant  Hastings,  the  best  compliment  I  could  pay  to  the  noble 
host  and  hostess,  where  you  are ;  but,  indeed,  my  pride  was 
very  much  modified  when  I  found  the  family  did  not  come  to 
their  box  until  in  the  middle  of  the  third  act.  It  will  not  be 
long  in  my  power  to  pay  many  such  compliments."  He  had, 
in  fact,  given  them  a  box,  and  at  their  request  had  actually 
fixed  "Jane  Shore"  for  the  night  Lord  Essex,  however, 
asked  a  large  dinner  party,  meaning  to  go  after  the  din- 
ner, and  bring  their  guests.  As  might  be  expected,  they  did 
not  reach  the  theatre  until  Garrick  was  nearly  at  his  last 
speech. 

One  morning  when  Boswell  had  come  to  breakfast  with 
Garrick,  the  host  greeted  him  with,  "  Pray,  now,  did  you — did 
you  meet  a  little  lawyer  turning  the  corner,  eh?"  Then, 
with  an  affected  indifference,  as  if  "  standing  on  tiptoe,"  he 
explained  that  it  was  Lord  Camden  who  had  just  left  him, 
and  with  whom  he  had  been  taking  a  walk.  Boswell  very 
happily  hit  off  this  foolish  bit  of  acting,  and  this  weakness  of 
wishing  to  be  seen  with  the  great.  It  scarcely  deserved  John- 
son's severe  comment  that  "Garrick  was  right;  for  Lord 
Camden  was  a  little  lawyer  for  associating  so  familiarly  with  a 
player."  That  little  lawyer  and  his  family  were  among  Gar- 
rick's  kindest  friends.  The  Chancellor's  interest  was  used  to 
advance  friends  of  the  actor,  and  exerted  with  a  zeal  and 
cordiality  that  made  it  doubly  welcome.  They  interchanged 
verses,  and  Garrick  and  his  wife  were  often  invited  to  Camaen 
Place.  When  the  Chancellor  was  out  of  office,  one  of  his  con- 
solations was  laying  out  meetings  with  his  friend.  "I  am 
happy  enough  .  .  .  treat  me  then  with  an  epigram  or  a  bit  of 
prologue;  or  if  you  have  nothing  of  that  sort  in  readiness, 
assure  me  of  your  and  Mrs.  Garrick's  health,  and  I  will  be 
content."  He  could  write  even  more  affectionately  when  dis- 
appointed of  a  visit.  "I  had  an  inward  feeling  when  we 
parted,  that  we  should  not  meet  again  as  we  proposed,  and 
this  made  me  so  desirous  of  keeping  you  when  I  had  you. 
But  now  I  despair.  You  and  Mrs.  Garrick  are  two  restless 
people,  whose  minds  are  always  upon  the  stretch  for  conversa- 
tion at  home  and  abroad,  and  are  strangers  to  the  pleasures  of 
one  day's  solitude.  The  only  time  you  allot  for  thought  is 
eight  to  ten  in  the  morning  during  winter,  and  even  these 


208  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

hours  are  interrupted  by  posts  and  box-keepers.  You  see  how 
fretful  your  letter  has  made  me,  but  how  can  I  be  otherwise 
when  I  find  myself  deprived  of  a  pleasure  I  have  lived  so  long 
in  hopes  of?"  There  was  a  warmth  in  this  eagerness  truly 
genuine ;  and  it  seemed  as  though  Garrick's  engagements  were 
always  fatally  in  the  way.  Not  very  long  before  the  actor's 
death,  he  wrote  to  him,  and  it  was  more  than  a  playful  warn- 
ing— "I  was  in  expectation  of  meeting  you  last  Sunday 
se'nnight  at  Mr.  Dunning's,  but  you  are  too  much  in  request 
to  be  had  on  short  notice.  Thai  idol  popularity  which  has  ruined 
my  fortune  and  made  yours,  will  yet  spoil  your  constitution;  for 
perpetual  feasting  and  riot  will  break  you  down  at  last,  and 
you  will  be  demolished,  though  you  are  stronger  than  NuttalL 
I  do  very  much,  my  dear  Garrick,  wish  for  a  quiet  day  or  two 
with  you,  when  you  are  not  interrupted  every  minute  with 
authors  and  actors.  Our  noisy  girls  are  gone,  and  the  house  is 
at  peace."  The  friendship  of  such  a  man  is  a  charming  testi- 
monial, and  no  better  comment  could  be  found  on  Johnson's 
foolish  speech.  That  "familiarity"  endured  long;  Camden 
was  executor,  and  held  the  actor's  palL  And  yet  that  protest 
— a  little  fretful  as  it  was — but  too  well  described  the  actor's 
restless  "  fussiness,"  that  "  acting  off  the  stage,"  which  would 
not  let  him  enjoy  calmly  the  hearts  and  the  friendship  which 
were  his,  but  kept  him  busy  with  little  schemes  and  plots  for 
the  next  hour— like  ladies  of  fashion,  with  many  parties  for 
the  one  night,  and  whose  eyes  and  thoughts  are  on  the  one 
to  which  they  have  to  go  next,  and  not  on  the  one  where  they 
are  present. 

Indeed,  the  number  of  men  in  office,  who  could  be  useful  to 
him,  and  who  were  delighted  to  oblige  him,  was  surprising. 
No  man  of  his  day  had  such  influence.  Some  of  his  prettiest 
letters  contain  requests  for  some  little  service,  and  were  hard 
to  resist.  As  where  some  India  chintz,  a  present  to  Mrs. 
Garrick,  was  detained  by  the  Customs,  he  pleaded  hard  with 
Mr.  Stanley  in  rhyme  and  prose.*  How  Mr.  Pelham  obliged 
him,  we  have  seen ;  and,  in  Pelham's  honour,  he  wrote  that 
Utile  ode,  which  attained  a  most  surprising  popularity,  running 

*  "  0,  Stanley,  give  ear  to  a  husband's  petition  1 "  Some  passages  in  the 
letter  have  quite  the  turn  of  Elia's  writing.  He  had  done,  he  said,  some 
trifling  service  for  the  Calcutta  Theatre.  "  In  return  they  have  sent  me 
Madeira,  and  poor  Rachel  the  unfortunate  chintz.  She  had  set  her  young 
heart  upon  making  some  alterations  in  our  little  place  at  Hampton.  She 
concluded  to  show  away  with  her  prohibited  present.  .  .  She  had  prepared 
chairs,  Ac.,  for  this  familiar  token  of  Indian  gratitude,"  .  .  Now  it  had 
fallen  iuto  "  the  coarse  hands  of  filthy  dungeon  ruffians" — Hill  MSS. 


1759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  209 

through  numerous  editions,  and  two  lines  of  which  have  been 
enrolled  in  :he  stock  of  "  quotable  "  phrases — 

"  Let  others  hail  the  rising  sun, 
I  bow  to  that  whose  course  is  run." 

Men  of  ability  and  of  intellect,  indeed,  formed  a  rich  depart- 
ment of  his  acquaintance. 


CHAPTER  V. 

FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES. — 1759. 

The  range  of  Garrick's  acquaintance  included  a  motley 
class,  from  the  meanest,  shirtless  Grub  Street  poet  to  the 
highest  Duke  in  the  land.  In  it  were  noble  lords  and  ladies, 
bishops,  parsons,  lawyers,  authors,  adventurers — gentle  natures, 
rough  and  savage  characters ;  for  all,  his  calm  and  placid  tem- 
per had  a  sort  of  charm.  He  was  fortunate  in  the  friendship 
of  Warburton,  and  it  is  surprising  to  see  with  what  warmth 
and  gentleness  that  rude  and  turbulent  nature  could  deal  with 
a  character  so  unlike  his  own.  The  Bishop  could  give  him  this 
fine  compliment : — "  I  honour  you  for  your  repeated  endeavours 
in  stemming  a  torrent  of  vice  and  folly.  You  do  it  in  a  station 
where  most  men,  I  suppose,  would  think  you  might  fairly  be 
dispensed  with,  from  bearing  your  part  in  the  duty  of  good 
citizens,  on  such  a  necessary  occasion.  Nobody  but  you  and  Pope 
ever  knew  how  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  your  respective  employ- 
ments." In  stormy  contest  all  his  life  with  every  one,  he  re- 
mained at  peace  with  the  actor  to  the  end.  Indeed,  nothing  is 
more  remarkable  in  Garrick's  life  than  the  nice  proportion  of 
his  acts  of  friendship,  delicately  shaped  so  as  to  be  of  the 
highest  profit  for  the  occasion.  To  Warburton  had  been  intro- 
duced the  new  Yorkshire  Eabelais,  Laurence  Sterne,  who  had 
come  up  to  town  in  1 761  to  enjoy  the  honours  of  his  book.  When 
the  storm  was  rising  about  Sterne,  and  cries  of  scandal  ringing 
in  his  ears,  the  actor  secured  for  him  the  useful  patronage,  and 
protection,  of  two  bishops' ;  and  when  these  were  being  alien- 
ated by  the  humorist's  own  folly,  made  unwearied  exertions  to 
excuse  and  restore  him.  All  that  round  of  feasting  and  honour, 
which  makes  Sterne's  London  campaign  read  like  a  romance,  he 
owed  to  Garrick,  who  was  unwearied  in  introducing  him  every- 
where. "  Mr.  Garrick,"  wrote  Tristram  in  a  tumult  of  delight 
to  his  "  Kitty,"  "  pays  me  all  and  more  honour  than  I  could 
look  for.    I  dined  with  him  to-day,  and  he  has  promised  num- 

P 


210  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 

bers  of  great  people  to  cany  me  to  dine  wtk  'em.  He  has  given 
me  an  order  for  the  liberty  of  his  boxes  ....  and  indeed 
leaves  nothing  undone  that  can  do  me  cither  service  or  credit ; 
he  has  undertaken  the  management  of  the  booksellers,  and  will 
procure  me  a  great  price."*  The  sentimental  clergyman,  it 
would  seem,  was  not  a  little  affected  by  the  charms  of  Mrs. 
Garrick,  and  often  sent  a  rapturous  message  of  admiration, 
through  her  husband.  Garrick  helped  him  with  a  loan — wrote 
from  abroad  that  it  should  be  looked  after ;  but  he  added  that 
they  were  not  to  be  in  the  least  ungentle  with  him.  Shandy's 
incurable  lightness,  and  that  round  of  follies — follies  which 
were  of  the  head,  not  of  the  heart — seemed  to  have  alienated 
this  good  friend,  as  they  did  so  many  others ;  and  Garrick  was 
at  the  dinner  party  in  Clifford-  Street,  when  the  footman  came 
in  with  news  that  he  had  just  seen  the  miserable  Yorick  breathe 
his  last,  without  a  friend  near  him.f 

Another  nobleman,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  was  his  friend, 
and  came  often  to  Hampton.  To  him  Garrick  could  apply  for 
a  loan.  The  answer  was,  "  I  have  sent  you  a  note  on  Snow 
for  £500 :  if  you  wanted  as  much  more,  it  is  at  your  service. 
I  am  very  glad  it  is  in  my  power  to  be  of  any  convenience  to 
you.  I  will  have  no  security"  After  thirty  years,  the  Mr. 
Lyttleton  who  had  been  introduced  to  him  during  the  Good- 
man's Fields'  days,  now  become  Lord  Lyttleton,  was  still  his 
warmest  friend.  With  him  Mrs.  Garrick  was  "  Pid-pad  " — a 
joke  on  her  pronunciation  of  "pit-a-pat"  Though  the  house 
was  full  of  Grenvilles,  and  "  Burzinsky  and  Paoli  had  just 
gone,  and  Belgioso  and  the  Bussians  were  to  come  next  week," 
still  "  all  parties  of  pleasure  without  Garrick  and  Pid-pad  ap- 
pear dull  and  insipid."  Mrs.  Montagu  desired  all  sorts  of 
"  fine  things  "  to  be  said  to  Mr.  Garrick  for  her ;  but  Lord 
Lyttleton  would  only  tell  him  one  plain  truth,  "  that  we  both 
love  you  dearly."  Even  the  great  political  Cato  of  the  day, 
now  in  retirement,  thawed  into  something  like  warmth  and 
gaiety.  Down  at  Mount  Edgecumbe  Mr.  Garrick  had  turned 
some  verses  in  the  statesman's  honour.  They  were  not  in  his 
happiest  strain,  likening  the  elderly,  hypochondriac  ex-Premier 

*  From  the  curious  collection  of  Sterne's  love  letters  in  the  Philobiblion 
collection. 

t  Sterne's  death-bed  is  a  ghastly  scene.  The  incidents — the  hireling, 
who  it  is  said  was  robbing  him  of  his  sleeve-links  as  he  died,  the  footman 
looking  on — the  blank  desertion — the  coldness  of  death,  that  began  with 
his  feet  and  went  upwards — the  whole  would  make  a  fine  subject  for  a 
painter,  and  a  fearful  contrast  to  that  of  the  gay  clergyman  coquetting 
with  the  grisette  in  Newton's  delightful  painting. 


1759.]     •  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  211 

who  was  racked  with  gout  and  rheumatism,  to  Achilles, 
"  Peleus's  son,"  when  he  "  wrathful  forsook  the  hostile  field," 
and  took  up  the  lyre ;  and  then  described  how  the  Earl,  freed 
from  cares  of  state,  solaced  himself  at  Burton  Pynsent : — 

"  Cheerful  he  came,  aU  blithe  and  gay, 
Fair  blooming  like  the  son  of  May ; 
Adown  his  radiant  shoulders  hung 
A  harp  by  all  the  Musea  strung." 

In  return  for  this  compliment,  the  Earl  sent  some  verses  i»i 
reply,  containing  a  pressing  invitation,  and  which,  it  must  bo 
said,  are  infinitely  more  free  and  natural  than  the  actor's  : — 

"  Leave,  Garrick,  the  rich  landscape,  proudly  gay, 
Docks,  forts,  and  navies,  brightening  all  the  bay ; 
To  my  plain  roof  repair,  primeval  seat ! 

***** 
Come,  then,  immortal  spirit  of  the  stage, 
Great  nature's  proxy,  glass  of  every  age  1 
Come,  taste  the  simple  life  of  patriarchs  of  old, 
Who,  rich  in  rural  peace,  ne'er  thought  of  pomp  or  gold." 

He  was  charmed  with  the  verses  from  Mount  Edgecumbe. 
"  You  have  kindly,"  he  said,  "  settled  on  me  a  lasting  species 
of  property  I  never  dreamed  of,  in  that  enchanting  place — a 
far  more  able  conveyancer  than  any  in  Chanceryland ;  for  in- 
stead of  laboriously  perplexing  rights,  you,  by  a  few  happy 
lines,  at  once  both  create  the  title  and  fix  the  possession."  On 
a  rare  occasion  Mr.  Pitt  and  Lady  Hester  woidd  visit  the 
theatre,  and,  as  it  were,  command  a  play,  through  Mr.  Berenger. 
They  were  enchanted.  They  thanked  their  friend  heartily  for 
"  his  obliging  good  offices  "  with  Garrick.  "  Inimitable  Shak- 
speare !  but  more  matchless  Garrick  !  Always  deep  in  nature 
as  the  poet,  but  never  (what  the  poet  is  too  often)  out  of  it" 
This  compliment  was  endorsed  by  Garrick  with  delight :  "  A 
note  from  Mr.  Pitt  to  Berenger  about  me  having  at  his  request 
acted  Macbeth.  Rich  and  exquisite  flattery!"  Yet  it  is  cha- 
racteristic of  Pitt's  stateliness  that  he  always  seemed  to  deal 
with  Garrick  by  embassy,  as  it  were,  and  would  make  arrange- 
ments for  coming  to  the  theatre  through  other  persons.  Mr. 
Pitt  was  one  of  the  audience  in  the  old  glorious  Goodman's 
Fields'  days.  "You  little  Horace,"  wrote  Burke — "you 
lepidissime  Homuncio,  when  will  you  call  to  see  your  Maecenas 
tUavis?"  Then  he  would  grumble  playfully  at  Garrick's  neglect. 
"You  know  the  unfortunate  have  always  proud  stomachs." 
"  I  send  you,"  he  wrote,  "  a  late  turtle,  a  rosa  sera,  as  good  for 
the  palate  as  the  other  for  the  nose.  Your  true  epicureans  are 
of  opinion,  you  know,  that  it  contains  in  itself  all  kinds  of 

P  2 


212  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

flesh,  fish,  and  fowl.  It  is,  therefore,  a  dish  fit  for  one  who 
can  represent  all  the  solidity  of  flesh,  the  volatility  of  fowl, 
and  the  oddity  of  fish."  Wilkes,  too,  wrote  him  lively,  rattling 
letters  of  compliment.  They  had  met  in  Paris ;  and  from  Paris 
"  Jack  Cade "  would  write  over  amusing  French  news — how 
Helvetius,  their  common  friend,  had  sent  nim  a  note  this  morn- 
ing, beginning,  "  Mon  cher  Wilkes — You,  who  will  be  exiled 
in  this  world,  and  damned  for  ever  in  the  next,  and  to  whom 
posterity  will  set  up  a  statue,"  &c.  Yet  he  was  no  friend ; 
and  after  the  actor's  death  spoke  «pf  him  harshly  and  unkindly. 

To  that  old  intriguer,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  Garrick  sent  a 
useful  token,  "  one  of  the  most  valuable  presents  which  an 
old  man  can  receive,  or  a  good  friend  can  make,  of  a  delightful 
horse  to  supply  the  defects  of  old  age  and  infirmity."  He  was 
eager  to  see  him  at  Claremont;  but  characteristically,  pre- 
sently glided  into  the  old  platitudes,  and  trusted  his  friend 
would  give  the  public  "  such  representations  of  human  nature 
as  must  encourage  and  promote  the  love  of  virtue  and  virtuous 
actions."  Beside  this,  we  can  put  the  portrait  of  the  man  who 
overcame  the  old  duke,  Lord  Bute.  Garrick  must  have  been 
much  taken  back  by  the  ungraciousness  with  which  that  cold 
favourite  received  a  present  of  some  new  little  composition. 
Lord  Bute  said  he  was  much  obliged;  but  was  too  jealous  for 
his  country's  honour  not  to  wish  that  this  had  been  Mr.  Gar- 
rick's  first  attempt  at  writing.  He  believed  it  to  be  below 
Mr.  Garrick's  talents.  Silence  in  such  a  matter  might  be  taken 
ill.  It  is  scarcely  so  wonderful  that  this  nobleman  was  un- 
popular; and  we  may  fancy  Garrick's  untoward  air — he  who 
was  accustomed  to  praise  "  in  pailfuls  " — at  such  unusual  can- 
dour. 

With  Walpole,  a  neighbour  almost,  he  never  seemed  to  get 
on  well.  It  would  seem  that  the  vicinity  of  the  handsome 
villa  at  Hampton,  whence  the  player  and  his  wife  drove  up  to 
town  in  their  "  coach-and-four,"  and  with  whom  lords  and 
dukes  came  to  dine,  excited  his  jealousy.  When  Garrick  went 
abroad,  a  letter  was  sent  off  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  to  warn  him 
to  be  on  his  guard.  The  way  he  spoke  of  Garrick  was  always 
offensive.  He  would  not  put  his  new  play  on  the  stage,  as  he 
would  not  expose  himself  to  "  the  impertinences  of  that  jacka- 
napes Garrick,  who  lets  nothing  appear  but  his  own  wretched 
stuff,  or  that  of  creatures  still  duller."  No  one  enjoyed  the 
success  of  Powell  so  much.  "  You  may  keep  Garrick  in  Paris," 
he  wrote  with  delight.  Yet  he  should  have  recollected  one 
kind  office,  when  Garrick  had  tried  to  avert  the  anger  of  War- 
burton.     Walpole  had  just   published  the  "  Anecdotes   of 


1759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  213 

Painting,"  where  the  enraged  bishop  found  his  name  coupled 
with  "  Tom  Hearne  and  Browne  Willis."  He  was  in  a  fury  at 
this  insult,  and  told  Garrick  "  he  would  be  about  Walpole's 
pots  "  for  that  treatment.  "  I  mean,"  he  added,  "  the  gally- 
pots  and  washes  of  his  toilette.  I  know  he  has  a  fribbled 
tutor  at  his  elbow  as  sicklied  over  with  affectation  as  himself. 
But  these  half  men  are  half  wits,"  &c.  Garrick  knew  well 
what  all  this  portended,  and  that  this  mild  phrase  of  "  being 
about  his  pots"  meant  the  frantic  destruction  of  a  bull  in  a 
china  shop.     He  hastened  to  get  Walpole  to  explain  or  soften. 

What  Walpole  thought  of  Garrick's  playing,  how  unfair  and 
prejudiced  he  was  in  every  judgment  of  the  actor  and  of  his 
plays,  was  notorious,  and  will  be  shown  later. 

Charles  Yorke,  brilliant  member  of  a  brilliant  family,  and  a 
most  engaging  character,  was  an  intimate  friend.  He  would 
give  him  legal  opinions  on  some  little  theatrical  difficulty, 
in  a  pleasant,  untechnical  way.  Garrick  also  knew  Charles 
Townshend;  and  that  statesman  was  eager  to  come  to  the 
theatre,  but  characteristically  often  forgot,  or  mistook  the  night 
The  Dukes  of  Portland,  Richmond,  and  Bedford,  Lords  Palmer- 
ston,  Mount  Edgecumbe,  Shelburne,  North,  Villiers,  Rocking- 
ham— half  the  ranks  of  the  titled  aristocracy — were  friends  or 
acquaintances.  All  were  pressing  him  to  their  houses  and 
castles.  Lord  Camden,  as  we  have  seen,  lamented  these  flatter- 
ing attentions,  and  near  the  end  of  his  own  life  told  his  friend 
that  he  could  find  no  pleasure  in  the  "  trash  "  that  then  made  up 
the  nobility.  To  the  Player  the  tone  of  address  adopted  by 
this  "  trash  "  is  of  the  most  delicate  and  friendly  sort— defer- 
ential even  at  times.  In  so  honouring  him,  they  did  them- 
selves honour ;  and  without  laying  undue  weight  on  the  value 
of  such  patronage,  it  is  a  most  singular  spectacle  to  think  of 
"  a  mere  player '  thus  sought,  and  courted,  and  petted  by  the 
noblest  and  greatest  in  the  country — by  the  highest  in  intel- 
lect, in  politics,  in  rank,  and  in  fashion.  Foote  was  found  at 
a  great  house  or  two — at  the  Delavals,  and  others.  In  his 
case,  they  descended  to  him,  and  did  not  raise  him  to  a  level 
with  themselves. 

It  is  scarcely  surprising  that  such  attentions  should  have 
flattered  him,  or  given  him  a  growing  taste  for  yet  more  of 
the  same  kind.  But  it  is  even  more  surprising  that  he  was 
not  overset  with  pride  or  conceit  The  most  that  could  be 
detected  was  his  introducing  the  names  of  lords  a  little 
too  often,  which  his  really  numerous  engagements  to  such 
persons  might  render  unavoidable.  In  his  conduct  there  was 
no  change.     He  was  not  "  fine,"  nor  inclined  to  pass  by  hum- 


J14  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

bier  friends.     His  little  affectations  were  harmless,  though 
sometimes  not  a  little  amusing. 

No  man  ever  had  such  a  curious  parti-coloured  roll  of  ac- 
quaintance, which  included  all  classes  and  conditions.  It  must 
have  seemed  to  him  like  the  interior  of  his  own  great  theatre, 
with  its  classes  of  boxes,  pit,  and  galleries.  He  knew  the 
lowest  and  the  highest,  the  odd  and  the  eccentric,  the  happy 
and  the  miserable.  Dr.  Dodd,  with  whom  the  title  of  "  the 
unfortunate  divine  "  was  always  associated,  was  one  of  these 
unlucky  friends,  and  was  assiduous  in  his  civilities.  The  two 
glimpses  we  have  of  this  clergyman  show  him  to  us,  cu- 
riously enough,  in  relation  with  the  family  who  brought  him 
to  the  scaffold.  Once  he  gave  a  play  at  his  house,  in  which  his 
pupil,  Mr.  Stanhope,  took  a  part,  and  Mr.  Garrick  furnished  a 
prologue,  full  of  compliments  to  the  Lord  Chesterfield,  who  was 
present  Later,  Dr.  Dodd  wrote  from  "  Turret  House,"  saying, 
he  is  charged  by  Lord  and  Lady  Chesterfield  "  to  request  the 
honour  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick's  company  at  dinner  at  Black- 
heath,  and  that  Mrs.  Dodd  and  Mr.  Stanhope  will  be  of  the 
party,  and  attend  him,  and  he  hopes  Mr.  6.  will  not  refuse 
him  the  satisfaction  of  taking  a  piece  of  mutton  at  Ealing."* 

Boswell  was  sure  not  to  neglect  so  important  a  centre  of 
social  pleasure.  A  passage  from  a  letter  written  to  Garrick 
not  long  after  the  Jubilee  is  admirable.  "  It  is  true  we  must 
all  look  forward  to  the  last  scene.  You,  who  have  so  often 
felt,  and  made  others  feel,  its  solemnity,  must  fall,  just  like 
others.  This  puts  me  in  mind  of  three  essays  which  I  wrote 
on  the  profession  of  a  player  last  year,  and  which  were  pub- 
lished in  the  '  London  Magazine/  in  which  I  have  some  con- 
cern. Pray,  have  you  read  them  ?  .  .  .  .  Why  have  you  not 
called  on  General  Paoli,  since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  presenting 
you  to  him,  in  your  morning  dress,  comme  vn  roi  d6gui$6,  and 
he  paid  you  so  handsome  a  compliment,  which,  I  dare  say,  you 
have  added  to  your  cabinet  of  jewels  f  He  likened  the  letter 
of  Garrick  that  reached  him  on  his  tour  to  a  pineapple. 

It  was  natural  that  such  a  disciple  of  Shakspeare  should  have 
come  in  contact  with  the  whole  corps  of  Shakspeare  editors — 
Steevens,  Capell,  Warburton,  and  many  more — who  abused 
each  other  to  him,  with  all  the  ferocity  that  seemed  incident 
to  their  calling.  Warburton  said  to  him,  "  Of  all  idiots,  sure 
the  greatest  is  one  Capell. "  Steevens,  speaking  of  the  same 
person,  admitted  his  exactness,  but  protested,  "  that  if  a  ilea 
were  to  break  his  chain,  he  would  be  utterly  incapable  of  mend- 

•  Endorsed  by  Garrick,  "  Dr.  Dodd  hanged."— Bullock  MSS. 


1*759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  215 

ing  it."  Warburton  had  a  true  contempt  for  Johnson's  labours. 
Steevens  had  a  full  and  forcible  style ;  his  letters  are  exceedingly 
vigorous.*  But  it  was  through  Steevens,  that  Garrick  saw  how 
faithless  and  ungrateful  a  friend  could  be.  All  the  choicest 
treasures  of  his  libraries — his  scarce,  handsome,  richly  bound 
old  plays  were  lent  to  Steevens,  and  kept  by  him  for  years. 
For  years,  the  friendliest  and  most  confidential  intercourse 
existed  between  them.  When  the  Jubilee  was  the  talk,  and, 
perhaps,  jest  of  every  one,  a  number  of  bitter  and  amusing 
squibs  were  noticed  in  the  papers,  which  attracted  much  at- 
tention. Some  were  attributed  to  Foote.  Inquiry  was  made, 
and  Garrick  was  shocked  to  discover,  that  the  most  savage  and 
bitter  on  himself,  were  written  by  the  man  who  was  at  that 
moment  on  the  most  confidential  terms  with  him.  When 
Steevens  heard  that  Garrick  was  about  taking  the  matter  up 
seriously,  he  grew  alarmed,  and  sent  to  assure  him  that  he  was 
author  of  three  only  of  the  most  harmless — a  parody  on 
Dryden's  Ode,  which  he  called  an  ode  on  the  Duke  of  Bedford 
dedicating  a  temple  to  the  memory  of  his  cook,  Le  Stue,  and 
of  two  others.  Yet,  almost  immediately,  he  was  boasting  every- 
where that  he  had  written  all  the  offensive  pieces — some  thirty- 
five  or  forty — and  added,  that  it  was  "fun  to  vex  Garrick" 
Fun  to  vex  Garrick !  This  was  every  one's  excuse,  and  Gar- 
rick's  destiny;  his  gentle,  forgiving,  and  too  indifferent  nature, 
was  a  mark  for  the  spite  and  satire  of  such  writers.  This 
treachery  he  took  calmly,  and  broke  off  this  acquaintance,  t 
But  the  editor  contrived  to  pacify  him. 

It  must  have  been  delightful  to  see  him  in  his  fits  of  bois- 
terous spirits,  as  when  he  was  hurrying  to  pay  a  visit  to  his 
frierd  Burney  through  St.  Martin's  Street,  where  the  little 
boys,  who  swarmed  from  the  lanes  and  corners,  stared  at  him 
and  gathered  round,  for  they  knew  him  perfectly,  and  formed 
part  of  his  gallery  audience.  Once  he  found  his  friend  in  the 
midst  of  his  family,  and  under  the  hairdresser's  hands.  In 
more  than  ordinary  spirits,  he  began  by  affecting  to  watch  the 
hairdresser's  operations  with  the  most  absorbing  interest  and 
wonder.  The  artist  seemed  delighted  at  this  compliment. 
Then  the  wonderful  face  began  to  take  a  sort  of  compound  ex- 

*  "  A  rival  editor,  like  myself,  will  always  become  a  kind  of  Town  Bull ; 
and  every  fatherless  letter  calved  in  the  newspapers  on  this  subject  will, 
of  course,  be  laid  to  his  charge." 

t  The  character  of  Steevens  must  have  been  truly  odious.  Da  vies  men- 
tions a  story  of  his  throwing  libels  over  his  neighbour's  garden  wall.  Others 
of  a  very  malignant  sort  are  to  be  found  in  Taylor,  vol.  ii,  p.  46.  Miss 
Hawkins  describes  his  deathbed  as  terrible. 


216  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

pression  of  meanness  and  sadness,  like  Abel  Drugget's,  with 
such  a  hopeless  vacancy,  that  the  hairdresser  grew  quite  dis- 
turbed and  confused.  And  when  Garrick,  taking  off  his 
"scratch"  wig,  asked  him,  with  the  same  stupid  manner, 
"  Could  you  touch  up  this  old  Bob  a  bit  now?"  the  other  be- 
came quite  scared  at  the  metamorphosis,  and  ran  out  of  the 
room.  He  was  not  so  successful  with  a  red-headed  Yorkshire 
assistant  in  Koubiliac's  studio,  where  he  had  gone  to  see  how 
the  Shakspeare  statue  was  getting  on.  He  seized  a  rule,  and 
knitting  his  brows,  scowling,  and  making  his  fine  eyes  roll,  he 
came  over  fiercely  to  the*  man.  He  was  infinitely  discomposed 
when  the  latter  said,  coolly,  "  Now,  my  little  master,  what 
tricks  are  you  up  to  now? " 

Put  into  yet  greater  spirits  by  this  success,  the  visitor  asked 
how  the  doctor's  pamphlet  was  selling,  and  then  burst  into  the 
tone  and  manner  of  an  auctioneer — "  A  penny  a  piece  !  A. 
penny !  All  agoing !  Each  worth  a  pound,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men! "  Then  he  said  the  doctor  sat  in  that  easy  chair  "  to  rest 
his  understanding."  From  all  the  young  people  round  came  a 
cry  of  "  Oh  ! "  "  Oh ! "  Garrick,  quite  grave  and  concerned, 
started  up,  "  You  mistake,  I  assure  you.  O  really,  'pon  ny 
word,  I  never — that — intended — I  only  meant — "  with  ihe 
most  absurd  alarm.  He  was  inexhaustible  that  morning.  He 
was  engaged  to  breakfast  with  BosweU,  and  in  a  moment  was 
taking  him  off  to  the  life.  Going  away  after  this  amusing 
visit,  he  had  his  jest  even  with  the  housemaid  on  the  stairs. 
He  addressed  her  solemnly — "  Child,  do  you  know  who  I  am  ? 
I  am  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  of  the  age  !"  And  left  her, 
scared  and  mystified.  This  little  scene,  even  allowing  for 
over-colouring,  is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  social  manners,  and 
speaks  a  light  heart  and  amiable  temper. 

He  was  fond  of  "giving"  Johnson — not  ill-naturedly.  It 
was  delightful  to  see  him,  heaving  up  his  shoulders,  working 
his  arms,  looking  round  the  table,  preparing  to  compound  a 
bowl,  and  asking,  "  Who's  for  jpoonck  f"  He  would  declaim 
the  first  four  lines  of  Gray's  Bard,  in  the  doctor's  solemn  and 
sonorous  declamation,  rolling  out  the  lines,  so  that  scarcelj  a 
word  was  intelligible.  The  persevering  Cradock  declared  one 
night,  in  a  mixed  company,  that  he  could  do  it  better  without 
pronouncing  any  words,  or  articulating  at  all.  "  Tom  Da  vies  " 
was  considered  to  take  off  the  doctor's  rhinoceros  laugh  with 
good  success. 

To  Hampton  came  the  strange  Monsey — one" of  the  oddities 
of  London,  whose  style  of  wit  may  be  understood,  from  his 
declining  a  nobleman's  invitation  to  dinner  on  this  ground — 


1759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  217 

"  I  can't,  my  lord,  for  I  have  a  scoundrel  to  dine  with  me." 
"  Then  bring  your  scoundrel,"  said  his  lordship,  as  promptly. 
Both  excuse  and  reply  were  given  in  the  hearing  of  the  invited 
guest.  Garrick  became  acquainted  with  him  at  an  Old  Bailey 
trial,  when  he  heard  a  gentleman  ask  a  person  in  front  to  move 
a  little.  The  other,  a  stout  fellow,  kept  his  place.  At  last  the 
gentleman  said,  half  aloud,  "If  I  were  not  a  coward,  I  would 
give  you  a  blow  even  in  open  court."  The  oddity  of  this  speech 
highly  delighted  Garrick,  who  determined  to  know  him ;  and 
was  still  more  delighted  when  he  found  out  that  he  was  the 
well-known  Monsey,  whom  he  had  never  yet  seen.  The  result 
was  an  intimacy  of  many  years.  Garrick  often  took  him  down 
to  Hampton.  Between  the  actor  and  doctor  a  tone  of  blunt 
familiarity  was  studiously  cultivated.  The  plainest  and  rudest 
truths  were  spoken  in  the  most  open  way.*  Thus  at  a  dinner 
party  at  Southampton  Street,  the  guests  were  Warburton  and 
Brown,  the  author  of  "  Barbarossa,"  at  first  and  for  a  time  a 
sort  of  toady  and  client  of  the  Bishop's,  and  Monsey.  Garrick 
bade  the  doctor  restrain  himself,  because  he  was  in  presence  of 
Dr.  Warburton.  "  Oh,  yes,"  said  Dr.  Brown — more  obsequious, 
it  is  said,  than  even  the  obsequious  Hurd — "of  course  he  will, 
for  he  is  afraid  of  Dr.  Warburton."  Monsey  waited  a  moment 
to  see  what  Warburton  would  say,  and  then  answered  gravely, 
"  No,  sir ;  I  am  neither  afraid  of  Dr.  Warburton  nor  of  his  jack- 
jnidding"  This  thrust,  however  happy,  produced  a  solemn 
pause,  and  very  soon  broke  up  the  party.  The  doctor,  too, 
was  once  made  the  object  of  one  of  those  theatrical  tours  de 
force  for  which  Garrick  has  made  himself  a  distinct  reputation. 
He  was  found  by  the  doctor  ill  in  bed  on  a  night  when  he 
should  have  been  at  the  theatre  to  play  King  Lear.  Garrick 
said  it  was  no  great  matter,  as  there  was  an  actor  there,  Marr, 
so  like  him  in  voice,  manner,  and  look,  that  the  audience  would 
not  find  out  the  difference.  As  soon  as  Monsey  was  gone  to 
the  theatre,  Garrick  leaped  up,  drove  away,  and  arrived  just  in 
time  to  come  on.  The  doctor  listened,  wondering ;  at  last  saw 
that  the  audience  believed  in  the  identity,  and  then  began  to 

*  Monsey  heard  that  Garrick  was  having  the  Duke  of  Argyll  and  some 
ladies  of  quality  to  dinner,  and  reproached  him  for  not  asking  him.  Garrick 
told  him  plainly  he  was  not  fit  company  for  Buch  persons.  "  Tou  are  too 
great  a  blackguard."  "  Why,  you  little  scoundrel,"  said  the  other,  "  ask 
Lord  Godolphin  if  I  can't  behave  myself?"  The  doctor  came.  Mrs.  Garrick 
was  so  busy  helping  the  persons  of  quality  that  she  passed  over  Dr.  Monsey, 
who  had  several  times  put  out  his  plate.    At  last  he  called  out,  "  Will  you 

help  me,  you  b h,  or  not  ? "    Garrick  fell  back,  nearly  Buffocated  with 

laughter ;  the  Duke  stared  ;  the  rest  of  the  company  were  Btruck  with  con- 
sternation. 


218  TOE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

suspect  the  trick.  He  hurried  back  to  Southampton  Street ; 
but  Garrick  was  already  home  before  him,  lying  covered  up  in 
his  bed,  having  actually  not  had  time  to  get  off  his  kingly  dress. 
It  often  happens  that  this  gross  humour  and  eccentricity  is 
"  ill-conditioned  "  and  malignant,  and  Garrick  soon  discovered 
that  this  friend  was  sending  about  ill-natured  stories  of  him, 
and  then  the  doctor  became  his  enemy. 

No  one  could  tell  a  "  good  story  "  so  dramatically  as  Garrick. 
He  was  very  fond  of  practical  joking,  as  it  was  a  sort  of  useful, 
unprofessional  training,  and  gave  him  a  freedom  he  would  not 
have  on  the  stage.  A  little  scene  outside  of  a  public-house  at 
Kensington  gravel-pits,  where  a  man  had  undertaken  for  a 
wager  to  eat  a  large  quantity  of  bacon  and  beans,  was  one  of 
his  most  effective  stories.  An  enormous  crowd  was  gathered, 
who  grew  impatient  as  the  man  did  not  appear,  but  who  at  last 
came  forward  without  his  coat>  "  his  shirt-sleeves  tied  with  red 
ribbons,"  and  a  large  lump  of  bacon,  with  the  beans,  on  his 
knees.  He  was  "  well  received,"  and  began  to  eat  with  alac- 
rity; but  gradually  slackened,  and  finally  ran  in  and  escaped. 
The  mob  then  grew  riotous,  and  wrecked  the  house.  Garrick's 
animated  picture  of  the  whole  scene — the  cries  of  the  mob, 
"  Beans  and  bacon ! "  "  Bring  out  the  man ! "  and  his  vivid 
picture  of  the  confusion — made  up  a  most  diverting  story,  and 
convulsed  all  his  hearers.  Once,  when  walking  with  Colonel 
Wyndham  up  Ludgate  Hill,  Garrick  went  out  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  and  stared  at  the  sky,  repeating,  "  I  never  saw  two 
before."  A  crowd,  of  course,  gathered,  some  wise  one  saying, 
"  It  must  be  two  storks,  as  these  birds  are  never  seen  in  com- 
pany." Garrick's  wild  stare  of  lunacy  as  it  rested  on  them  quite 
scared  all.  So,  when  some  boys  were  coming  out  of  school, 
Garrick  picked  out  one,  whom  he  sternly  reprimanded  for  ill- 
treating  his  companion.  The  supposed  sufferer  said  it  was 
untrue ;  but  Garrick  only  spoke  with  greater  severity  to  the 
culprit,  saying  how  little  he  deserved  the  generosity  of  the  boy 
who  sought  to  excuse  him  by  a  falsehood.  The  hopeless  mystifica- 
tion, and  alarm  even,  of  the  boys,  the  stupid  terror  of  the  boy 
himself — who,  under  Garrick's  eye,  began  to  question  whether 
he  had  not  done  what  he  was  accused  of — was  a  picture.  Gar- 
rick justified  himself  by  saying  he  got  valuablo  lessons  for  his 
profession.  So  would  he  turn  round,  and  give  a  piercing  look 
at  a  ticket  porter,  who  was  going  along  cheerily,  and  humming 
a  tune.  The  fellow's  gaiety  was  checked  at  once.  Garrick 
would  stop,  and  again  look  round  at  him.  The  restlessness  of 
the  man,  and  even  his  distress — the  suspicions  of  the  passers-by, 
who  also  began  to  look  at  him — became  extremely  dramatic. 


1759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  219 

So  his  calling  to  a  smart  young  waterman  on  the  river,  "  Are 
you  not  ashamed  to  be  dressed  in  that  way,  with  your  mother 
in  such  distress,  and  you  allowing  her  only  threepence  a  week?'9 
A  stone,  however,  was  the  reply  to  this  jest,  and  Garrick's  boat 
had  to  pull  hard  to  get  out  of  reach.* . 

He  often  was  induced  to  get  up  after  dinner,  and  give 
what  he  called  "his  rounds,"  and,  leaning  on  the  back  of 
a  chair,  would  pass  from  an  imitation  of  madness  to  that  of 
drunkenness,  and  change  his  face  with  marvellous  versatility. 
This  must  have  been  a  high  entertainment 

That  weak  being,  Percival  Stockdale,  who,  like  Churchill, 
had  stripped  off  his  gown  "  because  it  had  sickened  my  soul 
with  such  a  nausea,  now  came  to  fling  himself  abjectly  at 
Garrick's  feet,  with  compliments  and  even  adulation,  imploring 
him  to  save  him,  and  keep  him  on  firm  ground.  This  saviour 
was  "  one  of  those  superior  beings  destined  by  God  to  save  the 
miserable  and  weak.  .  .  .  .  "  All  he  wished  Mr.  Garrick  to 
procure  for  him  was  "a  creditable  and  permanent  office,  in 
which  drudgery  should  not  be  required.  "The  metropolis 
yet  strongly  attracts  me"  Garrick  used  all  his  interest  with 
Lord  Sandwich,  and  obtained  for  him  the  chaplaincy  of  the 
Resolution,  then  lying  at  Portsmouth.  He  was  only  tolerably 
content  with  his  chaplaincy — was  afraid  he  would  again  be 
unsatisfied  with  himself,  or  unable  to  act  "with  that  tem- 
pered vivacity  which  greatly  contributes  to  make  a  man 
agreeable.7'  The  captain  and  lieutenants  were  polite  and 
attentive,  and  if  he  were  only  at  peace  with  himself  he  could 
be  almost  happy.  When  every  means  of  procrastination  was 
exhausted,  and  the  Resolution  was  ordered  to  sea,  he  told 
Garrick  he  was  determined  to  die  rather  than  be  sacrificed  "  to 
this  horrible  life."  Garrick  must  get  him  something  else. 
"  Verify  my  eulogium  of  your  being  as  great  in  Garrick  as  in 
Lear.  It  will  give  great  pleasure  to  your  own  moral  senti- 
ments  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  point  out  what  I  want 

you  to  do  for  me.  You  know  my  cast  of  mind — you  know  the 
range  I  formerly  gave  you !  "  In  a  few  months  he  seems  to 
have  lost  his  chaplaincy.  He  had  once  admired,  idolised  Mr. 
Garrick.  "  With  philosophic  calmness  "  he  imputed  Garrick's 
severity  to  error,  "  but  to  error  which  hath  sunk  me  for  ever." 
The  worthless  fellow  lately  came  to  write  some  memoirs,  and 
there  held  up  the  failings  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  friend, 
and  "saviour,"  and  could  dwell    on  his   "envy"  and  his 

*  The  reader  will  recall  Johnson's  "  slanging  "  another  waterman  on  the 
rnrer — perhaps  the  most  masterly  specimen  of  "  blackguarding"  on  record. 


220  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759. 

"  jealousy ! "    It  is  almost  sickening  to  see  what  vile  patterns 
of  human  nature  Garrick  was  to  know. 

The  sensitiveness  of  his  many  debtors  almost  makes  us 
smile.  One  might  think  that  to  lend  money  was  the  sorest 
injury  one  man  could  do  to  another.  There  was  a  pleasant 
Irishman,  who  was  Master  of  the  Horse  to  the  Lord-lieu- 
tenant, and  who  had  got  into  embarrassments.  Garrick  had 
voluntarily  offered  his  assistance;  and  when  he  was  going 
abroad  for  some  years,  and  settling  his  affairs,  proposed  some 
shape  of  formal  security.  This  was  indignantly  resented  by 
the  sensitive  Master  of  the  Horse,  as  he  frankly  admitted, 
"  from  the  consciousness  of  my  own  inability  to  discharge  so 
considerable  a  debt  if  the  power  of  demanding  it  fell  into  any 
other  hands  but  your  own.'1  The  result  was  a  rather  natural 
coolness.  On  Garrick's  return,  Mr.  Jephson  said  that  he  saw 
his  fault  He  had,  in  fact,  been  writing  a  play.  He  owned 
that  he  had  been  wrong,  and  acknowledged  himself  "  under  the 
greatest  obligations  to  you,  and  to  assure  you,  if  you  now 
please  to  accept  my  bond,  or  other  instrument,  for  the  money, 
it  will  in  no  degree  lessen  the  sense  of  the  great  service  your  kind- 
ness," &c.  Garrick,  with  that  charming  sweetness  which 
always  distinguished  him,  only  said,  "  The  more  I  think  of  this 
matter,  the  less  I  am  able  to  account  for  your  particular  diffi- 
dence. I  wish  your  next  friend  may  be  as  much  more  able  to 
serve  you,  as  more  deserving  of  your  confidence."  He  then  re- 
assured Jephson,  by  telling  him  that  he  had  protected  him,  as 
to  the  bond,  in  his  will.  The  Master  of  the  Horse,  after  all, 
was  a  good  fellow;  and  this  was  what  Johnson  might  have 
called  "the  sensitiveness  of  impecuniosity."  Many  of  his 
plays  were  afterwards  brought  out  by  the  same  friend. 

Baretti  had  done  him  some  little  offices.  The  remedy  of 
Count  Bujowich  for  sciatica,  which  he  had  recommended  for 
Mrs.  Garrick,  and  the  success  of  which  was  "  miraculous,"  was 
never  forgotten.  Garrick  repaid  him  with  loans,  and  every 
kind  of  good  office.  When  Baretti  was  apprehended  for 
murder — for  killing  a  man  in  a  street  scuffle — Garrick  at- 
tended with  other  friends  at  Lord  Mansfield's,  to  give  bail 
The  scene  at  the  trial  reads  itself,  like  a  scene  out  of  a  comedy 
of  the  day,  and  characteristically  brought  on  all  the  actors  in 
their  various  parts.* 

*  Garrick  waa  greatly  annoyed  by  Lord  Mansfield's  behaviour,  who,  to 
show  his  knowledge,  affected  to  discuss  the  meaning  of  a  passage  in 
"  Othello  "  while  the  bonds  were  being  signed.  An  account  of  Baretti's 
trial  is  given  in  the  Sessions  Papers.  The  "  Hon.  Mr.  Beauclerk  "  was 
called  first,  and  we  seem  to  hear  the  man  of  fashion  and  UiganL    "  He 


1759.]  FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES.  221 

Among  the  familiar  attractions  of  Hampton  must  be  counted 
the  dogs,  and  Mr.  Garrick's  great  dog,  Dragon,  well  known 
everywhere.  He  had  travelled  up  to  town,  and  like  his  master, 
had  made  his  appearance  on  the  stage  at  Drury  Lane — being 
led  out  by  the  droll  Weston,  who  spoke  an  epilogue,  addressed 
to  him.  The  audience  were  infinitely  delighted  with  the  un- 
conscious acting  of  the  large  creature,  who  seemed  quite  at 
home  in  their  presence,  and  was  looking  up  with  great  good- 
humour  into  the  face  of  the  droll  actor  who  was  addressing 
him.  There  was  near  being  a  riot  on  a  succeeding  night  when 
the  epilogue  was  withdrawn,  and  the  dog  had  to  be  sent  for. 
This  familiarity  was  scarcely  consistent  with  the  dignity  of 
Drury  Lane,  and  seemed  nearly  as  bad  as  that  boxing  of  Hunt 
and  dancing  of  Mahomet,  which  he  had  once  denounced  so 
scornfully.* 

Thus,  like  nearly  every  other  man  of  heart  and  feeling,  he 
both  loved  and  respected  dogs ;  and  there  were  always  many 
seen  about  Hampton. 

Such  is  a  glimpse  of  the  private  life  of  a  pleasant  man,  and 
such  was  the  curious  "  bundle  of  sticks,"  smooth,  strong,  and 
supporting,  crooked  and  useless;  which  made  up  Garrick's 
friends  and  acquaintances.     A  volume  could  be  filled  with  the 

gave  me  letters  to  some  of  the  first  people  abroad.  I  went  to  Italy  the 
time  the  Duke  of  York  did.  Unless  Mr.  Baretti  had  been  a  man  of  con- 
sequence, he  could  not  have  recommended  me  to  such  people  as  he  did. 
He  is  a  gentleman  of  letters."  Mr.  Croker  has  quoted  Dr.  Johnson's  testi- 
mony in  the  witness-box.  "  He  is  a  man  of  literature — a  very  studious 
man — a  man  of  diligence.  A  mau  that  I  never  knew  to  be  otherwise  than 
peaceable,  and  a  man  that  I  take  to  be  rather  timorous."  Garrick  was 
then  called.  "  I  never  knew  a  man  of  more  active  benevolence.  At  Paris 
I  was  very  inquisitive  about  men  of  literature,  and  asked  who  whs  the  best 
writer  of  French  ;  they  told  me  Baretti.  I  have  a  very  particular  instance 
of  his  great  friendship.  Mrs.  Garrick  got  a  lameness,  and  we  tried  every 
remedy."  Baretti  recommended  one.  A  knife  was  put  into  his  hand. 
u  Mrs.  Garrick  has  one  now,  with  a  steel  blade  and  a  gold  back."  This  in- 
troduction of  Mrs.  Garrick  is  quite  like  the  manager.  Goldsmith  gave  his 
testimony  with  a  generous  warmth.  "  He  is  a  most  humane,  benevolent, 
and  peaceable  man.  I  have  heard  him  speak  with  regard  to  those  poor 
creatures  on  the  street.  He  is  a  man  of  as  great  humanity  at  any  in  the 
world." 

*  Later,  Miss  Hannah  More  addressed  this  dog,  elegantly  and  appro- 
priately ;  and  her  very  pleasing  ode  to  Dragon  was  copied  and  recopied, 
and  had  at  last  to  be  printed  to  gratify  admirers  : — 

"  O  Dragon  I  change  with  me  thy  fate, 

To  me  give  up  thy  place  and  Btate, 
And  I  will  give  thee  mine. 

I  left  to  think,  and  thou  to  feed. 

My  mind  enlarged,  thy  body  freed 
How  bleat  thy  lot  and  mine. 


222  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759— 

chronicles  of  the  strange  doings  of  the  Potters,  Kenricks,  Gen- 
tlemans,  and  dozens  more,  and  who  tried  every  art  to  secure 
his  assistance,  or  patronage,  and  when  that  was  tired  out,  be- 
took themselves  to  a  whole  round  of  meaner  agencies.  It  is 
inconceivable  the  amount  of  trouble  and  worry,  though,  with 
some,  of  pleasure  and  happiness,  his  contact  with  such  varied 
natures  gave  him.  Therefore  it  is,  that  Garrick's  life,  apart 
from  the  consideration  of  his  own  dramatic  talent,  seems  to 
have  such  an  interest,  as  a  special  picture  of  human  life — a 
picture,  of  which  it  may  be  said,  that  no  such  colours,  such 
shades  and  effects  of  human  character,  are  to  be  found  any- 
where else.  His  office  as  a  manager  of  a  great  theatre,  his 
own  fine  character,  and  lastly,  his  habit  of  preserving  every 
paper  and  letter,  are  the  special  advantages  which  have  helped 
us  to  this  view. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A  MODEL  FARCE — SHERIDAN  RIVALRY — COLMAN. 

1759-1761. 

Returning  now  to  town,  as  it  might  be,  with  Mr.  Garrick 
from  Hampton,  we  resume  our  view  of  the  great  theatre  he 
ruled.  With  the  new  season  of  1759,  find  Macklin  in  his  old 
part  of  Shylock;  Moody  and  Miss  Pope,  promoted  from  playing 
with  children,  strengthening  the  company,  and  making  up  for 
the  loss  of  Woodward  and  of  Mossop,  who  had  joined  that  de- 

"  I'd  get  my  master's  way  by  rote, 
Ne'er  would  I  bark  at  ragged  coat, 

Nor  tear  the  tattered  sinner. 
Like  him  I'd  love  the  dog  of  merit, 
Caress  the  cur  of  broken  spirit, 

And  give  them  all  a  dinner. 

"  Nor  let  me  pair  his  blue-eyed  dame 
With  Venus  or  Minerva's  name, 

One  warrior,  one  coquette. 
No  ;  Pallas  or  the  Queen  of  Beauty 
Shunn'd  or  betrayed  that  nuptial  duty, 

Which  the  so  highly  set 

"  Whene'er  I  heard  the  rattling  coach 
Proclaim  the  long-desired  approach, 
How  would  I  haste  to  greet  'em ! 
Nor  ever  feel  I  wore  a  chain, 
Till  starting,  I  perceived  with  pain, 
I  could  not  fly  to  meet  'em." 


1761.]  A  MODEL  FARCE.  223 

serter  at  Dublin.  Home's  dull  "  Siege  of  Aquileia,"  one  of 
the  eternal  Greek  or  Roman  plays  ("  Sieges  "  of  this  town,  or 
"  Fall "  of  that);  "  The* Desert  Island,"  and  a  Pantomime  from 
the  Old  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  called  "  Harlequin's  Inva- 
sion," with  two  good  farces,  were  the  chief  attractions  of  the 
season.  One  of  the  farces  was  Macklin's  capital  "  Love  a  la 
Mode,"  spirited  and  humorous.*  The  other  piece  was  even  of 
greater  merit. 

The  leaden  theatrical  sky  was  at  last  to  be  broken  by  a  flash 
of  true  humour.  One  of  the  gayest,  pleasantest,  and  most 
laughter-moving  little  comedies — for  it  took  higher  rank  than 
farce — was  now  put  on  the  stage.  "  High  Life  below  Stairs  " 
has  the  true  elements  of  comedy.  It  is  a  picture  of  human 
nature  and  of  human  character  besides,  and  its  situations  were 
.infinitely  droll.  Over  a  hundred  years  old,  it  can  be  played 
to-morrow  without  altering  a  line,  and  be  as  fresh  and  intel- 
ligible as  on  the  nights  when  Ring  and  Palmer,  Mrs.  Abington 
and  Mrs.  Clive,  were  convulsing  Old  Drury  Lane  as  My  Lord 
Duke,  Sir  Harry,  Lady  Bab,  and  Lady  Charlotte.  This  excellent 
piece  has  always  been  attributed  to  the  Eev.  Mr.  Townley,  and 
is  still  played  under  his  name ;  but  this  was  only  the  finesse,  or 
timorousness,  of  Garrick,  who  was  afraid,  perhaps,  of  exciting 
the  enmity  of  the  servants,  against  whom  his  satire  was  directed. 
It  shows  also  that  his  correct  principles  of  acting  followed  him 
into  another  direction,  and  helped  him  to  write  on  the  same 
pure  and  correct  principles  as  those  on  which  he  acted,  t 

A  third  farce  of  this  season  was  by  that*  strange  lady,  Mrs. 
Clive,  and  entitled  "Every  Woman  in  her  Humour;"  but  it 
was  a  failure.     During  the  performance,  the  scene  behind  the 

*  When  the  usual  quarrel  came  the  following  year,  the  manager  made 
proposal*  to  young  Wilkinson  to  take  Macklin's  place  in  this  farce ;  and 
the  young  fellow,  greedy  for  higher  terms,  was  busy  circulating  how  Mr. 
Garrick  and  his  brother  George  had  attempted  to  steal  Mr.  Macklin's 
farce,  and  play  it  at  their  house,  against  the  author  himself.  Fortunately, 
among  his  papers  we  find  a  note,  which  shows  the  managers  believed  that 
Macklin  had  sold  them  this  very  farce,  and  they  had  taken  a  legal  opinion 
on  the  transaction,  which  was  entirely  in  their  favour. 

t  Of  Garrick's  authorship  of  this  piece  I  have  little  doubt.  Townley 
never  did  anything  so  respectable.  Warburton,  an  excellent  judge,  seems 
to  have  received  a  hint  as  to  the  authorship  from  Garrick  himself,  who 
had  sent  him  two  copies.  "  I  read  it  with  extreme  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion," he  writes.  "  I  will  not  venture  to  tell  whose  I  think  it  is,  because 
the  author  would  be  unknown.  Yet  I  believe  I  am  no  stranger  to  the 
hand.  I  saw  it  in  the  very  title  and  motto,  and  quite  through,  to  the  very 
last  of  the  concluding  page."  It  is  exactly  in  Garrick's  own  gay  style. 
Murphy,  indeed,  used  to  charge  Garrick  openly  with  having  stolen  this 
piece  from  him,  and  maliciously  said  that  the  manager's  fears  iiad  put  for- 
ward Townley  as  the  author. 


224  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 — 

curtain  was  infinitely  diverting — the  angry  actress,  of  coarse, 
setting  all  down  to  a  secret  plot  of  Garrick's.  She  was  seen 
seeking  him  high  and  low,  with  fury  in  her  eyes — "  her  darling 
prey,  and  no  sooner  espied  him  than  ske  fastened"  The  ma- 
nager, "  whose  curiosity,"  says  Wilkinson,  "  had  led  him  back, 
to  take  a  peep  at  the  field  of  battle,  after  beholding  her  farce 
and  its  overthrow,  had  exultingly  sat  smiling  at  the  tumult, 
which  gratified  his  spleen/7  behaved  with  great  temper,  and 
soothed  her  into  good-humour.  Yet,  not  three  months  before, 
he  had  been  unwearied  in  his  kindness  to  this  fellow,  teaching 
him  Tamerlane,  and,  what  was  thought  a  great  condescension, 
coming  into  the  dressing-room  to  "  make-up  "  his  face  properly. 

When  Drury  Lane  opened  its  doors  for  the  next  season, 
1760-61,  Garrick's  good  fortune  and  good  sense  were  to  furnish 
him  with  a  new  attraction.  Indeed,  by  a  happy  chance,  the 
very  humours  of  the  players  unconsciously  helped  him,  and 
their  very  desertion  only  found  places  for  newer  actors.  Those 
humours  were  presently  to  receive  a  most  wholesome  chastise- 
ment, which  they  little  dreamed  was  impending  over  their 
heads. 

Sheridan,  distracted  with  his  Irish  troubles,  had  intended 
coming  to  London  to  teach  elocution,  when  it  occurred  to  him 
he  might  make  some  additional  profit  by  a  little  "  star  acting" 
at  one  of  the  great  theatres.  Between  him  and  the  manager 
of  Drury  Lane  there  had  been  a  coldness,  now  of  a  very  long 
date ;  and  yet  it  was  to  the  manager  of  Drury  Lane  that  he 
made  his  first  overtures.  Adversity  had  softened  him,  and  his 
proposals  were  of  the  most  modest  and  even  diffident  sort. 
Anything  that  suited  the  theatre  would  suit  him.  If  he  were 
wanted  but  now  and  again,  that  would  fall  in  very  well  with 
his  plans ;  if  his  services  became  more  necessary  to  the  house, 
he  would  still  be  accommodating.  He  had  some  new  pieces, 
played  with  signal  success  at  Dublin,  either,  or  both  of  which, 
he  would  get  ready  in  a  short  time,  and  with  as  little  trouble 
to  the  managers  as  possible.  "He  neither  expected,  nor 
desired,  that  any  part  of  the  general  views  of  the  theatre 
should  give  way  to  his  views."  The  reader  will  bear  all  this  in 
mind,  at  the  inevitable  revolt,  which  will  break  out  later.  As 
for  remuneration,  he  would  be  quite  content  to  have  that 
guided  by  the  success  of  his  efforts,  and  would  gladly  receive 
a  small  share  of  the  profits.  His  terms  were  at  once  accepted. 
Garrick  dealt  with  him  handsomely,  giving  him  a  fourth  of  the 
profits,  which,  in  a  large  theatre  like  Drury  Lane,  was  a  fair 
allowance.  His  "  round  "  of  parts  was  quite  the  same  as  that 
of  Garrick,  who  knew  well  his  colleague's  power  and  gifts ;  and 


1761.]  SHERIDAN  RIVALRY.  225 

it  does  seem  a  liberal  act,  in  the  little  kingdom  of  the  stage, 
where  only  one  can  sit  on  the  throne,  to  give  a  rival  so  fair  a 
chance. 

It  was  soon  rumoured  at  the  coffee-houses,  that  Mr.  Sheridan 
and  Mr.  Garrick  were  to  join  their  powers  in  the  great  play  of 
'•  King  John."  There  was  much  speculation  as  to  how  they 
were  to  cast  the  two  fine  characters  of  the  piece — King  John, 
and  the  bastard  Fatdcanbridge.  Neither  part  would  seem 
exactly  suited  to  Garrick;  the  King  was  scarcely  animated 
enough  for  him,  and  his  figure  wanted  the  manly  boldness  and 
gallant  "  dash,"  which  the  Bastard  required.  It  was  obvious 
that  Sheridan's  weighty  declamatory  style  would  be  more  in 
keeping  with  the  King  ;  while  of  the  two  parts,  Garrick  would 
be  most  at  home  in  the  Bastard.  Yet  Davics,  the  friend  whose 
portrait  hung  over  the  sideboard  at  Hampton,  gives  a  most 
uncandid  account  of  the  transaction,  by  the  aid  of  insinuation. 
"  Garrick,"  he  says,  "  when  the  parts  were  being  cast,  chose  the 
King;  and  he  actually  consented  that  the  Bastard  should  be 
Mr.  Sheridan's.  Secretly  he  was  determined  to  the  contrary  :n 
and,  after  making  some  apology,  he  tried  to  effect  an  exchange 
of  parts,  to  whicn  the  other  was  extremely  averse.  In  this 
there  is  an  inconsistency  which  Davies  did  not  see;  and 
according  to  Davies,  Garrick  carried  his  point  "by  repeated 
solicitations ; "  which  was  a  very  legitimate  mode  in  one  who 
had  such  power.  But  this  is  only  one  specimen  of  the  little 
hints  and  touches  with  which  those  who  had  once  been 
Garrick's  ardent  friends,  and  who  had  ceased  to  be  so,  because 
he  was  not  sufficiently  obsequious  to  their  unreasonable  desires, 
revenged  themselves,  by  damaging  his  good  name.  The  truth 
was,  Faukonbridge  was  Garrick  s  character,  and  the  one  he  had 
played  only  a  few  seasons  before,  with  success.  It  was  in  this 
part  that  the  town  expected  to  see  him,  while  Sheridan  had 
played  the  King  in  Dublin  with  great  effect.  Both,  therefore, 
were  in  their  natural  position.  Mrs.  Yates  was  the  Constance 
of  this  revival,  a  great  change  from  that  charming  mistress  of 
true  pathos,  Cibber,  in  the  older  days,  whose  scream  of  agony 
as  she  flew  off  the  stage — 

"O.Lord!  my  boy!" 

was  still  recollected.  Such  a  pair  were  matchless ;  and  their 
characters,  full  of  deep  passion  and  tenderness,  suited  them 
exactly.     Her  throwing  herself  on  the  ground,  as  she  said, — 

"  Hero  I  and  sorrow  sit, 
Here  is  my  throne,  let  kings  come  bow  to  it ! " 

both  in  attitude,  grace,  and  helpless  prostration  and  agony, 

Q 


226  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 — 

was  one  of  the  most  piteous  spectacles  that  could  be  con> 
ceived. 

"  King  John/'  in  the  hands  of  two  such  actors  as  Sheridan 
and  Garrick,  began  at  once  to  draw  the  town.  The  house  was 
crowded  every  night.  The  King  "  commanded "  a  perform- 
ance two  nights  before  Christmas,  and  an  officious  friend  about 
the  Court — possibly  the  same  who  was  to  come  later  with  news 
of  the  King's  delight  at  the  Lord  Mayor  in  "  Richard  " — took 
care  to  bring  the  manager  word  that  the  King  was  enchanted 
with  Sheridan.  The  "  friend,"  still  passing  over  Garrick  him- 
%  self,  was  then  asked  if  the  King  had  hot  been  satisfied  .with 
the  performance  of  the  Bastard.  The  friend  was  again  glad  to 
tell  him,  that  the  King  thought  his  "  rendering  "  overdone — 
exaggerated  and  unnatural.  .  The  biographers  of  Garrick 
delight  in  relating  how  at  this  criticism  Garrick  was  so  torn 
with  envy,  jealousy,  and  disappointment,  that  although  all 
places  were  taken  for  several  performances,  the  play  was  at 
once  withdrawn,  and  not  acted  again ;  that  Sheridan's  friends 
were  furious ;  and  that  he  himself  broke  out  into  open  revolt, 
while  meetings  and  discussions  took  place  to  arrange  matters, 
but  nothing  could  be  agreed  on.  The  whole,  adds  Davies, 
ended  in  the  retirement  of  one  of  the  combatants,  and  they 
could  never  be  brought  to  appear  together  on  the  stage  again. 
The  whole  of  this  story  was  no  more  than  vulgar  green-room 
scandal.  The  play  was  played  three  times.  Sheriaan — so  far 
from  refusing  to  play  on  the  same  stage,  so  far  from  there 
being  any  meetings  of  friends  to  arrange  the  quarrel — acted  on 
to  the  end  of  the  season ;  played  his  great  part  in  the  Earl  of 
Essex ;  declaimed  Macbeth,  and  Hamlet,  and  Otliello;  and  before 
the  season  closed,  the  rivals  appeared  together  again  harmo- 
niously in  "King  John"!  But  it  is  idle  arguing  against 
rumours  and  whispers,  and  Garrick's  whole  behaviour  refutes 
these  insinuations.-  Further,  previous  to  "King  John"  he 
had  forwarded  every  scheme  that  Sheridan  proposed  to  bring 
out  his  own  powers.  He  had  expressed  himself  again  and 
again  delighted  at  the  great  houses  Sheridan  was  bringing. 
He  allowed  him  to  act  his  own  characters.  On  alternate  nights 
they  played  Hamlet,  and  even  Garrick's  own  cheval  de  batailU, 
Richard.  He  said  openly,  that  except  in  Bamy,  he  had  never 
found  so  able  or  so  useful  an  assistant.  On  other  nights  he 
allowed  him  the  stage  to  himself,  an  all  but  monopoly.  In 
"  The  Fair  Penitent,"  and  other  pieces,  they  played  together. 
Ev/m  Davies  admits  that  "  he  seemed  for  a  time  to  suspend  his 
jealousy,  and  promote  every  scheme  proposed  by  Slieridan  far  theit 
mutual  profit "      Later  in  1763,  when  Mrs.  Frances  Sheridan's 


1761.]  COLMAN.  227 

lively  comedy  of  "  The  Discovery  "  was  put  into  his  hands, 
this  envious  man  accepted  it,  brought  it  out,  allowed  Sheridan 
to  take  the  leading  part,  "  created  "  a  part  in  it  himself,  and 
settled  the  profits  on  quite  exceptional  terms ;  for,  besides  two 
nights'  profits  for  the  author,  he  allowed  Sheridan  two  more 
for  his  services. 

The  Earl  of  Essex}  though  one  of  Barry's  tender  characters, 
still  only  made  one  of  the  dreary,  declamatory  series.  The 
subject  seemed  to  have  such  attractions,  that  half-a-dozen  play- 
wrights, and  half-a-dozen  leading  actors,  tried  their  skill  upon 
it.  It  was  a  cold  and  turgid  performance,  on  the  favourite 
classical  model.  Sheridan  had  the  most  exalted  opinion  of  its 
merits,  and  went  about  quoting  "  fine "  passages.  It  was  a 
line  from  this  play  quoted  by  him,  that  excited  Johnson's 
ridicule — 

"  Who  rules  o'er  freemen  should  himself  be  free." 

The  great  despot  said  scornfully  this  was  about  as  good 

logic  as, 

"  Who  drives  fat  oxen  should  himself  be  fat" 

A  humorous  and  happy  parody,  but  scarcely  a  refutation. 
Other  attractions  were  Foote  and  his  "  Minor  "  brought  from 
another  theatre,  and  which,  but  for  Garrick's  friendship  with 
the  Lord  Chamberlain,  would  have  been  interdicted  by  eccle- 
siastical censorship. 

Garrick  was  besides  giving  a  series  of  new  and  good  plays, 
Murphy's  capital  comedies,  and  Colman's  lively  and  spirited 
"  Polly  Honeycombe,"*  a  capital  satire  on  the  sentimental  taste 
of  the  day,  and  a  sort  of  anticipation  of  the  character  of  Lydia 
Languish.  That  clever  writer,  thoughtful,  searching,  bright, 
had  a  mind  something  like  Garrick's  own,  for  he  combined  wit 
and  good  sense  in  matters  of  the  world,  though  he  showed  a 
quick  and  sensitive  temper,  which  Garrick  did  not.  They 
were  now  great  friends,  and  the  origin  of  their  intimacy  was  a 
little  curious. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  day  was  the  extravagant  value  of 
literary  support.  "  Hack  writers  "  found  their  account  in  this 
feeling.  The  contemptible  character  of  the  assailant  was  his 
security.  Any  personage  of  consideration  was  therefore  help- 
less, and  at  the  mercy  of  these  adventurers,  unless  he  met  them 
with  the  same  weapons ;  and  this  seems  to  account  for  the 
crowd  of  "  scribblers,"  who  found  work,  and  profit,  and  sub- 
sistence on  both  sides.     Many  were  of  mean  ability,  but  the 

*  Cross,  the  prompter,  said  that  "  The  Jealous  Wife  "  had  been  received 
with  more  approbation  than  any  comedy  since  "  The  Suspicious  Husband." 

Q  2 


228  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1759 — 

open  field  for  personality  carried  off  all  defects  in  execution. 
In  this  way  young  Colman,  about  twenty-six  years  of  age,  and 
straggling  from  the  rough  road  that  led  to  the  law,  published 
an  anonymous  "  Letter  of  Abuse  to  David  Garrick,  Esq.,"  in 
which  he  adroitly  affected  to  take  the  part  of  the  wronged 
heroes  of  the  stage — of  the  Macklins,  Cibbers,  and  others, 
whom  the  dazzling  abilities  of  Garrick  had  so  completely 
extinguished.  The  author  was,  of  course,  made  known  to  the 
manager,  in  due  expectance  of  patronage,  and  a  kind  and 
grateful  letter  of  Garrick's  might  naturally  lead  the  writer  to 
believe  that  the  manager  felt  himself  under  a  heavy  obligation. 
"  I  must  assure  you,"  he  wrote,  "  that  I  have  more  pleasure 
than  uneasiness  when  I  read  a  true,  well-intended  criticism, 
though  against  myself ;  for  I  always  flatter  myself  that  I  am 
attain  tlie  mark  which  my  friends  may  printout  to  me,  and  I  really 
think  myself  neither  too  old,  nor  too  wise,  to  learn."  Very 
often  impatience  at  friendly  fault-finding  arises,  not  so  much 
from  wounded  vanity,  as  from  mortification  at  finding  so  much 
time  and  trouble  thrown  away.  Garrick,  with  as  quick  and 
sensitive  a  pulse  for  praise  or  blame  as  mortal  ever  brought 
into  the  world,  had  levelled  it,  as  well  as  his  resentments,  into 
perfect  subservience  to  the  grand  object  of  the  interests  of  his 
theatre,  and  his  professional  reputation. 

Thus  was  laid  the  foundation  of  a  sincere  friendship — on 
Garrick's  side,  at  least.  It  must  be  said  Colman  worked  hard 
for  his  patron,  and  supplied  the  Press  with  puffs  in  every 
shape,  though  at  times  he  became  "  aggrieved,"  and  troubled 
his  friend  a  good  deal.  Colman's  was  a  congenial  mind — 
vivacious,  eager,  and  full  of  a  quick  talent.  It  made  no  dif- 
ference with  the  placid  Garrick  that  Colman  should  have 
warmly  ranged  himself  on  Murphy's  side  in  the  "  Orphan  of 
China  "  quarrel — it  was  rather  a  fresh  ground  for  mistrust  of 
his  own  judgment,  and  for  reconsidering  the  matter.  There 
was  no  abating  the  warmth  of  his  friendly  interest ;  and  when 
the  curtain  was  about  to  rise  on  Colman's  play,  the  delight  in 
which  he  wrote  off  a  hurried  note  about  the  full  house  and  the- 
crammed  boxes,  is  truly  genuine  and  characteristic  To  Col- 
man, to  the  very  last,  he  was  the  same  warm,  generous  friend, 
prompt  with  a  hundred  little  offices ;  while  Colman  was  but 
too  often  captious,  fractious,  and  ready  to  become  an  enemy 
on  some  trivial  grievance,  or  on  some  more  unworthy  pecuniar}* 
misunderstanding.  Even  the  play  which  has  made  Colman's 
reputation  with  posterity—" The  Jealous  Wife" — owes  its 
success  to  Garrick's  judgment,  who,  with  nice  tact,  discarded 
two  whole  acts  of  broad,  coarse  humour,  which  by  themselves 


1761.]  "THE  ROSCIAD."  229 

made  a  good  farce.  This  kindness  was  to  have  its  own  reward ; 
for  in  Colman's  "  set "  was  a  strange  parson  of  immense  intel- 
lectual power  and  ability,  and  who  was  busy  with  a  poetical 
review,  that  would  presently  confound  the  green-rooms,  and 
■set  Roscius  on  the  very  highest  pinnacle  of  his  whole  life. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

tlTHR  ROSCIAD" — DR.   BOWER. — 1761-62. 

A  great  critic  was  now  to  step  out  of  the  crowd,  and  com- 
mand the  attention  of  the  whole  ring;  and  the  satire,  the 
splendid  rhyme,  the  fine  close  English — "  the  wit,  the  strong 
and  easy  verse,  the  grasp  of  character,  and  the  rude,  free  daring 
of '  The  Rosciad' " — were  now  to  burst  upon  the  town,  and  teach 
mere  scribblers  with  what  deadly  point  and  personality  true 
genius  can  strike  and  kill.  The  whole  world  of  stage  players 
was  aghast.  They  ran  about  like  a  crowd  of  frightened  sheep : 
the  crowd  of  pasteboard  kings  and  queens,  the  heroes  and 
heroines,  who  had  loftily  given  the  town  laws,  were  now  coolly 
and  deliberately  sat  in  judgment  upon,  and  dissected  with  the 
finest  and  most  pitiless  strokes.  They  little  dreamed  that  for 
the  past  two  months  a  laborious  observer  had  been  coming  to 
the  theatre,  almost  regularly  every  night,  always  finding  his 
way  to  one  special  place — the  front  row  of  the  pit,  nearest  to 
the  orchestra  "  spikes."  This  steady  tenant  of  the  front  row 
was  the  Rev.  Charles  Churchill,  taking  careful  notes  of  every 
actor,  from  Garrick  down  to  Packer.  The  author  of  this  won- 
derful piece — a  big,  burly  man  in  "  a  black  coat  and  a  black 
scratch  wig"* — had  been  seen  about  town,  and  only  a  few 
weeks  before  had  got  rid  of  both  his  causes  of  complaint — 
"  the  wife  he  was  tired  of  and  the  gown  he  was  displeased 
with." 

In  March,  '61,  just  before  the  theatre  closed,  the  satire 
appeared.  The  players  writhed  under  it.  Their  profession 
was  described  for  them  in  terms  more  degrading  than  the 
Vagrant  Act  ever  used.  Then,  as  the  actors  go  by,  he 
criticises  them  with  delightful  and  easy  touch.  There  was 
"  poor  Billy  Havard,"  whose  obscurity  might  have  saved  him, 
yet  whose 

11  Easy,  vacant  face  proclaimed  a  heart 
Which  could  not  feel  emotions,  nor  impart ;" 


*  O'Keefe.    Taylor  saw  him  at  Vauxhall  in  a  blue  coat,  edged  with  gold 
lace,  black  fcilk  small  clothes,  and  white  stockings. 


/ 


230  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1761— 

and  Davies,  the  actor-bookseller — 

"  With  him  came  mighty  Davies — on  my  life, 
That  Davies  hath  a  very  pretty  wife  ! 
Statesman  all  over !  in  plots  famous  grown, 
He  mouths  a  sentence  as  curs  mouth  a  bane"* 

Holland  was  a  mere  imitation — "  I  hate  e'en  Garrick  thus 
at  second-hand ; "  and  King  was  a  shameless  exhibition  that 
"  shines  in  brass."    Yates  was  dismissed  briefly — 

"  Lo,  Yates  !  without  the  least  finesse  of  art, 
He  gets  applause.    /  wish  kcd  get  his  part. 
When  hot  impatience  is  in  full  career, 
How  vilely  •  Hark'e,' '  Hark'e/  grates  the  ear."f 

Woodward  was  put  very  low  indeed,  a  mere — 

11  Squeaking  Harlequin,  made  up  of  whim, 
He  twists,  he  twines,  he  tortures  every  limb." 

The  humbler  Jackson  was  happily  ridiculed — 

"  One  leg,  as  if  suspicious  of  his  brother, 
Desirous  seems  to  run  away  from  t'other." 

And  Ackman  and  Packer,  obscure  nobodies,  were  ironically 
complimented  as  unrivalled  in  "humour  "  and  "  sprightly  ease." 
Sparks  was  to  be  found  at  a  glass  "  elaborately  dividing  frown 
from  smile ; "  while 

"  Smith,  the  genteel,  the  airy,  and  the  smart, 
Smith  was  just  gone  to  school  to  say  his  part." 

Ross,  a  handsome  man,  of  good  breeding,  would  grow  indiffe- 
rent and  languid  as  he  acted.     He  was  roused  with  a  couplet : — 

"  Ross  (a  misfortune  which  we  often  meet) 
Was  fast  asleep  at  his  Statira's  feet." 

Moody,  and  Moody's  country,  received  a  fine  compliment 

Foote  was  dismissed  as  a  mere  mimic,  and  not  even  a  good 

one: — 

"  His  strokes  of  humour  and  his  bursts  of  sport 
Are  all  contained  in  this  one  word,  distort." 

*  Mr.  Isaac  Taylor  saw  Davies  play,  long  after  "  The  Rosciad  "  had  ap- 
peared, and  noticed  the  "  hollow  rumbling  "  of  his  voice.  He  had  also  seen 
the  very  pretty  wife  sitting  in  the  shop,  neat,  modest,  and  with  an  air  of 
meek  dejection,  and  a  look  as  of  better  days.  Friends,  as  this  gentleman 
heard,  had  to  pay  the  expense  of  Davies's  interment,  and  the  "pretty 
wife  "  died  in  a  workhouse. 

t  Yates's  memory  improved  in  after-life;  but  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
repeating  sentences  several  times,  like  this,  "  Hark'e,  Polly  Honeycombe," 
to  give  himself  time  to  think.  He  was  very  indignant  at  his  wife  being 
dragged  into  "The  Rosciad," and  summoned  Churchill  to  meet  him  at  a 
tavern.  George  Garrick  hurried  after  them,  and  succeeded  in  reconciling 
satirist  and  actor  over  a  bottle  of  wine. 


1762.]  "THE  ROSCIAD."  231 

Macklin  was  coldly,  but  not  cruelly,  disapproved  of ;  but  the 
whole  venom  of  the  satire  may  be  said  to  be  concentrated  in 
the  portrait  of  Murphy.  This  dreadful  carving,  and  the  por- 
trait of  Fitzpatrick  added  later,  are  certainly  the  finest  bits  in 
the  whole.     Murphy  came — 

"  When  motionless  he  stands  we  all  approve, 
What  pity  'tis  the  thing  was  made  to  move. 
When  he  attempts  in  some  one  favourite  part 
To  ape  the  feelings  of  a  manly  heart, 
His  honest  features  the  disguise  defy, 
And  his  face  loudly  gives  his  tongue  the  lie. 
1         *  *  *  *  * 

With  various  reading  stored  his  empty  skull, 
Learned  without  sense,  and  venerably  dull. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Or  might  not  reason,  e'en  to  thee,  have  shown 
Thy  greatest  praise  had  been  to  live  unknown  ? 
Yet  let  not  vanity  like  thine  despair  ; 
Fortune  makes  Folly  her  peculiar  care," 

The  portraits  of  Mossop  and  Barry  are  too  well  known  to 
be  quoted.  These  were  more  elaborate  than  the  rest,  and 
more  amusing.  Mossop  was  so  "  attached  to  military  plan," 
and  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  right-hand  man.  Barry  was 
unfairly  dismissed  with  the  fine  climax,  "  conned  his  passions, 
as  he  conned  his  part."  The  veteran  Quin  found  his  tradi- 
tional reputation  rudely  questioned  and  examined,  and  was 
thrust  back  with  the  following  congi: — 

"  Parrots  themselves  speak  properly  by  rote, 
And  in  six  months  my  dog  shall  howl  by  note." 

So  with  Sheridan's  "  stages  "  and  methodised  tactics : — 

"  Why  must  impatience  fall  three  paces  back  ? 
Why  paces  three  return  to  the  attack  ? 
Why  is  the  right  leg,  too,  forbid  to  stir 
Unless  in  motion  semicircular  ? 
Why  must  the  hero  with  the  nailor  vie, 
And  hurl  the  close-clench'd  fist  at  nose  or  eye  ? 
In  royal  John,  with  Philip  angry  grown, 
I  thought  he  would  have  knock'd  poor  Davies  down. 
Inhuman  tyrant,  was  it  not  a  shame 
To  fright  a  king  bo  harmless  and  so  tame  ? " 

To  Barry  he  was  cruel ;  and  it  is  surprising  that  a  man  with 
Churchiirs  nature  could  have  been  so  unjust.  His  choosing 
the  "  well-applauded  tenderness  "  in  "  Lear,"  and  praising  a 
character  in  which  the  actor  was  inferior,  was  an  artful  shape 
of  depreciation. 

With  the  women  he  was  more  lenient  and  gentle.  Cibber 
and  Pritchard  received  high  and  elegant  praise.  So  did  Clive 
and  Pope.    In  Yates  a  certain  tameness  and  sameness,  with  a 


232  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1761 — 

want  of  nature,  were  discovered ;  but  on  a  more  obscure  Miss 
.  Bride  he  lavished  far  warmer  praise.  It  is  indeed  so  charming, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  extravagant,  a  portrait,  that  we  may 
suspect  the  satirist  had  some  partiality  for  this  favoured  lady. 
Yet  at  the  present  day  Bride  is  a  name  about  the  least  known 
to  those  who  take  interest  in  the  stage. 

But  Eoscius  was  extravagantly  lauded.  The  depreciation  of 
the  others  was  made  subservient  to  his  exaltation.  He  admits 
that  "  the  best  things  carried  to  excess  are  wrong.  The  start 
may  be  too  frequent,  pause  too  long."  Actors,  just  as  monkeys 
mimic  man,  may  by  their  absurd  and  overdone  imitation  spoil 
the  scenes  they  mean  to  adorn.  But  this  should  not  affect  the 
true  thing : — 

"  Whilst  working  from  the  heart  the  fire  I  trace, 
And  mark  it  strongly  flaming  to  the  face; 
Whilst  in  each  sound  I  hear  the  very  man, 
/  can't  catch  words,  and  pity  those  who  can. 

»  *  ♦  *  * 

Hence  to  thy  praises,  Garrick,  I  agree, 
a  And  pleas1  d  with  Nature,  must  be  pteas*d  with  thee.n 

And  at  the  finale,  bringing  forward  Shakspeare,  who  has  seen 
the  histrionic  troupe  go  by,  he  makes  him  present  Eoscius  with 
the  palm,  in  words  •  burning  and  genuine,  and  which  most 
happily  describe  Garrick's  gifts  and  special  charm : — 

"  If  manly  sense  ;  if  nature  linked  with  art ; 
If  thorough  knowledge  of  the  human  heart ; 
If  powers  of  acting,  vast  and  unconfined  ; 
K  fervent  faults  with  greatest  beauties  joined  ; 
If  strong  expression  and  strange  pow'rs  which  lie 
Within  the  magic  circle  of  the  eye  ; 
If  feelings  which  few  hearts  like  his  can  know, 
And  which  no  face  so  well  as  his  can  show, 
Deserve  the  preference — Garrick,  take  the  chair — 
Nor  quit  it  till  thou  place  an  equal  there  ! " 

Words  surely  which  should  have  their  place  upon  the  monu- 
ment in  the  Abbey,  instead  of  a  Mr.  Pratt's  feeble  praise  and 
fustian  compliment.  At  this  time  Garrick  actually  did  not 
know  the  author,  though  he  might  have  noticed  the  unpleasing 
form  over  the  "  spikes  "  of  his  pit 

It  was  given  out  that  the  players  would  revenge  themselves 
by  chastising  the  author;  but  the  bold  satirist  avowed  himself 
at  once,  and  walked  publicly  in  the  Covent  Garden  Piazza, 
past  the  coffee-houses,  to  give  them  an  opportunity ;  but  they 
never  seized  on  it 

Yet  Garrick's  situation,  though  his  vanity  must  have  been 
unusually  gratified  by  this  powerful  and  public  testimonial, 
was  not  a  little  awkward.     Sympathy  witn  his  fellows,  and 


1762.]  "THE  ROSCIAD."  233 

esprit  de  coips,  required  not  merely  that  he  should  take  no  plea- 
sure in  the  tribute,  but  that  he  should  affect  dissatisfaction. 
He  even  was  so  foolish  as  to  say  he  believed  it  was  a  bid  for 
the  freedom  of  his  theatre.  But  the  news  of  so  ungracious  a 
welcome  was  soon  borne  to  Churchill,  who,  inflamed  by  the 
attacks  of  reviews  and  the  hostile  cries  of  the  actors,  had  his 
bludgeon  in  the  air  again,  and  in  a  very  short  time  produced 
*'  The  Apology " — a  sequel  to  the  former  work,  but  in  a  far 
more  savage  key.  He  was  infuriated  with  all,  and  fell  on 
both  critics  and  players  in  bitter  verse,  not  waiting  this  time 
for  polish  or  antithesis.  Hence  have  we  now  the  fine  Hogarth 
picture  of  the  "Strolling  Players,"  which  Mr.  Forster,  so 
justly,  puts  immeasurably  above  Crabbe's  pendant  on  the  same 
subject.  It  touched  Garrick  indirectly.  For  he  came  to  the 
great  actor  himself,  and  though  he  spared  him  the  humiliation 
of  naming  him,  there  was  a  savage  roughness  in  the  "  shaking" 
he  gave  him — a  hint  there  was  no  mistaking,  and  most  signi- 
ficant for  the  future : — 

"  Let  the  vain  tyrant  sit  amid  his  guards,  r 

His  young  green-room  wits  and  venal  bards,    / 
Who  meanly  tremble  at  a  puppet's  frown, 
And  for  a  playhouse  freedom  lose  their  own  ; 
In  spite  of  new-made  laws  and  new-made  kings, 
The  free-born  muse  with  lib'ral  spirit  sings." 

It  thus  seems  as  if  some  one  had  carried  Garrick's  remark 
about  the  freedom  of  the  playhouse  to  Churchill,  and  this  was 
a  savage  hint  that  he  knew  what  had  been  so  indiscreetly  said 
of  him. 

Qloscius  was  now  confounded.  The  mortification  was  in 
exact  proportion  to  his  previous  exaltation.  He  first  thought 
of  writing  a  letter  of  expostulation  to  the  satirist,  but  was 
wisely  dissuaded.  Garrick,  in  fact,  thought  everything  could 
be  done  by  a  "  good  letter."  He  knew — as  he  wrote  to  Lloyd 
— enough  of  Churchill's  spirit  and  writings  to  see  that  he 
would  not  tolerate  any  interference  with  his  purposes.  Wisely, 
therefore,  thinking  of  the  future  more  than  of  the  past,  he  told 
his  friend — meaning,  of  course,  that  what  he  said  should  reach 
other  cars — that  if  there  was  real  resentment  at  the  bottom  of 
the  attack,  he  was  sure  there  were  no  grounds  for  it ;  but  if  it 
was  dono  because  he  was  "  the  Punch  of  the  puppet  show," 
and  could  not  be  well  left  out,  Mr.  Churchill  was  heartily  wel- 
come. Yet  for  all  this  he  was  very"  sore."  In  "  The  Rosciad," 
he  added,  he  was  raised  too  higEj  but  in  "  The  Apology  "  he 
may  have  been  sunk  too  low,  Churchill  "  making  an  idol  of  a 
calf,  like  the  Israelites,  and  then  dwindling  an  idol  into  a  calf 


234  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1761 — 

again."  However,  he  would  bear  it  all  pleasantly.  He 
was  Mr.  Churchill's  great  admirer.  The  result  was  an  in- 
timacy; but  Garrick  scarcely  met  him  with  the  warmth  of 
his  other  friendships.  His  allusions  to  him  in  letters  are 
tranquil;  and  he  received  the  news  of  his  death  very  calmly 
indeed. 

When  Mr.  Churchill  chose  to  visit  the  playhouse  now,  all 
eyes  watched  him;  and  only  a  few  months  later, .about  the 
first  night  of  the  season,  when  Garrick  was  in  his  great  part  of 
Bkhcrd,  the  terrible  critic  showed,  by  unmistakable  and  uncon- 
cealed signs,  that  he  was  weary  and  "  sick  "  of  what  had  now 
ceased  to  be  a  novelty.  Yet  Garrick,  with  a  restraint  worthy 
of  an  ascetic,  sent  his  regards,  and  a  gentle  message  that 
he  was  sorry  to  see  that  he  had  been  bored.  Before  long 
Churchill  was  applying  for  money,  and  obtaining  it.  Garrick, 
though  pinched  by  a  purchase  he  had  been  making,  supplied 
what  he  wanted.  When  Hogarth  published  his  dreadful  pic- 
ture of  the  satirist,  Garrick,  in  sincere  distress  for  an  artist 
he  loved,  used  the  obligation  to  beg  for  indulgence.  "  I  must 
entreat,"  he  wrote,  "  by  the  regard  you  profess  to  me,  that  you 
do  not  talk  of  my  friend  Hogarth  before  you  see  me.  You 
cannot,  sure,  be  angry  at  his  print  There  is,  surely,  very 
harmless,  though  very  entertaining,  stuff  in  it.  He  is  a  great 
and  original  genius.  I  would  not,  for  all  the  politics  and  poli- 
ticians in  the  universe,  that  you  two  should  have  the  least 
cause  of  ill-will  to  each  other.  I  am  very  unhappy  at  the 
thoughts  of  it.  Pray,  make  me  quiet  as  soon  as  possible." 
But  Churchill's  genius,  as  Garrick  had  with  great  penetration 
divined,  disdained  any  direction.  He  had  his  way,  and  sent 
out  this  "most  bloody  performance."  Garrick  was  deeply 
hurt  by  it.  It  seemed  to  him  shocking  and  barbarous.  But 
the  wretched  man,  for  all  his  genius,  sinking  deeply  every  day, 
was  to  receive  many  more  favours  from  the  same  hand.  There 
is  no  more  dreadful  letter,  for  its  length,  in  the  annals  of 
debauchery  than  the  following  appeal : — 

"  My  Dear  Mr.  Garrick, — Half  drunk,  half  mad,  and  quite 
stripped  of  all  my  money,  I  should  be  much  obliged  if  you 
would  enclose  and  send  by  the  bearer  five  pieces,  by  way  of  adding 
to  favours  already  received  by,  yours  sincerely, 

"Charles  Churchill." 

A  miserable  death  at  Boulogne — his  last  words  are  said 
to  have  been,  "What  a  fool  I  have  been" — was  not  long 
in  following.  The  satire  remains  a  model  for  attacks  of  that 
class ;  and  some  fifty  years  later,  when  a  Dublin  wit,  in  far 


1762.]  DR.  BOWER.  235 

less  nervous  lines,  brought  out  "  Familiar  Epistles  on  the  Irish 
Stage/'  the  success  was  not  less  decided. 

When  the  season  ended,  Garrick  had  begun  to  think  of 
making  some  important  alterations  in  the  arrangements  of 
his  house.  Foote  and  Murphy,  however,  had  entered  into  a 
strange  partnership,  and  came  to  him  with  a  proposal  for  taking 
the  theatre  during  the  "  slack  "  summer  months.  Foote  had 
been  anticipated  at  the  Haymarket  by  some  "  dancing  dogs," 
and  had  no  place  to  exhibit  his  mimicry  in.  Garrick  good- 
naturedly  agreed  to  help  his  two  friends,  and  let  them  have 
the  theatre  at  a  very  moderate  rent.  Yet  in  their  opening 
prologue  Foote  sneered  at  Koscius,  who  had  locked  up  all  the 
daggers  and  bowls  of  tragedy. 

The  next  season  was  unmarked  by  anything  worthy  of  note. 
He  celebrated  the  crowning  of  the  new  King  by  an  absurd 
pageant,  one  of  his  favourite  processions,  which  he  was  acute 
enough  to  see  that  the  town  was  fond  of.  He  now  indulged 
the  popular  folly  in  these  matters  to  the  fullest  bent.  There 
was  a  rival  procession  at  the  other  house,  got  up  with  infinite 
magnificence.  But  Garrick  with  due  thrift  utilized  all  the  old 
dresses  of  his  establishment.  To  add  to  the  effect,  the  back  of 
the  stage  was  thrown  open,  and  showed  the  audience  a  real 
bonfire  blazing,  the  fumes  from  which  suffocated  the  actors, 
while  the  draughts  gave  them  colds.  Windows  looking  into 
the  Lane  were  let  at  good  prices.  The  show  "  ran  "  for  forty 
nights.  This  was  the  last  effort  of  Rich,  who  died  this  year, 
successful  to  the  end  He  had  certainly  carried  on  the  contest 
with  spirit,  and  gave  up  the  ghost  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  with 
pageants  and  processions,  and  gorgeous  transformation  scenes 
still  before  his  dim  eyes.  Yet  Garrick's  behaviour  to  him  had 
always  been  marked  by  an  honourable  rivalry.  He  forgot 
some  unhandsome  attempts  to  injure  him ;  and,  shortly  before 
the  old  Harlequin's  death,  was  taking  counsel  with  some  private 
friends  as  to  how  they  should  get  the  King  to  divert  a  little  of 
the  royal  patronage  from  Drury  Lane  to  Covent  Garden.  This 
wonderful  man  could  be  above  even  his  own  interests. 

His  domestic  peace  was  now  to  be  disturbed  by  a  little 
matter,  which  to  one  so  sensitive  became  a  serious  annoy- 
ance. A  Dr.  Bower  had  been  attracting  public  attention,  as  a 
"distinguished  convert  from  Rome,"  with  stories  about  his 
treatment  by  the  Inquisition,  &c.  He  was  a  man  of  some 
learning,  and  much  industry,  and  when  he  was  selected  for  one 
of  the  booksellers'  speculations  then  fashionable,  a  bulky 
"  History  of  the  Popes,"  in  quarto  volumes,  his  subscription 
list  showed  how  fashionable  he  had  become.    Among  other 


23G  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1761 — 

houses,  he  was  made  welcome  at  that  of  one  of  his  warmest 
patrons,  Lord  Lyttleton,  Garrick's  friend.  But  his  account  of 
his  "  conversion  "  was  felt  to  be  so  curious  and  inconsistent, 
that  suspicions  were  aroused :  some  of  his  supporters  began  to 
look  coldly  on  him,  and  he  found  himself  excluded  from  houses 
where  before  he  had  been  very  welcome.  One  of  these  was 
Mr.  Garrick's,  where  he  had  been  received  by  Mrs.  Garrick, 
"  Catholic  though  she  was,"  and  where  Garrick  himself  "  was 
witness  to  the  contradictions,  prevarications,  and  falsehoods, 
which  he  endeavoured  to  impose  upon  her."  Dr.  Douglas, 
later  to  be  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  had  sent  out  a  most  damaging 
pamphlet,  written  in  the  good  old  "  bludgeon  "  style  of  con- 
troversy, in  which  there  was  plenty  of  rough  language,  and 
pitiless  conclusions  drawn.  The  exposure  was  nearly  fatal; 
and  a  story  of  a  money  transaction,  into  which  he  was  said  to 
have  entered  with  "  his  old  friends  the  Jesuits,"  injured  him 
still  more.  Stung  by  these  suspicions,  he  added  to  one  of  his 
bulky  volumes,  a  defence  of  himself,  as  rough  and  violent  as 
had  been  the  attack,  and  in  which  he  replied  to  an  unfortunate 
expression  of  Douglas's,  who  had  said  that  he  dared  not  show 
his  face  at  various  houses,  and  "  had  not  ventured  of  late  to 
visit  the  lady  and  gentleman  mentioned ; "  adding  that  "  the 
lady's  principles  and  religion  are  well  known."  Bower  did 
not  let  this  pass.  "  Now  that  foreigners,"  he  said,  "  may  not 
think  that  I  dare  not  show  my  face  at  the  house  of  any  real 
gentleman  or  real  lady,  I  beg  to  inform  them  who  this  gentle- 
man and  lady  are.  The  gentleman,  then,  is  Mr.  Garrick,  an 
actor  who  now  acts  upon  the  stage.  The  lady  is  his  wife,  Mrs. 
Garrick,  alias  Violetti,  who  within  these  few  years  danced  upon 
the  stage.  To  do  them  justice,  they  are  both  eminent  in  their 
way.  The  lady  (though  no  fioscius)  is  as  c  well  known  and 
admired'  for  her  dancing  as  the  gentleman  is  for  his  acting, 
and  they  are,  in  that  sense,  par  nobile.  That  I  dare  not  show 
my  face  in  that  house  is  true ;  nor  dare  I  show  it  in  any  other 
house,  the  mistress  whereof  is  a  Papist."  This  touched  Garrick 
to  the  quick,  always  sensitive  on  the  score  of  his  social  position ; 
but  proved  to  be  a  fat§l,  as  well  as  an  ungallant  proceeding,  for 
Dr.  Bower.  Lyttleton  had  held  by  him  firmly;  but  on  the 
publication  of  this  attack,  his  first  step  was  to  send  word  to 
Garrick,  repudiating  all  protection  or  encouragement,  of  its 
author.  Garrick  wrote  back  gratefully.  His  lordship's  de- 
licacy, he  was  sure,  must  have  been  shocked  to  have  seen 
the  illiberal  way  in  which  Mrs.  Garrick  was  mentioned.  She 
had  very  innocently  told  the  conversation  she  had  had  with 
Bower,  without  the  least  intention  of  having  it  published,  or 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  237 

of  adding  to  his  shame.  "  Nor  would  she,  though  a  Papist  (as 
he  calls  her)  vary  a  tittle  from  that  or  any  other  truth,  though 
commanded  by  the  Pope  and  his  whole  conclave  of  cardinals. 
....  He  calls  out  for  Protestant  testimony,  and  he  shall  have 
it ;  and  I  flatter  myself  that  it  will  have  its  weight,  though  it 
comes  from  a  player"  But  Mr.  Garrick's  next  idea  was  not  so 
dignified.  He  proposed  to  revenge  himself  by  bringing  his 
enemy  upon  the  stage.  He  had  always  thought  him  even  a 
richer  character  than  Moliere's  Tartuffe.  This  would  be  the 
retort  pleasant,  he  thought.  Happily,  Lyttleton  warmly  dis- 
suaded him  from  so  unbecoming  a  step. 

Thus  it  would  seem,  that  no  one's  life  was  so  chequered,  or 
to  know  such  a  wholesome  discipline,  in  the  way  of  correction. 
If  he  was  exalted,  there  was  not  long  afterwards  an  unpleasant 
chastisement.  Yet  under  such  alternations,  he  preserved  a 
mind  surprisingly  "  even ; " — never  lost  his  head  a  moment, 
from  praise,  flattery,  or  success ;  and  never  sank  into  depres- 
sion.    He  was  presently  to  be  more  sorely  tried. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

STAGE   REFORM. — 1762. 

"  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  was  the  new  revival  for 
the  new  season.  English  opera  and  the  charming  voice  of  Miss 
Brent  had  been  thinning  the  boxes  and  benches  of  Drury  Lane, 
and  Yaiing  Meadows  and  Posetta  were  more  followed  than 
Hamlet  or  Estifania.  Then  were  heard,  for  the  first  time,  the 
cheerful,  pastoral,  simple  melodies,  "  We  all  love  a  pretty  girl 
under  the  rose,"  "  When  I  have  my  dog  and  my  gun ; "  when 
English  opera  was  a  distinct  school,  not  a  mere  "  rechanffi  "  of 
Italian  and  French  models.  In  vain  Garrick  made  attempts 
in  the  same  direction,  engaging  a  "  Master  Norris,"  with  other 
pupils  of  his  friend  Arne.  The  receipts  began  to  fall  off,  and 
his  own  attraction  to  fail  mysteriously.  And  from  that  time 
he  began  to  think  seriously  of  an  important  step — either  of 
complete  retirement,  while  he  could  do  so  without  loss ;  or,  at 
least,  of  a  temporary  withdrawal  from  the  vexations  which 
were  gathering  thick  about  him. 

During  the  recess  he  and  his  partner  determined  to  carry 
out  some  new  theatrical  arrangements  which  they  had  long 
meditated.  No  one  could  prove  that  there  was  "  stinginess  " 
in  anything  that  concerned  their  management:  the  performers 
were  paid  liberally,  and  the  scenery  and  dresses  were  always 


238  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1762 

handsome.     Only  a  few  years  before,  be  bad  decorated  and 
re-arranged  the  house,  yet  he  was  now  busy  with  fresh  altera- 
tions, which  amounted  to  an  entire  remodelling  of  the  theatre. 
Under  liberal  management  the  number  of  performers  had  in- 
creased to  one  hundred,  and  the  charges  of  the  night  "  before 
the  curtain  rose  "  had  mounted  up  from  sixty  to  ninety  pounds 
a  night.     He  was  also  determined  to  seize  the  opportunity  to 
strike  boldly  at  .another  abuse — the  practice  of  crowding  the 
stage  on  benefit  nights,  when  actors  had  their  "  building  on 
the  stage  " — an  amphitheatre  crowded  with  select  friends,  and 
with  those  who  could  not  find  room  in  the  boxes.     But  there 
were  enormous  difficulties  in  the  way  of  reform.     Sheridan 
indeed  succeeded  in  Dublin,  but  at  the  fatal  cost  of  the  utter 
sack  of  the  theatre  and  of  his  own  ruin.     There  were  yet 
greater  dangers  in  the  way  at  Drury  Lane.    The  young  bloods 
and  men  of  the  first  fashion  would  resent  being  driven  from 
the  coulisses,  which  they  considered  their  proper  parterre,  and 
the  young  clerks  and  persons  of  lower  degree  were  glad  to  get 
a  seat  on  the  stage,  to  see  the  actors  and  actresses  closely. 
The  thing  was  carried  to  an  absurdity  on  the  benefit  nights  of 
the  actors,  which  came  very  often,  when  there  was  the  "  build- 
ing "  on  the  stage,  the  great  circus  that  rose  in  tiers  to  the 
stage  clouds,  while  the  floor  in  front  was  covered  with  specta- 
tors sitting  or  lying  down.     In  front,  the  stage  boxes,  which 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  good  old  stage  doors,  were  "  built 
out,"  with  two  or  three  rows  of  seats,  which  prevented  those 
behind  from  seeing.     Sometimes  the  Banger  or  Archer,  or  con- 
ventional gallant  of  the  piece,  had  to  "  escape  "  from  a  balcony 
or  to  scale  one ;  and  it  was  in  the  regular  course  of  things  for 
him  to  intrude  himself  into  the  side  box,  with  many  apologies, 
to  the  great  disturbance  of  the  tenants.     These  ridiculous 
shifts,  contemptuously  accepted  by  the  audience,  were  not 
likely  to  increase  the  respect  for  the  players.     It  was  even 
more  absurd  on  Mrs.  Cibber's  benefit  to  see  that  charming 
actress  in  the  centre  of  a  crowded  ring,  with  scarcely  room  to 
turn,  prostrate  on  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets,  which  was  an  old 
couch  covered  with  black  cloth.    More  absurdly  still,  when  Mr. 
Holland  came  on  as  Hamlet,  through  a  similar  crowd,  and 
according  to  the  strict  tradition,  made  his  hat  fall,  as  though 
lifted  off  by  his  hair  in  terror  at  the  ghost,  one  of  his  admirers, 
a  woman  in  a  red  cloak,  got  up  and  replaced  it.     This,  how- 
ever, caused  a  universal  roar.     Such  familiarities  were  fatal  to 
all  respect  and  to  all  illusion. 

When  reform  came,   came  also  rich   dresses   and  better 
scenery.     Then  the  Cibbers,  and  Bellamys,  and  Barrys  re- 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  239 

yelled  in,  and  extorted  from  reluctant  managers,  those  rich, 
gorgeous,  and  elaborate  robes  in  which  they  looked  like  true 
"  tragedy  queens."  *  They  were  "inhabitants,"  as  Steele  would 
say,  of  the  most  sumptuous  structures,  stiff,  spreading,  en- 
crusted with  trimmings  and  furbelows  as  stiff.  ^Their  heads 
towered  with  strange  and  nodding  edifices,  built  and  entwined 
with  rows  of  pearls  and  other  jewels.  To  turn  over  the  old 
stage  pictures,  and  come  upon  Staiira  and  Itoiana,  the  rival 
queens,  fronting  each  other  —  Cibber  and  Bellamy  —  and 
call  up  the  sweet  and  melodious  chanting,  and  the  lofty  and 
pretentious  language — poetry  sometimes — the  sad  and  tender 
complainings,  the  fierce  but  measured  rage  and  despair,  it 
must  be  admitted  that,  in  such  an  ensemble,  there  was  some- 
thing grand,  and  even  magnificent.  With  such  accessories 
and  recollections  of  the  majestic  demi-chanting,  which  even 
now  obtains  on  the  French  stage,  we  might  almost  accept  this 
rococo  school  as  a  type  of  something  grand  and  elevating. 
These  stage  royal  ladies  were  usually  attended  by  pages,  even 
in  their  most  intimate  and  domestic  scenes,  who  never  let  down 
the  sumptuous  trains  of  their  mistresses.  There  could  be 
none,  therefore,  of  that  "  crossing"  and  recrossing  which  make 
up  the  bustle  and  movement  of  modern  drama.  Nor  was  this 
style  of  decoration  made  subservient  to  the  interests  of  the  play. 
Clive  or  Woffington,  when  doing  the  "  pert "  part  of  a  wait- 
ing-maid, or  the  more  gauche  one  of  a  farmer's  rustic  daughter, 
presented  themselves  in  white  satin  shoes,  and  with  their  hair 
dressed  according  to  the  gorgeous  canons  of  the  London 
fashions.  These  contradictions  were  not  noticed ;  but  it  must 
be  said  that  where  there  is  a  standard  of  dress  for  each  part, 
like  the  conventional  lions  of  old  architecture,  it  really  idealizes 
the  drama,  much  more  than  the  present  minute  and  "realistic" 
production  of  the  commonest  and  most  earthly  objects  in  life. 
"  Realism  "  is  utterly  antagonistic  to  stage  effect.  The  more 
perfect  and  vivid,  the  more  like  real  life,  effects  are,  the  more 
the  spectator  is  inclined  to  be  on  his  guard,  and  to  challenge 
what  is  presented  to  him.  There  is  a  point  beyond  which  stage 
imitation  should  not  go ;  and  there  should  be  certain  conven- 
tional shapes  of  scenery  which  should  more  indicate  than  repre- 
sent The  Greeks,  with  their  heroic  pattern  of  mask — one  for 
comedy,  one  for  tragedy — and  their  unchangeable  scene  of  a 
temple  or  street,  understood  this  principle.  The  truth  is, 
acting,  mental  action,  and  witty  and  humorous  dialogue,  are 
the  proper  business  of  the  stage,  and  what  people  go  to  sec  and 
hear.  This  is  the  foundation  of  the  pleasure  that  brings  us  to 
the  theatre.     The  excitement  is  from  the  play  of  mind  on  mind, 


240  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1762. 

not  in  the  vulgar  accessories  of  "  fires,"  coal  mines,  imitation 
water,  "  bending  trees,"  and  the  like.  These  poor  devices  are 
usurping  the  place  of  what  they  are  intended  to  set  off. 

It  was  time,  indeed,  that  some  reform  should  be  made 
in  the  "  ordering "  of  the  house.  At  Drury  Lane,  the  gal- 
leries to  the  upper  boxes  were  so  contracted,  that  people 
trembled  to  think  what  would  happen  in  case  of  a  fire.  If 
the  box-door  was  opened,  it  would  be  impossible  for  any 
one  of  the  tenants  to  squeeze  by.  In  the  pit,  the  "fast 
men  "  were  accustomed  to  gather  at  the  entrances,  and  pre- 
vent the  decent  citizens  from  seeing  or  hearing.  -  Sometimes 
they  talked  and  laughed,  to  show  their  contempt,  and  were 
saluted  with  showers  of  sucked  oranges,  skins,  and  half-eaten 
pippins  from  the  galleries.  At  Covent  Garden  the  scenery  was 
of  the  rudest,  oldest,  and  shabbiest  sort  There  was  an  old 
faded  Spanish  interior,  which  had  done  duty  for  thirty  or  forty 
years;  and  even  in  the  year  1747  its  familiar  "wings"  and 
rickety  folding-doors  would  wheel  on  "regularly  in  '  The  Fop's 
Fortune.' "  The  old  dresses,  too,  cast  off  by  noblemen  and 
ladies  of  quality,  were  used  again  and  again.  There  was  no 
fitness  of  character  attempted ;  all  that  was  required  was  that 
they  should  be  "  fine,"  or  as  fine  as  stripes  of  tawdry  tinsel 
could  make  them. 

The  interior  of  Drury  Lane  was  like  that  of  a  music-hall, 
having  deep  galleries  in  front,  supported  by  pillars  and  shallow 
boxes  at  the  side.  It  was  almost  square,  not  horseshoe,  in  shape. 
On  grand  nights,  it  was  ostentatiously  put  in  the  bills  that "  the 
house  would  be  lit  with  wax ; "  but,  later,  Garrick  substituted 
for  the  chandeliers  a  great  central  one,  which  was  considered  a 
triumph  of  workmanship.  We  might  wonder  how  the  later 
dim  "  floats  "  could  throw  a  sufficient  light  to  show  the  work- 
ings and  play  of  feature ;  but  there  was,  hanging  over  the  stage, 
in  front  of  the  curtain,  no  less  than  six  enormous  chandeliers, 
each  containing  twelve  candles,  in  brass  sockets,  with  a  great 
deal  of  iron  "  flourishing  "  at  the  bottom  of  each.  This  prin- 
ciple of  lighting  from  above,  and  as  from  the  sun,  was  moro 
philosophical  than  the  present  system,  which  casts  an  unnatural 
glare  from  below  on  the  faces  of  the  actors.  When  the  piece 
was  over,  these  chandeliers  were  let  down,  as  a  signal  for  the 
audience  to  depart.  At  this  time  foot-lights  were  unknown, 
though  introduced  later.* 

*  Vet,  with  all  Qarrick's  attention  to  scenery,  and  his  unwearied  efforts 
to  secure  the  newest  improvements,  the  absence  of  a  light  like  gas  must 
have  hindered  anything  in  the  shape  of  real  effect.  A  letter  to  the  manager, 
about  his  scenery,  shows  that  they  felt  this  very  difficulty.    They  had  "a 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  241 

Another  matter,  which  really  required  ordering,  was  the 
regulations  about  taking  seats.  The  custom  was  for  ladies  to 
send  their  footmen  before  the  play  began,  dressed  up  in  gaudy 
liveries,  who  sat  in  the  best  places  for  two  or  three  acts,  and 
thus  kept  the  places.  This  was  an  incongruous  sight  enough ; 
as  ladies  of  the  first  rank  often  found  themselves  seated, 
through  a  whole  piece,  beside  a  servant.  But  there  was  a 
worse  abuse.  The  fine  footmen  preferred  the  tavern  to  the 
play;  and  the  "Sir  Harry"  or  "My  Lord  Duke,"  whom 
Garrick  had  so  happily  ridiculed,  often  went  away,  and  left  as 
his  deputy  a  dirty,  ill-dressed  porter — a  more  unbecoming  con- 
trast still  to  his  neighbours.  It  was  suggested  to  Garrick  that 
the  simple  practice  of  numbering  the  seats  would  remedy  all 
this.  But  he  does  not  seem  to  have  adopted  it  Mr.  Varney, 
his  box-keeper,  was  a  very  important  personage  with  all  persons 
of  quality  and  condition.  All  these  improvements  were  owing 
to  Garrick's  own  unwearied  attention  and  watchfulness. 

The  clearing  of  the  stage  from  the  loungers  was  to  be  fraught 
with  great  difficulties,  and  even  danger.  The  fiercest  opposi- 
tion came  from  his  own  company,  who,  on  a  benefit,  would  lose 
as  much  as  a  hundred  pounds  or  more.  The  happy  device  of 
enlarging  the  house,  and  gaining  in  front  the  accommodation 
that  was  sacrificed  behind  the  curtain,  took  away  all  excuse  for 

ton  much  such  as  they  had  at  the  opera,  only  larger.  Gaetano  has  about 
convinced  me  that  it  is  impossible  to  give  a  colour  to  fire.  He  has  tried 
coloured  glass,  and  it  does  nothing.  Spelter,  he  says,  is  very  good  ;  sulphur 
does  not  succeed  ;  Stars  he  makes  now  without  thimble*."  (Forster  MSS.) 
This  was  so  early  as  1747.  Our  grand  stage  conflagrations,  where  houses  are 
seen  wrapt  in  flames,  are  produced  by  coloured  glass  throwing  a  red  glare 
on  fumes.  There  was  one  "  set  piece  "  for  a  "  Feerie  "  which  Garrick  got 
from  Paris,  the  description  of  which  is  highly  curious,  as  showing  the 
"  transformation-scene  "  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  called  the  "  Palace 
of  Armida,"  The  painted  stones  were  put  together,  with  handles  at  the 
back ;  these  were  drawn  away  from  the  bottom ;  thus  the  whole  came 
down  in  ruins.  Traps  were  opened  "  when  the  change  of  the  fiery  palace 
was  commencing,"  down  which  it  descended,  the  groups  of  Graces  changing 
also  at  the  same  moment,  while  from  above  were  thrown  down  what  seemed 
to  be  heavy  beams  of  timber,  but  which  were  frames  of  wicker,  covered 
with  painted  canvas.  The  conflagration,  however,  was  managed  in  a  rather 
primitive  fashion.  Strings  of  tow  were  wound  on  long  "  perches,"  held  at 
all  sides,  and  set  on  fire ;  the  car  of  Medea  then  crossed  the  stage,  sur- 
rounded by  little  demons  carrying  torches,  and  firing  the  palace.  There 
was  then  "  a  rain  of  fire  "  made  of  sulphuric  firework  composition.  The 
rest  of  the  effect  was  worked  out  with  red  agate-coloured  columns  and 
"gilt  beams,"  and  a  great  deal  of  gilt  moulding.  Loutherbourg  was  his 
scene  painter,  and  contrived  some  ingenious  effects  by  placing  screens,  of 
various  coloured  silk  and  tiffany,  in  front  of  the  side  and  head  lights.  It 
was  he  who  invented  the  "  effect "  of  Harlequin  in  a  fog,  produced  by  hang- 
ing dark  gauze  between  the  figure  and  the  audience. 

K 


242  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1762. 

dissatisfaction  among  the  actors.  These  alterations  were  done 
so  judiciously,  that  the  theatre  gained  not  only  in  size,  but  in 
beauty,  and  now  held  a  receipt  of  £335  a  night 

The  opposition  and  displeasure  of  the  men  about  town  were 
^inore  perilous.  They  could  not  readily  accept  their  dismissal. 
Unfortunately,  too,  Garrick  had  been  drawn  into  an  open 
quarrel  with  their  leader,  "Thady"  Fitzpatrick,  the  "fine 
gentleman  "  of  the  coterie.  At  the  Bedford,  one  night,  among 
a  group  of  Shakspearean  admirers,  it  was  proposed  that  some 
testimonial  of  honour  should  be  offered  to  their  "  idoL"  But 
Fitzpatrick,  filled  with  sudden  spite  at  this  compliment  to 
a  person  he  so  disliked,  opposed  the  project,  saying  he  was  the 
most  insignificant  member.  This  public  insult  was  reported  to 
Garrick,  who  called  on  him  for  an  explanation.  Meetings  and 
conferences  took  place,  which  only  inflamed  the  matter;  when 
Fitzpatrick,  overflowing  with  venom,  and  knowing,  as  all  the 
world  knew,  the  weak  point  of  his  adversary,  took  the  usual 
course  of  assailing  him  with  anonymous  slanders  in  print 
These  were  kept  up  unceasingly,  and  might  well  goad  the 
manager  to  desperation.  There  was  a  yet  more  offensive 
mode  of  showing  this  enmity.  Often,  when  the  great  actor 
was  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  finest  parts,  his  eye  would  fall 
on  his  enemy  a  little  below  him  in  the  pit,  "  attended  by  some 
noisy  set."  He  would  see  the  cold  stare  and  shrugs  of  con- 
tempt, and  actually  hear  his  remarks  and  his  loud  laugh  at 
some  fine  burst  in  Lear.  As  a  matter  of  course,  Fitzpatrick 
found  coadjutors  among  Gai-rick's  own  treacherous  dependants. 
The  latter  soon  found  out  this  double  dealing,  and  chassdd 
him  promptly.  The  crowd  then  began  to  discover  that  the 
person  of  the  great  Eoscius  was  no  longer  sacred,  and  this 
never-flaggmg  series  of  criticisms  began  to  raise  up  at  the 
coffee-houses  and  other  places  a  train  of  little  pretenders,  who 
found  an  agreeable  occupation,  and  some  claim  to  considera- 
tion, in  detecting  his  faults.  The  paper  which  was  chosen  for 
these  attacks  was  "The  Craftsman,  in  whose  columns  now 
appeared  the  most  vindictive  and  malignant  criticisms  on 
Gar-rick's  acting  and  manner.  These  were  signed  "  X.  Y.  Z.,w 
and  soon  attracted  attention  from  their  perseverance.* 

*  Later  these  worthless  criticisms  were  gathered  up  into  a  pamphlet, 
which  was  called  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Merits  of  a  Certain  Popular  Per- 
former; with  an  Introduction  to  David  Garrick,  Esq.,"  and  was  then 
known  to  be  written  by  Fitzpatrick.  Nothing  more  offensive  could  be 
conceived.  They  dealt  with  his  age,  voice,  figure,  and  manner.  The  abuse 
was  carried  so  far  as  to  say  that  "  he  never  did,  or  never  could,  speak  ten 
successive  lines  of  Shakspeare  with  grammatical  propriety."  Copies  of  this 
production  were  sent  round  diligently  to  all  Garrick's  friends. 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  243 

Garrick's  incorrigible  taste  for  facetious  rhyming  led  him  to 
think  of  retaliation.  The  result  was  "The  Fribbleriad,"  a 
lively  and  personal  description  of  his  enemy,  which  was 
largely  sold,  and  made  the  town  laugh.  Fitzpatrick  offered 
tempting  openings  for  ridicule.  His  face,  pale  and  wan,  spoke 
of  an  effeminacy  almost  ridiculous ;  he  had  the  mincing  air 
and  gait  of  all  the  beaux  of  the  town. 

"  The  creature's  male,  say  all  we  can — 
It  must  be  something  like  a  man. 

***** 
What  of  that  wriggling,  fribbling  race, 
The  cuxbo  of  nature  and  disgrace, 
Whose  rancour  knowB  nor  bounds  nor  measure, 
Feels  every  passion,  tastes  no  pleasure  ? 
So  smiling,  smirking,  soft  in  feature, 
Tou'd  swear  it  was  the  gentlest  creature. 
But  touch  its  pride,  the  lady-fdiow 
From  sickly  pale  turns  deadly  yellow."  \ 

In  the  preface  was  an  announcement  that  the  task  of  exhibit- 
ing Fribble  in  his  proper  colours  was  not  to  be  completed 
there.  "  A  much  abler  hand "  was  very  soon  "  to  expose  and 
detect  his  designs."  Not  a  few  guessed  that  this  heralded 
Churchill 

<Warburton  was  delighted  with  "The  Fribbleriad. n  He 
thought  it  excellent  in  its  fable,  its  sentiment,  and  wit.  He 
bad  his  own  Fribbles  to  plague  him,  and  could  think  of  Pope, 
who  had  called  the  "  Cock  Fribble "  of  his  day,  a  gilded  bug. 
This  satirical  personality  affected  Fitzpatrick  keenly,  and  a 
suitable  opportunity  now  gave  him  an  opening  for  retaliation. 
One  of  the  rules,  said  to  be  an  innovation,  had  abolished  the 
half-price  during  the  run  of  a  new  play,  but  restored  it  when- 
ever the  regular  stock-pieces,  where  Garrick's  strength  and 
attraction  lay,  were  played.  This  had  been  the  old  custom, 
and  was  certainly  not  unreasonable ;  but  it  furnished  the  occa- 
sion that  Fitzpatrick  was  looking  for.  On  January  25th, 
1763,  the  coffee-house  frequenters  were  attracted  by  placards, 
posted  up  everywhere,  in  which  their  attention  was  called  to 
this  grievance.  It  was  represented  as  a  great  hardship,  that 
should  be  resisted ;  and,  it  was  added,  they  should  assert  their 
rights  firmly.  A  theatrical  community  is  never  slack  to  ac- 
cept invitations  of  such  a  kind.  "The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona  "  was  being  played,  with  some  alterations  by  Victor, 
and  had  reached  its  tenth  night,  when  it  was  to  be  performed 
for  the  benefit  of  the  author.  When  the  curtain  rose,  the 
uproar  burst  forth.  The  house  was  packed  with  the  conspira- 
tors, and  the  notoriously  wan  face  of  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  was  seen 

R  2 


244  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1762. 

in  the  boxes.  In  a  moment  he  was  haranguing  them.  With 
fierce  and  excited  language  he  told  them,  it  was  now  their  time 
to  fix  the  price,  and  exhorted  them  not  to  submit  to  the  impo- 
sition. The  confusion  brought  out  the  manager,  who  was 
received  with  yells  and  uproar.  They  would  not  give  him  a 
hearing.  Yet  he  was  prepared  with  a  reasonable  case.  He 
could  have  shown  them  how  the  expenses  had  mounted  from 
sixty  to  ninety  pounds  a-night,  though  this  was  hardly  the 
point  involved.*  But  in  truth  he  was  wrong,  or  had  raised  a 
wrong  issue.  For  "  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  had  been 
played  before,  with  its  alterations,  and  was  not,  in  that  sense, 
a  new  piece.  He  was  just  allowed  to  say,  that  all  should  be 
explained  in  the  newspapers  of  the  following  day,  and  was 
summarily  driven  off, — then  the  rioters  proceeded  to  the  next 
regular  step  in  theatrical  dissatisfaction.  They  fell  on  the 
theatre  and  its  fittings,  broke  up  the  lustres  and  girandoles, 
and  Moody,  the  popular  actor  of  Irishmen,  snatched  a  light 
from  a  ruffian  who  was  in  the  act  of  firing  the  theatre.  After 
this  destruction  of  property,  the  curtain  was  let  down,  the 
money  actually  returned  to  the  rioters,  and  the  house  cleared. 
The  following  morning,  in  the  journal  Garrick  was  supposed 
to  influence,  appeared  a  short  notice,  promising  an  answer — 
stating  that  he  believed  what  they  had  done  was  no  innova- 
tion. This  temperate  appeal  had  no  effect  That  night  the 
house  was  crammed  to  the  ceiling.  At  the  "  third  music,1'  the 
audience  furiously  interrupted,— demanded  "Britons  Strike 
Home,"  and  "  The  Roast  Beef  of  Old  England."  They  were 
gratified  with  these  tunes.  Then  Holland  came  out  to  speak 
the  prologue,  but  was  hissed  off.  This  looked  ominous,  when 
suddenly  Garrick  himself  appeared,  and  confronted  that  hostile 
audience,  literally  packed  with  his  enemies.  The  uproar  that 
greeted  him  could  not  be  described.  It  was  noted  that  the  fine 
face  betrayed  mortification,  anger,  and  humiliation.  Some  voices 
roared,  "  Hear  him  /  "  others,  "  Hear  the  pit ! "  Suddenly  the 
pale-faced  Fitzpatrick,  his  henchman,  Burke,  by  his  side,  stood 
up,  and  there  was  silence.  He  called  out,  "  Will  you,  or  will 
you  not,  charge  half-price  for  every  piece,  except  a  panto- 
mime?"    The  humiliated  manager  wished  to  explain,  but 

*  I  have  discovered  in  an  old  magazine  a  copy  of  the  "pay  list"  of 
Drury  Lane,  of  only  two  yean  later.  There  were  a  hundred  performers  on 
the  books,  and  the  total  amounted  to  within  a  few  shillings  of  the  sum 
Garrick  had  named.  The  salaries  are  good  for  those  days.  Garrick  had 
£2  15s.  6<L  a  night ;  Yates  and  wife,  £8  6s.  8d. ;  Palmer  and  wife,  £2 ; 
King,  £1  6a  8d  ;  Parsons,  6b.  8d. ;  Mrs.  Cibber,  £2  10s. ;  Mrs.  Pritchard, 
£2  6s.  8d.  ;  Mrs.  Clive,  £1  15a  ;  Miss  Pope,  12s.  4d. ;  the  Italian  dancers, 
£1,  and  £1  3s.  4d. ;  the  "  Fund,"  £1  16s. ;  and  the  nightly  charity,  3a.  8d. 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  245 

his  enemy  called  on  him  to  say  yes  or  no.  He  again 
attempted  to  make  a  statement,  but  was  drowned  in  fresh 
yells.  Then,  in  a  tone  of  agony  and  impatience,  he  called 
out  "  Yes ! "  This  submission  was  against  his  own  judgment, 
but  he  was  persuaded  by  the  cautious  Lacy.  The  house  was 
taken  by  surprise;  but  a  victim  they  were  determined  to 
have.  Ackman,  a  humble  player,  who  had  displeased  them 
the  night  before,  was  ordered  to  come  out  and  beg  pardon. 
He  did  so.  Then  Moody  was  called  for,  and  required  to 
beg  pardon  on  his  knees,  for  what  he  had  done  the  previous 
night.  This  strange  demand  he  met  in  burlesque  way,  by 
saying,  in  the  tone  of  one  of  his  stage  Irishmen,  "that  he 
was  very  sorry  he  had  offended  them,  by  saving  their  lives." 
This  trifling  only  infuriated  them,  and  the  cry  was,  "  Down  on 

your  knees ! "    Moody  boldly  said,  "By ,  I  will  not/'  and 

walked  off  the  stage.  Though  Garrick  embraced  him  and 
applauded  his  spirit,  still,  to  save  his  theatre,  he  had  to  engage 
that  Moody  should  not  play  any  more,  until  they  gave  permis- 
sion ;  but  he  assured  Moody  in  private,  that  his  salary  should 
go  on.  Flushed  with  their  triumph,  they  repaired  to  Covent 
Garden,  where  they  pursued  exactly  the  same  course;  but 
Beard,  one  of  the  patentees,  with  more  spirit,  declined  to  agree 
to  their  demands.  His  theatre  was  accordingly  sacked ;  but 
he  was  able  to  secure  some  of  the  rioters,  and  bring  them 
before  the  Chief  Justice. 

Meanwhile  Moody,  with  good  spirit,  presented  himself  at 
Fitzpatrick's  chambers,  and  demanded  satisfaction  for  these 
injuries.  The  natural  pusillanimity  of  the  beau  was  said  to 
have  shown  itself;  he  shuffled,  turned  pale,  proposed  an 
-amende,  and  actually  agreed  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation 
between  the  actor  and  the  public.  He  was  said  also  to  have 
written  an  abject  apology  to  the  manager.  There  was  to  be  a 
greater  humiliation :  when  the  rioters  were  brought  to  Lord 
Mansfield's  house,  he  was  obliged  to  attend  also.  His  un- 
naturally pale  cheek  was  seen  to  turn  yet  paler  as  the  Chief 
Justice  administered  to  him  a  stern  rebuke,  saying  that  if  a  life 
had  chanced  to  have  been  lost  in  the  fray  he  would  have  been 
held  responsible.  With  judicious  wisdom,  he  allowed  the 
matter  to  be  accommodated,  and  after  a  wholesome  warning 
allowed  all  to  go;  but  he  told  Fitzpatrick  that  he  was 
astonished  to  see  one  who  looked  like  a  gentleman  mixed  up 
in  such  an  affair.  The  history  of  theatrical  riots  would  make  a 
curious  narrative,  and  not  the  least  curious  feature  would  be 
the  almost  invariable  leadership  of  persons  of  condition. 

But  now  Garrick  found  a  friend  and  ally,  who  at  once  took 


246  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1762. 

the  task  of  chastisement  into  his  own  hands.  This  was 
Churchill.  *"The  Rosciad"  had  run  through  some  seven, 
editions,  and  now  came  out  the  eighth,  in  which  he  inserted 
that  tremendous  portrait  which  has  been  so  justly  called  "  one' 
of  the  masterpieces  of  English  satire."  This  friendly  service 
may  be  taken  as  an  amende  for  the  little  tartness  of  "  The 
Apology,"  and  supports  the  view  of  ChurchilPs  having  a  hand 
in  Garrick's  "  Fribbleriad ; "  for  if  he  did  not  suggest,  he  cer- 
tainly worked  out  elaborately  the  same  idea.  Every  one  knows 
the  lines : — 

'•  A  motley  figure  of  the  Fribble  tribe, 
Which  heart  can  scarce  conceive  or  pen  describe, 
Came  simpering  on,  to  ascertain  whose  sex 
Twelve  sage  impannelled  matrons  'twould  perplex. 
Nor  male  nor  female — neither,  and  yet  both, 
Of  neuter  gender,  though  of  Irish  growth. 
A  six-foot  Buckling,  mincing  in  his  gait, 
Affected,  peevish,  prim  and  delicate ; 
Fearful  it  seemed,  though  of  athletic  make, 
Lest  brutal  breezes  should  too  roughly  shake 
Its  tender  form,  and  savage  motion  spread 
O'er  its  pale  cheeks  the  horrid  manly  rtd." 

"^Within  a  few  days  the  manager  had  to  appear  in  a  new 
piece,  whose  perfect  and  legitimate  success  may  have  consoled 
him.  Sheridan  was  not  reconciled  to  him,  but  Sheridan's  wife 
had  written  a  comedy,  which  had  been  put  into  his  hands. 
Indifferent  to  enmities  and  injuries,  he  now  engaged  Sheridan 
to  take  a  leading  part,  set  off  the  comedy  to  the  best  advan- 
tage, and  went  himself  to  the  trouble  of  studying  Sir  Anthony 
Branvilky  which  proved  to  be  the  last  new  character  he  was  to 
appear  in.  It  is  a  gay,  bright  piece,  and  reads  pleasantly  to 
this  hour.*\  It  was  greatly  relished,  and  was  played  some 
seventeen  nights — then  a  prodigious  run.  Garrick's  picture  of 
an  old  beau,  formal  and  precise,  was  inexpressibly  mirthful ; 
and  it  was  something  new,  and  not  less  diverting,  to  see  that 
wonderful  face  producing  effect,  even  when  become  solemn, 
and  discharged  of  all  expression.  Not  content  with  this  warm 
support  of  the  wife,  he  liberally  gave  the  husband  a  second 
night  for  his  benefit,  though  he  was  not  engaged  at  the  theatre. 

*  This  sprightly  lady  had  sent  him  a  comedy — very  likely  this  one — so 
far  back  as  1743,  which  he  had  strongly  condemned.  There  was  no  fable 
— no  humour — no  connection — no  interest.  The  lady  defended  her  piece 
in  one  of  the  pleasantest  letters.  She  believed  Mr.  Garrick  had  read  it  too 
"  hastily,"  and  not  "  finding  himself  pleased  on  the  whole,  would  not  allow 
himself  time  to  separate  the  good  from  the  bad."  This  gay  woman's  letter 
is  given  in  the  Correspondence,  vol  L,  p.  16. 


1762.]  STAGE  REFORM.  247 

We  may  wonder  how  the  Fitzpatricks,  and  others  of  his  pro- 
fessional slanderers,  accounted  for  such  behaviour. 

Still  the  rude  shock  he  had  received  had  sunk  deep  into  his 
mind.  The  mortification  of  that  defeat,  that  public  insult  on 
his  own  boards,  had  gone  home.  The  respect,  the  popularity 
of  "  the  great  Garrick"  and  "  Roscius,"  seemed  to  have  decayed. 
These  numerous  attacks — ever  unflagging  and  venomous — 
were  wounding  and  disgusting  him.  It  was  scarcely  wonderful 
that  he  should  recall  Sterne's  picture  of  the  eagerness  of 
French  friends  to  welcome  the  great  actor.  He  was  actually 
thinking  of  final  retirement,  as  he  had  done  after  the  Festival 
Riot.  His  eyes  were  turning  towards  the  Continent,  and  to 
quiet.  Peace  between  France  and  England  was  now  estab- 
lished. The  Duke  de  Nivernois,  the  newly-arrived  ambas- 
sador, had  been  most  courteous,  gave  him  a  splendid  entertain- 
ment, and,  no  doubt,  promised  introductions.  Mrs.  Garrick's 
health,  too,  was  failing,  and  he  himself  wanted  change  and 
repose.    So  a  tour  seemed  inviting. 

The  unpleasant  season  closed  at  the  end  of  May.  It  brought 
not  only  mortification  but  loss.  In  the  present  century  there 
were  still  living  those  who  recalled  the  waning  attraction  of 
the  great  actor — the  thin  pit  and  empty  boxes  of  Drury  Lane 
Theatre.  Sir  Waller  Pepys  often  described  to  Mr.  Eogers 
this  humiliating  show,  and  it  was  even  said  that  Garrick  and 
Mrs.  Cibbcr  had  sometimes  played  to  a  house  of  twenty 
pounds,  and  once  actually  to  one  of  five.  This,  however,  was 
the  single  "  bad  house  "  of  his  life.  It  was  not  surprising  he 
should  begin  to  think  of  escaping  from  such  mortifications. 

Now  came  a  very  warm  letter  from  Chatsworth,  pressing 
him  to  come  and  meet  Quin,  and  see  the  Ascot  Races.  It 
shows  us  Quin  in  a  very  agreeable  light,  driving  out  "in  his 
one-horse  chaise  to  get  his  nag  in  wind,"  and  receiving  the 
present  of  an  umbrella  to  defend  himself  from  the  sun  and 
rain.  Garrick  wrote  a  hearty  and  delighted  letter  to  him, 
written  in  that  vein  of  gaiety  which  always  sat  so  well  on  him: 
"  If  they  had  but  a  tithe  of  the  pleasure  they  had  in  their  last 
meeting,  it  will  be  well  made."  They  were  to  exchange  pic- 
tures— Garrick  sitting  to  Hudson,  Quin  to  Gainsborough. 
Garrick  looked  forward  with  great  delight  to  their  meeting. 
The  Duke  was  eager  to  welcome  his  two  friends.  "  Remember 
to  come  by  Derby  and  Matlock.  If  you  lie  at  Derby,  you 
may  with  great  ease  be  with  me  by  dinner ;  it  is  all  good  road. 
Remember  to  come  over  Rowesley  Bridge,  so  up  my  grounds, 
which  shall  be  open."  They  had  the  most  charming  time, 
"all  mirth,  bagatelle,  liberty,  and  a  little  drinking  at  times." 


248  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

Garrick,  one  of  whose  charms  was  to  try  and  have  some  little 
bonne  bouche  for  his  friends,  or  in  some  way  make  them  sharers 
in  his  present  happiness,  took  care  to  let  Colman  know  that 
their  host  was  often  speaking  of  him,  and  had  the  greatest 
desire  to  know  him  personally.  At  this  house  he  saw 
Churchill's  attack  on  his  friend  Hogarth,  which  disturbed  him 
much.  He  thought  the  description  of  Hogarth's  age  and 
infirmities  "surely  too  shocking  and  barbarous.1'  Soon  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland  was  expected,  and  they  had  to  leave. 

They  seem  to  have  stayed  about  a  week  at  Chatsworth,  and 
met  good  company  there.  Mr.  Garrick  turned  some  pleasant 
verses  on  some  ladies — the  Duchess  of  Rutland  and  two  others, 
who  were  always  inseparable.  After  this  pleasant  excursion 
he  came  up  to  town,  and  began  to  prepare  for  his  "  Grand 
Tour,"  which,  as  then  made,  was  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
incidents  in  the  noble  or  wealthy  Englishman's  life.  As  this 
little  defeat,  and  the  subsequent  temporary  retirement,  forms 
a  sort  of  epoch  in  his  life,  we  shall  pause  here  for  a  short  time, 
and  enter  on  another  department  of  his  history. 


BOOK    TIKE    PIPTH. 

ACTOR  AND   TRAVELLER 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS. — 1763. 

This  stage  of  the  actor's  career  will,  perhap,  be  found  the 
most  convenient  opportunity  for  taking  a  view,  in  detail,  of 
those  wonderful  gifts,  which  made  so  deep  an  impression  on 
the  audiences  of  his  day.  Nothing  is  so  difficult  as  to  find 
some  common  standard  of  comparison  between  players  and 
singers  of  a  past  generation,  and  those  of  the  present  The 
judgment  of  the  old,  who  may  have  heard  both,  is  disturbed 
by  the  prejudices  of  their  age,  and  coloured  by  the  old  and 
golden  light  of  youth  and  enjoyment,  now  gone  for  ever.  The 
favourite  comparison  of  the  old  men  of  Garrick's  day,  was  to 
put  him  beside  Booth  and  Betterton — to  whom,  of  course, 
they  made  him  inferior.  It  is  hard  to  make  out  exactly  what 
Betterton's  style  was— for  the  well-known  description,  in  The 
Toiler,  dwells  on  his  natural  acting,  his  pathos  and  passion, 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OP  CHARACTEKa         •   249 

and,  in  parts,  might  be  accepted  as  a  description  of  Garrick. 
But  be  mud  have  belonged  to  what  has  been  considered  the 
Old  School  of  acting.  The  best  test  is,  that  Quin  had  not  only 
studied  with  Betterton  and  Booth,  but  admired  them,  and  was 
considered  to  be  grounded  on  their  style ;  and  what  Quin's 
style  was  has  been  shown.  Quin  himself,  speaking  to  Selwyn 
of  Garrick's  early  days,  owned  that  Betterton  would  not  go 
down  then.  Genius  will  pierce  through  all  such  heavy  folds ; 
and  it  may  be,  that  Betterton  made  his  splendid  gifts  apparent 
in  company  with  such  disabilities.  Garrick  himself  had  oppor- 
tunities of  judging.  He  had  met  Mrs.  Porter,  Mrs.  Oldfield, 
and  even  Mrs.  Brace^irdle,  the  heroine  of  Lord  Mohun's  tavern 
brawl.  This  was  going  back  far  enough.  Yet  he  used  to  tell, 
how  he  had  heard  her  once,  in  company,  repeat  some  lines  of 
Shakspeare  in  a  way  that  convinced  him,  she  could  never  have 
deserved  her  reputation.  What  Mrs.  Porter  thought  of 
Garrick  we  have  seen ;  and  she  seems  to  have  approved  what 
was  opposed  to  all  her  experience,  and  traditions.  The  con- 
clusion, therefore,  we  should  draw  is,  that  Garrick  must  have 
been  a  true  reformer,  and  his  style  superior  to  all  that  had 
gone  before. 

/Few  men  had  such  natural  advantages  to  lead  them  to  the 
stage.  The  popular  notion  that  he  was  "  little "  was  one  of 
the  vulgar  topics  of  depreciation  insisted  on,  to  wound  his 
nature,  well  known  to  be  sensitive  to  such  attacks.  He  had 
great  and  expressive  play  of  feature ;  was  "  neatly "  and  ele- 
gantly made ;  handsome,  with  a  French  grace,  which  was  yet 
-combined  with  manliness.  His  frame  had  a  surprising  flexi- 
bility, and  even  elasticity,  which  put  all  his  limbs  under  the 
most  perfect  control ;  there  was  an  elegant  freedom  in  every 
motion,  regulated  by  the  nicest  propriety,  answering  every  turn 
•of  his  mind,  as  a  ship  might  her  helm.  He  was  a  gentleman 
by  birth,  and  training — a  useful  accident  for  an  actor.  His 
features  were  wonderfully  marked :  the  eyebrows  well  arched, 
ascending  and  descending,  with  rapid  play ;  the  mouth  expres- 
sive and  bold;  and  the  wonderful  eyes  bright,  intelligent,  and 
darting  fire.  To  these  features,  intellect  and  practice  had 
.given  the  same  flexibility  as  to  his  figure.  His  mind  travelled 
so  quickly,  that  his  look  seemed  in  advance  of  his  words,  and  the 
spectator  read  in  his  face  the  very  sentiment  he  was  about 
to  utter.*  His  voice  was  harmonious  and  pleasing,  always 
distinct,  and  clear,  though  naturally  weak.  He  was  an  elegant, 
fervent,  elaborate,  and  overwhelming  lover,  though  he  wanted 

*  Cumberland. 


250  THE  Ltni  OF  DAVID  GARBICK.  [1763. 

the  sweet  and  pleading  tenderness  of  Barry,  and  the  "profu- 
sion of  softness"  for  which  that  actor  was  famed.  Bat  in  the 
mixture,  and  whirl  of  passions,  lay  his  real  strength ;  when 
rage,  terror,  grief,  and  even  madness  followed  each  other,  in 
gusts  as  it  were,  he  was  unapproachable.  His  fault,  perhaps, 
was  a  certain  restlessness ;  on  the  stage,  he  could  never  stand 
still  |  His  enemy,  Macklin,  insisted  that  he  never  could  act  the 
gentleman's  part,  nor  even  dress  with  propriety. 

"  The  part  of  croof  d-backed  Richard,"  as  it  was  called  in  the 
bill,  was  to  be  like  a  picture,  which  he  touched  and  retouched. 
Friends  remarked  that  every  night  he  mended.  Reference  has 
been  made  to  the  extraordinary  effect  produced  on  the  audience 
by  so  simple  an  action  as  his  flinging  away  his  prayer-book 
after  the  Lord  Mayor  had  retired.*  The  idea  seemed  to  be, 
as  Mr.  Taylor  thought,  that  from  -that  moment  the  old  stagey 
manner  was  doomed.  What  struck  all  present  was  that  before 
there  had  been  only  one  broad  conventional  delineation  of 
"  the  wicked  tyrant,"  who  was  savage  and  furious,  and  nothing 
more,  merely  raging  like  a  maniac.  Even  at  his  opening 
speech,  something  new  and  characteristic  was  presented ;  for 
instead  of  "  chuckling  "  over  his  own  deformity,  and  taking  a 

Eleasure  in  being  so  odious  to  his  fellow-creatures,  he  showed 
imself  pained  and  uneasy  when  he  dwelt  on  these  defects. 
He  himself,  in  Richard,  struck  on  a  good  emphasis  : 

"  Have  you  seen  Anne,  my  wife  ? " 

"  My  lord,  she  is  exceeding  ill." 

"  Rich.  Has  my  physician  seen  her  ?    She'll  mend  shortly." 

In  his  love-making  to  Lady  Anne,  his  ardour  was  so  earnest  and 

Cionate  that  the  audience  for  the  moment  forgot  it  was  mere 
[>cri8y.  Here,  again,  what  a  contrast  to  the  mouthing, 
scornful  advances  of  the  older  school,  which  ought  to  have 
made  audiences  wonder  how  a  lady  could  receive,  even  with 
a  show  of  favour,  so  unpleasing  a  suitor.  The  famous  tent 
scene,  which  was  much  talked  of,  and  which  Hogarth  painted, 
seems  to  have  deserved  all  this  admiration.  When  he  started 
from  his  sleep,  his  face,  attitude,  everything  was  a  picture  of 
horror  and  terrors.  He  called  out  boldly,  as  if  in  the  battle, 
"  Give  me  another  horse ! "  then  paused,  and,  with  dismay  in 
his  face,  came  forward,  crying  out  in  misery,  "  Bind  up  my 
wounds ! "  then  dropping  on  his  knee,  prayed  in  the  most 
piteously  tender  accent — 

"  Have  mercy,  Heaven  ! " 

•  It  was  noted  as  an  odd  feature  in  the  comedies  of  the  time  that  ladies 
and  gentlemen  reading  in  their  garden,  and  interrupted  by  a  visitor,  would 
throw  away  their  book  into  the  soenic  ditch,  pond,  or  grove. 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  251 

When  Caiesby  came  in,  his  terror  and  relief,  and  his  gradual 
restoration  to  confidence  and  bravado,  were  again  points  all 
new  to  the  audience.  When  he  said,  in  answer  to  Lady  Anne's 
question,  "  What  have  I  done  ? " 

"  To  me  the  worst  of  crimes — outlived  my  liking  I" 

it  was  thought  he  should  have  changed  his  voice  at  the  last 
words  into  an  angry  burst.     But  his  reading  was  far  more 

i'udicious — a  slight  pause,  then  speaking  the  words  in  the  same 
:ey,  but  a  little  louder.     This  suppressed  calm  and  concen- 
trated spite  was  more  effective. 

In  the  battle  scenes  he  was  as  loud,  fierce,  and  furious  as 
could  be  desired.  When  the  news  of  Buckingham's  being 
taken  was  brought  in,  he  uttered  Cibber's — not  Shakspeare's 
— famous 

"  Off  with  his  head  !     So  much  for  Buckingham  ! " 

with  such  enjoyment  and  heartfelt  delight  that  the  audience 
burst  into  perfect  shouts  of  applause.  Yet  it  was  noticed  that 
in  some  of  these  early  performances  he  was  often  almost  hoarse 
and  "  run  out "  by  the  end  of  the  play  from  this  fierce  shouting 
and  declamation.  This  was  an  honest  ardour  which  made  him 
reckless  in  the  expenditure  of  his  powers.  Later,  he  learned 
to  husband  his  lungs  and  strength  with  a  judicious  economy. 
The  death  scene,  too,  was  a  terrible  spectacle. 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  said  "he  thought  his  Richard 
was  '  fine,'  but  not  terrible  enough."  "  God  bless  me,"  said 
the  great  actress,  Siddons,  "what  could  be  more  terrible!" 
She  then  told  how,  at  rehearsal,  he  had  bade  her,  as  he  drew 
Lady  Anne  from  the  sofa,  follow  him  step  by  step,  so  that  he 
should  keep  his  face  to  the  audience,  as  he  acted  much  with  his 
eyes.  During  the  performance,  she  was  so  overcome  by  the 
fearful  expression  of  his  face  that  she  forgot  her  instructions ; 
but  was  recalled  to  herself  by  a  look  of  reproof,  which,  she 
said,  she  could  never  think  of  without  terror. 
C-Garrick's  Lear  was,  perhaps,  the  finest  that  has  ever  been 
seen  on  the  stage.  Sheridan,  the  actor's  son,  thought  it  the 
best  of  his  whole  round  of  characters.  From  the  pictures  by 
Wilson  and  Houston,  there  would  seem  a  little  too  much  of  the 
conventional  old  man  in  his  dress  and  "make-up,"  his  hair 
being  too  white  and  woolly.  The  "  curse  "  was  the  most  tre- 
mendous bit  in  the  play;  and  Foote,  in  his  pamphlet  on 
"  The  Suspicious  Husband,"  gives  us  a  picture  of  how  this  was 
done:  "You  fall  precipitately  on  your  knees,  extend  your 
arms,  clench  your  hands,  set  your  teeth,  and  with  a  savage 
distraction  in  your  look,  trembling  in  all  your  limbs,  and  your 


252  *  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GABBIGK.  [176S. 

eyes  pointed  to  Heaven  (the  whole  expressing  a  fullness  of  rage 
and  revenge),  you  begin,  '  Hear,  Nature,  dear  goddess,'  with 
a  broken,  eager,  inward  utterance,  and  from  thence  rising  in 
every  line  in  loudness  and  rapidity  of  voice,  till  you  come  to 
*  And  feel  how  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth,'  &c  Then  you 
are  struck  at  once  with  your  daughters'  ingratitude ;  and  burst- 
ing into  tears,  with  a  most  sorrowful  tone  of  voice,  you  say — 

1  Go — go,  my  people ! ' M 

That  curse  was  so  terrible,  the  audience  seemed  to  shrink 
away  and  cower  from  it,  as  from  a  blast  of  lightning;  and  the 
preparations — his  throwing  away  his  crutch,  clasping  his  hands, 
and  turning  his  eyes  to  Heaven,  inspired  a  strange  forecast  of 
terror.  But  it  was  in  the  transitions  of  fury  to  grief  and 
hopeless  wretchedness,  for  which  this  play  afforded  such 
openings,  that  he  produced  such  a  magical  effect  Some 
critics  thought  he  was  too  slow  and  measured,  in  his  delivery 
of  the  imprecation ;  and  it  was  recollected  that  Booth  hurried 
it  over  more  impetuously.  When  he  said,  "Old  fond  eyes, 
lament  this  cause  again,  111  pluck  ye  out,"  his  tenderness  and 
piteous  agony  made  every  eye  in  the  theatre  £11  with  tears. 
"  I  never  see  him,"  said  an  admirer,  "  coming  down  from  one 
corner  of  the  stage,  with  his  old  grey  hair  standing,  as  it  were, 
erect  upon  his  head,  his  face  filled  with  horror  and  attention, 
his  hands  expanded,  and  his  whole  frame  actuated  by  a  dreary 
solemnity,  but  I  am  astounded,  and  share  in  all  his  distresses. 
Methinks  I  share  in  his  calamities ;  I  feel  the  dark  drifting 
rain  and  the  sharp  tempest  with  his — 

'  Blow,  winds,  till  yon  have  bunt  your  cheeks.* 

It  is  here  that  the  power  of  his  eye,  corresponding  with  an 
attitude  peculiar  to  his  own  judgment  and  proper  to  the  situa- 
tion, is  of  force  sufficient  to  thrill  through  the  veins."  It  was 
of  course  played  in  the  shape  to  which  the  profane  mangling 
of  Tate  had  reduced  it,  in  which  Edgar  is  made  to  be  in  love 
with  Cordelia,  and  the  whole  to  end  happily.  Yet  these  altera- 
tions were  done  with  a  certain  stage  tact ;  and  Tate's  scene 
between  the  lovers  never  ended  without  vociferous  applause, 
and  was  one  of  the  "  strong  "  places  of  the  play. 

O'Keefe,  when  a  young  man,  saw  him  in  this  fine  part*  and 
was  infinitely  touched  by  his  exquisite  pathos,  his  putting  his 
finger  to  Cordelia's  cheek — 

"  Be  these  tears  wet  ?— Yes,  faith  ; " 

then  looking  at  his  finger.     His  saying,  bitterly— 

"  I  will  do  such  things — 
What  they  are  I  know  not," 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  253 

went  to  every  heart,  from  the  sudden  and  piteous  exhibition  of 
helplessness. 

On  another  occasion,  one  of  the  soldiers,  whom  it  was  the 
privilege  of  the  house  to  have  on  the  stage,  was  so  affected  at 
the  distresses  of  the  old  king  that  he  could  not  restrain  his 
tears.  It  used  to  be  told  as  a  "good  thing"  against  the 
actor,  that  his  vanity  was  so  tickled,  that  he  sent  for  the  man 
to  his  room  after  the  play  was  over,  and  gave  him  half  a  crown. 
To  others  the  story  would  seem  to  have  a  different  complexion 
— a  most  natural  gratification  at  seeing  his  talents  produce 
such  an  effect  on  a  man  of  that  class,  with  a  wish  to  encourage 
him. 

Another  dramatic  "alteration,"  Lear's  battle  with  the 
assassins,  furnished  Garrick  with  some  acting  which  was  long 
recollected  by  the  playgoers.  His  leaning  against  the  side  of 
the  scene,  his  panting  and  exhaustion,  and  his  sudden  recollec- 
tions of  what  he  had  done,  and  reply  to  the  fellow  who  said 
that  the  old  king  had  slain  two  of  them,  "  Did  I,  fellow  1 " 
was  wonderfully  good.  And  when  he  called  out  in  rapture, 
still  in  Tate's  language, 

M  Old  Lear  shall  be  a  king  again  ! " 

the  enthusiasm  and  delight  of  the  audience  knew  no  bounds. 
And  at  the  close  a  special  compliment  was  often  paid  to  this 
play,  of  the  audience  renewing  their  plaudits  again  and  again 
after  the  curtain  was  down,  as  a  testimony  of  how  their  feel- 
ings and  sympathies  had  been  worked  on.  The  progress,  too, 
of  returning  reason  was  wonderfully  effective ;  though,  indeed, 
this  grand  play  is  so  furnished  with  dramatic  life  and  changes 
that  it  all  but  acts  itself;  and  when,  after  kneeling  to  his 
daughter  and  not  recognizing  her,  a  glimpse  of  light  begins  to 
steal  on  him,  he  said — 


11  Do  not  laugh  at  me, 


For  as  I  am  a  man,  I  think  that  lady 
To  be  my  child  Cordelia/' 

the  audience,  who  had  been  in  a  tumult  of  suspense  and  pity, 
"  now  broke  out  into  loud  lamentations."  He  adopted  Mack- 
lin's  view  of  declaiming  "  Kill !  kill ! "  with  intense  fury  and 
vindictiveness.  We  have  the  testimony  of  another  enemy  also 
as  to  this  marvellous  performance.  CHve  was  seen  one  night 
standing  at  the  wing,  abusing  him  and  weeping  by  turns, 
until,  angry  with  herself  for  being  so  wrought  on,  she  turned 
away  impatiently  with  a  "  D — n  him,  he  could  act  a  gridiron/" 
Once,  when  he  was  down  at  the  front  of  the  stage,  in  one  of 
his  tempests  of  agony,  he  unconsciously  pulled  the  white  wig 


254  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

to  one  side,  and  exposed  his  own  black  hair  underneath. 
With  any  other  actor  this  would  have  been  fatal,  but  the 
working  of  his  face  and  the  light  of  the  wonderful  eyes  held 
the  audience  spell-bound. 

When  later  Garrick  and  Barry  were  playing  Lear  against 
each  other,  the  latter,  with  all  the  advantages  of  his  fine  figure 
and  bearing,  could  not  approach  him.  Garrick's  conception  of 
Lear  can  be  best  shown  by  a  comparison  with  this  actor,  which 
was  not  nearly  so  delicate.  In  the  pathetic  passages,  the 
latter's  passion  and  feeling  told  well ;  but,  in  the  mad  scenes 
he  took  long  strides,  stared  about  him — in  short,  gave  the  con- 
ventional stage  notion  of  unsettled  wits.  But  Garrick  became 
a  weak  old  man,  still  retaining  his  air  of  royalty ;  his  size,  too, 
fell  in  with  this  notion.  In  the  mad  scenes,  there  were  no 
starts,  no  striving  or  violence,  his  gestures  were  slow  and 
if eeble,  hopeless  misery  was  in  his  face ;  he  moved  his  head  in 
the  most  deliberate  manner;  his  eyes  were  fixed :  or  if  they 
turned  to  any  one,  he  made  a  pause,  and  fixed  his  look  on  the 
person,  after  a  little  delay;  his  face  at  the  same  time  telling 
what  he  was  going  to  say  before  he  had  uttered  a  word, 
ugh  the  whole  character  he  was  an  impersonation  of  woe 
nd  misery,  and  a  total  alienation  from  any  idea  but  that  of 
is  unkind  daughters. 

The  Hamlet  of  Garrick,  when  he  was  a  graceful,  "  sprightly" 
young  man,  must  have  come  upon  the  audiences  of  his  day 
with  some  surprise.  At  that  time  the  muscles  of  his  face 
were  free,  and  the  wonderful  eyes  possessed  their  fullest  lustre. 
We  can  see  him  almost  as  he  then  appeared,  in  a  dress  of  the 
most  conventional  type — the  decent  black  suit  which  clergy- 
men wore,  the  waistcoat  with  flaps,  the  black  breeches  and 
stockings.  He  seems  to  have  worn  his  own  hair ;  and  we  can 
understand  what  an  impression  his  "  reading  "  made.  It  was 
remarked  that  he  improved  almost  nightly.  As  he  grew  older, 
he  altered  and  modified  his  conception  of  various  passages. 
Critics  sitting  in  the  pit  both  of  London  and  Dublin  theatres,' 
watched  him  narrowly,  and  sent  him,  anonymously,  some 
really  acute  and  useful  hints,  which  the  sensible  young  actor 
was  most  thankful  for,  and  adopted  with  gratitude. 

At  his  first  few  representations,  there  was  a  certain  exagge- 
rated warmth  and  "  testiness,"  a  tendency  to  railing,  whichhe 
afterwards  toned  down  into  a  calmer  and  more  meditative 
humour.  There  was  also  noticed  a  kind  of  irregularity  in  his 
pauses,  which  seriously  interfered  with  the  sense.  Another 
little  art  of  his,  at  this  time,  was  the  hurrying  on  to  the  close 
of  a  sentence,  and  then  letting  the  voice  fall ;  and  where  a 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  255 

number  of  substantives  were  to  be  spoken  together,  they  were 
huddled,  as  it  were,  one  on  the  other,  in  an  impetuous  torrent. 
This  was  heresy  for  the  old  declaimers,  who  spoke  in  the  most 
measured  way  of  "te-ruth — jus-tice — ho-nour,"  <fcc.  On  the 
other  hand,  where  there  were  long  words  of  several  syllables, 
he  was  inclined  to  break  them  up,  like — 

"  Ye  hur-ri-canoes,  spout ! " 

When  the  Ghost  appeared,  his  face  expressed  all  the 
workings  of  horror  and  terror,  and  he  addressed  him  with  a 
trembling,  awe-struck  voice.  Thus,  as  was  acutely  remarked, 
he  acted  for  the  Ghost  also,  and  made  it  as  terrible  to  the 
audience  as  it  was  to  him.  This  was  Betterton's  way,  and  was 
said  to  be  a  tradition  of  Shakspeare's  own  teaching.*  Macklin 
and  others  practised  a  bold,  defiant  style  of  address,  as  if  they 
had  succeeded  in  subduing  their  fears.  After  he  had  said, 
"  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace,  defend  us ! "  he  fell  into  such 
a  pause  of  silent  stupefaction,  that,  at  Dublin,  many  thought 
he  had  forgotten  his  part.  It  is  amusing  to  think  that  the  ear 
of  the  audience  had  become  so  attuned  to  the  sonorous  declama- 
tion, that  even  an  undue  pause  should  have  been  a  surprise. 
At  the  beginning  he  seems  to  have  adhered  to  a  rather  absurd 
custom,  which  was  almost  de  riguewr  with  every  actor — namely, 
that  of  drawing  his  sword,  when  Horatio  wished  to  detain 
Hamlet  from  following  the  Ghost;  but  on  the  latter  saying,  "  I 
am  thy  father's  spirit/'  he,  "  with  a  respectful  bow,  put  up  his 
weapon."  Which  seemed  to  have  the  comic  effect  of  convey- 
ing that  "  if  the  Ghost  had  not  turned  out  to  be  one  on  whom 
he  could  depend,  he  would  not  have  sheathed  his  sword."  So, 
too,  when  he  said,  "  Methinks  I  see  my  father's  spirit ! "  and 
he  gave  a  sharp  sudden  start  of  surprise,  it  was  objected,  that 
his  action  expressed  too  pointedly  that  the  spirit  was  before 
him,  whereas  it  was  only  present  to  his  "mind's  eye,  Horatio.'1 
He  conveyed  an  idea  of  deep  filial  piety  and  reverence,  which 
was  surprising  in  those  days  of  Shakspearean  ignorance,  and 
shows  what  a  delicate  instinct  he  possessed.  When  the  Ghost 
entered,  he  was  held  by  his  two  friends,  and  made  violent 
struggles  to  set  himself  free — a  piece  of  the  "  business  "  which 
his  great  taste  soon  tempered  down,  as  it  was  much  more 
natural  that  he  should  remain  awe-struck  and  motionless. 

When  he  played  it  in  Dublin,  he  followed  the  established 

*  Some  of  these  old  traditions  were  truly  ab*urd,  and  more  worthy  of  a 
Richardson's  Show  than  of  a  Royal  Theatre.  Tin  "  first  murderer's  "  face 
wis  always  chalked,  and  contrasted  with  a  heavy  black  wig  and  black 
wmskers,  to  make  him  ghastly. 

/ 


256  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

unmeaning  precedent  of  leaving  out  the  speech  to  the  players. 
When  he  came  to  London,  he  restored  it ;  but  he  always  gave 
it  a  little  too  pedantically,  and  like  a  pedagogue  teaching, 
instead  of  a  philosophic  [prince,  carelessly  speaking  to  his 
inferiors.     Here  was  the  weak  side  of  Garrick,  as  it  has  been 
of  so  many  other  great  actors — namely,  in  presenting  the 
common  character  of  a  gentleman.     In  this,  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  he  never  quite  succeeded.    When  the  player  spoke  his 
speech,  Garrick  illustrated  it  by  gestures,  and,  as  it  were,  acted 
with  him,  which  seemed  a  little  mean  in  the  son  of  a  king.    In 
his  scene  with  Ophelia  he  was  a  little  too  rough  and  violent, 
and  forget  that  he  was  the  lover  of  Ophelia.    Indeed,  when  he 
first  acted  it,  there  was  found  to  be  a  want  of  softness  and 
interest,  and  he  seemed  to  be  "a  hot,  testy  fellow,  for  ever 
flying  into  a  passion,"  even  when  there  was  no  provocation  in 
the  world.     Thus,  when  Polonius  came  to  tell  him  the  actors 
were  arrived,  and  he  stops  his  mouth  hastily,  it  was  done  too 
roughly  and  impatiently  for  a  generous,  kindly  nature  such  as 
Hamlet's  was.     Again,  when  Polonius  speaks  of  using  the  actors 
according  to  their  deserts,  there  was  the  same  pettish  and 
excited  way  of  contradicting  him. 
The  panegyric  on  man — 

11  How  noble  in  reason  ! " 

was  delivered  with  a  fine  enthusiasm  and  energy.  His  self- 
upbraidings  of  cowardice  and  pusillanimity  in  the  soliloquy, 
where  he  plans  testing  his  uncle  to  the  quick — the  mixture  of 
contempt  and  derision — were  beyond  measure  effective.  The 
deliberation,  and  sudden  change  in  his  voice  and  look,  when  he 
said — 

"  I  have  heard 
That  guilty  creatures,  sitting  at  a  play  " — 

were  so  marked  as  to  hold  the  audience  breathless  while  he 
unfolded  the  plan.     He  rested  on  the  words  "  landless  villain ! " 
with  a  pathetic  softness  and  regret  that  went  to  every  heart 
In  the  famous  soliloquy — 

"To  be,  or  not  to  be," 

his  play  of  expression,  the  variety  and  change  of  voice,  yet  all 
not  exceeding  the  bounds  of  a  simple  meditation,  was  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  features  of  the  performance.  He  seemed 
to  make  all  stages  of  the  train  of  thought  quite  clear  and  dis- 
tinct It  was  a  pity  he  did  not  break  through  the  stale  old 
tradition  of  Hamlet's  pulling  out  the  two  miniatures,  instead  of 
the  truer  notion  suggested  by  Da  vies,  of  having  them  on  the 
tapestry — or  the  better  idea   still,  of   seeing  them  with  his 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  257 

mind's  eye  only.  Nothing  could  be  finer  than  his  playing  in 
this  scene.  His  reproofs  to  his  mother  were  stern,  yet 
tinged  with  a  filial  respect,  and  regret  for  one  so  misled. 
This  was  varied  by  his  address  to  the  Ghost,  full  of  awe,  and 
yet  of  grief  and  tenderness.  His  eyes  followed  the  spirit  as 
it  passed  by,  and  expressed  all  these  passions.  Then  came  a 
change  to  sternness,  as  if  he  had  awakened  from  a  dream. 
When  he  said,  "  Some  must  laugh,  while  some  must  weep," 
&c,  he  was  fond  of  a  bit  of  questionable .  stage  business — 
namely,  walking  backwards  and  forwards,  and  twirling  a 
white  handkerchief  all  the  time.  With  the  Gravediggers,  he 
was,  at  first,  too  sententious,  and  had  too  much  the  manner 
of  a  lecturer.  This  was  pointed  out  to  him,  and  he  became 
much  more  digagi  and  natural.  When  he  was  told  the  grave 
was  for  Ophelia,  he  at  first  took  an  odd  view,  and  said,  with 
seeming  unconcern  and  surprise,  "How,  the  fair  Ophelia?" 
Instead  of  aiming  at  the  rather  sepulchral  character  of  aspect 
which  is  the  conventional  type,  he  came  on  with  colour  in  his 
cheeks,  and  omitted  the  pompous  music  to  which  the  prince 
used  to  make  his  entry.  All  these  little  points  show  a  happy 
instinct,  and  a  hostility  to  the  strained,  unnatural,  and  buckram 
stage  traditions  which  he  inherited. 

Some  of  his  pronunciation,  too,  was  a  little  uncertain.  It 
was  objected  to  him  in  Dublin  that  he  did  not  give  the  letter  a 
its  full  open  sound  (as  in  cat) ;  but  that  he  said  maytron  instead 
of  mattron,  Isrel  instead  of  Israel,  villin  instead  of  villain,  wind 
instead  of  wind;  and,  above  all,  that  he  sounded  appal  as  if  it 
were  the  word  appeal.  This  once  exposed  Quin  to  a  droll  mis- 
take ;  who,  at  rehearsal  one  day,  gave  orders  to  his  Roman 
Guards  that  they  should  "lower  their  fasces;"  and  this  word 
being  pronounced  in  his  theatrical  fashion,  like  "  faces,"  every 
head  was  bent.  At  his  first  performing,  too,  he  talked  of 
tropically;  but  on  its  being  shown  to  him  that  the  o  was  the 
short  Greek  o  (not  u),  he  at  once  amended  it. 

Towards  the  close  of  Garrick's  career,  an  intelligent  German, 
named  Lichtenberg,  with  excellent  powers  of  observation  and 
description,  came  to  England  on  his  travels,  and  made  a  perfect 
study  of  the  great  actor,  in  most  of  his  leading  parts.*  What 
struck  him  was  the  perfect  ease,  the  free  play,  and  grace  of 
every  limb  and  muscle,  which  he  had  seen  only  in  Frenchmen 
who  had  lived  about  Courts.  When  Garrick  came  on  the  stage, 
without  having  to  speak,  or  express  by  his  face  or  action  any 

*  Mr.  Tom  Taylor  first  called  attention  to  these  remaikable  sketches  in 
the  early  numbers  of  the  "  Victoria  Magazine." 

S 


258  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

particular  emotion,  even  then,  he  drew  away  attention,  by  his 
ur  of  life,  and  animation,  and  interest.  He  was  still  part  of 
"  the  action  "  that  was  going  on.  The  other  actors  beside  him, 
seemed  puppets.  The  new  observer,  putting  him  beside  what 
he  had  seen,  was  struck,  even  at  that  late  stage,  by  his  infinite 
superiority : — 

"  The  fall  of  a  pin  might  be  heard  throughout  the  house.  All  at  once, 
just  as  Hamlet  walks  down  the  stage,  somewhat  far  back  and  to  the  left, 
with  his  face  from  the  audience,  Horatio  starts  and  exclaims  :  *  Look,  my 
lord,  it  comes ! '  and  he  points  to  the  right,  where  the  Ghost  stands  motion- 
less, before  any  one  had  become  aware  of  it  At  these  words  Hamlet  turns 
suddenly  round,  at  the  same  moment  flinging  himself  two  or  three  steps 
backwards.  His  knees  give  way  under  him ;  his  hat  falls  to  the  ground ; 
the  two  arms,  particularly  the  left,  are  thrust  forward,  the  hand  as  high  as 
the  head  :  the  right  arm  is  more  bent,  and  the  hand  is  lower ;  the  fingers 
are  apart,  the  mouth  is  open.  Thus  he  stands,  in  a  graceful  yet  fixed 
attitude,  as  if  petrified,  supported  by  his  friends,  who,  more  acquainted 
with  the  apparition,  fear  he  will  fall.  In  his  whole  mien  there  is  so  much 
terror  and  amazement,  that  even  before  he  spoke,  a  feeling  of  awe  came 
over  me.  The  almost  fearful  stillness  of  the  house  probably  contributed 
not  a  little  to  this  state  of  mind.  At  length  he  says,  with  tremulous  voice 
and  expiring  breath,  ' Angels  and  ministers  of  grace,  defend  us ; '  words 
which  crown  a  scene,  the  grandest  and  most  terrible  of  which  the  stage  is 
capable.  The  Ghost  beckons  him.  You  should  see  how  he  works  himself 
free  of  his  friends.  The  Ghost  goes  off  the  stage.  Hamlet  remains  a  few 
moments  still,  with  his  6word  outstretched,  to  increase  the  distance 
between  them.  At  last,  when  the  Ghost  is  no  longer  visible,  he  begins 
slowly  to  follow  it,  pausing  now  and  then,  his  sword  still  held  out  before 
him,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  Ghost,  breathless,  his  hair  dishevelled  ;  and 
thus  he  too  disappears  behind  the  scenes.  You  may  imagine  the  burst  of 
applause  which  accompanies  this  exit.  It  begins  with  the  disappearance 
of  the  Ghost,  and  lasts  till  Hamlet  quits  the  stage.  .  .  .  ." 

The  reader  will  think  of  Partridge  at  the  play.  When  he 
came  to  say — 

"  Break,  my  heart,  for  I  must  hold  my — tongue,'* 

his  arm  fell  violently,  as  if  to  give  force  to  the  word  "  tongue ;" 
but  tears  came,  and  he  could  hardly  pronounce  it.  Thus  there 
was  a  pause  for  a  second,  before  it  was  heard.  This  was  art 
indeed. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  play,  he  was  in  the  ordinary  "French* 
dress  of  the  day,  and  in  mourning.  With  the  first  stage  of 
madness,  he  appeared  with  his  hair  disordered,  part  of  it  on 
one  shoulder ;  one  of  his  black  stockings  fallen  down,  showing 
a  white  under-stocking,  and  a  red  garter,  with  a  bow,  down 
also  on  the  calf.  With  one  arm  supporting  his  elbow,  and  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  he  spoke — "  To  be,  or  not  to  be,"  in  a  low 
'voice ;  yet  every  word  was  perfectly  distinct. 

His  Macbeth  was  a  no  less  astonishing  performance,  and 
evidently  new  to  the  town.    It  was  remarked  that  he  threw  a 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  259 

certain  and  dejected  air  over  the  whole,  instead  of  the  daring 
and  intrepidity,  and  perhaps  cant  and  bluster,  of  the  older 
conception.  It  was  full  of  long  pauses,  "heart  hearings," 
piteous  looks,  with  "a  slack  carriage  of  body."  This  shows 
how  delicate  and  refined  was  his  colouring  of  a  part  Thus — 
"  Prithee,  peace ;  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man,"  was 
spoken  in  the  same  dejected  key. 

More  admirable  was  his  marking  the  shades  of  progress  from 
eager  ambition,  kindled  in  him  by  the  Witches,  to  his  gradual 
yielding  to  his  wife's  persuasions.  But  he  was  supported  by 
the  incomparable  Pritchard,  and  their  united  exertion  long 
made  the  play  the  most  wonderful  exhibition  of  dramatic 
power. 

Pritchard  and  Cibber  he  almost  trained  in  his  own  princi- 
ples, and  they  caught  a  great  deal  of  his  manner.  He  took 
enormous  pains  to  make  Mrs.  Pritchard  read  the  letter  naturally 
in  Lady  Macbeth* 

Long  after,  when  Garrick  was  at  a  little  Italian  Court,  and 
the  Duke  asked  for  a  specimen  of  his  powers,  he  threw  himself 
into  the  attitude  of  Macbeth  looking  at  the  visionary  dagger. 
The  horror  and  vivid  sense  of  real  seeing,  marked  in  his  won- 
derful face,  perfectly  conveyed  the  meaning  of  the  whole  situ- 
ation to  the  foreign  company  who  were  present  t  In  the  scene 
after  the  murder,  his  acting  could  not  be  surpassed.  Even  the 
description  causes  a  thrill  His  distraction  and  agonising 
horrors  were  set  off  by  his  wife's  calmness  and  confidence. 
The  beginning  of  the  scene,  after  the  murder,  was  conducted 
in  terrifying  whispers.  Their  looks  and  actions  supplied  the 
place  of  words.  The  poet  here  only  gives  an  outline  to  the 
consummate  actor — "  I  have  done  the  deed,  .  .  .  Did'st  thou 
not  hear  a  noise  ? "  "  When  ?  did  not  you  speak  ? "  .  .  .  The 
expression  of  despair  and  agony  and  horror,  as  Garrick  looked 
at  his  bloody  hands,  was  long  remembered.  His  face  seemed 
to  grow  whiter  every  instant  So,  too,  when  the  sudden 
knocking  at  the  door  came,  his  disorder  and  confusion  and 

*  One  little  green-room  anecdote  is  a  proof  of  the  wonderful  effect  he  pro* 
duoed,  even  if  we  accept  it  with  more  than  the  ordinary  large  grain  of  salt 
necessary  in  the  reception  of  theatrical  anecdotes.  He  was  one  night 
playing  it,  and  when  he  said  to  the  murderer  in  the  banquet  scene,  "  There 
w  blood  upon  thy  face,"  the  other,  as  he  acknowledged  himself,  was  so 
thrown  off  his  guard  by  the  intensity  of  the  look  and  earnestness  of  the 
manner,  that  he  put  his  hand  up,  with  a  start,  and  said,  "  Is  there,  by 
O — d  ? "  thinking  he  had  broken  a  blood-vessel. 

+  Quin's  almost  ludicrous  way  of  performing  this  famous  scene  has  been 
mentioned — a  series  of  violent  "  clutches,"  one  after  the  other,  in  various 
directions,  as  though  he  were  catching  a  blue-bottle  fly. 

S  2 


260  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARMCK.  [1763. 

hopeless  grief,  and  his  reply — 

"  'Tis  a  rough  night," 

was  in  a  tone  of  affected  unconcern,  under  which  could  be 
discovered  fear  and  misery.  These  were  exquisite  strokes, 
altogether  new  to  the  audience.  In  his  behaviour  to  the  Ghost, 
he  was,  on  the  first  nights,  too  subdued  and  faint  when  he 
said — 

"  A  vaunt,  and  quit  my  sight ! " 

— still  carrying  out  his  idea  of  Macbeth  being  utterly  oppressed, 
and  overcome  by  the  sense  of  his  guilt.  But  an  anonymous 
critic  pointed  out  to  him  that  Macbeth  was  not  a  coward ;  and 
with  that  good  sense  and  modesty  which  always  distinguished 
him,  he  adopted  the  advice. 

It  is  curious  to  think  that  even  twenty  years  later,  another 
anonymous  critic  wrote  to  him,  to  object  to  this  amended  view, 
and  said  that  Macbeth  should  show  signs  of  terror.  But  Garrick 
recollected  his  old  critic's  argument,  and  reproduced  it  in 
answer  to  his  new  one.  "  My  notion,"  he  says,  "  as  well  as 
execution,  of  the  line  are,  I  fear,  opposite  to  your  opinion. 
Should  Macbeth  sink  into  pusillanimity,  I  imagine  that  it  would 
hurt  the  character,  and  be  contrary  to  the  intentions  of  Shak- 
speare.  The  first  appearance  of  the  spirit  overpowers  hira 
more  than  the  second ;  but  even  before  it  vanishes  at  first, 
Macbeth  gains  strength.  '  If  thou  canst  nod,  speak  too,'  must 
be  spoke  with  horror,  but  with  a  recovering  mind ;  and  in  the 
next  speech  with  him,  he  cannot  pronounce  '  Avaunt,  and  quit 
my  sight ! '  without  a  stronger  exertion  of  his  powers.  I  cer- 
tainly, as  you  say,  recollect  a  degree  of  resolution,  but  I  never 
advance  an  inch;  for,  notwithstanding  my  agitation,  my  feet  are 
immovable."  This  admirable  analysis  shows  how  thoroughly 
the  great  actor  had  studied  the  character.  "  Out,  brief  candle ! " 
was  given,  accompanied  by  two  starts,  and  a  strong  action  of 
the  hand.  A  "  prodigious  "  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  "  was  " 
in  the  line  "  And  such  an  instrument  I  was  to  use ; "  the  pro- 
priety of  which  he  defended  in  the  same  happy  way.  The 
vision  represents  what  toas  to  be  done,  "  not  what  is  doing,  or 
what  had  been  done ;  but  in  many  passages  like  this,  all  will 
depend  upon  the  manner  of  the  actor."  And  in  the  gorgeous 
passage  where  he  thought  how — 

"  this  my  hand  will  rather 

The  multitudinous  seas  incarnadine, 
Making  the  green  one  red," 

he  at  first  gave  it  as  some  actors  "  pointed  "  it,  "  Making  the 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  261 

green  one,  red;"  but  afterwards  adopted  the  true  reading, 
"  Making  the  green — one  red." 

In  this  play  he  was  fond  of  suspensions,  which  the  coarse 
ears  of  the  audience,  not  attuned  to  delicate  modulations  of 
voice  or  emphasis,  would  at  times  take  for  full  stops.  Thus, 
in  "Hamlet,"  they  insisted  that  he  made  a  pause  in  one 
line,  "  I  think  it  was  to  see — my  mother's  wedding."  So,  too, 
in  "Macbeth,"  at  the  line  "Plead  like  angels — trumpet- 
tongued."  The  critics  objected  that  by  this  pause  the  epithet 
"  trumpet-tongued  "  was  transferred  to  the  "  virtues  that 
came  before.  But  Garrick  could  defend  himself : — "  I  really 
think  the  force  of  these  four  exquisite  lines  and  a  half,  would 
be  shortly  lost  for  want  of  an  aspiration  at  angels.  The  epithet 
may  agree  with  either,  but  I  think  it  more  elegant  to  give  it  to 
the  virtues,  and  the  sense  is  the  same."  It  was  objected  to  him 
also  that  he  put  a  pause  improperly  in  the  lines — 

"  My  thought,  whose  murder  yet  is  but  fantastical, 
Shakes  bo  my  single — state  of  man." 

"  If  I  do  so,"  said  Mr.  Garrick,  "  it  is  a  glaring  fault ;  for  the 
sense  is  imperfect.  But  my  idea  is  this  :  Macbeth  is  absorbed 
in  thought,  and  struck  with  horror  df  the  murder,  though  but 
in  idea ;  and  it  naturally  gives  him  a  slow,  tremulous  under- 
tone of  voice.  And  though  it  might  appear  that  I  stopped  at 
every  word  in  the  line,  more  than  usual,  my  intention  was  but 
to  paint  the  horror  of  Macbeth's  mind,  and  keep  the  voice  sus- 
pended a  little."  This  is  reasonable  and  original,  and  shows  a 
nicety  in  Garrick's  conception.  He  was  always  partial  to  this 
"  trick  "  of  suspension. 

In  preparing  to  play  for  the  stage  he  left  out  a  scene  or  two, 
and  pruned  others,  but  with  great  judiciousness  and  tender- 
ness. This  was  very  different  from  the  vulgar  "  mauling  "  of 
Davenant  or  Cibber.  But  at  the  end,  with  less  taste,  he  put 
in  a  speech  for  himself.  He  knew  that  the  convulsive  actions 
and  gasps  of  the  dying  man  afforded  him  one  of  his  most  effec- 
tive openings,  and  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  Indeed, 
he  almost  "  overdid  "  these  spasms ;  and  Foote,  in  his  "  Tea," 
used  maliciously  to  "takeoff"  the  great  actor's  long-drawn- 
out  convulsions,  as  in  Lothario — 

"  Adorns  my  fall, 
And  chea-chea-chea-chea-cheara  my  heart  in  dy-dy-ing ! " 

The  wits — always  in  ambuscade  for  the  successful  man — 
exercised  their  pens  on  these  changes.  Garrick  did  not  relish 
this  reception,  and,  a  little  alarmed,  began  a  rather  absurd 
series  of  tactics  to  which  for  many  years  he  adhered,  in  the 


262  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  CULHRICK.  [1763. 

belief  that  by  such  coquetting,  he  could  deprecate  the  hostility 
of  his  enemies,  and  the  ridicule  of  the  indifferenL  His  device 
was  to  anticipate  criticism  by  an  overdone  attack  upon  him- 
self, in  which  the  exaggeration  was  to  be  his  defence  and  his 
protection.  With  this  view  a  pamphlet  was  sent  out,  with  the 
following  title :  "  An  Essay  on  Acting :  in  which  will  be  con- 
sidered the  behaviour  of  a  certain  faulty  and  fashionable  actor/ 
and  it  was  introduced  with  this  motto,  from  "  Tom  Thumb  *': — 


u  So  have  I  seen  a  pigmy  strut. 

Mouth  and  rait  in  a  giant**  robe." 
*0,  Macbeth  has  murdered  G k." 

The  &n-<1\.>int  fault-finder  then  objects  to  some  trifling 
blemishes  of  costume.  Matheth  and  Banquo  should  change 
dresses ;  for  Machtih  should  have  scarlet  and  gold  lace,  and  not 
silver  lace — not  "a  tye-wig"  but  a  "0^0^"  and  a  showier 
hat  When  he  comes  in,  in  his  night-gown,  it  should  not  be  a 
"  flowered  *  one.  The  Ghost,  too,  should  not  wear  a  "  tye-wig," 
for  thus  the  address,  "  Why  dost  thou  shake  thy  gory  locks  t " 
became  a  little  absurd.  The  Ghost  was  altogether  played 
badly,  and  was  ludicrously  slow  in  stalking  off  the  stage  ;  and 
it  was  suggested  that  Garrick  should  follow  him  off  step  by 
step — a  hint  which  he  later  adopted  in  playing  Richard  with 
Mrs.  Siddons.  It  was  Garrick  who  first  introduced  all  that 
garnishing  of  his  plays  with  little  incidents  and  accidents, 
which  gave  so  much  more  the  air  of  life.  When  the  Ghost 
came  back  again,  he  dropped  his  wine-glass  on  the  ground. 
But  the  stage  banquet  was  of  the  most  meagre  sort,  and  the 
board  of  a  great  noble  would  hardly  be  set  out  with  only  a  few 
apples  and  oranges.  In  this  brochure  he  dwells  on  the  unsuit- 
ableness  of  his  own  height,  calling  himself  "  our  puppet  hero," 
and  adding  that  the  idea  of  Macbeth  required  a  figure  six  feet 
high,  and  "  an  Irish  leg."  This  was  an  artful  shape  of  dis- 
praise ;  for  it  was  a  mere  physical  imperfection,  which  it  was 
only  the  greater  credit  for  his  surpassing  gifts  to  triumph  over. 
He  was  always  a  little  sensitive  about  this  matter  of  height, 
and  thought  that  by  perpetually  himself  alluding  to  "  our  little 
hero,"  and  "  little  David,"  to  draw  off  and  disarm  ridicule.* 

This  great  actor  and  Mrs.  Siddons  were  often  so  affected  by 
the  emotions  of  their  parts  as  to  weep  and  sob.  No  one, 
indeed,  was  so  filled  with  the  true  and  correct  instincts  of 
playing.  Here  was  his  golden  principle  which  every  actor 
should  lay  to  heart : — "  I  pronounce  that  the  greatest  strokes  of 

*  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  by  his  "  inspiration  "  there  was 
written  a  letter  some  four  years  later — 1746— on  this  particular  point  of 
size,  in  which  he  is  described  as  being  of  "  elegant  figure." 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  263 

genius  have  been  unknown  to  the  actor  himself 9  till  circumstances 
and  the  warmth  of  the  scene  have  sprung  the  mine,  as  it  were, 
as  much  to  his  own  surprise  as  that  of  the  audience."* 

Another  of  his  characters  was  the  King  in  the  Second  Part 
of  "  Henry  the  Fourth. "  As  his  fine  eyes  were  turned  up  to 
Heaven  at  the  exclamation,  "How  I  came  by  the  Crown, 
O  God,  forgive  me!"  the  anguish  and  terror  in  his  face  went  to 
the  hearts  of  all  Hotspur,  in  the  First  Part,  did  not  at  all 
suit  him.  He  wanted  the  physique,  and  always  failed  in  parts 
where  soldierly  bluntness  was  required.  To  improve  it,  he 
restored  a  scene  in  the  third  act  that  had  always  been  cut  out, 
but  found  it  ineffectual.  When  the  tedious  but  time-honoured 
"  business  "  of  Falstaff's  getting  Hotspur  on  his  shoulders  was 
being  carried  on,  Garrick  seemed  like  a  pigmy  near  Quin.t 
His  voice  was  too  flexible  for  the  rant  and  defiance  required 
by  the  part.  His  dress  was  truly  absurd,  a  laced  frock  and 
Eamillies  tye-wig. 

Garrick  had  played  two  parts  in  "King  John,"  the  King 
and  Faulconbridge.  But  here  again  Garrick  found  himself  over- 
weighted by  the  latter  part,  to  which  there  was  the  same  ob- 
jections as  to  Hotspur — its  military  frankness  and  fearlessness 
— points  in  which  Garrick  was  always  deficient.  To  make 
up  for  his  personal  defects  of  height  and  general  bearing, 
Garrick  had  recourse  to  a  little  artifice  which  may  seem 
trifling,  but  which,  in  one  of  his  nervous  temperament, 
as  to  all  that  concerned  the  scene,  became  excusable.  He 
selected  for  his  Faulconbridge  a  poor  pitiful  Scotchman  out  of 
his  troupe,  called  Simpson,  whose  shrunk  and  miserable  ap- 
pearance became  an  excellent  foil  These  little  shifts  were 
pardonable,  but  scarcely  dignified. 

It  was  remarked  that  in  Faulconbridge1  s  defiance  to  Salisbury 
— "  You  had  better  gall  the  devil,  Salisbury  " — Garrick  pro- 
duced no  effect  at  all.  He  was  weak  and  poor.  At  the  same 
time,  these  "soldier-like"  parts  are  most  difficult  As  the 
King  he  was  far  more  effective.  Nothing  could  be  finer  than 
the  gloomy  and  despairing  air  he  threw  over  the  later  scenes ; 
especially  in  the  interview  with  Hubert,  where  the  King,  by 
indirect  looks  and  hints,  solicits  Hubert  to  murder  Arthur. 
Quin's  solemn  and  mysterious  whisperings  —  yet  perfectly 
distinct — sent  a  thrill  through  the  audience ;  yet  ho  somehow 
fell  short.     Mossop's  lusty  declamation  was  superior.     Sheri- 

*  This  subject  has  been  much  discussed  of  late,  since  my  friend,  Mr. 
Walter  Pollock's  republication  of  Diderot's  well-known  esaay. 

t  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  ludicrous  to  see  Quin  tugging  and  struggling 
with  the  tall  figure  of  Barry. 


264  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

dan's  passion  and  powerful  declamation  gave  him  an  advantage 
which  is  intelligible.  But  in  the  pathetic  part,  when  Hubert 
came  in  with  news  of  Arthur's  death,  and  showed  the  King  his 
own  authority  for  what  he  had  done,  Garrick  asserted  himself 
before  all  competitors.  The  air  of  being  utterly  overwhelmed; 
his  speechless  actions;  his  hands  crushing  up  the  fatal  warrant; 
his  grand  eyes  turned  to  Heaven,  and  filled  with  despair,  and 
agony,  and  terror,  made  a  splendid  picture.  So,  too,  in  his 
dying  scene.  The  agonies  of  a  man  expiring  were  marked  in 
his  face,  and  every  word  of  Faulcortbridgeys  story  seemed  to  give 
him  a  fresh  stab  of  agony.  The  whole  struck  terror  and 
horror  into  the  hearts  of  the  spectators.  Such  success  and 
mastery,  in  so  grand  a  part,  should  surely  dispose  of  the 
charge  that  ho  forced  it  on  Sheridan,  to  secure  Faulambridge 
for  himself. 

In  that  most  pathetic  play,  which  is  all  tears  and  tenderness 
and  passion,  clothed  in  the  richest  and  most  melodious  poetry 
— Otway's  touching  "  Venice  Preserved  " — it  is  curious  to  note 
that  he  did  not  at  first  choose  the  greater  and  more  varied 
part  of  Jaffier;  and  many  of  his  friends,  even  in  the  first  few 
months,  pointed  out  to  him  this  mistake.  But  as  soon  as  he 
sat  down  in  the  manager's  chair  at  Dniry  Lane,  he  perhaps 
recollected  his  friends'  remonstrance,  and  took  MpJaffier;  not 
wholly  for  the  reason  given  by  Davies,  because  Barry  was  so 
much  tailor.  "  I  will  not  bully  the  monument,"  Eoscius  said, 
though  such  "  trifles  light  as  air  "  had  often  a  serious  effect  on 
Garrick's  sensitiveness.  The  truth  was,  Barry's  character  had 
always  been  Pierre.  Any  one  who  wished  to  see  the  passions 
purged  by  grief  and  terror,  according  to  the  Greek  definition, 
would  have  a  true  feast  in  this  most  melodious,  tender,  and 
enchanting  play,  every  chord  of  which  thrills  to  the  mourn- 
fullest,  yet  sweetest  melody. 

"  I've  now  not  fifty  ducats  in  the  world ; 
Tet  still  I  am  in  love,  and  pleased  with  ruin,"  &c. 

When  he  delivered  this  despairing  passage,  and  others  like 
it>  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  house.  Indeed,  it  was 
noted  that  he  called  on  that  harmonious  name,  "  Oh,  Belvidera/" 
with  a  sort  of  wail  that  went  to  every  heart.  When,  too,  she 
was  urging  him  to  betray  his  fellows — it  was  Cither  that 
so  urged  him — the  struggle  in  Garrick's  heart  was  made  so 
plain  by  his  wonderful  changes  of  expression,  that  even  a  deaf 
person  among  the  audience  could  have  almost  understood 
what  was  going  on.  The  effect  of  his  phrenzy,  when  he 
saw  his  friend  in  imagination  suffering  torture,  sent  a  thrill 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  265 

of  horror  through  the  house,  who  fancied  from  his  face  that 
they  saw  what  he  saw.  Stage  custom  at  this  date  required  that 
the  two  ghosts  of  Pierre  and  Jaffier  should  appear,  in  tangible 
shape,  to  Belvidera,  and  it  is  a  pity  it  was  not  6arrick,s  taste — 
but  Barry's  long  after — that  had  courage  to  abolish  this  appa- 
rition, and  make  them  apparent  only  to  the  "  mind's  eye  "  of 
Belvidera.  There  were  other  absurdities  which  were  later 
abolished.  Indeed,  nothing  can  be  conceived  more  ridiculous, 
or  more  inflexible,  than  these  stage  traditions.  They  are 
more  absurd  and  more  difficult  to  "  scotch  "  than  legal  ones.  It 
was  a  sacred  custom  that,  when  Pierre  addressed  the  con- 
spirators— "Or  thou!  with  that  lean,  withered,  wretched 
face ! " — a  ghastly  shrunken  object  should  come  forward,  and 
excite  the  derision  of  the  audience.  So  with  the  Apothecary  in 
"Romeo,"  who  now  religiously  "makes  up"  into  a  sort  of 
pantomime  caricature.  To  this  hour  we  hear  of  "  gags,"  and 
buffooning  interpolations,  actually  written  out-and-out,  and 
handed  down  from  one  "  comic  countryman  "  to  another. 

In  another  play  of  Otway's,  "  The  Orphan,"  and  which  is  a 
good  deal  in  the  same  impassioned  key,  he  took  Chamont, 
a  part  that  had  hitherto  been  despised  by  previous  actors. 
This  was  not  so  surprising  when  they  could  set  down  Macbeth 
as  a  poor  acting  character.  Garrick's  delicate  sense  saw  what 
could  be  made  of  Chamont,  whose  character  offered  him  fine 
openings  for  what  was  his  strength — contrast,  changes  from 
rage  to  calmness,  from  roughness  to  tenderness,  and  from  these 
passions  again  to  jealousy.  Romeo,  as  we  have  seen,  was  one 
of  the  parts  he  resigned.  It  was  one  of  his  most  unequal 
characters,  and  a  laboured  success.  It  was  curious  that  the 
point  in  which  he  was  considered  most  effective  was  in  the  bit 
of  "  sham  Shakspeare  "  at  the  end  of  the  dying  scene. 

It  might  be  thought,  perhaps,  that  the  grand  tumult  of  ten- 
derness and  jealousy  in  "  Othello  "  would  have  made  that  play 
a  fine  opening  for  his  genius  to  work  on  ;  yet  when  we  come 
to  think  of  the  coal-black  face,  with  which  it  was  played  then, 
and  the  short  figure,  no  ability  would  be  sufficient  to  get  over 
such  impediments  to  heroic  conception.  It  is  said  he  only 
attempted  it  two  or  three  times,  and  was  conscious  of  the 
failure,  for  he  never  repeated  it.  A  gentleman  who  saw  the 
performance  gave  an  opinion  of  it  a  day  or  two  later,  which 
was  duly  reported  to  Garrick,  who  always  wished  to  hear 
criticisms  on  himself,  and  profit  by  them.  He  was  frankly 
told  that  it  was  only  a  fair  performance.  The  elocution  of  the 
well-known  speech  to  the  Senate  was  faultless;  but  it  was 
accompanied  by  too  many  gestures,  which  were  inconsistent 


256  the  Lira  or  pavtd  gasejcc  [1761 

with  the  mrur*2  oi-isrrazd  di^iirr  o*  die  situation.  In  all 
tie  piss^ges..  t.:*x  wh^re  Lis  jesJ>usy  was  at  work,  the  same 
fault  wis  ts  ;•::«*!  there  Wirg  loo  raary  ~  little  windngs  and 
gesticulativris  of  the  body,"  which  Lad  a  petty  air. 

Though  Quins  szr^zt  as>i  il]-natur>ed  critique  was  going 
round,  ar.d  must  from  its  severirr  have  sailed  Garrick,  vet  he 
was  not  the  man  to  yield  to  a  smart  thirty  where  bis  judgment 
was  concerned.  It  is  more  likelv  that  this  true  cnide  whis- 
pered  that  his  strength,  neither  physical  nor  moral,  lay  in  the 
part,  and  that  it  were  wiser  to  resign  it.  Later,  to  aid  Barry's 
benefit,  he  tried  the  part  of  I  '?\ 

He  played  abundance  of  smaller  characters — sketches  rather 
than  characters — perhaps  for  training.  He  did  the  Ghost  in 
<s  Hamlet,"  we  may  suppose  with  the  traditional  %i  listen  shoes  * 
and  tall  plume,  which  had  come  down  from  Booth's  day;  Cjskr 
Pearmiin  in  "The  Kecrniting  Officer,"  though  he  very  soon 
took  up  C'lj'tain  Ph'r*\e  in  the  same  play ;  and  Fondkirife  in 
"The  Old  Bachelor/'  In  this,  it  was  said,  he  overdid  the 
humorous  business,  "  trotting  about  too  much." 

Lusty  nan  was  another  of  his  favourite  parts.  An  old  play- 
goer, who  remembered  the  great  actor  during  his  later  years 
of  acting,  and  who  furnished  his  recollections*  some  five-and- 
thirty  years  ago,  once  described  his  first  impressions.  He  was 
a  young  Irish  student  just  come  to  London,  and  he  was  looking 
forward  eagerly  to  see  the  famous  player  of  whom  he  had  heard 
so  much.  He  noticed  that  for  the  first  two  acts,  during  which 
the  hero  does  not  appear,  there  was  a  general  buzz  and  inat- 
tention ;  but  the  instant  the  old  Lusignan  came  on,  there  was 
the  most  rapt  attention — a  pin  could  have  been  heard  to  fall 
The  young  spectator  was  astonished  and  confounded  by  the 
excellence  of  what  he  saw.  As  he  said,  the  idea  in  his  mind 
all  through  was  an  utter  unconsciousness  of  Garrick ;  it  was 
the  old  King  himself,  with  whose  troubles  he  became  identified. 
Every  tone,  look,  gesture,  was  in  harmony,  and  carried  out  the 
plot  and  character.  He  was  struck  also  with  the  exquisite 
elocution,  so  varied,  so  changing,  so  expressive,  and  yet  so 
unstudied  and  unconventional  Yet  this  was  in  the  last  days 
of  the  actor,  when  he  was  close  on  sixty  years  old.  In  comedy, 
too,  the  same  spectator  was  equally  impressed.  There  was  tho 
most  buoyant  humour,  yet  not  a  particle  of  buffoonery.  It 
was  all  regulated,  and  regulated  by  the  most  perfect  propriety. 
The  wonderful  eye,  and  its  strange  power,  had  still  the  old 
charm ;  and  its  spell  was  so  strong,  that  he  seemed  often  to 


•  In  »  Blackwood's  Magazine.' 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  267 

disconcert  and  "put  out"  the  other  actors  by  fixing  it  on 
them.  So  buoyant,  so  racy  and  natural,  was  his  flow  of 
comedy,  that  his  fellows,  by  contrast,  became  quite  awkward 
near  him. 

He  never  acted  "  Julius  Caesar,"  though  he  often  talked  of 
it,  wishing  to  play  Cassius.  The  parts  were  even  said  to  have 
been  got  ready;  but  he  was  always  cautious  in  experiments  of 
this  sort,  the  result  of  which  might  be  critical  He  had  actually 
transcribed  the  character  from  Plutarch.  And  this  was  the 
nice  distinction  he  made.  He  readily  took  a  part  in  one  of 
Whitehead  or  Miller's  dreary  pieces,  and  would  do  his  best  for 
it ;  its  mediocre  success  or  languid  failure  would  make  little 
matter.  But  with  a  play  like  "  Julius  Caesar,"  and  a  character 
like  Cassius,  it  was  wholly  different.  It  was  a  trial,  a  test  of 
strength;  and  at  the  news  of  its  being  in  rehearsal,  the  critics 
would  be  sharpening  their  pens.  For  the  "  Bang  and  No 
King  "  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  he  had  the  same  attraction 
and  the  same  indecision.  The  parts  were  given  out,  and  he 
was  to  have  played  Arbaces,  a  fine  part,  alternating  in  perfect 
whirls  of  passion  and  repentance.  But  with  every  fresh  read- 
ing in  the  green-room  the  manager  liked  it  less  and  less.  He 
seemed  to  think  it  was  "  ticklish,"  and  might  escape  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  audience,  among  whom  there  were  many  Davieses ; 
and  at  last  it  was  given  up.  So  was  it  with  other  plays  :  so 
was  it  with  the  fine  part  of  Lord  Ogleby,  which  the  same  hesi- 
tation prevented  his  taking.  Never  had  the  stage  such  a  loss, 
and  he  bitterly  regretted  the  sacrifice  he  had  made. 

All  this  was  but  one  side  of  his  genius.  That  portrait  of 
Reynolds,  where  he  was  placed  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy 
(and  which  the  French  print-sellers  transformed  into  "  L'homme 
entre  le  Vice  ei  la  Veriuy\  was  no  empty  compliment.  Carefully 
reviewing  the  traditions,  criticisms,  descriptions  of  this  great 
actor's  acting,  it  is  almost  difficult  to  pronounce  on  which  side 
lay  his  strength ;  for — great,  new,  and  original  as  was  his 
tragic  force,  which  had  taken  London  by  storm,  in  Eichard — 
the  freshness,  broad  solid  humour,  and  healthy  comedy  dis- 
covered in  him  later,  was  no  less  new,  striking,  and  original. 
Abel  Drvgger  and  King  Lear  were  separated  from  each  other 
by  a  gulf ;  and  no  one  man,  it  would  seem,  could  dream  of 
giving  even  a  hint,  that  would  be  effective,  of  both  :  yet  these 
were  his  masterpieces.  Abel  would  have  made  him  the  greatest 
comedian  of  his  day,  as  Lear  had  made  him  the  greatest  tra- 
gedian. It  was  unsurpassed.  No  actor  before  or  since  has 
ever  been  able  to  snatch  up  the  comic  and  throw  down  the 
tragic  mask  alternately.     There  have  been,  indeed,  within  our 


268  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GABBICK.  [1761 

time,  players  of  a  grotesque  school,  in  a  special  class  of  parts 
imported  from  France,  which  runs  mainly  upon  the  changes 
and  turns  of  old  men,  semi-comic  and  semi-pathetic ;  but  from 
France  cannot,  unhappily,  be  brought  a  genius  like  Frederick 
Lemaltre,  and  with  us  the  whole  becomes  a  mere  trick  of  imi- 
tation. The  true  test  would  be  to  cast  any  of  this  school  in  an 
heroic  part,  like  Lear,  or  Richard,  or  Hamlet;  the  result  would 
be  almost  ludicrous. 

What  a  round  of  comedy  characters,  and  what  a  round  of 
true  comedies — what  shades,  too,  degrees,  and  divisions  in  his 
genius;  for  here  was  Druggcr,  of  a  broad,  rich,  original 
humour ;  Archer  and  Banger,  dashing  heroes  of  airy  comedy 
— light,  elegant,  and  full  of  a  gaiety  the  stage  knows  not 
now ;  with  Sir  John  Brute,  the  boisterous,  roystering,  roaring 
rake ;  Leon  and  Bayes — this  latter  a  whole  treasury  of  varied 
fun,  humour,  and  satire: 

Bayes — that  capital  bit  of  burlesque — was  one  of  his  freest* 
most  natural,  and  spirited  characters.  There,  his  wonderful 
strength  of  comedy,  which  lay  in  variety  and  vivacity,  had 
boundless  play.  Gibber,  the  son,  was  "in  possession"  of 
this  part,  and  had  brought  in  "  hobby  horses,"  and  such  addi- 
tions ;  but  spoiled  the  whole  with  grimaces  and  tumbling,  and 
arrant  buffoonery.  Garrick  took  a  very  different  view.  He 
was  quite  in  earnest,  seemed  to  think  the  whole  quite  a  serious 
matter,  and  to  be  rather  taken  aback  at  the  merriment  of  the 
audience.  This  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  humour ;  but  at  that 
time  it  was  a  new  revelation.*  If  he  was  the  Whitfield  of  the 
stage,  he  could  now  seize  the  opportunity  to  spread  his  doc- 
trines, and  exercise  the  wholesome  power  of  ridicule  in  the 
direction  of  reform.  When  his  actors  in  the  tragedy  were 
rehearsing  before  him,  Bayes  checked  and  corrected  them,  and 
showed  them  how  to  deliver  their  speeches,  in  what  he  called 
the  true  theatrical  manner.  Thus  he  would  retire  to  the  top 
of  the  stage,  and  drawing  his  left  arm  across  his  breast,  and 
resting  his  right  elbow  on  it,  would  raise  his  finder  to  his  nose. 
Then  nodding  his  head  solemnly,  and  striding  largely,  would 

*  Gibber  dressed  it  as  a  coxcomb  or  extravagant  "  fine  gentleman.*'  At 
first  Garrick  took  this  view,  and  in  a  little  water-colour  (in  the  British 
Museum)  we  can  see  him  in  a  huge,  flowing,  exaggerated  white  wig,  a  scarlet 
coat  turned  up  with  black,  and  long  gold  peaks  at  the  corners  of  his  waist- 
coat ;  but  he  afterwards  dressed  himself  with  more  absurdity,  in  a  shabby 
coat  that  had  ones  been  very  fine,  a  little  hat,  a  large  brown  wig,  high 
topped  shoes  with  red  heels,  a  mourning  sword,  and  "  cut  fingered  gloves." 
For  a  time  he  had  worn  a  large  grotesque  hat,  which  covered  the  fore-top 
of  the  wig ;  and,  at  first,  he  omitted  the  spectacles,  in  reading  the  inscrip- 
tion on  the  coffin. 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  269 

some  slowly  down  with  long  stretches,  declaiming  as  he  did 

30 — 

"  So  boar  and  sow,  when  any  storm  is  nigh, 
Snuff  up  and  smell  it  gathering  in  the  sky. 
Boar  beckons  sow  to  trot  in  chestnut  groves, 
And  there  consummate  their  unfinished  loves. 
Pensive  in  mind,  they  wallow  all  alone, 
And  snort  and  gruntle  to  each  other's  moan." 

The  declamation  of  these  lines  was  so  faithful,  that  the 
audience  was  never  a  second  in  recognising  its  stage  hero, 
Delane.  Presently  he  would  change  to  a  kind  of  soft,  lan- 
guishing strain,  but  without  the  least  relief  or  expression : 


How  strange  a  captive  I  am  grown  of  late ; 
Shall  I  my  love  accuse  or  blame  my  fate  ! " 


And  everybody  knew  Hale,  the  official  lover  of  the  stage.* 
Then  came  another  change.  He  fell  into  a  tremulous  raven- 
like tone  of  speech,  now  shrill  and  sharp,  and  now  solemn : — 

"  Tour  bed  of  love  from  dangers  I  will  free, 
And  most  from  love  of  any  future  bee. 
And  when  your  heart-strings  shall  with  pity  crack, 
With  empty  arms  I'll  bear  you  on  my  back — 
A  pick-a -pack,  a  pick-a-pack  ! " 

This  bombast  was  meant  for  Ryan,  one  of  the  veterans,  who 
had  played  in  Mr.  Addison's  "  Cato."  The  whole  was  original, 
and  an  idea  entirely  his  own ;  it  was  a  rough  way  of  reform- 
ing. It  is  to  Garrick's  honour,  that  when  some  time  later  the 
actors  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  injury  he  was  doing  them, 
he  gave  up  his  imitations,  and  never  resumed  them.  Such  an 
expostulation  might  have  in  vain  been  addressed  to  Foote.  f 
Some  of  the  touches  in  Baycs  were  capital;  nothing  was 

*  Audiences  used  to  show  in  a  very  marked  way  they  knew  who  was 
intended.  When  Wilkinson  gave  his  imitations  in  Dublin,  gentlemen  in 
the  boxes  would  call  out  with  delight,  "  Sparks — Sparks  of  London,"  &c, 
or  other  names,  according  to  what  each  bit  of  mimicry  was  intended  for. 

t  It  was  truly  delicate  of  Foote  to  select  the  infirmity  of  Delane  for 
ridicule,  who  was  said  to  have  only  one  eye.  He  brought  him  on  as  a 
beggar-man  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard — "  would  you  bestow  your  pity  on  a 
poor  blind  man  ?"  Ryan  had  met  with  an  accident  in  his  mouth,  which 
gave  his  utterance  a  peculiar  discordance.  This  infirmity  was  not  fair 
game;  he  was  held  up  as  a  razor-grinder,  "Razors  to  grind,  scissors  to 
grind,  penknives  to  grind."  Woodward  was  a  more  difficult  subject  to 
ridicule;  but  he  could  say  something  bitter  at  his  expense.  He  was 
brought  on  as  Sir  Fopling — "  Wherever  I  go,  they  say,  there  goes  a  gentle* 
man — upon  my  life  a  gentleman — and  when  you  have  said  a  gentleman — 

why — why "  here  Foote  assumed  his  own  voice — "you  have  said  more 

than  it  true."  This  is  characteristic,  and  it  is  fortunate,  and  must  illus- 
trative of  each  nature,  that  we  can  thus  set  them  side  by  side  in  the  same 
part. 


270  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

.  better  than  the  "  contempt  for  Mr.  Smith's  judgment,"  and 
his  astonishment  and  distress  at  the  players  having  gone  away 
to  dinner.  Foote  made  his  piece  a  sort  of  peg  to  hang  his  per- 
sonalities on.  Garrick  merely  varied  his,  with  an  "  occasional " 
allusion.  But  here  again  set  the  two  players  side  by  side. 
Foote  dragged  in  wretched  creatures,  like  Squires  or  Can- 
ning, or  some  more  wretched  still,  like  Mrs.  Dodd.  But 
Garrick  finds  that  one  of  his  company,  Hurst,  has  lately  set  up 
in  the  spirit  trade.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  extemporising  as  Mr.  Bayes, 
"you  are  an  actor,  and  I  understand  a  brandy  merchant;  now 
let  me  advise  you  to  put  less  spirit  in  your  liquors,  and  more 
in  your  acting,  and  you  will  preserve  the  health  of  your  friends, 
and  be  more  relished  by  the  public."  This  was  a  good-natured 
advertisement,  and  had  success. 

Sir  John  Brute  was  another  metamorphosis;  the  audience 
had  seen  him,  in  nothing  like  it  before.  As  soon  as  he  entered, 
his  very  look  bespoke  the  change.  He  contrived  to  turn  the 
deep  recesses  of  his  eyes  into  rough  caverns.  He  became  the 
very  personification  of  rudeness  and  coarseness.  His  very 
voice  changed  into  hoarse,  sulky  tones.  Zoflany  has  handed 
him  down  to  us  in  the  scene  with  the  watch,  where  the  savage 
husband,  disguised  in  woman's  clothes,  is  busy  "  thrashing  the 
watch  " — a  masterly  picture — in  which  the  likeness  is  admir- 
ably preserved,  and  yet  there  is  a  hint  of  its  being  the  face  of 
a  coarse  and  dreadful  woman.*  There  was  always  something 
delicate,  that  distinguished  Garrick's  acting  from  that  of  his 
rivals.  Though  Quin  had  a  great  reputation  in  the  part — indeed, 
he  said  Garrick  would  be  only  "  Master  Jacky  Brute,"  not  the 
manly  Sir  John — it  was  noted  that  in  the  "raking"  and 
drunken  scenes,  he  lost  all  trace  of  the  baronet,  whereas 
Garrick  still  retained  something  of  the  gentleman,  or  man  of 
condition.  In  the  bacchanalian  orgie  with  Lord  Rake  and  the 
others,  it  was  a  perfect  triumph  of  roaring  spirit  and  intoxica- 
tion. It  increased  every  instant  There  was  infinite  variety 
in  his  rioting,  which  had  an  electric  effect,  and  kept  the  house 
in  a  roar.  His  marked  features — the  eyebrows,  and  his  eyes 
— never  ceased  to  play.  The  corners  of  his  mouth  were  drawn 
down,  as  the  fit  increased,  throughout  the  whole  play,  which 
gave  him  a  most  drunken  and  debauched  look.  He  never 
forgot  himself  a  moment ;  and  as  the  drunkenness  increased, 
the  mouth  opened  more  and  more ;  with  more  drunkenness, 
his  wig  came  down  more  and  more  over  his  face,  which  became 

*  This  fine  and  spirited  picture  is  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Hill,  of  Rich- 
mond. 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  271 

flushed,  with  a  "  greasy "  air  of  affection.  The  scene  in  his 
wife's  room  was  marvellous  in  its  detail ;  his  leaning  heavily 
against  the  door,  his  swimming  head,  his  tipsy  efforts  at  pro- 
nunciation of  hard  words,  "  and  the  way  in  which  he  moves 
his  lips,  so  that  one  cannot  tell  whether  he  is  chewing  or  tasting, 
smelling  or  speaking  " — all  this  detail  in  the  representation  were 
carefully  noted  by  the  acute  Lichtenbcrg.  The  points  of  cos- 
tume were  not  forgotten — the  waistcoat  open,  garters  loose, 
the  shoes  not  paired,  and  a  sort  of  a  clodhopper  "  bill-hook," 
which  was  struck  on  the  floor  to  emphasize  every  word. 

He  was  not  quite  so  good  in  the  "  closet  scene  "  with  Con- 
slant  and  Heartfree.  But  taking  it  all  in  all,  it  must  have  been 
his  most  characteristic  and  spirited  part,  and  the  one  which 
must  have  delighted  an  audience  most.*  Lord  Bath,  however, 
thought  Quin  the  best  Sir  John,  and  placed  Garrick  second, 
and  Gibber  the  last  and  worst.  What  a  picee  it  must  have 
been  when  played  by  Garrick,  Mrs.  Cibber,  and  Mrs.  Abing- 
ton  !  Old  playgoers  looked  back  to  it  with  a  sort  of  wistful 
rapture.  "  Oh,  how  perfectly,"  says  Mr.  Cradock,  "  was  that 
comedy  at  that  time  performed ! " 

The  picture  by  Zoffany  of  his  Abel  Drugger,  clear,  solid, 
rich,  and  firm,  like  the  humour  it  represents,  is  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  of  dramatic  portraits.  The  short,  dumpy 
figure,  with  the  shock  hair  and  bullet  head,  the  round,  red 
face,  the  oafish  grin,  the  fancied  slyness,  and  sense  of  conscious 
humour,  are  given  with  the  delicacy  of  a  photograph  and  the 
humour  of  a  Hogarth.  He  seems  almost  about  to  speak,  and 
is  bursting  with  stupid  enjoyment  as  he  fills  his  tobacco-pipe. 
Merely  to  look  at  this  face  gives  us  a  hint  of  what  his  playing 
was.  We  can  see  him,  again,  looking  from  a  window,  with  a 
spade  under  his  arm,  with  the  same  absurd  expression  of 
boorish  humour  and  self-sufficient  cunning ;  and  again,  with 
his  coat  off  and  a  sort  of  stable-boy  look,  offering  to  fight. 
Like  his  Hamlet,  he  had  prepared  this  character  by  diligent 
study,  and  many  private  rehearsals,  before  friends  like  Mack- 
lin.  The  most  curious  part  was,  that  it  was  already  a  character 
familiar  to  the  public,  and  in  possession,  as  it  were,  of  the 
younger  Cibber ;  and  yet,  with  wonderful  inspiration,  he  struck 

*  It  was  during  its  performance  when  at  this  delicate  passage  of  "  fall* 
iog  asleep/'  that  Cervetto,  the  leader  of  his  orchestra  (known  to  the  gods 
as  "  Nosey"),  gave  a  loud  yawn,  which  at  once  provoked  the  facile  hilarity 
of  the  gallery,  and  spoiled  the  situation.  Garrick  sent  for  him  to  the 
green-room,  and  with  infinite  sweetness  expostulated  with  him  on  thus 
destroying  his  best  bit,  and  with  perfect  good-humour  accepted  the  rather 
comic  excuse  that  the  offender  always  yawned  when  he  was  particularly 
pleased. 


272  THE  LIFB  OF  DAVID  G.UUtlCK.  [1763. 

out  a  new  idea,  and  made  it  altogether  a  new  character,  and 
the  true  character.  This  was,  indeed,  what  he  was  to  do  with 
every  character.  Drugger  in  Cibber's  hands  was  a  grimacing 
clown,  that  buffooned,  and  grinned,  and  "  gagged,"  as  it  is 
called,  at  the  galleries;  it  was  all  "squinting  and  winking," 
and  tumbling  of  the  most  wretched  sort.  One  of  the  critics 
of  the  time  described  very  graphically  Garrick's  first  entry 
— "his  dread  of  offending  the  Doctor,  his  sa37ing  nothing, 
his  gradual  stealing  in  further  and  further,  his  impatience  to 
be  introduced,  and  his  joy  to  see  his  friend  Face."  They 
thought  the  whole  "ridiculous  beyond  conception."  When  he 
first  opens  his  mouth  the  features  of  his  face  seem,  "as  it 
were,  to  drop  upon  his  tongue:  it  is  all  caution;  timorous, 
stammering,  and  inexpressible.  When  he  stands  under  the 
conjuror  to  have  his  features  examined,  his  teeth,  his  beard, 
his  little  finger,  his  awkward  simplicity,  and  his  concern, 
mixed  with  hope,  and  fear,  and  joy,  and  avarice,  and  good- 
nature, are  beyond  painting."  This  is  all  expressed  in  Zof- 
fany's  painting.  In  the  boxing  scene  he  seemed  to  run  and 
skip,  now  poising  himself  on  one  leg,  now  on  another.  In 
Abel  Drugger,  Weston's  "point"  was  a  comic  faco  of  stupid 
awe  and  petrified  astonishment,  which  excited  universal  mirth 
by  its  stolidity;  but  Garrick,  by  a  play  of  face,  expressed 
a  whole  tide  of  feelings  and  emotions,  simplicity,  exultation. 
Thus,  when  the  astrologers  made  out  the  name  Abel  Drugger 
in  the  stars,  his  secret  delight,  his  chuckling  simplicity  and 
complacent  absurdity,  were  all  conveyed  without  a  word. 

One  night  he  dropped  the  jar  he  was  carrying,  and  his 
admirable  presence  of  mind  converted  what  was  an  accident 
into  an  admirable  "  point ; "  for  he  affected  a  stolid  attitude  of 
innocence  and  indifference,  so  marvellous  and  truthful,  that  on 
every  future  occasion  the  audience  were  offended  with  its 
absence,  and  the  breaking  of  the  jar  became  part  of  the  esta- 
blished "business"  of  the  piece.* 

His  Lord  Townly  was  scarcely  so  free  and  spirited  as  his  other 

*  We  can  quite  understand  the  story  which  Cooke  bad  from  Dr.  John- 
son, and  the  latter  from  Peter,  David's  brother,  of  the  Lichfield  grocer  who 
came  up  to  town  with  a  letter  to  the  great  actor.  The  evening  of  his 
firrival  he  saw  Garrick'*  name  in  the  bills  for  AM  Drugytr,  and  went  to 
the  two-ahilling  gallery  to  see  him.  For  a  time  he  could  not  believe  hit 
eyes  Or  ears,  until  he  was  couvinced  by  what  the  people  about  him  were 
saying.  He  came  horns  after  transacting  his  business,  without  ever  pre- 
twrting  the  letter.  He  was  pressed  on  his  return  by  David's  brother  aa  to 
tl.-  '  .son  of  his  strange  conduct,  and,  after  some  hesitation,  said,  "Well, 
-.  '  ,  Mr.  Qarrick,  though  he  be  your  brother,  he  is  one  of  the  shabbiest, 
Mnatjinott  pitiful  hounds  I  ever  saw  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life," 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  273 

characters.  It  was  constrained — a  constraint  he  always  found 
in  playing  "  a  gentleman."  What  shall  be  said  of  his  lighter 
characters  ? — of  his  Hanger,  which  Mrs.  Siddons,  who  only  saw 
him  at  the  close  of  his  life,  said,  with  rapture,  was  "  delight- 
ful 1 "  Of  his  delightful  and  airy  conception  of  Benedick  ?  The 
eager  anxiety  of  his  look,  when  listening  to  the  conversation 
about  himself,  was  real  and  delicious  comedy.  So,  too,  was 
his  grave  reasoning  himself  into  a  resolution  to  fall  in  love 
with  Beatrice,  and  his  smirking,  self -flattering  air  caused  by  her 
speech  to  him.  "  If  I  don't  pity  her,  I'm  a  villain."  Then  the 
variety — the  change  to  his  gay-spirited  raillery  against  matri- 
mony, so  elegantly  vivacious.  By  these  little  graces,  too  airy 
for  the  coarser  grasp  of  preceding  actors,  he  literally  gave  to 
every  character  he  attempted  the  air  of  being  an  entirely 
new  one. 

Don  Felix,  in  "  The  Wonder,"  was  dangerously  like  Kitely, 
for  both  are  jealous  characters.  Yet  it  was  marked  that  this 
wonderful  artist  made  both  happily  distinct,  and  conveyed 
the  nice  difference  between  jealousy  as  it  would  affect  the 
plain,  sober  mind  of  a  City  merchant,  or  disturb  that  of  a 
gayer  Spanish  nobleman.  There  is  a  philosophy  and  instinct 
here,  above  the  "  trade  "  of  a  mere  actor.  In  "  The  Wonder  " 
there  was  always  a  country  dance,  which  he  danced  with  in- 
finite grace  and  agility  to  the  end. 

It  was  at  Bath  or  Tunbridge  that  he  picked  up  the  character 
of  Lord  Chalkstone — a  type  of  the  day,  a  debauched  old  noble- 
man, who,  though  wrung  with  gout  and  a  complication  of  dis- 
orders of  all  kinds,  still  went  through  his  old  round  of  pleasure 
with  indomitable  spirit.  His  manner  of  walking,  acting,  and 
speaking  was  so  full  of  detail  and  colour,  so  rich  in  touches  all 
in  keeping,  that  it  is  no  wonder  a  clever  critic  said  it  was  "  the 
highest  entertainment  of  the  theatre  "  he  ever  enjoyed.*  There 
is  a  sketch  of  this  old  nobleman,  with  a  huge  glass  at  his  eye, 
"ogling"  some  one,  and  supposed  to  be  saying — "Pshaw, 
d — n  the  gout!"t 

All  this  applies  more  to.  the  old,  early  days  of  his  playing. 
His  buoyant  spirit  and  genius  then  carried  him  forward ;  he 
had  no  restraint  to  check  or  make  him  "  stiff "  but  that  of 


*  Wilkes,  the  same  judicious  observer,  says  justly : — "  Future  times  will 
scarcely  credit  the  amazing  contrast  between  his  Lear  and  Schoolboy,  or  his 
Richard  and  his  Fribble.     He  gives  us  not  resemblances,  but  realities. 

t  Yet  some  might  reasonably  say  that  there  is  a  sort  of  ill-luck  attending 
the  ridicule  of  human  inBrmities  ;  and  it  is  a  little  like  retribution  that  to 
his  death  he  was  to  be  harassed  with  gout,  and  tortured  with  that  more 
dreadful  malady  which  the  name  of  the  old  nobleman  was  made  to  hint  at. 

T 


274  tex.  ufe  or  BiTm  gjleexx.  [1763. 

juc^me'irt  and  gocid  sense.  Ii  must  be  the  hardest  thing  in  the 
wo:  ad  fc»r  the  great  actor  to  retain  this  fresh  spontaaeoasness, 
in  whir/h  einLTiiiksm  iiiid  eagerness  grrc  a  certain  novelty  to 
the  details  of  each  night  £  performance.  Bat  with  years  comes 
the  fatal  upas  of  conventionalism;  and  the  repetition,  and 
monotony  from  rejietrrion,  brings  on  the  destroying  "stagi- 
ness."  It  is  easier  and  less  fatiguing  to  hare  by  heart  the  old 
tricks  of  roioe  arid  gesture  than  to  work  up  to  an  original 
eritbu-ii^-iiL  So  it  was  to  be  with  Garrick,  but  to  an  infinitely 
lea?  decree  than  with  others. 

Grimm's  own  sentiments  about  Garrick,  written  to  Diderot* 
are  testimonies  to  his  vast  dramatic  merit.  He  can  hardly  find 
words  for  his  praise.  The  English,  he  said,  were  apt  to  exag- 
gerate absurdly  the  merits  of  their  heroes ;  but  in  this  instance 
they  had  not  in  the  least  exceeded  reality.  He  was  struck  by 
his  wonderful  face,  and  the  marvellous  powers  of  the  eye.  He, 
too,  like  other  rational  Frenchmen,  was  attracted  by  this  new 
style  of  acting,  which  was  no  more  than  nature,  as  contrasted 
with  the  artificial  chanting  of  their  own  schooL  It  seemed  to 
him,  as  to  others,  a  great  discovery,  that  "  a  person  should  try 
and  be  the  thing  he  represented."  Neither  was  there  in  Gar- 
rick's  wonderful  face  the  grimaces  and  contortions  with  which 
ordinary  comedians  altered  their  expression,  or  imitated  others. 
The  Englishman,  he  remarked,  could  make  for  himself  a  new 
face ;  so,  too,  when  he  was  doing  the  dagger  scene  in  "  Mac- 
beth," and  following  the  spectral  dagger  with  his  eyes,  it  struck 
the  company  what  a  handsome,  inspired  expression  came  into 
his  face,  instead  of  the  traditional  disagreeable  contortion  by 
which  such  an  emotion  would  be  expressed  by  others. 

He  could  not  do  the  mere  unmeaning  roks  of  coarse  fun.  In 
"  Rule  a  Wife,"  the  old  stage  critics  delighted  in  the  Copper 
Captain;  it  was  the  test  for  every  comedian.  It  could  be 
worked  on  like  a  picture,  and  new  readings  given.  Here  it 
was  admitted  that  Wilks  was  unrivalled.  Garrick,  when  he 
revived  the  play,  was  much  inclined  to  take  up  the  Copper 
Captain,  whicn  he  could  have  made  a  fine  and  varied  part  of ; 
but  he  had  to  choose  between  it  and  Leon,  "the  Wittol,"  and  his 
excellent  judgment  and  consideration  for  the  interest  of  the 
play  made  him  put  aside  this  desire. 

Woodward,  to  whom  he  gave  it,  was  long  to  be  associated 
with  the  Copper  Captain.  Garrick  is  said  to  have  rehearsed  it 
several  times ;  but  found  a  stumbling-block  in  a  certain  stage 
"  laugh,"  given  when  the  jewels  are  discovered  to  have  been 
false.  It  was  the  conventional  usage  that  there  should  be  here 
a  fit  of  unbounded  merriment,  in  which  Woodward  revelled; 


«B» 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  275 

and  this  he  could  not  do  to  his  own  satisfaction.  There  was 
no  appropriateness  in  it  A  smile  would  have  done  as  well ; 
but  Woodward  tickled  the  "  wittols  "  of  the  gallery,  and  the 
unmeaning  merriment  became  the  grand  "  point "  of  the  part 
Garrick  found  his  reward  in  the  fine  piece  of  comedy  he  gave 
in  Leon.  His  dulness  and  stupidity,  mixed  with  a  sly  archness, 
were  admirably  assumed,  and  not  in  the  least  overdrawn ;  and 
his  change  to  the  gallant,  manly  bearing  of  the  true  man  and 
husband,  his  natural  dignity  and  firmness,  and  humour,  were  a 
triumph  of  acting.  "  I  think,"  says  Davies,  "  I  never  saw  him 
more  universally  captivate  the  eyes  and  ears  of  an  applauding 
theatre.  The  warmth  of  his  spirit,"  adds  the  same  critic,  who 
is  sometimes  very  acute  and  happy  in  his  remarks,  "  was  so 
judiciously  tempered,  his  action  so  correspondent  to  his  utter- 
ance, and  his  whole  deportment  so  significant  and  important" 
When  the  Duke  said,  at  the  end  of  the  play — "  I  pray  you,  sir, . 
use  your  wife  well — "  Garrick's  sheathing  of  his  sword,  and 
most  expressive  look  and  action,  as  he  replied,  with  a  mixture 
of  high  courtesy,  delicate  reproof,  and  self-respect — "My  own 
humanity  will  teach  me  this " — was  a  new  revelation  to  the 
audiences  of  the  day. 

The  exuberant  part  of  Archer  was  another  of  his  delightful 
comedy  parts.  Ail  owned  that  "  there  never  had  appeared  so 
genteel  a  footman,  or  a  complete  gentleman ;  the  one  fit  to 
triumph  over  the  pert  airs  of  an  innkeeper's  fair  daughter,  the 
other  inspired  with  that  happy  impudence,  so  timely  corrected 
by  a  most  profound  respect,  as  not  to  be  resisted  by  the  finest 
woman  in  the  world,  languishing  under  the  neglect  of  a  cruel 
husband."  Refinements  and  delicate  nuances  of  this  sort  must 
read  almost  unintelligibly  to  our  actors. 

The  German  traveller's  account  of  the  scene  in  the  "  Beaux' 
Stratagem,"  where  Garrick  was  disguised  as  a  "  fine  servant," 
and  Weston  was  the  miserable  waiter  at  a  miserable  inn,  is  a 
perfect  photograph.  The  description  itself  is  like  a  bit  of  the 
comedy  it  describes : — 

"  Garrick  wears  a  brilliant  light  blue  and  silver  livery,  a  rich  laced  hat 
with  *  red  feather.  His  shapely  calves  are  resplendent  in  white  silk  stock- 
ings ;  hi*  shoe  buckles  are  in  the  heigh'  of  the  mode ;  he  is  altogether  a 
fascinating  fellow.  Weston— poor  devil — overloaded  with  his  multifarious 
and  diny  duties,  presents  a  perfect  contrast  to  Garrick.  He  wears  a  sorry 
wig,  with  the  curl  taken  out  of  it  by  the  rain,  a  green  jacket,  which  per- 
haps thirty  years  ago  might  have  been  cut  for  a  wealthier  paunch,  red 
woollen  stockings, and  a  green  apron.  Mingle)  astonishment  and  respect- 
ful admiration  overcome  him  at  the  sight  of  this  grand  gentleman's  gentle- 
man. Garrick,  bright,  t*ri*k,  and  knowing,  his  smart  hat  cocked  airily  a 
little  on  one  side,  and  not  in  the  least  overshadowing  the  brilliant  face, 
comes  forward  merrily,  full  of  confidence  in  his  calves  and  his  new  dress, 

T  2 


THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  G  AMUCK.  [1763. 


with  firmness  and  decision  in  every  movement.  He  feels  himself  a  held 
taller  beaide  the  melancholy  Scrub.  And  Scrub,  at  all  times  thort 
enough,  seems  to  lose  some  of  his  few  inches  bj  Ardter't  aide  ;  his  knees 
tremble  with  the  terrible  feeling  of  the  threefold  contrast,  between  the 
poor  drawer  anil  the  triumphant  valet.  With  fallen  chin,  in  a  kind  of 
adoration,  he  follows  every  movement  of  Oarrick  with  his  eyes.  Artier, 
who  want*  Scrub  to  aid  him  in  his  schemes,  soon  grows  condescending. 
They  sit  down  together. 

"  Any  one  who  wishes  to  study  the  irresistible  power  of  contrast  on  the 
stage,  should  see  this  scene.  With  the  easy  grace  peculiar  to  him,  Garriek 
throws  himself  into  a  chair,  rests  his  right  arm  upon  the  back  of  Weston's 
seat,  and  leans  forward  for  a  little  confidential  chat  The  skirts  of  his 
splendid  livery  hang  down  gracefully,  and  in  the  folds  of  the  coat  and  the 
person  of  the  man,  one  line  of  beauty  succeeds  another.  Weston  sits  on 
the  middle  of  his  chair,  as  beseems  him,  but  somewhat  tar  forward,  a 
hand  on  either  knee.  He  seems  dumbfoundered,  and  his  cunning  eyes  jut 
fixed  on  Oarrick.  If  anything  is  expressed  on  his  face,  it  is  the  affectation 
of  dignity  struggling  with  the  paralysing  sense  of  the  horrible  contrast  be- 
tween him  and  his  companion.  I  here  remarked  a  bit  of  business  by 
Weston  which  produces  a  capital  effect.  Whilst  Oarrick  lolls  easily  in  his 
chair,  Weston,  with  stiffened  back,  tries  by  degrees  to  out-top  him,  partly 
from  feelings  of  respect,  but  partly,  too,  that  he  ma;  now  and  then  steal  a 
comparison,  when  Garriek  is  not  looking  him  in  the  face.  When  Archer, 
at  length,  in  bis  easy  way,  crosses  his  legs,  Scrub  attempts  to  do  the  same; 
and  at  last,  but  not  without  some  assistance  from  the  hands,  he  happily 
accomplishes  this  feat.  All  this  is  done  with  eyes  either  fixed  or  looking 
stealthy.  At  last,  when  Archer  begins  to  stroke  his  splendid  silk  stockinged 
legs,  Weston  almost  instinctively  imitates  the  action  over  his  miserable  red 
worsted  stockings,  but  immediately  after  collapses  in  his  chair,  and,  with  a 
feeling  of  humility  that  calls  forth  one's  pity,  quietly  gathers  his  green 
apron  over  all.  In  this  scene,  Weston,  with  his  natural  expression  of 
stupidity,  his  simple,  restless  looks  (which  gain  not  a  little  from  the 
unaffected  husky  tone  of  his  voice),  almost  has  the  advantage  of  Garriek, 
and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal" 

These  little  pictures  are  so  minute  that  they  have  all  the  air 
of  truth,  and  show  us  plainly  that  he  might  have  fairly  con- 
tinued on  the  stage  for  many  years  more,  without  incurring  the 
reproach  of  lingering  there  after  decay  had  set  in.  Weston's 
playing  was  so  exquisitely  droll  in  this  scene,  that  Garriek 
owned  to  friends  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  his  countenance. 
In  Marplot,  in  the  "  Busy  Body,"  he  was  considered  not  so 
good  as  Woodward.  The  boy,  Charles  Fox,  told  his  father 
that  Garriek  could  not  look  foolish  enough.* 

*  Stockdale,  the  clergyman,  came  to  him  one  morning,  loud  in  his 
praises  of  Woodward's  playing  Marplot.  There  was  a  large  company,  and 
with  a  sad  want  of  tact  he  began  to  extol  Woodward's  Marplot,  saying  that 
he  thought  that  part  could  not  be  performed  with  a  mart  maitcrli/  perfec- 
tion. He  thought  the  reply  "envious  and  ungenerous."  Garriek  gave 
hm  r.  grave  and  earnest  look — "  Your  opinion  of  Woodward  may  be  very 
ju-',  jut  it  was  all  beaten  into  him."  Everyone  present  knew  that  Garriek 
had  tilled  in  the  character,  and  he  wished  merely  to  assert  for  himself  the 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  277 

Another  part  of  his  was  in  Mrs.  Sheridan's  "  Discovery."  It 
was  a  delightful  piece,  and  worthy  of  a  Sheridan.  It  had  the 
most  perfect  success,  and  gave  great  enjoyment  to  the  audience. 
Young  O'Keefe  was  there  the  first  night,  and  long  remembered 
Thomas  Sheridan  stalking  in,  as  Lord  .Medway,  in  a  suit  of  rich 
crimson  velvet ;  but  Garrick,  in  Sir  Anthony  Branville,  left  the 
deepest  impression  on  his  mind.  His  fantastic  dress,  and  his 
speaking  impassioned  sentiments  with  the  calmest  face  and 
most  placid  voice,  filled  the  house  with  delight  and  enjoyment 
The  grandmother  of  the  late  Mr.  Sheridan  Lefanu,  herself  a 
Sheridan,  was  taken  as  a  child  to  see  the  play,  and  on  her 
mind  remained  the  impression  of  Garrick's  charming  acting  as 
the  old  beau.  It  was  the  perfection  of  elaborate  and  delibe- 
rate courtliness,  and  she  recalled  his  calm  and  leisured  prepa- 
tion  for  taking  what  he  called  "  a  chaste  salute  "  from  one  of 
the  young  ladies  of  the  comedy.  The  taking  off  his  gloves,  the 
arranging  of  his  hair,  the  general  preparation  of  the  old  beau 
took  many  minutes,  and  filled  the  theatre  with  enjoyment  and 
delight 

In  Crisp's  dull  play  of  "  Virginia,"  he  made  one  of  those 
famous  "points,"  which  used  to  be  classed  with  the  "Zaire,  vous 
pleurez ! "  and  which,  indeed,  are  not  of  the  highest  class. 
When  Claudius  was  claiming  Virginia,  Garrick,  as  her  father, 
was  standing  on  the  opposite  side,  next  to  the  stage-door,  his 
arms  folded,  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  apparently  insensible  to 
what  was  going  on.  He  was  then  asked  what  he  had  to  say 
in  reply;  but  still  remained,  his  figure  impassive,  his  face 
working  with  all  manner  of  emotions.  The  audience  was 
spell-bound.  At  last  he  slowly  raised  his  head,  paused,  turned 
round  slowly,  but  without  turning  his  eyes  away  from  Claudius, 
and  finally,  in  a  low,  deep,  broken  voice,  that  penetrated  to 
every  corner  of  the  theatre,  said,  "  Thou  Traitor  ! " 

To  Garrick  is  due  the  introduction  of  all  legitimate  stage 
"business."  No  one  knew  better  the  valuable  aid  to  be 
derived  from  such  illustrations,  and  he  did  not  allow  it  to  take 
the  place  of  what  it  is  only  meant  to  illustrate — the  present 
vice  of  the  stage.  To  him  also  is  owing  much  of  the  traditional 
Shakspearean  "business."  In  Hamlet,  the  legs  of  the  stage 
chair  were  shortened  and  drawn  under  the  seat,  so  as  to  fall 
over  at  a  touch,  to  express  the  actor's  surprise  at  the  entry  of 
the  ghost.  The  "  combing  of  the  wig  "  in  Archer,  the  throw- 
ing away  the  stick  in  Lear,  and  innumerable  bits  of  by-play, 
have  been  all  carefully  handed  down,  and  are  considered  drops, 
as  it  were,  of  the  immortal  man.  But  he  reformed  other  ex- 
travagances of  the  same  description.     It  was  essential  that 


278  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

every  actor  of  an  "  heroic  "  part  should  enter  with  an  enormous 
forest  of  feathers,  to  impart  dignity.  This  practice,  with  others, 
he  abolished.* 

Still  it  should  be  mentioned,  that  an  old  Dr.  Mudge  told 
Northcote,  that  at  the  end  of  his  career  Garrick  was  not  nearly 
so  free  and  original,  as  he  was  at  the  beginning.  Perhaps  he 
meant,  not  so  fresh ;  and  the  town  had  now  begun  to  know 
him  by  heart.  It  indeed  almost  seemed  that  at  his  death  a 
sort  of  reaction  had  come,  and  that  there  was  a  return  to  the 
old  rugged  declamation  of  the  Quin  days;  for  certainly  the 
traditions  of  the  Kemble  acting  seem  to  be  a  preaching  style, 
and  a  dry,  stilted  pronunciation,  coming  from  what  Hazlitt  so 
happily  called  "Kemble's  foggy  throat."  It  is  certainly  a 
little  curious,  that  one  with  such  a  reputation,  and  who  had 
trained  up  a  whole  school  of  actors,  on  his  own  principles, 
should  have  left  so  little  mark — more  wonderful  still,  that  the 
Kemble  elocution  should  for  so  long  have  been  the  established 
model  for  existing  stage  diction,  and  be  always  followed. 

Macklin,  in  a  malignant  criticism  found  among  his  papers* 
but  which  at  the  same  time  gives  us  some  traits  of  peculiari- 
ties in  Garrick's  acting,  says  that  he  restored  "  that  shameful 
scene  of  the  epilepsy  in  the  fourth  act  of  i  Othello/  "  to  give 
himself  the  opportunity  of  some  "  business."  Another  reason, 
he  said,  was  that  he  knew  Quin  could  not  let  his  bulky  figure 
fall  without  a  ludicrous  effect,  whereas  he  was  slight  in  person, 
and  there  would  be  no  such  danger.  He  speaks  of  his  "strange 
manner  of  dying,  and  griping  the  carpet ;  his  writhing,  strain- 
*  ing,  and  agonizing :  all  which  he  has  introduced  into  the  pro- 
fession." In  other  words,  Garrick  substituted  for  the  solemn 
and  monotonous  sing-song,  and  regulated  gesture  of  the  old 
school,  a  variety  and  liveliness  of  illustration.  "  His  art  in 
acting  consisted  in  incessantly  hauling  and  pawing  the  charac- 
ters about,  with  whom  he  was  concerned  in  the  scene ;  and 
when  he  did  not  paw  or  haul  the  characters,  he  stalked  between 
them  and  his  audience,  and  that  generally  when  they  were 
speaking  the  most  important  and  interesting  passage  in  the 
scene — which    demanded,    in   propriety,   a  strict    attention. 

*  Farington,  the  painter,  had  never  seen  him  until  the  last  season,  when 
he  went  to  see  "  Hamlet,"  and  found  himself  but  a  row  or  two  from  the 
stage.  He  was  a  little  shocked  at  the  oldish  face,  the  bulky  figure,  the 
enormous  heels  made  to  give  him  height,  and  the  almost  grotesque  air  of 
decay.  He  expected  a  very  lamentable  exhibition  of  failing  powers ;  but 
was  surprised,  delighted,  and  almost  confounded  at  the  spirit,  truth,  and 
power  of  the  acting — presently  had  forgotten  the  paint  and  wrinkles,  the 
high-heeled  shoes,  and  the  bulky  figure,  and  saw  nothing  but  Shakspeare'a 
Prince. — Taylor. 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  279 

When  he  spoke  himself,  he  pulled  about  the  character  he  spoke 
to,  and  squeezed  his  hat,  hung  forward,  and  stood  almost  upon  one 
foot,  with  no  part  of  the  other  to  the  ground  but  the  toe  of  it. 
His  whole  action  when  he  made  love,  in  tragedy  or  in  comedy, 
when  he  was  familiar  with  his  friend,  when  he  was  in  anger, 
sorrow,  rage — consisted  in  squeezing  his  hat,  thumping  his 
breast,  strutting  up  and  down  the  stage,  and  pawing  the  cha- 
racters that  he  acted  with He  introduced  sleep  into 

Lear — showed  how  the  body  dreamed  in  Bichard.  He  also 
introduced  sleep  into  Sir  John  Brute,  and  for  many  minutes, 
to  the  extravagant  satisfaction  of  the  audience,  cut  the  faces  of 
an  idiot,  a  lunatic,  a  stupid :  so  expert  was  he  in  all  the  tricks 
of  the  face,  which  the  good  people  acknowledged  as  his  imita- 
tion of  a  drunken  man  falling  asleep."  Through  all  this  per- 
verted view — and  the  private  character  that  accompanies  it,  as 
will  be  seen  later  on,  is  shocking  from  its  malignancy — can  be 
discerned  the  true  characteristic  of  Garrick's  acting,  a  lively 
vivacity.  It  was  said,  too,  that  he  had  not  a  good  ear  for 
emphasis,  and  often  misplaced  it.  An  instance  has  been 
already  given  as  to  his  reading  of  one  of  the  Commandments. 
A  Colonel  Pennington,  who  had  seen  him,  acutely  observed 
another  mistake — "and  will  speak  daggers,  but  use  none;" 
instead  of  "  speak  daggers,  but  use  none."  Yet  he  may  have 
been  right  in  this,  as  the  emotion  and  passion  of  the  situation 
might  require  an  exceptional  force  on  the  word  daggers. 

His  Hastings,  in  "  Jane  Shore,"  was  one  of  his  most  elabo- 
rated characters.  An  admirer,  who  attended  one  of  his  last 
performances,  was  careful  to  note,  on  a  copy  of  the  play,  every 
turn  and  inflection  of  the  part.  This  curious  "report" 
becomes  valuable,  and  gives  a  minute  and  excellent  idea  of 
Garrick's  manner  of  working  up  a  situation. 

In  the  first  scene  he  entered  gay  and  courtier-like.  He 
describes  Alicia's  present  condition,  warms  up  gradually,  and 
pleads  for  her  fervently.  When  he  sees  her,  he  puts  on  a 
cunning  and  cold  air,  speaking  with  a  sort  of  deference — 

"  None  has  a  right  more  ample, 
To  task  my  power  than  you." 

When  she  made  a  violent  outburst,  and  attacked  him,  he 

walked  up  to  her,  met  her  eye,  steadily,  and  poured  out  a 

number  of  bitter  questions — 

"  Are  you  wise  ? 
Have  you  the  use  of  reason  ?    Do  you  wake  ? " 

With  sudden  anger — 

"  Why  am  I  thus  pursued  from  place  to  place  t " 


280  THE  UFK  OP  DAVID  GASKICK.  [1763. 

Then,  giving  her  friendly  counsels,  he  gradually  softened, 
took  her  hand,  seemed  to  press  it  with  his  forefingers,  and 
when  he  had  finished  gently  threw  it  from  him,  and  walked  up 
the  stage.  As  he  begged,  ironically,  to  be  preserved  from  her 
tongue,  his  tone  was  so  dry,  cold,  and  petrified,  that  a  burst 
of  applause  came  from  the  audience.     When  he  said — 

"Soft  ye  now!" 

his  voice  became  tender  and  agitated,  he  kindly  taking  her 
hand,  and  touching  the  ground  with  his  knee.  His  voice 
altered  acain  when  he  asked — 

u  What  means  this  peevish  and  fantastic  change  ?  ** 

as  if  piqued  at  the  little  success  of  his  efforts,  and  gradually 
grew  almost  brutal,  crossing  the  stage  two  or  three  times,  as 
he  said — 

u  Tia  wondrous  well,  I  see  my  saint-like  dame ! " 

Then  followed  his  two  spirited  speeches.  And  though  Glou- 
cester had  a  line  interposed  between,  he  caught  him  up  and 
replied  so  smartly  that  it  seemed  almost  one  speech.  It 
worked  gradually  to  a  climax. 

In  the  council  scene  in  the  fourth  act,  when  he  was  con- 
demned to  the  scaffold,  the  gloom  and  settled  despair  in  his 
eye  was  very  intense.  He  was  full  three  minutes — says  this 
true  stop-watch  critic — in  saying  no  more  than  six  lines.  As 
he  congratulated  himself  in  not  living  on,  to  see  the  miseries 
of  his  country,  he  wept  profusely.     His  speech  to  Alicia — 

"  Thy  reason  has  grown  wild ! " 

« 

was  spoken  with,  a  sort  of  absent,  distracted  air.  The  last 
scene  was  a  triumph  of  elaborate  suffering.     The  adjuration — 

"  Now  mark,  and  tremble  at  Heaven's  just  award ! " 

was  delivered  quite  calmly,  and  in  a  deep  tone,  f nil  of  pathos. 
As  he  asked  her  forgiveness,  he  knelt  and  appealed  to  Heaven 
with  energy  and  great  firmness.     His  farewell — 

"  Good  angels  visit  thee," 

was  most  affecting.  He  then  moved  very  slowly  to  the  wing, 
stood  there  a  moment,  said  his  last  two  sentences  with  a 
broken  voice,  and  passed  out  to  tremendous  applause.  Then 
returning  with  the  guard,  as  Alicia  said  her  last  few  words,  he 
came  up,  took  her  hand  most  tenderly,  and  motioned  back  the 
soldiers — led  her  off,  as  if  to  be  still  more  in  private,  put  up 
his  prayer  in  a  sort  of  whisper  until  he  came  to  the  line — 

"  0,  should  he  wrong  _her ! " 
when  his  voice  swelled,  but  sank  again;  then  left  her,  got 


1763.]  A  ROUND  OF  CHARACTERS.  281 

slowly  backwards  to  the  wing,  looked  back,  and  said  "Re- 
member ! "  with  a  tone  that  seemed  to  the  audience  like  the 
last  utterance  of  a  dying  man. 

Walpole  had  a  poor  opinion  of  his  acting ;  but  Walpole,  as 
a  judge  of  stage  matters,  is  often  astray.  He  thought  him  "  a 
very  good  and  various  player,"  but  that  Quin's  Falstaff  was 
quite  as  good  as  Garrick's  Lear.  Mrs.  Porter  and  the  Dumes- 
nil  were  far  before  him  in  tragic  passion.  He  was  inferior  to 
Quin  in  Brute  and  Macbeth,  and  to  Cibber  in  Bayes.  His  Bayes 
was  indeed  original,  but  not  the  true  reading.  Cibber  made  it 
the  burlesque  of  a  great  poet ;  Garrick  the  picture  of  a  mere 
.garreteer.  He  was  "a  poor  Lothario,  a  ridiculous  Othello, 
a  woeful  Lord  Totrndy  and  Hastings"  Banger  he  thought 
suited  him  best;  and  though  the  town  did  not  relish  his 
Hotspur,  he  thought  he  succeeded  in  it  better  than  anything.  In 
this  extraordinary  opinion  he  says  he  was  supported  by  Sir 
C.  H.  Williams  and  Lord  Holland  Garrick  often  thought  of 
taking  up  Falstaff,  and  during  the  Jubilee  gave  a  specimen, 
that  delighted  all  who  saw  it.  It  would  nave  suited  him 
admirably,  and  have  made  a  fine  pendant  to  his  Sir  John  Brute. 
But  he  would  have  been  overpowered  in  the  artificial  corpu- 
lence of  the  character.  It  is  hard  to  say  which  was  his  cheval 
de  bataille.  Not  certainly  his  Borneo,  not  Othello,  not  Faulcon- 
bridge,  nor  Hotspur.  If  we  were  strictly  limited  to  the  choice 
of  two  parts,  we  might  name  Lear  and  Drugger ;  and  yet  we 
should  have  liked  Kitely  or  Banger,  Brute  or  Archer.  Macbeth, 
Bichard,  or  Hamlet  we  might  not  have  cared  so  much  for. 
Fox  was  his  enthusiastic  admirer ;  and  in  the  boxes  at  Drury 
Lane,  during  Garrick's  Lear,  he  was  seen  one  night  holding  up 
his  hands  in  wonder  and  delight.  One  morning  Gibbon  called 
on  Reynolds,  after  seeing  Garrick's  Bichard,  and  thought  he 
was  inconsistent ;  for  in  the  first  part  he  was  too  "  mean  and 
creeping,"  and  even  "  vulgar,"  and  in  the  last  quite  the  con- 
trary.    Cumberland  thought  Lear  his  finest  part. 

The  characteristics  of  nis  acting,  outlined  by  his  enemy, 
David  Williams,  are  very  remarkable.  "  In  tragic  parts  your 
execution  is  masterly.  It  is  much  improved  within  the  last 
few  years.  Your  province  lies  principally  where  the  passions 
are  exhibited  by  the  poet,  as  agitated  or  wrought  up  to 
a  high  degree ;  your  perfection  consists  in  the  extreme.  In  ex- 
aggerated  gesture,  and  sudden  bursts  of  passion,  given  in  a  suppressed 
and  tender  manner,  you  are  inimitable.  In  the  struggles  and 
conflicts  of  contradictory  passions,  or  in  their  mixture  and  combi- 
nation, and  when  his  effects  are  drawn  by  the  author  to  a  point  of 
instant  and  momentary  expression,  there  you  are  often  excellent." 


282  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763* 

His  fine  reputation  is  bound  up  with  the  literature  of  the 
country ;  and  readers  of  Fielding,  and  Smollett,  and  Sterne, 
will  see  how  delighted  those  great  writers  were  to  record  how 
they  had  been  affected  by  the  great  actor.  In  short,  in  this 
wonderful  man's  case,  compliment  has  exhausted  all  its  shapes. 
Admirers  of  "Tom  Jones"  will  recall  Partridge  at  Drury 
Lane,  during  Garrick's  Hamlet.  "'Well,  if  that  little  man 
there  upon  the  stage  is  not  frightened,  I  never  saw  any  man 
frightened  in  my  life.  Ay,  ay;  go  along  with  you!  Ay,  to 
be  sure!  Who's  fool  then?  Will  you?  God  have  mercy 
upon  such  foolhardiness !  .  .  .  Follow  you  ?  I'd  follow  the 
devil  as  soon.  ...  0,  here  he  is  again !  No  further  ?  No,  you 
have  gone  far  enough  already.  Nay,  sir,  did  you  not  yourself 
observe,  when  he  found  it  was  his  own  father's  spirit,  how  his 
fear  forsook  him  by  degrees,  and  he  was  struck  dumb  with 
sorrow  ? ' 

" '  He  the  best  player ! '  said  Partridge,  with  a  contemptuous 
sneer.  •  Why,  I  could  act  as  well  as  he,  myself.  I  am  sure 
if  I  had  seen  a  ghost,  I  should  have  looked  in  the  very  same 
manner,  and  done  just  as  he  did.'  "* 


BOOK    TIEIIE    SIXTIEI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR. — SEPTEMBER,  1763. 

He  had  now  returned  to  town,  and  was  busy  with  prepara- 
tions for  going  abroad.  The  Grand  Tour,  if  it  was  then  a 
delightful  progress,  had  also  its  responsibilities.  This  was  to 
be  a  holiday;  he  certainly  took  with  him  the  resolution  of 
never  appearing  on  the  stage  again — unless  this  remedy  for  his 
temporary  unpopularity  should  prove  successful  He  had  a 
faint  hope  that  it  would  be.  Before  going,  he  had  appointed 
Colman  to  look  after  his  interests  in  the  theatre ;  he  made  ar- 
rangements for  the  appearance  of  a  clever  clerk,  whom  he  had 
heard  "  spouting  "  at  the  Wood  Street  Debating  Club,  beyond 
Temple  Bar,  and  who,  he  thought,  would  fairly  support  lover 
parts  during  his  absence.  He  did  not  dream  that  the  terrible 
cry,  "A  rival ! "  would  be  raised.     Finally,  on  the  15th  of  Sep- 

*  Tom  Jones,  bk.  16,  ch.  ▼. 


1763.]  ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR.  283 

tember,  the  very  night  his  theatre  opened,  he  and  Mrs.^Garrick, 
with  their  little  dog,  set  off  for  Dover. 

As  we  have  seen,  nearly  two  years  before,  he  had  told  Sterne, 
then  starting  off  for  Paris,  that  he  was  soon  likely  to  visit  that 
capital  Roscius,  indeed,  delighted  in  good  company,  and  had 
long  since  discovered  the  truth,  that  the  "  finest "  company  is 
the  most  agreeable.  The  startling  success  of  Sterne  in  Paris, 
whom  the  wits  and  "  dlfyans  "  of  Paris  were  loading  with  atten- 
tions— honours  written  home  to  Southampton  Street  in  a  sort 
of  rapture — stimulated  his  eagerness ;  and  when  he  heard  from 
his  friend  that  at  "  two  great  houses  "  his  own  gifts  and  genius 
had  formed  the  staple  of  the  conversation  during  the  whole  of 
a  dinner  party — all  wondering  how  he  could  be  so  great  in  two 
such  opposite  walks  of  acting — it  was  very  natural  he  should 
look  forward  to  coming  and  receiving  this  homage  in  person. 

At  Calais  he  put  up,  not  at  the  famous  Dessein's,  but  at  the 
Table  Royal — "  a  good  and  reasonable  house,  with  civil  and 
obliging  people."  They  had  a  very  pleasant  journey,  met  with 
no  accidents,  and  were  entering  Paris  in  high  spirits,  when  they 
were  stopped  at  the  barrier  by  the  Custom-house  officers ;  and 
though  their  trunks  had  been  duly  plambtd  at  Calais  to  ensure 
through  transmission,  they  were  searched  en  personne,  and 
having  mislaid  their  passe,  were  led  off  with  indignity  to  the 
Custom-house,  to  have  their  trunks  opened  once  more.  But 
the  director  of  the  Customs,  M.  D'Aguemont,  treated  them 
with  great  civility.  This  was  the  evening  of  Monday,  Sep- 
tember 19th. 

In  a  day  or  two  he  bought  a  little  blank  book,  which  he 
determined  to  fill  with  notes  of  his  travels ;  a  journal,  in  short 
— "  meant  to  bring  to  my  mind  the  various  things  I  shall  see 
in  my  journey  into  Italy."  Properly  it  was  to  be  a  record  of 
his  "  opinions  and  feelings."  "  For,"  he  writes,  "  I  shall  always 
put  down  my  thoughts  immediately,  as  I  am  struck,  without 
the  least  attention  to  what  has  been  said  by  writers  of  great 
and  little  repute. — D.  Garrick."  Which  is  indeed  the  true 
plan  to  make  a  journal  of  any  interest ;  but  for  all  this  official 
declaration,  the  journal  began  to  languish  very  soon,  and  covers 
but  a  few  pages.  Very  soon  the  seduction  of  dinners,  and 
parties,  and  excursions,  absorbed  all  his  time — the  pleasures 
past  seem  poor,  and  not  worth  recording,  beside  those  that 
are  coming  on. 

Undoubtedly,  the  most  singular  feature  of  the  time  was 
the  "Anglo-mania"  then  raging.  It  now  seems  ludicrous. 
In  the  shops  Shakspeare  and  Swift  were  to  be  bought,  like 
ordinary  French  books ;  and  it  was  almost  comic  to  faA  «a^s* 


wm 


284  THE  LIFE  05  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

Frenchmen  poring  and  blundering  over  the  great  English  poet* 
and  straining  hard  to  fancy  in  themselves  something  like  ad- 
miration for  what  they  could  not  understand.  Sterne's  Count, 
who  took  the  sentimental  traveller  for  the  Yorick  of  "  Hamlet," 
was  but  the  type  of  more  serious  blunderers. 

There  were  many  coteries  or  societies  all  ready  to  welcome 
him.  First,  that  of  Baron  D'Holbach's,  who  gave  his  little 
dinners  every  Sunday  and  Thursday.  Here  was  to  be  met  the 
most  delightful  company  possible,  and  the  guests  ranged  from 
ten  to  twenty  in  number.  The  host's  fancy  was  to  discover 
clever  and  distinguished  strangers,  and  this  must  have  given 
his  parties  their  charm.  The  regular  lwMtuts  were  remarkable ; 
Grimm  and  Diderot,  Helvetius  and  the  mercurial  Abb6 
Morellet,  who  was  so  lively  in  discussion.  Madame  D'Holbach 
sat  in  a  corner,  talking  in  a  low  voice;  while  the  greater  espriis 
decided  greater  questions.  Helvetius  had  the  Wednesdays, 
with  very  much  the  same  elements. 

The  moment  Garrick  arrived  the  universal  homage  set  in. 
He  was  at  once  made  free  of  "the  synagogue  in  the  Rue 
Royale ;"  and  the  "  little  sanctuary  in  the  Rue  Neuve  des  Petits 
Champs."  He  was  heaped  with  honours;  he  was  almost 
ashamed  to  write  home  the  distinctions  he  had  met  with  at  their 
hands.  Before  he  had  been  there  a  fortnight,  he  knew  every 
one,  of  every  degree.  Naturally  he  first  devoted  himself  to 
cultivate  the  actors. 

On  the  night  after  his  arrival,  he  set  off  for  the  ComSdie 
Francaise,  which  at  his  first  entrance  seemed  "  dark  and  dirty." 
The  play  was  the  "  Gouvernante,"  with  Dumesnil,  who,  it 
seemed  to  him,  had  expression,  but  who  "  made  use  of  little 
startings  and  twitchings,  which  are  visibly  artificial,  and  the 
mere  mimicry  of  the  free,  simple,  and  noble  working  of  the 
passions."  A  Mdlle.  Doligny,  "a  young  beginner,  with  a 
pleasing  look  and  sweetness  of  voice,"  gave  him  much  pleasure. 
But  the  French  actors  presently  found  out  their  distinguished 
brother,  and  the  "company  of  comedians"  sent  their  compli- 
ments, with  the  freedom  of  the  house.  On  the  same  morning 
he  called  on  Clairon,  and  spent  ,a  long  time  with  her.  With 
that  incomparable  actress  and  spirited  woman,  he  had  a  long 
talk.  She  surprised  him  by  telling  him  that  her  appointments 
were  only  £250,  having  besides  to  "  find  herself "  in  every- 
thing. He  thought  of  Mrs.  Cibber  at  home,  as  a  comparison, 
who  had  received  from  the  theatre  as  much  as  £700  a-year, 
besides  her  benefit,  and  dresses — everything  found  for  her, 
excepting  the  "  mere  garniture  of  her  head."  Another  night 
he  went  to  see  Preville,  and  on  the  first  occasion  thought  him 


1763.]  ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR.  285 

a  great  comedian — "  he  certainly  had  comic  powers."  But  on 
the  second  and  third,  he  did  not  see  the  variety  he  expected. 
"  He  has  the  same  looks  in  every  part."  He  was  struck  with 
a  peculiar  "  look  of  folly  "  the  actor  could  throw  into  his  eye, 
which  in  certain  parts  would  have  a  fine  effect,  but  was  not  to 
be  used  continuously. 

A  very  characteristic  story  is  told  of  one  of  Garrick's  first 
visits  to  the  theatre,  when  he  took  his  wife  to  see  the  great 
actress.  She  had  a  great  disinclination  to  see  her ;  and  her 
coldness  during  the  early  part  of  the  performance  exeited  the 
impatience  of  Garrick,  who  was  in  raptures.*  Gradually,  how- 
ever, she  grew  attentive,  then  excited,  and  finally  broke  into 
the  most  extravagant  expressions  of  delight  and  admiration. 
Garrick,  it  is  said,  then  grew  impatient  and  discontented,  and 
ended  by  being  quite  out  of  sorts.  This  was  not  jealousy;  it 
was  more  an  uneasiness  lest  the  wife  he  so  loved  and  admired 
should  admire  any  one  more  than  himself.  The  whole,  how- 
ever, is  characteristic,  and  a  capital  trait  of  human  character. 

Clairon,  with  her  natural  enthusiasm,  took  him  up  with 
fureur.  He  had  known  her  on  his  first  visit"  A  few  days  after 
his  arrival  was  brought  out  Saurin's  "  Blanche  et  Guiscard," 
founded  on  an  English  story.  It  was  given  out  that  "the 
Clairon "  had  condescended  to  take  lessons  from  the  English 
actor,  and  had  rehearsed  Blanche  before  him ;  but  it  was  also 
said  that  she  had  never  played  worse.  Garrick  was  delighted 
with  his  new  pupil,  and  wrote  home  that  the  "  Clairon  was 
great ; "  but  added,  that  she  had  her  faults,  "  between  you  and 
me."  He  took  care,  however,  not  to  say  this  publicly,  "  for 
she  idolises  me."  "Blanche,"  however,  reached  but  the  third 
representation.  The  only  thing  that  saved  it  was  the  admir- 
able manner  with  which  Belcour,  the  jeune  premier,  vanquished 
the  poignard  difficulty — thus  quieting  public  anxiety — appear- 
ing to  transfix  "  the  Clairon  "  as  she  lay  extended  on  the  floor. 
The  story  was  that  of  "  Tancred  and  Sigismunda  ;M  and  a  large 
crowd  of  English,  who  were  present,  and  had  seen  the  original, 
were  loud  in  condemning  the  coldness  and  barrenness  of  the 
piece.  Even  "  the  Clairon  "  was  said  never  to  have  done  worse. 
Everybody  was  pointing  out  the  celebrated  English  actor,  the 
original  Tancred,  and  whispering  his  name.  Every  one,  too, 
was  quoting  his  critiques,  favourable  to  this  and  that  actress ; 
but  only  to  a  few,  says  Grimm,  did  he  trust  his  real  opinions. 
It  must  have  been  for  this  performance  that  he  tried  to  get 

*  MS.  Journal    I  find  from  an  unpublished  letter,  that  Mrs.  Garrick 
was  rather  jealous  of  these  attentions  to  Clairon. 


286  THE  LUTE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

tickets  from  "  the  Clairon  "  for  some  lady-friends ;  but  every 
place  was  taken.  She  bade  him,  in  a  pretty  little  note,  take 
them  to  the  parterre,  where  ladies  could  readily  go.  "  Good 
night,  dear  friend,"  she  wrote :  "  you  know  how  much  I  like 
you." 

One  night,  at  the  house  of  an  English  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Neville, 
a  curious  scene  took  place.  He  had  collected  many  of  the  lead- 
ing wits  and  literary  characters— Marmontel  and  D'Alembert 
amongst  others — and  invited  the  great  English  actor  and  the 
great  French  actress  to  sup.  What  took  place  is  well  known, 
and  has  passed  into  all  the  anecdote  collections.  Clairon  stood 
up,  and  volunteered  to  declaim  some  passage  from  "  Athalie," 
which,  said  Garrick,  she  did  "charmingly."  But  this  was 
done,  not  to  show  herself  off,  but  "to  bring  out  Roscius," 
whom  all  were  eager  to  see.  It  was  a  trying  exhibition  in 
a  foreign  country,  with  foreign  eyes  looking  on,  and  foreign 
ears  that  could  scarcely  understand.  But  Garrick  had  con- 
fidence in  himself,  and  with  excellent  tact  and  good  sense 
chose  such  specimens  of  his  art  as  would  appeal  to  the 
general  intelligence  of  all.  He  began  with  the  "dagger 
scene "  in  "  Macbeth,"  passed  from  that  to  the  "  curse "  in 
"  Lear,"  and  finished  with  the  "  falling  asleep  "  of  Sir  John 
Brute.  These  were  delivered  in  the  one  common  language 
of  the  human  race.  The  effect  was  tremendous — the  success 
complete.  He  does  not  mention — as  Murphy,  his  biographer, 
does — his  telling  the  company  whence  he  had  obtained  the 
idea  of  his  wonderful  representation  of  madness  produced 
by  grief — suggested,  as  is  well  known,  from  an  old  man  who 
had  dropped  his  child  from  a  window.  This  incident  was 
said  to  have  taken  place  in  a  street  near  Goodman's  Fields ; 
but  Grimm,  on  whom  the  representation  seems  to  have  made  a 
most  extraordinary  impression — ("I  sawthepoor  man  himself!") 
— says  that  Garrick  told  him  it  was  in  Ireland.  The  philo- 
sopher was  not  likely  to  have  fixed  such  a  scene  in  such  a 
country.  He  passed  from  that  to  another  favourite  delinea- 
tion of  his,  that  of  the  poor  pastry-cook's  boy  who  had  let 
fall  his  tray  of  tarts  in  the  street,  and  whose  face  expressed 
all  the  transitions  from  stupid  astonishment  to  surprise, 
ie;ror,  and  hopeless  grief.  These  were  but  a  part  of  what 
he  called  "giving  his  rounds."  That  night  was  long  re- 
membered. Marmontel  it  seemed  to  have  haunted.  Next 
morning  he  wrote  the  English  actor  a  flattering,  but  genuine, 
letter,  full  of  the  most  ardent  admiration.  Macbeth  was  what 
struck  him ;  and  he  makes  the  just  observation,  that  if  they 
but  followed  the  same  principle,  their  scenes  would  not  be  so 


1763.]  ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR.  287 

tedious,  and  they  would  do  more  by  the  eloquence  of  silence, 
and  by  the  expression  of  face  and  eye,  than  by  long  speeches. 
He  owned  that  this  was  the  only  real  style  of  acting ;  it  was 
quite  new  to  him.  This  was  much  from  a  Frenchman.  He 
must  have,  almost  then*  and  there,  sat  down  to  commit  this 
enthusiasm  and  admiration  to  writing;  for  he  eagerly  bids 
his  friend  look  later  to  the  "  Encyclopaedia,"  article  "  Decla- 
mation," where  he  would  find  his  true  views  on  this  point.* 

Thus  welcomed,  thus  fited,  and  loaded  with  civilities  and 
homage  of  the  most  flattering  sort,  the  actor  set  off,  a  little 
after  the  28th  of  September,  having  been  in  Paris  nearly  three 
weeks.  He  was  to  make  the  Grand  Tour,  but  promised  his 
French  friends  to  return  to  them  soon. 

They  reached  Lyons  in  about  four  days,  and  were  treated 
with  great  courtesy  by  all  in  authority;  but,  as  usual,  were 
greatly  imposed  on  by  extortionate  innkeepers  and  postmas- 
ters. In  fact,  a  Frenchman  told  Mr.  Garrick  that  when  an 
English  chaise  went  by,  all  winked  and  laughed,  and  put  their 
tongue  in  their  cheeks.  The  Savoy  part  of  the  journey  was 
delicious,  and  they  enjoyed  it  immensely,  revelling  in  the 
noble  scenery.  They  lay  at  Aiguebelles  on  the  10th  of  Oc- 
tober, and  found  the  crossing  of  Mont  C6nis  very  agreeable  in 
such  fine  weather.  They  had  one  little  d4$agrimenty  in  their 
coach  breaking  down.  Compliments  still  attended  him  on  his 
route.  The  demi-god  of  Ferney  was  gracious  enough  to  send 
him  a  message,  hoping  that  he  might  see  him,  and  putting  his 
little  theatre  at  his  service;  throwing  in,  however,  his  old 
dislike  of  Shakspeare,  who,  he  was  pleased  to  say,  had  more  of 

the  barbarian  than  of  genius.     "  The  d d  fellow ! "  said  Mr. 

Garrick  characteristically  to  his  friends.  But  to  M.  de  Vol- 
taire himself  he  wrote,  almost  obsequiously,  as  being  the  first 
genius  in  Europe.  "  Could  I  have  been  the  means  of  bringing 
our  Shakspeare  into  some  favour  with  M.  de  Voltaire,  I  should 
have  been  happy  indeed."  Though  the  visit  never  took  place 
— Mr.  Garrick  being  obliged,  from  the  state  of  his  health,  to 
post  home  to  Paris — the  great  genius  often  spoke  graciously  of 
him  to  the  guests  who  came  to  Ferney,  and  would  send  a  sort 
of  royal  sentence  of  recollection,  or  approbation.  Turin  they 
found  very  neat  and  clean — a  perfect  city  of  palaces.  Two 
pictures  there,  by  Guido  and  Guercino,  struck  him  greatly, 
possibly  because  of  a  dramatic  sort — "  The  Prodigal  Son  "  and 
"David  and  Goliath;"  for  in  the  former,  grief,  contrition,  and 
expression  were  all  exhibited  without  a  feature  being  seen. 

•  We  do  this,  but,  alas  !  find  not  a  word  about  Gixtv&l. 


288  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

Thence  they  hurried  on  to  Milan.  These  were,  indeed,  but 
the  official  stages  of  the  Grand  Tour.  They  put  up  at  the  Tre 
He,  and,  like  a  thousand  travellers  before  and  since,  posted  off 
at  once  to  the  Cathedral  There  they  lighted  on  a  true, 
courteous,  and  most  hospitable  friend,  Count  Firmian,  to 
whom  they  had  letters,  who  insisted  on  their  dining  with  him 
every  day,  who  could  talk  and  was  deeply  interested  in  English 
subjects.  Mr.  Garrick  promised  to  send  him  over  pictures  of 
himself  in  every  character. 

On  the  2nd  of  November  they  set  out  for  Genoa  by  boat ; 
and,  like  many  a  traveller  who  has  entered  that  port  on 
a  gorgeous  summer  morning,  were  "ravished"  with  the  en- 
chanting panorama :  the  slow  sailing  on  the  cobalt  waters,  the 
mole,  the  lighthouse,  and  the  shipping,  and  the  coloured  ter- 
races glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  as  if  roofed  with  gold  and 
silver,  or  built  of  blocks  of  mother-of-pearl.  "  What  more  I 
think  of  it,"  writes  Mr.  Garrick  very  confidently  in  his  journal, 
"shall  be  wrote  down  when  I  have  examined  it."  But  now 
came  the  friends,  and  the  parties  of  pleasure ;  and  not  a  lino 
more  was  added  to  the  little  record.  He  visited  Florence, 
where  he  met  Algarotti,  on  whom  he  made  a  deep  impression. 
The  poet  was  ill ;  and  Garrick  recommended  him  the  fashion- 
able English  remedy,  tar-water.  He  also  wrote  home  to 
England  in  favour  of  his  verses.  Knowing  that  the  actor  was 
to  visit  Bologna,  Algarotti  sent  him  letters  to  the  leading 
persons  of  the  place — the  Marquis  Monvi,  the  Marquis  Scappi, 
and  the  Cardinal  Legate.  "  You  will  see,"  he  wrote  to  them, 
"  that  his  amiability  is  on  a  par  with  his  merits." 

Mr.  Garrick  then  hurried  on  to  Rome,  where  he  only  stayed 
a  fortnight.  He  got  there  about  the  beginning  of  December. 
The  night  before  he  entered  it  he  hardly  slept,  thinking  of  the 
sensation  of  entering  the  Eternal  City.  As  he  drew  near  it>  the 
excitement,  and  the  thrill/and  the  suspense  that  have  come  on  so 
many  travellers,  before  and  since,  came  on  him ;  but  the  Porta 
del  Popolo  brought  the  established  disappointment  and  dtsittu- 
sionnement.  He  only  saw  a  "dirty,  ill-looking  'Place,7  with 
three  crooked  streets  "  branching  off.  His  spirits  sank  at  once. 
But  in  the  afternoon  he  was  taken  away  to  see  the  Pantheon, 
and  the  sight  raised  him  into  perfect  enthusiasm.  He  said 
afterwards  that  ho  "  never  felt  so  much  in  his  life."  It  made 
him  "  gape  "  with  wonder  and  astonishment.  The  Colosseum 
delighted  him ;  and  he  made  the  sensible  remark,  how  infinitely 
better  these  ruins  look  in  reality  than  in  pictures ;  while  with 
the  more  modern  buildings  he  found  the  reverse  to  be  the 
case.    The  whole  of  his  fortnight  he  devoted  to  churches, 


1763.]  ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR.  289 

ruins,  and  objects  of  curiosity,  and  not  to  waiting  on  great  per- 
sonages. 

He  then  posted  down  to  Naples — a  miserable  journey, 
having  come  in  for  the  heavy  rains,  which  attended  them  all 
along  the  road.  They  suffered  inconveniences  and  distresses 
that  were  almost  ridiculous,  and  with  which  he  proposed 
afterwards  entertaining  his  friends  at  Hampton.  They  arrived 
on  the  17th,  and  kept  Christmas  charmingly,  with  the  windows 
open,  the  Mediterranean  at  their  feet  glistening  in  a  sultry  sun, 
and — green  peas  on  the  table !  With  all  their  distresses  the 
journey  had  improved  his  health,  and  the  whole  party,  includ- 
ing the  dog  "  Biddy,"  were  "  in  the  highest  spirits."  He  was 
charmed  with  the  climate,  and  with  the  people ;  and  it  is  cha- 
racteristic of  so  great  an  actor,  that  he  should  have  found 
entertainment  as  well  as  profit,  in  going  among  the  strange  and 
highly  dramatic  beings  that  make  up  the  Neapolitan  lower 
class.  There  he  found  good  models  for  eccentric  gestures, 
picturesque  attitudes,  and  that  strange  play  of  feature  in 
which  he  universally  excelled.  The  great  theatre  of  San 
Carlo  almost  confounded  him,  filled  as  it  was  to  the  roof,  and 
blazing  with  lights.  But  it  was  too  large  for  the  singer's 
voice.  There  he  heard  the  famous  Gabrielli,  one  of  the  sirens 
of  the  opera,  more  insolent  and  more  fickle  than  the  "  Clairon," 
and  not  to  be  tempted  to  London  by  any  amount  of  English 

""Wypw.  w-.*  a  **«,»*.*- 

distinguished  country  people  of  his  own.  Lady  Oxford,  who 
had  great  influence  at  the  Neapolitan  Court,  exerted  herself 
for  him  in  every  way.  With  Lord  and  Lady  Spencer,  he 
went  to  see  Herculaneum  and  its  curious  relics,  and  afterwards 
ascended  Vesuvius.  The  King,  who  was  always  favourable  to 
the  English,  and  had  a  company  of  actors,  as  a  mark  of 
special  favour,  allowed  the  English  actor  to  be  present.  As  a 
yet  higher  compliment,  he  was  allowed  to  test  their  extraor- 
dinary ability  in  this  way :  he  was  invited  to  write  down  the 
outline  of  a  plot,  and  they  engaged  to  fill  it  up,  supply  dia- 
logue, and  perform  the  whole  extempore  within  twenty-four 
hours.     The  feat  was  actually  executed. 

He  was  nearly  three  months  at  Naples.  He  thoroughly 
enjoyed  himself  there ;  for,  as  he  said,  he  was  now  "  out  of 
their  clutches  "  in  London,  and  was  going  to  "  make  a  meal,  and 
a  good  one,  in  Italy.  I  shall  never  return."  No  wonder,  for 
never  was  he  "  in  such  fashion,"  or  made  so  much  of  by  the 
great  people,  who  in  a  vilkggiatura  like  this,  were  more 
familiar  and  gracious  than  at  home.     This  to&  \ta&  ^r^sfc. 


290  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1763. 

corner  of  "Davey's"  nature;  he  was  supremely  happy:  "I 
laugh  from  morning  until  night.  I  am  always  with  Lord 
Spencer,  Lady  Oxford,  and  Lord  Palmers  ton."  Mrs.  Garrick 
took  her  share  in  their  pastime,  and  would  go  to  the  parties, 
though  she  had  a  bad  "  rumatiz."  "  I  scolded  and  phyzed ; 
but  2  she  can  wag,  she  goes."*  Mr.  Garrick  was  everywhere 
— at  Lord  Exeter's,  the  minister's,  the  consul's.  The  only 
thing  that  annoys  him  is  that  bit  of  "nonsense"  which  some 
indiscreet  friend  sent  home  to  be  inserted  in  the  St.  James's 
Chronicle,  "  about  my  dancing  with  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire  " — 
again  the  old  weakness,  and  "  dearly  loving  of  a  lord  or  lady." 
Many  such  little  inspired  paragraphs,  at  which  he  "  pished  "  a 
little  impatiently,  were  to  find  their  way  to  the  papers  during 
his  life.  Here  he  met  Sir  William  Hamilton,  later  to  be  the 
husband  of  the  fascinating  Lady  Hamilton.  In  that  coterie, 
they  had  all  sorts  of  pastimes — among  others  the  fashionable 
one  of  "  charades ; "  and  to  Sir  William  he  addressed  a  little 
poem,  called  the  "  Charader's  Eecantation,"  two  lines  of  which 
were — 

"  If  Spencer  nod,  or  Jersey  smile, 
How  could  I  but  obey  ? " 

But  he  was  dying  to  be  at  Rome  again.  He  thought  it,  of 
all  places  in  the  world,  "  the  one  most  worth  coming  to  and 
writing  of."  They  were  back  there  by  the  beginning  of  ApriL 
Never  was  a  man  so  much  above  the  more  debasing  associates 
of  the  "  shop."  His  whole  heart  was  now  in  the  antiquities, 
books,  &c;  and  he  was  seen  from  morning  till  night  hunting 
up  the  old  curiosity  shops,  with  Mrs.  Garrick  "  dragging  her 
lame  leg  "  after  her.  Even  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  wrote  out 
to  him  from  England,  "  rallying  "  him  on  his  abandonment  of 
the  drama  for  the  more  captivating  attractions  of  virtu.  Borne 
did  not  agree  with  him  so  well ;  but  when  the  rains  began  to 
fall — which  they  did  "  in  pailfuls  " — he  grew  better.  The  sun 
came  out,  and  he  was  "  as  frisky  as  the  poor  flies,  who  were  so 
woefully  damped  by  the  wet  weather,  but  are  now  as  trouble- 
some and  as  pert  as  your  humble  servant" 

Early  in  May  the  actor  reached  Parma,  the  Duke  of  which 
Court  had  caught  some  of  the  "Anglomanie."  He  had,  of 
course,  "  read  Shakspeare  "  (the  fore-ordained  victim  for  the 
experiments  of  all  foreign  students),  and  could  speak  English 
tolerably  well.  The  Duke  of  York,  then  on  his  travels,  enter- 
tained the  Prince  at  the  Hotel  Pallavacmi,  and  had  Garrick, 
Lord  Spencer,  and  the  Minister  Tillot  as  his  guests.     To  be 

•  ForaterMSa 


1763.]  ON  THE  GRAND  TOUR.  291 

asked  to  so  select  a  party  was  certainly  a  high  compliment. 
After  the  dinner  was  over,  the  Italian  Prince  showed  a  little 
anxiety  to  hear  the  English  fashion  of  declamation,  and  ex- 
pressed his  wish  with  so  much  feeling  and  delicacy,  that  Gar- 
rick  at  once  stood  up.  He  gave  a  short  sketch  of  the  story  of 
"  Macbeth,"  to  prepare  them  for  the  situation,  and  then  went 
through  his  famous  dagger  scene.  He  did  it  with  more  than 
usual  effect.  The  Duke  was  so  delighted,  that  he  sent  him, 
next  morning,  a  gorgeously  enamelled  snuff-box,  and  ordered 
apartments  for  him  in  the  palace.  Snuff-boxes  indeed  were 
to  be  a  special  shape  of  homage  to  his  genius.  Later,  when 
he  was  coming  home  through  Germany,  the  Duke  of  Wurtem- 
burg  presented  him  with  another,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
pleasure  he  had  received  from  these  recitations.* 

He  then  posted  on  to  Venice,  to  be  in  time  for  the  Fetes 
given  in  honour  of  the  Duke,  who  had  arrived  on  the  26th  of 
May.  That  city  enchanted  him,  as  it  has  enchanted  many,  at 
first ;  but  a  month's  stay,  he  said,  was  like  a  honeymoon,  in 
bringing  you  to  a  temperate  consideration  of  things.  He 
was  dazzled  and  fatigued  to  death  with  the  series  of  shows, 
which  transcended  even  the  wonders  of  the  "Arabian  Nights." 
But  the  famous  "Regate,"  a  specialty  of  Venice,  astounded 
him.  At  Venice  were  Lord  Ossory,  and  Mr.  Beauclerk  again, 
and  Mr.  Arden,  a  clergyman,  whose  house  he  afterwards  visited 
in  England.  He  was  now,  however,  beginning  to  grow  restless, 
and  eager  for  home  again.  His  heart  was  beginning  to  turn 
back  to  Drury  Lane.  Even  in  his  walks  on  the  Rialto,  he 
fancied  himself  keeping  an  appointment  with  Pierre,  though, 
strange  to  say,  not  expecting  to  meet  a  Bassanio  and  An- 
tonio; for  when  the  real  Venetian  nobleman  came  by,  dressed 
like  an  attorney  in  one  of  the  Spiritual  Courts  at  York  or 
London,  the  Shakspearean  spell  was  rudely  broken.  He  was 
getting  models  of  Italian  scenery  made,  and  sending  them 
home.     He  was  also  looking  out  for  dancers. 

But  he  was  now  disquieted  by  the  rumour  of  a  star  that  had 
risen  up  in  his  absence,  and  whose  brilliancy  was,  perhaps, 
magnified  by  distance.  The  name  of  this  star  was  Powell,  a 
young  fellow  from  the  Spouting  Club,  who,  he  heard,  was  now 
fascinating  the  town  with  his  Philaster,  and  passing  from  Phtias- 
ier  through  the  whole  round  of  parts.     This  alarming  news 

*  Long  after,  when  Garrick  was  in  his  library  at  home,  showing  these 
tokens  to  two  of  his  actors,  one  of  them,  Holland,  broke  out  a  little  coarsely 
with,  "  And  so  you  went  about  the  Continent  mouthing  for  snuff-boxes  ! " 
Garrick,  with  that  good-humour  which  was  bia  characteristic,  onlg  \i».^m&> 
and  took  not  the  least  offence. 

\5  1 


292  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1764 


troubled  him.  The  success  had  been  overwhelming.  The 
town  was  as  "  horn  mad  "  as  it  had  been  in  the  old  delightful 
transport  of  Goodman's  Fields.  Tall,  thin,  as  he  was,  he  was 
quite  of  the  Barry  order ;  and  his  voice  in  tragedy  went  to  all 
hearts,  and  drew  abundant  tears.  The  pit  stood  up,  and 
shouted,  in  spite  of  Foote,  who  sat  in  the  boxes  on  the  first 
night,  and  affected  to  jeer  at  the  whole.  Somehow,  where- 
ever  there  is  an  act  of  grace,  such  as  would  be  the  welcome 
of  a  young  actor,  or  at  the  Shakspeare  Jubilee  later,  those 
sneering  features  are  sure  to  be  seen  in  the  crowd. 

Garrick's  uneasiness  is  plain  to  us.  Yet  he  behaved  admir- 
ably, and  with  true  magnanimity.  In  Garrick's  letter  of 
advice  to  Powell,  so  often  quoted,  and  his  anxiety  about  his 
"doing  Alexander"  and  "playing  himself  to  rags,"  is  to  be 
seen  that  very  pardonable  dread  which  a  really  magnanimous 
mind  often  experiences,  of  being  thought  meanly  jealous  of  a 
rising  competitor.  He,  indeed,  wrote  that  he  had  no  joy  in 
thinking  of  the  stage,  and  affected  to  consider  that  he  was  to 
be  "  baited  "  if  he  returned  there.  But  his  heart,  it  is  quite 
plain,  was  fluttering  at  the  wings  of  Drory  Lane. 


CHAPTER  H. 

Paris.— 1764-65. 

He  stayed  at  Venice  until  the  middle  of  June.  He  was  still 
longing  to  be  at  home,  and  nervous  as  to  what  people  were 
saying  of  him.  Yet  Mrs.  Garrick's  health  was  still  bad,  and 
the  sciatica  so  violent,  that  he  could  not  think  of  returning  as 
yet.  They  had  tried  all  the  fashionable  and  even  absurd  nos- 
trums, then  in  vogue.  Baretti,  whom  he  had  met  in  Venice, 
asked  him,  "  Have  you  forgotten  the  black  hen  ? " — the  same 
remedy  that  was  prescribed  for  Sterne  and  Smollett  at  Mont- 
pelier.  Finally  they  both  set  off  for  the  famous  mud  baths  of 
Albano,  near  Padua,  and  which  Baretti  prophesied  would  cer- 
tainly restore  her.  The  "  mud  baths  "  had  the  happiest  effect, 
and  she  was  soon  able  to  throw  away  her  stick.  By  the  middle 
of  August  they  hxd  got  to  Munich,  but  there  he  was  seized 
with  a  dreadful  bilious  attack,  which  kept  him  in  bed  for  a 
month.  Luckily  he  had  an  English  doctor  near  him,  who 
kindly  broko  off  his  own  tour,  to  stay  with  him,  and  who  cave 
him  better  remedies  than  the  "flayed  cocks'1  and  "black 
hens  w  of  the  foreign  faculty.  It  wasted  him  to  the  last  degree ; 
and  we  can  see  the  famous  Soscius,  effective  even  in  his  ema- 


1765.]  paris.  293 

ciation,  described  comically  by  himself : — "  I  have  lost  legs, 
arms,  belly,  cheeks,  &c,  and  have  scarce  anything  left  but 
bones,  and  a  pair  of  dark  lack-lustre  eyes,  that  are  retired  an 
inch  or  two  more  in  their  sockets,  and  wonderfully  set  off  the 
parchment  that  covers  the  eheejc-bones."  Yet  his  strong  con- 
stitution helped  him  over  such  an  attack.  He  did  not  love  to 
whine  over  his  sufferings.  "  You  desired  me  to  write,"  he  says, 
"  and  invalids  will  prate  of  their  ailments."  His  spirits  sank 
very  low,  and  he  had  a  narrow  escape,  indeed.  In  this  state 
he  wrote  some  lines  genuine  in  character,  but  very  desponding 
in  tone,  and  which  may  be  taken  to  be  a  faithful  picture  of  his 
past  life.     He  called  it  "  His  own  Epitaph : " — 

"  Though  I  in  frailty's  mould  was  cast, 

By  passions  hurried  on, 
Though  all  my  days  in  folly  passed, 

No  crime  has  blackened  one. 
Some  sing  I  had — for  who  is  free  ? 

Of  pride,  few  mortals  less ; 
Not  those,  I  fear,  who  have,  like  me, 

Small  merit  with  success. 
One  pride  that  with  myself  shall  end, 

That  pride  the  world  shall  know, 
Much-honoured  Camden  was  my  friend, 

And  Kenrick  was  my  foe."4 

But  there  was  a  more  significant  warning  in  his  having  an 
attack  of  the  malady,  which  was  later  to  carry  him  off:  the 
malady  which  came  of  "  full  port "  and  rich  living,  and  which 
carried  off  so  many  men  of  letters  and  delightful  social  gifts. 
He  was  ordered  the  Spa  waters — to  "  The  Spaw,"  as  it  was 
called — then,  as  now,  one  of  the  most  delightful  nooks  of 
Europe ;  but  the  season  was  too  far  advanced. 

During  his  illness,  two  of  his  best  friends  dropped  away, 
that  Duke  of  Devonshire,  to  whom  he  was  so  sincerely 
attached,  and  Hogarth.  "  The  best  of  women  and  wives,"  as  ho 
affectionately  called  Mrs.  Garrick,  strove  hard  to  keep  such  dis- 
tressing news  from  reaching  his  ears ;  but  the  news  of  the  first 
had  nearly  "  cracked  "  his  nerves.  He  loved  the  painter  "  in  the 
greatest  confidence."  Churchill,  too,  was  dying  at  Boulogne. 
Voltaire,  receiving  all  the  travelling  world  at  his  little  retreat 
at  Ferney,  had  sent  him,  as  we  have  seen,  a  complimentary 
message.  Garrick,  on  his  return,  intended  to  turn  aside,  and 
pay  his  homage  at  the  shrine;  but  the  serious  illness  that  seized 
him  at  Munich  had  weakened  him  so  much,  that  he  dared  not 
tarry  on  the  road.     From  Nancy  he  wrote  his  excuses  to  the 

Eoi  Voltaire" — in  what  was  scarcely  one  of  his  happiest 

•  Hill  MS3. 


n 


mm 


294  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1764— 

letters.  A  friend,  who  later  was  honoured  with  a  seat  beside 
"  the  King  "  at  dinner,  said  that  it  would  be  the  best  news  in 
the  world  for  Mr.  Garrick  to  know  that  M.  de  Voltaire  was 
in  good  health,  and  that  he  hoped  he  might  write  so.  "  No, 
no,  sir,"  replied  the  host,  "  do  not  write  an  untruth,  but  tell 
him,je  suisplein  d'estime  pour  lui." 

He  reached  Paris  again,  about  October,  1764 — in  a  very 
shattered*  condition.  His  pleasant  French  friends  could 
hardly  recognize  him,  until  he  spoke.  But  in  the  delightful 
Paris  air  he  began  to  mend  at  once,  to  fill  in,  and  grow  round, 
until,  in  about  a  fortnight,  he  could  pass  for  a  tolerable 
Frenchman.  It  was  wonderful,  indeed,  how  he  got  through; 
for,  as  ho  said  humorously,  he  had  been  under  no  less  than 
eight  physicians,  two  of  whom  had  been  English — one,  per- 
haps, Dr.  Gem,  of  Paris.  Not  much  had  taken  place  in  his 
absence.  But  there  were  letters  waiting  for  him,  with  more 
news  of  Powell's  success — scarcely  a  pleasant  medicine. 

Powell  had  gone  from  one  triumph  to  another.  Philaskr 
was  his  great  part,  after  which  came  Posthumus  in  "  Cymbe- 
line."  He  then  applied  himself  to  study  hastily,  and  produce 
in  succession,  a  whole  round  of  characters  of  which  he  knew 
nothing.  It  made  no  difference — the  crowds  came — it  was  the 
fashion  to  go  and  hear  Mr.  Powell,  and  there  were  even 
plenty  to  say,  that  here  was  Mr.  Garricks  successor,  and  that  the 
loss  of  that  great  actor  was  more  than  repaired.  There  were 
plenty,  too,  to  lot  him  know  of  this  good  news.  Kow  Lacy, 
with  an  almost  spiteful  congratulation,  recorded  as  spitefully 
by  Davies,  bade  him  by  no  means  abridge  his  tour,  but  enjoy 
himself  as  long  as  possible  away,  "for  the  house  was  always 
crammed,  and  not  even  Mr.  Garrick's  own  most  principal 
parts  had  brought  more  money.1'  Powell  had  written  to  him, 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  triumph,  an  exceedingly  modest  and 
temperate  letter,  in  which  he  acknowledged  his  obligation  to 
"his  best  friend."  Garrick's  answer  was  written  in  perfect 
sincerity.  "  The  news  of  your  great  success,"  he  wrote  to  him 
from  Paris,  "  gave  me  a  most  sensible  pleasure — the  continu- 
ance of  that  success  will  be  in  your  own  power ; "  and  then 
begs  that  he  will  give  leave  "  to  an  older  soldier "  to  hint  a 
little  advice,  which  he  will  answer  for  being  sincere,  at  least — 
"which  in  a  brother-actor  is  no  small  merit"  The  gratitude 
of  Powell  for  those  small  hints  had  attached  Garrick  to  him. 
"I  have  not  always  met  gratitude  in  a  playhouse; "  a  truth  of 
which  he  was  to  have  yet  more  convincing  experience  during 
the  next  few  years.  Then  followed  his  excellent  advice.  He 
was  afraid  that  Powell's  good-nature  to  his  brother-actors — 


1765.]  Paris. 

thus  delicately  did  he  put  it — had  driven  him  into  too  many^ 
characters,  a  little  precipitately.  However,  he  had  succeeded, 
and  now  was  the  time  to  make  sure,  by  study,  of  the  ground 
he  had  gained.  He  warned  him  against  clubs  and  flatterers. 
Should  he  ever  sink  by  idleness,  "those  friends  who  have 
made  you  idle  will  be  the  first  to  forsake  you.  .  .  .  But,  above 
all,  never  let  your  Shakspeare  be  out  of  your  hands  or  your 

ocket ;  keep  him  about  you,  as  a  charm ;  the  more  you  read   . 

im,  the  more  you  will  like  him,  and  the  better  you  will  act   V 
him.     One  thing  more,  and  then  I  will  finish  my  preaching. 
Guard  against  the  splitting  the  ears  of  the  groundlings,  wh 
are  capable  of  nothing  but  dumb  show  and  noise.     Do  no 
sacrifice  your  taste  and  feeling  to  the  applause  of  the  multi 
tude.     A  true  genius  will  convert  an  audience  to  his  manner, 
rather  than  be  converted  by  them  to  what  is  false  and  un- 
natural/'   Advice  of  inestimable  price,  and  more  valuable  than 
gold,  to  every  player,  who  should  study  and  take  it  to  hea: 

The  result  proved  his  wisdom.  The  banker's  clerk,  after 
doing  what  he  could,  did  illustrate  the  truth  that  little  gratitude 
was  to  be  found  in  a  playhouse.  Writing  to  his  friend  Colman, 
he  himself,  said  Garrick,  had  now  lost  all  taste  for  the  stage, 
and  had  grown  cold.  If  the  town  wished  for  him,  he  was  ready 
to  be  their  humble  servant  again;  though  she  was  "a  great  co- 
quette;" and  "I  want  youth,  vigorous  youth,  to  bear  up  against 
her  occasional  wpriciousness"* 

He  wrote  to  Colman  to  have  a  Paris  letter,  full  of  items  of 
news,  inserted  in  one  of  the  daily  papers,  in  which  the  trumpet 
might  be  blown  handsomely;  and  he  actually  took  the  trouble 
of  writing  a  long  letter  of  news,  in  an  assumed  character, 
to  bring  in  this  subject.  He  hinted  to  Colman  to  add  a 
line  about  himself.  It  might  be  something  in  this  key, 
he  said — "Our  little  stage  hero  looks  better  than  he  did." 
Colman  represented  the  town  and  theatre  as  longing  for  its 
Roscius.  But  he  "  overdid  it"  Garrick  was  scared.  He  was 
sure  it  would  be  set  down — and  naturally  so — to  his  inspira- 
tion. He  said — what  was  perfectly  true — that  he  had  never 
in  his  life  "praised  himself  knowingly." 

*  Here  was  the  soreness,  and  again  he  hinted  at  the  same  thing.  "  I 
find  by  a  poem  of  poor  Churchill's  that  the  town  is  very  angry  at  my  leav- 
ing them.  They  must  be  pleased  again."— FortUr  MSS.  But  Churchill's 
compliments  were  two-edged.    He  had  said,  indeed — 

"  Garrick  abroad  !  what  motives  can  engage, 
To  waste  one  couplet  on  the  barren  stage." 
But  then,  he  added,  that  men  of  real  sense — 

"  Shall  own  thee  clear,  or  pass  an  act  of  grace, 
Since  thou  has  left  a  Powell  in  thy  place." 


296  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1764— 

Very  soon  he  had  converted  French  admiration  into  the 
warmest  friendship.  Marmontel  would  sign  himself  "  the  most 
tender  and  devoted  of  his  friends,"  and  had  written  some 
charming  lines  to  him,  in  imitation  of  Churchill  The  finest 
company  in  Paris  were  invited  to  meet  him.  Naturally  Gar- 
rick  was  proud  of  such  homage  from  such  a  man,  and  sent 
home  copies  Qf  the  letter.  In  a  few  weeks,  he  was  as  much  at 
home  as  any  trained  Frenchman.  Diderot  always  wrote  to 
him  as  "  cher  et  amiable  Roscius,"  or  "  My  dear  Shakspeare." 
The  tradition  of  the  agreeable  Englishman  was  long  kept  up, 
and  many  little  stories  about  him  preserved.  One  of  his  friends 
was  De  la  Place,  who  edited  the  Mercurc;  and  one  morning  he 
found  the  editor  busy  correcting  proofs  for  a  number.  Garrick 
offered  to  help,  and,  sitting  down,  snatched  up  a  sheet.     He 

fresently  started  up  with  a  cry.  He  had  discovered  that  the 
rench  verses  he  was  correcting  were  a  translation  of  some 
lines  of  his  own.  The  editor  protested  this  could  not  be,  as 
he  had  taken  them  from  an  old  portfolio,  where  he  kept  "  odds 
and  ends,"  and  that  he  himself  had  written  them  a  dozen  or  so 
of  years  previously.  The  song  had  been  translated,  and  printed 
expressly.* 

Mrs.  Garrick  also  came  in  for  admiration  from  the  "  gallant 
nation;"  but  it  was  of  the  most  respectful  sort.  De  la  Place 
called  her  charmante  epousse,  and  considered  her  one  of  the 
most  captivating  women  in  England ;  but  adds,  with  charac- 
teristic naivete,  "though  entirely  devoted  to  her  husband." 
Gibbon's  message  to  her  is  worthy  of  being  noticed : — "  May  I 
beg  to  be  remembered  to  Mrs.  Garrick  ?  By  this  time  she  has 
probably  discovered  the  philosopher's  stone.  She  has  long  pos- 
sessed a  more  valuable  secret,  that  of  gaining  the  hearts  of  all  who 
have  the  happiness  of  knowing  her"  Sterne,  who  was  at  the 
Tuileries  gardens,  and  saw  all  their  beauties,  said  she  could 
annihilate  them  "  in  a  single  turn." 

The  list  that  could  be  made  out  of  his  friends  is  something 
wonderful    He  was  fortunate  enough  to  meet  Beaumarchais, 

*  Allowing  for  a  little  exaggeration,  we  may  accept  from  the  same  autho- 
rity another  little  social  adventure.  He  had  told  M.  De  la  Place  the  story 
of  Hogarth's  portrait  of  Fielding — the  rather  improbable  story  of  how  he 
had  sat  to  the  painter,  and  imitated  the  face  of  the  departed  humorist ; 
and  La  Place  told  it  to  a  sarcastic  Intendant,  by  whom  it  was  received  with 
incredulity.  De  la  Place  went  to  his  friend  Garrick  to  concert  a  plan.  The 
next  day,  when  the  sceptical  Intendant  was  scoffing  openly  at  the  legend,  a 
solemn  voice  came  from  behind  a  shutter,  "  Gaze  now  on  the  real  Fielding," 
and  the  amazed  Intendant  saw  before  him  a  living  head,  the  original  of  the 
portrait  he  held  in  his  hand.  The  scene,  we  are  told  by  the  editor,  finished 
by  all  sorts  of  "  compliments  and  embraces." 


1765.]    ,  Paris.  297 

who  called  iim  his  dear  M.  Garike,  and  who  paid  him  and 
Mrs.  Garike,  the  compliment  of  saying,  that  they  had  both 
assisted  him  in  his  "Barber  of  Seville;"  she  by  her  sourires 
fins,  Garrick  by  valuable  hints  for  the  management  of  the 
business.  That  of  showing  one  of  the  characters  asleep,  was 
his  suggestion.  Ducis,  the  translator,  confided  to  him  that  he 
was  busy  with  his  notorious  mangling  of  Shakspeare.  With 
some  affectation,  Garrick  declined  to  meet  the  Abb6  Le  Blanc, 
who  had  written  disparagingly  of  Shakspeare.  Greuze,  the 
most  delicate  and  airy  of  painters,  offered  to  paint  him  a 
picture,  which,  with  the  refinement  with  which  Frenchmen 
know  how  to  enhance  a  present,  was  to  reach  him  au 
moment  que  vous  y  penserez  le  mains.  Hiccoboni  called  him 
"the  dearling  of  her  heart"  Gibbon,  twelve  years  later — 
a  space  during  which  the  sparkling  flames  of  French  friend- 
ship might  have  sunk  down  into  ashes — still  heard  the  salons 
echoing  with  regrets  and  wishes  for  his  return,  and  some- 
times heard  them  exclaim,  with  the  good-natured  vanity  which 
constitutes  no  unamiable  part  of  French  character,  "  ce  Mon- 
sieur Garrick  dtoit  fait  pour  vivre  parmi  nous."  All  these  good 
Frenchmen  sing  in  the  same  key,  whether  they  write  in  their 
own  language,  or  struggle  through  comic  English,  and  invoke 
Shakspeare — or  address  their  letters  to  "  Sous-ampton-st,  a 
Londres  "—or  to  "  Ladelfi." 

The  French  stage  at  this  time  was  not  flourishing.  Most 
eyes  were  turned  to  "  the  Clairon,"  the  wonderful  actress,  a 
true  power  on  the  stage,  and  whose  waywardness,  insolence, 
and  extravagant  behaviour  off  it,  piqued  and  at  the  same  time 
amused  the  crowd.-  Like  her  friend  Garrick,  she  often  prac- 
tised the  trick  of  sudden  withdrawals  and  retirements,  with  a 
view  of  making  her  absence  felt  Though  her  figure  was  short, 
also  like  Garrick,  it  was  remarked,  that  she  appeared  of  full 
height  Her  voice  was  harsh,  but  she  had  actually  trained  her 
audience  to  admire  the  strange  " glapissements"  and  " charnel- 
house  "  mouthings  to  which  she  was  partial. 

Garrick's  friendship  with  this  actress  strengthened  every 
day.  The  year  before  Van  Loo  had  painted  her,  a  poet  had 
written  verses  upon  her,  and  both  verses  and  engraving  had 
been  published.  It  was  now  given  out  that  Mr.  Garrick,  her 
admirer,  was  having  a  medal  struck  in  her  honour ;  and,  as  of 
course,  verses  were  sent  round : — 

"  Sur  rinimi table  Clairon, 
On  va  frapper,  dit  on, 
Un  medallion,"  ftc. 

He  himself  had  to  sit  over  and  over  again.    OaxT&&T&S^£* 


298  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1764 — 


picture  of  him  was  a  happy,  and  truly  French,  idea.  He  re- 
presented the  comic  Garrick  opening  a  folding  door,  and  look- 
ing in  at  the  tragic  Garrick.  While  he  sat  for  this  portrait, 
his  behaviour  is  described  as  being  as  entertaining  as  a  play. 
He  very  soon  grew  tired  and  impatient,  and  then  amused 
himself  and  "  intrigued  "  the  painter  by  wonderful  changes  of 
countenance — passing  imperceptibly  from  sadness  to  gaiety, 
and  from  gaiety  to  the  deepest  gloom.  Other  painters  were 
often  made  the  heroes  of  this  little  scene.  Two  years  later- 
time  enough  for  him  to  have  passed  from  the  minds  of  the 
French — his  picture  was  in  all  the  windows,  pirated  from 
Keynolds's  well-known  allegorical  picture — only  by  an  amusing 
blunder,  it  was  labelled  "  I! Homme  entre  le  Vice  et  la  VertuS 
Already  Le  Moine,  the  sculptor,  was  busy  with  his  bust,  which 
was  later  regularly  "published"  in  terra  cotta  and  other 
shapes.  And  another  engraving  of  him  by  Cochin,  was  after- 
wards sent  out  These  were  certain  testimonies  of  popularity. 
Towards  the  end  of  March,  1765,  he  was  really  meditating 
his  return,  and  still  nervously  putting  questions  as  to  the  pulse 
of  the  town :  Were  they  talking  of  him — calling  out  for  him 
— or  "cool  about  their  humble  servant?"  But  the  doctors 
were  firm — loud  against  his  ever  appearing  again.  "  I  have  no 
maw  for  it,  at  all.  I  must  entreat  you  to  be  very  sincere  with 
me."  Still  something  should  be  done  to  restore  the  credit  of 
the  house.  He  felt,  too,  he  was  able  "to  play  as  well  as  ever" 
but  still  he  neither  "  could,  must,  nor  will"  All  this  shows  a 
harmless  and  pardonable  anxiety  and  restlessness.  He  was 
growing  more  troubled  about  the  accounts  of  Powell ; — whether 
he  had  a  hold  on  the  town,  to  which  he  could  not  be  indifferent 
Travellers  coming  to  Paris  reported  to  him  that  the  new 
favourite  was  "  bawling"  and  "roaring."  It  had  begun  to  flash 
upon  him  suddenly,  that  this  popularity,  combined  with  the 
fancied  indifference  to  his  own  return,  was  really  dangerous, 
The  feeling  at  last  took  such  a  curious  hold  of  him,  that  he 
took  an  injudicious  step,  and,  as  it  proved,  a  very  profitless 
one.  On  the  principle  called  the  sifflet  b,  sucdsy  well  known  to 
the  French  claque,  of  "hissing"  a  failing  singer,  who  yet 
enjoys  the  respect  of  the  audience,  and  thus  provoking  a 
reaction  in  favour,  he  had  been  busy  at  a  stupid  satire  on  him- 
self, which  he  hoped  would  at  least  cause  him  to  be  talked  of, 
and  rouse  the  dormant  sympathy  of  the  public.  This  was  a 
poor  pasquinade  upon  his  own  return,  "The  Sick  Monkey,* 
meant  to  "  intrigue  '  the  town — rouse  friends  and  enemies,  or, 
at  least,  make  him  the  subject  of  conversation.  "  Severe  upon 
myself,"  he  wrote  of  it.     It  was  a  marvellous  mystery,  out 


1765.]  PARIS.  299 

"  for  Heaven's  sake,  all  were  to  take  care  and  be  secret!"  Yet 
with  all  these  preparations,  when  the  satire  appeared,  it  ex- 
cited no  notice,  and  fell  "  still-born."  Such  is  very  often  the 
short-sightedness  of  clever  men.  Even  the  letters  home  relat- 
ing to  the  matter  were  to  be  burnt  carefully,  for  "fear  of 
wetting  the  powder  of  our  squib."  After  all  these  precautions, 
such  a  result  must  have  been  mortifying. 

It  was  now  Easter,  and  he  was  getting  more  and  more  eager 
to  be  in  London.  He  would  seem  to  have  been  quite  deter- 
mined to  resume  as  manager,  not  as  actor ;  for  Colman  had 
been  silent  as  to  what  he  thought  was  the  state  of  the  public 
pulse.  When  Mr.  Beauclerk  reported  to  him  in  Paris  that 
when  he  saw  Powell  play  last,  there  was  a  f alling-off,  we  can 
almost  detect  a  little  relief,  under  his  anxiety,  at  the  news. 
"Be  sincere  upon  that  head,"  he  writes.  "What,  all  my  chil- 
dren !  I  fear  he  has  taken  a  wrong  turn.  Have  you  advised 
him  1  Do  you  see  him  1  Is  he  grateful  ?  Is  he  modest,  or  is 
he  conceited  and  undone  1 "  After  all,  this  is  but  human 
nature. 

There  were  inducements  still  to  keep  him  in  Paris.  The 
Royal  Princes  were  heaping  him  with  honours.  His  doings 
were  of  such  interest,  that  it  went  round  that  he  was  busy 
writing  a  play  on  the  model  of  Preville's  "Frenchman  in 
London."*  But  he  did  not  wait  to  see  the  issue  of  a  strange 
scandal  in  his  own  profession,  which  broke  out  on  the  eve  of 
his  departure  from  Paris. 

A  certain  actor,  called  Dubois,  had  refused  to  pay  his 
doctor's  bill.  This  came  to  the  ears  of  Clairon,  who  roused 
all  the  comedians  to  resent  the  disgrace.  When  the  curtain 
was  about  to  rise,  the  next  night,  all  the  actors  were  in  open 
mutiny.  Mole*,  Le  Kain,  Dauberval,  and  finally  Clairon, 
refused  to  play.  There  were  shouts  heard  of  "  Clairon  to 
prison  ! "    The  police  had  to  be  called  in. 

The  haughty  Clairon  was  carried  away  to  prison,  but  went 
triumphantly  in  the  carriage  of  the  wife  of  the  Intendant  of 
Paris.  The  men  actors  soon  struck,  except  Le  Kain  and  Mole* . 
One  of  them  had  to  make  a  humiliating  apology  to  the 
audience ;  every  night  they  were  brought  from  prison  to  the 
theatre  to  play,  and  taken  back  again  after  the  performance. 
But  the  indomitable  Clairon  held  out,  as  indeed  she  well  might, 
for  her  imprisonment  was  a  triumph. 

Soon,  a  prey  to  rage  and  fretting  over  her  treatment,  she 

*  The  lively  French  diarist,  Bachnumont,  took  down  this  rumour,  on 
one  of  the  little  scrape  of  paper,  which  went  round  the  aaloru. — Mimowtx 
Stents,  toL  ii.,  p.  178. 


300  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [176 

fell  sick;  and  had  to  be  released.  She  demanded  her  congi, 
and  said  she  would  never  act  again.  She  went  from  one 
fainting  fit  to  the  other,  and  her  enemies  then  maliciously 
sent  round  to  her  that  the  great  Garrick,  now  in  London,  had 
told  "Miladi  Holland1'  that  he  preferred  the  Dumesnil's 
acting.  She  did  not  believe  the  story ;  her  bitter  letter  to 
him,  telling  her  sufferings  and  her  projects,  is  highly  charac- 
teristic. She  said  she  was  determined  to  sacrifice  "  her  ven- 
geance "  to  that  one  motive,  the  enfranchising  of  her  profession 
from  being  subject  to  this  degrading  restraint  Sooner  than 
"  give  in,  she  was  determined  to  die — to  bear  all  persecutions." 
She  inveighed  against  Mol6  and  Le  Kain,  who  had  betrayed  her. 
Le  Kain  was  under  a  load  of  obligation  to  her — a  pension  she 
had  procured  for  him — an  increase  of  salary  for  his  wife,  with 
many  more  benefits.  "Good-bye,  dear  friend,"  she  closed 
her  letter  with,  "  think  of  me  sometimes ;  make  your  dear 
wife  do  the  same ;  and  come  back  to  us  as  soon  as  you  can." 
Garrick's  reply  was  an  offer  of  five  hundred  guineas !  A 
princely  generosity.  Well  might  Voltaire  turn  to  his  satellites, 
and  ask  if  there  was  a  Marshal  or  Duke  in  all  France  who 
would  imitate  such  an  act 

Ministers  were  obliged  to  yield  in  this  unworthy  struggle. 
She  was  allowed  to  retire  to  Geneva,  where  was  Tronchin,  the 
great  doctor.  There  she  dazzled  and  charmed  Voltaire.  But 
after  this,  she  never  rallied  in  health  or  popularity.  The  public 
found  that  she  was  determined  to  try  the  device  that  her  friend 
Garrick  had  tried  with  his  public,  and  by  absence  and  co- 
quetting make  them  miss  her ;  but  she  kept  it  up  so  long  that 
they  forgot  her.  Then  came  neglect  and  mortification.  She 
offered  to  play  before  the  King  as  a  special  favour,  who  sent  her 
word  that  he  was  very  well  content  with  the  present  actresses. 
Yet  it  is  impossible  not  to  sympathise  with  her  wayward  but 
gallant  spirit,  and  her  last  letter  to  her  true  English  friend  is 
almost  pathetic,  showing  illness  and  hopelessness,  and  a  broken 
spirit* 

It  was  such  natures  as  this  that  Garrick  drew  to  him,  and 
such  natures  as  this  that  could  appreciate  him. 

Thus  had  he  established  his  name,  fame,  and  credit  in  Paris. 


•   M 


Since  April  I  have  been  daily  between  life  and  death  ;  and  the  day 
that  the  Abbe*  Bontemps  handed  me  the  gauze  which  your  aweet  wife  sent 
me,  I  was  so  bad  I  could  not  thank  him.  I  can  hardly  see,  hear,  or  move 
from  one  chair  to  another.  Death  would  be  a  thousand  times  less  pitiable 
than  my  condition.  But  my  heart  is  still  whole,  and,  filled  with  gratitude, 
loves  you  both  for  ever  and  ever,  and  tongs  but  for  one  thing  in  this  world — 
some  way  of  proving  it  to  you.  M.  CaUhava  trill  tell  you  the  rest.  I  can 
write  no  more.    Adieu  I " 


1765.1  paris.  301 

There  he  was  long  after  thought  of,  regretted,  and  respected. 
Preville,  the  comedian,  with  whom  he  had  played  droll  freaks, 
both  astonishing  the  inhabitants  of  villages  near  Paris  with  a 
surprising  imitation  of  drunkenness,  which  brought  out  Gar- 
rick's  criticism,  that  his  friend  "  was  not  drunk  enough  in  the 
legs,"  long  after  thought  of  him,  and  inquired  about  him, 
and  gave  imitations  of  him,  and  talked  fondly  over  him  at 
suppers,  with  Foote  and  others.*  Yet  from  Preville  he  later 
withdrew  his  friendship,  on  account  of  a  disgraceful  life  the 
latter  was  leading,  and  we  can  read  the  Frenchman's  contrite 
letter  announcing  reform,  and  in  warm  terms  imploring  a  re- 
newal of  the  old  intimacy  and  friendship.  A  nature  with  such 
influence  must  have  been  respected,  as  well  as  loved,  and  Gar- 
rick  might  well  look  back  to  his  stay  abroad,  to  the  roll  of 
friendships  he  had  formed,  to  the  brilliant  impressions  he 
had  left  of  himself,  as  a  delightful  memory,  honourable  alike 
to  his  character  and  to  the  profession  of  which  he  was  the 
ornament. 

But  if  he  had  made  new  friends,  he  was  to  return,  and  find 
many  gaps  in  the  old  ranks.  Though  he  followed  his  friend 
Johnson's  wise  counsel  of  "  keeping  friendships  in  repair,"  it 
was  hard  to  supply  the  place  of  a  valiant  henchman  like 
Churchill,  or  of  a  true  and  early  friend  like  Hogarth.  He  took 
infinite  pains  with  an  epitaph  for  Hogarth,  for  which  I  find 
among  his  papers  many  attempts — 

"  If  neither  charm  thee,  turn  away, 
For  Hogarth's  honest  dust  is  here.' 
"  Hogarth,  pride  of  both,  lies  here.1 

Johnson  was  consulted ;  but  he  seems  to  have  condemned  all 
in  a  blunt,  discouraging  way,  except  one  happy  expression — 
"pictured  morals"  Garrick  adopted  all  hints,  cut  away  many 
stanzas,  and  it  is  now  to  be  read  in  the  picturesque  Chiswick 
graveyard ;  the  epitaph  is  above  the  average : — 

"  Farewell,  great  painter  of  mankind, 

Who  reached  the  noblest  point  of  art — 
Whose  pictured  morals  charm  the  mind, 

And  through  the  eye  correct  the  heart. 
If  genius  fire  thee,  reader,  stay — 

If  nature  touch  thee,  drop  a  tear— 
If  neither  moves  thee,  turn  away, 

For  Hogarth's  honoured  dust  lies  here." 

*  Angelo's  Memoirs. 


ti 
it 


302  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1765— 


book:   a?HiE   seyeuth. 
THE  MAN  OF  SOCIETY. 


CHAPTER  L 

RE-APPEARANCE — "THE  CLANDESTINE  MARRIAGE." — 1765-66. 

He  was  now  in  London  once  more,  arriving,  as  the  news- 
papers gave  out,  on  the  afternoon  of  Thursday,  April  27, 1765. 
He  was  infinitely  improved  both  in  health  and  spirits,  and 
tone  of  mind ;  and  from  this  time,  if  we  can  detect  less  interest 
in  the  theatre,  and  in  plays,  he  seems  to  take  a  higher  place  in 
social  life,  and,  with  the  aid  of  his  Continental  training,  to 
assume  a  leading  part  in  all  the  coteries  and  clubs.  From  this 
date,  we  begin  to  hear  more  of  Garrick's  esprit  and  Garrick's 
wit ;  and,  indeed,  it  would  be  impossible  for  one  to  have  come 
fresh  from  D'Holbach,  and  Diderot,  and  Morellet,  without 
catching  some  of  their  pleasant  ways  and  manners.  But  he 
seemed  fixed  in  his  determination  not  to  play  again.  Some 
friends  congratulated  him  on  this  resolve,  others  tried  to  dis- 
suade him. 

He  spent  the  summer  among  his  friends ;  now  with  Mrs. 
Cibber,  at  Woodhay,  who,  with  her  parrot  and  her  dogs,  was 
eager  that  he  and  "  sweet  Mrs.  Garrick"  should  come  to  her. 
Her  health  was  very  bad,  but  she  looked  forward  to  joining 
him  at  Christmas,  and  "  entering  the  favourite  mare,  Belvi- 
dera,"  an  entry  that  was  never  to  be  made.  Burke,  too,  was 
eager  for  his  company,  promising  him  true  farmer's  fare — fowls 
from  his  ownpoultry  yard,  and  beef  of  his  own  rearing — early 
hours,  boileflbutton,  drowsy  conversation,  and  a  little  clabber 
milk. 

"  I  congratulate  my  dear  David,"  wrote  Hoadly,  "  on  coming 
to  a  resolution ;  and,  however  the  public  may  suffer,  hope  you 
will  continue  to  enjoy  the  sweets  of  retirement  with  your  sweet 
woman."  Friends,  who  knew  the  actor  better,  were  now  at 
work.  The  King,  with  whom  he  always  kept  up  a  sort  of 
relation  through  friends  about  the  Court*  was  induced  to  make 
a  most  flattering  remonstrance,  and  a  request  Mr.  Garrick 
must  not  retire.     Would  he  not  appear  again  at  his  Majesty's 


1766.]  RE-APPEARANCE.  303 

request  ?  Mr.  Garrick  could  not  refuse  his  sovereign.  But  he 
took  a  judicious  step  before  his  rentrte :  he  carefully  reviewed 
such  characters  of  his  where  Powell  had  made  a  reputation, 
and  discarded  any  in  which  he  found  himself  weak,  retaining 
only  Lusupian,  Lothario,  and  Leon.  Another  would  have  entered 
in  a  wild  competition,  and  disdained  the  notion  of  inferiority. 
Then  came  the  new  season,  and  he  once  more  opened  his 
theatre,  on  September  14th,  with  "The  Beggars'  Opera." 

As  he  looked  back,  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  to  many 
distant  nights  of  triumph  and  glitter,  on  none  could  his 
thoughts  have  rested  with  such  pleasure  as  that  14th  of 
November,  when  the  King  sat  in  the  royal  box,  and  the  house 
was  crammed  to  the  ceiling,  all  London  having  come  to  see 
their  favourite  reappear  after  his  long  absence  and  travels. 
The  tumult  of  welcome  that  greeted  him,  the  plaudits  sustained 
and  gradually  swelling  into  shouts,  then  an  unusual  form  of 
welcome,  must  have  told  him  what  a  hold  he  had  upon  their 
hearts.  He  remained  silent  for  a  time — then  advanced  and 
spoke,  with  infinite  point  and  gaiety,  some  lines  he  had  written 
to  introduce  himself.  They  are  in  that  vein  of  personality 
which,  even  when  it  has  its  own  speaker  for  an  object,  is 
scarcely  in  the  best  taste,  and  must  lessen  respect  But  the 
archness  of  his  manner,  and  roguish  play  of  feature,  carried  all 
off,  and  kept  the  audience  in  one  flow  of  merriment : — 

"I  am  told— what  flattery  to  my  heart ! — that  you 
Have  wished  to  see  me — nay,  have  pressed  it,  too. 
A  very  nine-pin,  I  my  Btage  life  through, 
Knocked  down  by  wit*t  ut  up  again  by  you. 
In  four- and- twenty  years  the  spirits  cool ; 
Is  it  not  long  enough  to  play  the  fool  ? 
To  prove  it  is,  permit  me  to  repeat, 
What  late  I  heard,  in  passing  through  the  street. 
A  youth  of  parts,  with  ladies  by  his  side, 
Thus  cock'd  his  gloss,  and  through  it  shot  my  pride— 
1  Tis  he,  by  Jove  ! — grown  quite  a  clumsy  fellow  ; 
He's  fit  for  nothing  but  a  Punchinello  ; 
O  yes,  for  comic  Becrets — Sir  John — no  further  ; 
He's  much  too  fat  for  battles,  rapes,  and  murther.' 
Worn  with  the  service,  you  my  faults  will  spare, 
And  make  allowance  for  the  wear  and  tear. 
The  Chelsea  pensioner,  who,  rich  in  scars, 
Fights  o'er  in  prattle  all  his  former  wars  :* 
Should  the  drum,  beat  to  arms,  at  first  he'll  grieve 
For  wooden  leg,  Tost  eye,  and  armless  sleeve, 
Then  cocks  his  hat,  looks  fierce,  and  swells  his  chest— 
'Tis  for  my  King  !  and,  zounds  t  I'll  do  my  best" 

*  Is  there  not  here  a  hint  of  another  pensioner,  who  "shoulders  his 
crutch,  and  showed  how  fields  were  won  "  I 


304  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1765 — 

There  is  good  spirit  in  these  lines,  and  the  "  hit "  at  the  close, 
with  the  King  himself  looking  down  from  his  box,  must  have 
awakened  enthusiasm. 

The  curtain  then  rose  on  the  first  scene,  "  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,"  with  Miss  Pope  as  Beatrice,  and,  in  a  moment,  it  was 
seen  that  there  was  not  the  least  ground  for  that  assumed  con- 
sciousness of  decay;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  perceived  that  in 
ease  and  elegance,  and  in  an  unaffected  and  natural  manner, 
he  had  gained  immensely  by  the  influence  of  French  habits  and 
French  acting;  and,  above  all,  that  he  had  now  lost  that 
rather  anxious  look  of  expectancy  and  waiting  for  applause, 
which  usually  attended  on  the  close  of  one  of  his  "  points." 
For  more  than  ten  nights — for  prologues  were  repeated  like 
plays — this  prologue  had  to  be  given. 

That  two  years'  withdrawal  had  shown  his  wisdom.  The 
spectacle  of  empty  benches,  which  had  driven  him  away,  was 
never  to  disturb  him  again ;  the  old  charm  was  restored,  and 
henceforward,  to  the  hour  of  his  retirement,  when  the  ordinary 
attraction  began  to  fade,  the  name  of  Garrick  in  the  bills  was 
the  certain  spell  to  conjure  a  crowded  house.  The  town  was 
"half  mad  to  see  him,"  Sir  George  Beaumont  told  Mr. 
Rogers ;  and  men  of  condition  would  bribe  the  attendants  to 
admit  them  privately,  before  the  doors  were  opened,  to  avoid 
the  terrific  crush.* 

During  his  absence,  the  Covent  Garden  Fund  had  been  esta- 
blished for  the  benefit  of  decayed  players.  It  was  given  out 
that  he  was  highly  indignant  at  such  a  step  being  taken,  with- 
out his  being  consulted  —  he,  the  head  of  the  profession! 
Da  vies  reports,  with  satisfaction,  that  the  players  were  glad  to 
retort  on  him,  that  they  had  made  so  many  unsuccessful  ap- 
plications to  the  management  of  Drury  Lane,  that  they  were 
now  obliged  to  depend  on  themselves.  It  docs  not  seem  very 
clear  what  the  management  of  Drury  Lane  had  to  do  with 
Covent  Garden  players;  but  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
Garrick's  good  sense  preferred  a  scheme  that  would  have 
embraced  the  whole  profession;  and  on  such  a  scheme  it 
would  have  been  decent  to  have  consulted  him.  They  were 
only  too  glad  to  pass  upon  him  this  little  slight. 

A  similar  plan  was  set  on  foot  for  Drury  Lane,  not  by  way 
of  challenge  or  rivalry,  but  deliberately;  for  it  took  many 
years  to  settle  the  details.  He  was  unwearied  in  his  exertions, 
and  played  for  its  benefit  very  regularly.     He  and  his  partner 

*  They  were  directed  to  appear  in  much  heat,  wiping  their  foreheads,  so 
as  not  to  excite  suspicion. 


1766.]  RE-APPEARANCE.  305 

gave  a  handsome  contribution  by  way  of  commencement.  He 
paid  the  cost  of  an  Act  of  Parliament.  He  presented  it  with 
some  houses  in  Drury  Lane  as  a  place  of  meeting — took  them 
back  again  for  a  handsome  sum,  when  it  was  found  that  money 
would  be  more  welcome — and  once  moro  bequeathed  them 
back  to  the  fund  by  his  will.  His  last,  long-remembered  per- 
formance was  given  for  its  benefit  His  return  to  the  profes- 
sion, to  which  he  was  not  ashamed  to  show  his  gratitude,  was 
thus  really  magnificent ;  and  it  was  computed  that  the  value 
of  his  donations  amounted  to  nearly  £5,000.* 

He  had  added  to  his  forces  two  excellent  recruits — Dodd 
and  Mrs.  Fitz-Henry ;  and  his  next  venture  was  a  revival  of 
Wycherley's  "  Plain  Dealer,"  which  was  prepared  for  the  stage 
by  Bickerstaff.  By  cutting  away  about  half,  it  was  brought 
into  some  sort  of  maimed  shape ;  though  the  humours  of  the 
Widow  Blackacre,  as  given  by  Mrs.  Clive,  carried  it  through — 
in  spite,  too,  of  the  absurdity  of  Yates,  who  had  acted  at 
Ipswich  when  Garrick  first  came  out,  then  a  youth  of  seven- 
teen. 

Mrs.  Cibber's  fond  anticipation  of  entering  "  the  mare  Belvi- 
dera  "  was  not  to  be  fulfilled.  She  had  been  playfully  rally- 
ing him  as  to  "  all  their  amours "  being  ended,  but  she  did 
not  think  the  real  end  was  so  near.  She  played  with  him, 
for  the  last  time,  as  Lady  Brute,  and  a  few  days  later,  on 
January  30, 1765,  fell  ill  and  died.  No  wonder  Garrick  said  that 
tragedy  was  now  dead  on  one  side.  A  month  earlier  another 
great  actor  had  passed  away,  and  the  stage  lost  the  last  great 
pillar  of  the  old  "  exploded  "  classical  style.  Quin,  long  since 
retired,  and  given  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  venison  and  claret, 
and  made  welcome  at  Chatsworth,  was  (in  the  favourite  his- 
trionic quotation)  "  to  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil."  They  had 
several  times  met  at  Chatsworth,  where  they  had  been  invited, 
to  use  Davies'  bombastic  language,  "  to  fill  up  the  large  cup 
of  social  happiness  which  the  noble  owner  proposed  to  enjoy,  in 
the  company  of  his  friends. "    In  the  evening,  when  they  were 

*  At  the  other  house  there  was  not  the  same  success  or  harmony.  The 
actors  would  not  trust  the  manager,  and  the  manager  in  return  refused  a 
free  benefit  to  the  fund.  The  two  funds  were  later  wisely  put  together ; 
and  their  amount  at  present  (1868)  is  about  £60,000,  which,  under 
judicious  management,  ought  to  be  a  handsome  provision  for  the  "decayed  " 
actors.  Yet  there  appear  to  be  restrictions,  which  interfere  with  the  effi- 
ciency of  administration — as  membership  for  some  years,  before  becoming 
entitled  to  the  benefit,  and  no  admission  to  the  guild  after  forty  years  of 
age.  A  fund  of  this  kind  should  be  associated  with  a  particular  establish- 
ment ;  but  as  the  great  corporations  of  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  are 
dissolved,  the  actors  can  derive  the  same  advantages  by  \*t&oiu&  \\roxn3ttA~ 


306  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1765— 

left  alone,  a  warm  inquiry  after  Mrs.  Garrick  renewed  old 
friendship,  which  intimacy  Garrick  never  allowed  to  slacken. 
From  that  date  he  was  often  to  be  found  at  Hampton,  where 
he  found  excellent  claret ;  and  was  always  chosen  for  a  visit 
to  the  cellar,  to  select  a  good  bottle  of  Burgundy.  Garrick 
had  his  picture  painted  for  his  own  collection.  When  Gar- 
rick was  down  at  Bath,  racked  with  gout  and  endless  dis- 
orders, he  set  himself  to  labouring  out  an  epitaph  for  his 
friend,  which,  it  must  be  said,  reflects  the  dullness  and  languor 
of  the  sick  room.*  These  were  now  early,  but  gentle,  re- 
minders for  Garrick. 

Yet  he  was  now  scarcely  established  at  home  when  his  old 
theatrical  worries  were  to  set  in ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  one  that  harassed  him  was  to  be  a  friend.  If  there  was 
one  who,  even  at  the  cost  of  personal  sacrifice,  was  bound  to 
give  him  peace  at  last,  Golman  was  certainly  the  man.  Garrick 
had  laid  him  under  a  hundred  obligations.  To  him  had  been 
sent  from  abroad  the  gayest  and  most  amusing  letters;  for  him 
had  been  shown  affection  in  a  hundred  little  ways. 

Before  he  quitted  England,  Garrick  had  often  talked  with 
his  friend  over  a  scheme  for  a  comedy,  a  joint  production,  the 
name  of  which  would  seem  to  have  been  settled  even  before  it 
was  written.  Upon  his  travels  Garrick  took  portions  of  it  with 
him.  His  amusements  interfered  with  business,  and  he  could 
not  lay  his  mind  to  the  task.  But  from  abroad  he  encouraged 
Colman  to  go  on. 

A  marked  character,  which  has  become  one  of  the  figures  of 
dramatic  literature — a  bit  of  true  comedy,  Lord  Oglebp — was 
originally  designed  for  Garrick  himself.  And,  indeed,  it  seemed 
that  no  one  but  Garrick  could  have  given  such  good  effect  to 
the  good-humoured  old  beau,  so  full  of  ardour  for  the  sex,  so 
checked  in  his  advances  by  sudden  twinges  of  gout  and  rheu- 
matism. Garrick,  however,  had  formed  a  resolution  of  ap- 
pearing in  no  new  character ;  and  when  the  piece  was  ready  for 
Drury  Lane,  and  Drury  Lane  for  it,  informed  Colman  that  he 
could  not  undertake  the  part.f  Nothing  was  more  character 
istic  of  Garrick's  nature  than  these  little  struggles,  of  which 

*  Plenty  of  Quin's  jests  are  to  be  found  in  the  regular  collections,  but 
the  following  are  not  so  well  known.  When  he  was  put  to  sleep  at  an  inn 
with  a  clergyman  whose  linen  was  not  very  clean,  he  said — '4  What !  are 
you  coming  to  bed  in  your  cassock,  parson  f "  Also  his  saying  to  the  turn* 
spit  who  had  shirked  his  duty,  and  obliged  his  master  to  procure  another  to 
roast  the  meat — "  Ah  !  you  must  keep  a  curate  too." 

t  It  has  been  thought  that  Garrick's  reason  for  declining  to  play  it  was 
its  likeness  to  ChaUcstone, 


1766.]  "THE  CLANDESTINE  MARRIAGE."  307 

some  very  trifling  occasion  was  the  reason.  Insensibly,  as 
pressure  was  put  on  him,  they  gradually  magnified,  and  grew 
beyond  all  proportion.  The  fact  that  others  began  to  attach 
an  undue  importance  to  them,  from  his  unexpected  opposition,  con- 
tributed to  this  odd  effect ;  and  thus,  from  constantly  turning 
over  this  question,  whether  he  should  play  Lord  Ogleby  or  not, 
it  began  to  appear  to  him  a  very  serious  one  indeed,  and  at  last 
he  finally  made  up  his  mind,  and  declined. 

Colman  was  indignant  at  this  refusal,  and  returned  to  Bath 
in  dudgeon.  He  affected  to  consider  that  Garrick  had  pledged 
himself,  and  burst  into  a  whole  catalogue  of  grievances.  Gar- 
rick was  much  hurt  When  Colman  returned,  good-natured 
friends  came  and  reported  real  or  fancied  speeches  of  Garrick, 
and  inflamed  the  breacji ;  and  some  expression  of  the  actor's, 
claiming  a  share  in  the  joint  labour,  touched  his  vanity,  and 
raised  a  controversy  which  has  been  often  debated  since,  and 
never  satisfactorily  settled. 

Offended  at  Colman's  behaviour,  Garrick  had  said,  to  a 
friend,  "  Colman  lays  great  stress  upon  his  having  written  Lord 
Ogleby  for  me.  Suppose  it  should  come  out  that  i*  wrote  it  ? " 
The  other  was  indignant,  not  so  much  at  the  claim  of  author- 
ship as  at  the  betrayal  of  their  respective  shares  in  the  work. 
When  we  read  the  play,  it  is  surely  the  image  of  Lord  Ogleby 
that  we  take  away,  and  Lord  Ogleby  is  Garrick's  work.  He  told 
his  friend,  Mr.  Cradock,  that  he  had  taken  the  idea  from  a 
humorous  old  gentleman  down  in  Norfolk,  "  It  is  true,"  wrote 
Colman,  "indeed,  that  by  your  suggestion  Hogarth's  proud 
lord  was  converted  into  Lord  Ogleby,  and  that,  as  the  play  now 
stands,  the  levee  scene  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  and  the 
whole  of  the  fifth  act,  are  yours."  A  sketch  of  Lord  Ogleby, 
but  no  more,  had  been  already  given  in  Garrick's  own  farce  of 
"  Lethe ; "  and  it  was  natural  that  Garrick  should  wish  a  cha- 
racter which  had  been  so  successful  to  have  a  wider  field.  In 
"  The  Clandestine  Marriage,"  there  is  a  good  caricature  of  a 
Swiss  valet,  who  flatters  his  lordship  skilfully,  and  says, 
"  Bravo,  bravo,  my  lor',"  at  judicious  openings ;  while  Lord 
Chdkstone  also  has  a  henchman  called  Bowman,  who  flatters 
too,  and  says  "  bravo  "  at  openings.  In  "  Lethe,"  also,  there 
are  allusions  to  the  vulgar  taste  for  ornamental  gardening — the 
serpentine  walks  and  "  capabilities  "  of  a  city-like  paradise — 
which  was  a  hit  at  "  Capability  Brown,"  the  great  ornamental 
gardener  of  his  day.  The  same  hint  is  carried  on  into  the  Cits 
character  in  "  The  Clandestine  Marriage,"  and  very  amusingly 
developed. 

Coming  to  the  mere  writing,  we  can  settle  tb&vc  &ax%&. 


308  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1765— 

They  really  divided  the  work  pretty  equally  between  them. 
Colman  wrote  the  first  act;  Garrick  the  "strong"  scene  of 
the  second  act,  and  more  than  half  the  act ;  Colman  the  third 
act,  and  a  portion  of  the  fourth ;  Garrick  the  remaining  por- 
tion, and  the  whole  of  the  fifth  act.*  In  fact,  Garrick's  share 
is  the  two  great  characters  of  the  piece,  the  humours  those 
characters  give  rise  to — the  capital  levee  seene,  the  amusing 
garden  scene,  and  the  bustling  night  adventure,  which  wound 
up  the  play  so  triumphantly;  in  short,  all  the  bright  portions. 
Colman  supplied  all  the  sober  "business" — the  steady  mecha- 
nism— which  was  to  help  forward  the  movement  of  the  piece. 
And  yet  Colman  was  not  only  prepared  to  assume  the  entire 
responsibility  of  the  whole,  but  could  have  the  effrontery  to 
give  out  "  that  he  wrote  Lord  Ogleby  for  Garrick."  On  the  other 
side,  having  taken  this  large  share  in  the  composition,  Garrick 
had  actually  arranged  that  Colman  was  to  have  the  whole 
credit  of  the  play ! — a  compliment  that  Colman  had  allowed 
himself  to  accept  with  the  salvo,  that  it  was  to  be  "a  means  of 
perpetuating  and  strengthening  the  connection  between  them." 
It  was  to  be  acted  as  Colman's,  and  it  was  only  when  revised 
and  published  in  book  shape  that  Garrick's  name  was  to 
appear.  But  when  he  heard  that  Colman  was  going  about 
abusing  him  for  not  acting  the  part)  "  he,  Colman,  had  written 
for  him"  he  was  naturally  annoyed,  and  had  then  said,  "What 
would  you  say  if  /had  written  the  part  ?"t  The  quiet  logical 
way  in  which  the  manager  disposes  of  the  angry,  peevish 
author ;  shows  him  that  he  had  been  wrong ;  then  forgives  all, 
and  sets  himself  to  bringing  out  of  the  play  in  the  best  way  he 
could ;  is  admirable.  But  Colman's  great  complaint  of  Garrick 
was  his  having  declined  to  play  in  the  comedy. 

For  Colman  "to  withdraw"  a  piece,  written  under  such 
conditions,  was  almost  ludicrous.  Yet  when  both  met  in 
"  Johnson's  parlour,"  Garrick,  having  now  heard  of  Colman's 
complaints  and  unkind  speeches  about  him  in  the  interval, 

*  He  writes  from  abroad  :  "  I  have  not  yet  written  a  word  of  the  fourth 
or  fifth  act ;  but  I  am  thinking  about  it."  When  he  had  returned,  he 
wrote  from  Hampton :  "  I  have  read  the  three  acts  of  the  comedy,  and 
think  they  will  do  special  well;  but  why  did  you  not  finish  the  first  act,  as 
you  would  have  it  ? " 

t  It  is  eminently  characteristic  of  the  character  of  both  men,  that  when 
Colman  was  in  Paris  he  gave  a  copy  of  the  play  to  Favart,  the  poet,  as  his 
own  work,  without  mentioning  Garrick's  share  ;  while  to  Madame  Ricco- 
boni,  in  the  very  same  week,  Garrick  had  modestly  described  his  share  as 
a  mere  "touch  of  the  fingers"  It  was  said  later,  that  the  leading  charac- 
ters were  taken  from  an  obscure  farce  of  Townley's,  which  was  only  acted 
one  night,  and  never  printed.    But  of  this  there  is  no  proof. 


1766.]  "THE  CLANDESTINE  MARRIAGE."  309 

took  another  tone,  told  him  plainly  that  the  comedy  must  be 
treated  entirely  as  his  own,  and  be  brought  forward  at  the 
present  season,  or  not  at  all.  "  Should  I  not  rather  accuse  you 
of  using  me  in  a  strange  manner  by  withdrawing  the  piece 
which  I  had  a  share  in,  and  upon  whose  appearance  I  reckoned  ? 
I  have  ever,"  he  wrote  admirably,  "  thought  of  you  and  loved 
you  as  a  faithful  and  affectionate  friend ;  but  surely  your  leav- 
ing London  so  abruptly,  and  leaving  complaints  of  me  behind 
you,  was  not  a  very  becoming  instance  of  your  kindness  to  me; 
and  if  I  betrayed  any  warmth  in  consequence  of  your  conduct, 
such  warmth  was,  at  least,  more  natural  and  excusable  than 
your  own.  Your  suspicions  of  my  behaving  in  a  manager-like 
manner,  before  you  went  to  Bath,  are  very  unworthy  t>f  you. 
I  never  assumed  the  consequence  of  a  manager  to  anybody  (for 
I  know  that  fools  may  be,  and  that  many  fools  have  been, 
managers),  much  less  to  one  whom — I  leave  your  heart  to  sup- 
ply the  rest."  On  an  allusion  in  Column's  letter  to  a  past 
service,  he  says,  charmingly — "Iimtld  wish,  for  both  our  sakes, 
that  no  account  courani  (as  there  ought  to  be  none  in  friendship) 
may  be  produced  on  either  side."  With  such  a  nature  it  was 
impossible  to  quarrel,  and  the  matter  was  speedily  made  up. 

When  later  Foote  met  with  his  dreadful  accident ;  Garrick, 
offering  every  service  in  his  power,  until  he  should  be  well, 
took  care  to  mention  specially,  how  his  "  friend  Colman  has 
particularly  shown  his  regard  to  you,"  in  feeling  and  lament- 
ing his  misfortune.  He  had  not  miscalculated  the  effect  of  his 
message;  for  Foote  wrote  back,  filled  with  gratitude  and 
thanks,  to  Mr.  Colman  "  for  his  friendly  feelings."  And  it  was 
this  delicate  and  considerate  kindness,  always  most  active  when 
his  friends  were  absent — this  perfect  loyalty — that  was  the 
charm  of  Garrick's  character. 

It  was  determined  that  King  should  be  the  Lord  Ogleby — for 
him  a  fortunate  choice,  for  with  his  name  the  part  has  become 
identified.  He  at  first  declined  it,  but  it  was  pressed  upon 
him,  and  ho  accepted  it.* 

On  the  20th  of  February  the  comedy  was  brought  out 
Garrick  himself  opened  the  night  with  a  prologue,  in  which  he 
alluded  to  the  recent  deaths  of  Quin  and  Mrs.  Cibber.     Then 

*  Garrick,  it  is  said,  took  the  opportunity  of  insinuating  his  own  view  of 
the  character  in  various  private  interviews,  and  finally  fixed  a  day  for  a 
rehearsal  in  his  own  parlour,  when  King  went  through  it,  but  after  a 
manner  of  his  own,  which  extorted  Garrick's  admiration  as  perfectly  origi- 
nal, and  far  better  than  any  mere  imitation  of  him.  But  Garrick  always 
regretted  the  chance  he  had  allowed  to  slip  from  him,  and  his  eyes  often, 
turned  back  wistfully  to  the  part. 


310  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1765— 

the  play  began;  The  house  was  filled  with  the  friends  of  the 
two  authors ;  and  as  there  was  a  great  masquerade  that  night 
at  the  Pantheon,  many  of  the  company  in  their  zeal  came  with 
portions  of  their  fancy  dresses  on,  under  their  coats,  and  left 
other  portions  at  neighbouring  taverns  and  coffee-houses,  to  be 
put  on  after  the  play.  Yet  danger  was  expected.  The  first 
act  passed  over  without  interruption;  but  in  the  second,  when 
the  Swiss  valet  said  there  was  nothing  in  the  papers  but  Anti- 
sejanus  and  advertisements,  a  storm  broke  out.  Anti-sejanus 
— a  well-known  clergyman,  called  Scott,  whose  employer  was 
Lord  Sandwich — was  sitting  in  the  boxes ;  and  when  some  one 
in  the  pit  jumped  up,  and  pointing  to  him,  called  out,  "  There 
he  is  !  turn  him  out !"  a  perfect  storm  arose.  The  clergyman, 
who  was  six  feet  high,  stood  up  defiantly  in  his  place,  and 
looked  down  contemptuously  at  the  crowd.  This  episode  had 
nearly  shipwrecked  the  play.  But  King's  Lord  Ogleby  put 
every  one  in  good-humour.  The  tradition  of  it  is  still  kept 
alive.  Wherever  Lord  Ogleby  has  been  played — unhappily  but 
rarely — it  is  acted  as  King  performed  it.*  There  is  a  well- 
known  masterly  picture  of  him,  at  the  Garrick  Club,  which 
represents  the  stiff,  ungainly  nobleman  with  hard,  wooden, 
heavy  cheeks,  a  languishing  ogle  in  his  old  eye,  a  wig  with  a 
comic  curl  over  his  forehead,  dressed  in  rich  finery,  and  taking 
a  pinch  of  snuff  with  an  air  of  exquisite  dandyism.  In  the 
course  of  the  play  there  was  another  rock — a  scene  between 
the  lawyers,  which  has  some  humour,  but  which  excited  mur- 
murs, from  the  same  nicety  that  caused  Goldsmith's  humorous 
bailiffs  to  be  objected  to.  Anything  like  broad,  open,  healthy 
humour  was  reckoned  "low,"  and  the  lawyers,  like  the 
bailiffs,  had  to  be  very  much  "  cut  down." 

In  the  last  act,  too,  so  many  alterations  had  been  made,  up 
to  the  very  last  moment,  that  the  players  did  not  know  what 
they  were  to  say,  or  what  to  leave  out ;  and  the  "  business  n 
became  a  mass  of  confusion.  There  was  a  deal  of  rushing  in 
and  out,  from  bed-rooms,  &c;  but  the  energetic  "Pivy"  Chve, 
who  to  the  last  was  full  of  spirits  and  animal  motion,  came 
bustling  on,  and  threw  such  life  and  vigour  into  the  scene,  that 
she  restored  the  day,  and  brought  the  piece  triumphantly 
through. 

In  his  epilogue  he  determined  to  satirize  the  new  popular 
fancy  for  English  opera,  which  had  grown  up  in  his  absence, 
and  had  taken  serious  hold  of  the  public.     Yet  a  taste  that 

#  The  late  "  Old  Farren  "  must  have  seen  King.     The  part  has  passed 
to  hia  son,  an  excellent  actor,  and  nourished  on  his  father's  traditions. 


1766.]  "THE  CLANDESTINE  MARRIAGE."  311 

brought  out  such  fresh  English  music,  and  such  truly  charac- 
teristic dramas  as  "  Love  in  a  Village,"  scarcely  deserved  such 
bantering.  Mrs.  Quaver  asks,  "Pray  do  you  know  the  author, 
Colonel  Trill?" — (here  was  Gaxrick's  old  system  of  self -depre- 
ciation once  more) — and  the  "  first  lady  "  whispers  him,  which 
makes  Lord  Minim  break  out,  "  What,  he  again !  And  dwell 
such  daring  souls  in  little  men  ? "  After  that  first  night  it  had 
a  great  success,  and  ran  for  many  nights.  * 

Kenrick  attacked  it  openly;  Hawkesworth  was  gentle  with 
it ;  and  Johnson  good-naturedly  sent  down  to  Bath,  to  Garrick, 
a  refutation  of  Kenrick's  review.  Even  Davies,  the  bookseller, 
and  friend  of  Garrick,  had  his  little  sling  ready,  and  from  a 
private  corner  abused  the  play  as  full  of  "  vulgarisms,"  which 
only  made  Garrick  smile.  Now  turned  bookseller,  the  former 
actor  had  made  his  shop  a  sort  of  rendezvous  for  all  who  dis- 
liked the  manager ;  and  there,  as  Garriek  well  knew,  were 
hatched  half  the  ill-natured  stories  about  him. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  read  this  little  history  without  seeing 
how  much  it  is  to  Garrick's  credit  in  every  part  "  If  either  of 
us,"  he  wrote  affectionately  to  Colman,  "  had  the  least  ingredi- 
ent of  some  of  the  mortal  composition  that  shall  be  nameless, 
we  might  have  lost  the  greatest  blessing  of  our  lives — at  least 
I  speak  for  one."  This  was  not  likely  to  be  a  "  half  reconcilia- 
tion." Colman  was  his  "  ever  affectionate  friend."  Colman's 
little  boy  he  and  Mrs.  Garrick  looked  after  carefully.  He 
christened  him  "  Georgy-go-jing,"  and  rode  oyer  often  to  look 
after  him,  play  with  him,  and  amuse  him.  He  was  brought 
over  to  stay  at  Hampton.  All  Colman's  concerns  were  well 
managed  during  any  absence.  It  was  Garrick's  lot  that  those 
on  whom  he  had  heaped  all  these  good  offices  should  select  him 
as  the  object  of  some  ungenerous  return ;  and  Colman  was  al- 
ready meditating  a  questionable  stroke  of  policy,  which,  if 
strictly  legitimate,  had  very  much  the  ugly  air  of  ingratitude. 
A  new  La  Rochefoucauld  could  illustrate  very  cynically,  from 
Garrick's  life,  the  folly  of  being  strictly  equitable  and  above 
worldly  resentments,  and  of  being  too  quick  to  forgive.  Such 
behaviour  is  sure  to  be  interpreted  as  weakness,  and  invites  the 
petulance  and  intimidation  of  those  who  have  something  to 
gain.  And  this  explains,  in  part  at  least,  the  exceptional  be- 
haviour of  many  of  Garrick's  so-called  "  friends,"  who,  like 

*  The  town,  as  usual,  was  to  indemnify  itself  with  a  joke,  and  made 
merry  at  the  joint  authorship.  The  "Monthly  Review  "  alluded  pointedly 
to  Tate  and  Brady,  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  and  other  noted  collabora- 
teurs,  while  newspaper  wits  rhymed  on  them  as  a  new  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher. 


312  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [17§6— 

Murphy,  grew  at  last  to  know  his  failings  by  heart,  his  dislike 
to  give  pain  by  a  blunt  refusal,  and  who  could  "wring  his  giz- 
zard," as  Murphy  was  supposed  to  have  the  power  of  doing. 


CHAPTER  IL 

COLMAN  AND  COVENT  GARDEN. — 1766-1768. 

Now  his  old  troubles  began  to  set  in.  Lacy,  perhaps  overset 
by  the  success  of  sole  management,  was  beginning  to  obstruct 
— to  take  airs,  and  claim  a  larger  share,  though  it  had  been 
stipulated  that  he  was  to  confine  himself  to  his  own  special  de- 
partment. This,  in  fact,  Garrick's  solicitors  wished  to  have  had 
inserted  in  the  deed ;  but  Garrick's  delicacy  wished  to  spare  an 
affront  to  the  vanity  of  his  partner,  who  seems  to  have  been  an 
obstinate  man,  with  a  kind  of  crooked  suspicion  in  his  mind. 
Garrick,  wearied  of  these  humours,  began  actively  to  look  out 
for  a  purchaser  for  his  share  of  the  patent,  which,  though  nomi- 
nally supposed  to  be  of  equal  value  to  his  partner's,  was  worth 
infinitely  more,  as  it  was  his  talent  that  brought  profit  to  both; 
and  when  that  was  withdrawn,  not  much  would  be  left  behind. 
It  was  some  such  reflection  that  always  acted  as  a  wholesome 
check  upon  Lacy.  Early  in  the  following  year  he  made  a  hand- 
some apology,  begged  that  things  might  go  on  on  the  old  foot- 
ing, and  gave  his  word  of  honour  that  he  would  never  object 
to  Garrick's  management,  except  in  a  private  and  friendly  way. 
This  was  his  reply  to  a  formal  memorandum  sent  by  a  solicitor. 
Garrick  at  once  forbore,  though  matters  had  gone  so  far,  with 
his  usual  graciousness.  "  I  should  have  quitted  Drury  Lane," 
he  said,  "  with  reluctance ;  and  nothing  but  being  convinced 
that  Mr.  Lacy  chose  to  part  with  me  should  have  drove  me  to 
the  step  I  was  obliged  to  take.  ...  I  am  ready  to  meet  Mr. 
Lacy  as  my  partner  and  friend,  without  having  the  least  re- 
membrance that  we  disagreed."  Thus  was  the  matter  accom- 
modated— for  a  time. 

The  foreign  tour  proved  scarcely  of  so  much  benefit  to  his 
health  as  he  anticipated ;  for  he  had  presently  to  go  to  Bath  to 
drink  the  waters.*  They  did  him  some  good,  and  made  him, 
as  he  said,  "  feel  like  a  feathered  Mercury."  He  found  strange 
company  there,  which  amused  him,  and  the  present  society  oi 
Mr.  Selwyn.  But  presently,  when  he  was  "  cent,  per  cent 
better,"  the  gout  came  back,  and  all  but  crippled  him.     Soon 

*  His  name  is  among  the  "  arrivals  "  there  in  March. 


1768.]        COLMAN  AND  COVKNT  GARDEN.  313 

after  he  found  his  way  down  to  Mistley,  to  the  social  Rigby's, 
who  managed  to  combine  a  boisterous  bonhomie  to  his  friends 
with  a  reckless  and  unscrupulous  morality  at  the  expense  of  the 
nation.  At  his  pleasant  house  there  was  always  a  welcome  for 
Garrick ;  for  not  yet  had  the  host  been  overtaken  by  evil  days, 
nor  had  a  stern  morality  come  into  fashion  which  made  him  its 
first  victim.  Rigby's  letters  are  the  most  jovial  and  friendly, 
and  the  heartiest  They  would  have,  indeed,  "jolly"  souls  at 
that  hospitable  house — making  songs  and  rhymes  to  be  chanted 
at  dinner.* 

To  Colman,  then  in  Paris,  Garrick  now  had  to  write  over  a 
great  piece  of  news  that  was  stirring  the  theatrical  world. 
The  Covent  Garden  patent  was  coming  into  the  market; 
"  Beard  and  Co."  were  going  to  sell — the  price  sixty  thousand 
pounds.  No  one  knew  the  probable  purchasers.  "  There  will 
be  the  devil  to  do ; "  but  all  was  to  be  "  mum."  Foote  also 
was  spoken  of  as  a  purchaser,  but  his  hands  were  now  full. 
Garrick  wrote  all  this  to  his  friend,  in  the  most  affectionate  of 
letters:  "I  wish  to  God  we  had  you  here;  your  letter  has 
made  me  miserable.  Let  me  beg  of  you,  for  my  sake,  not  to 
let  your  spirits  sink."  Well  might  his  spirits  sink ;  for  the 
foolish  young  man,  with  a  folly  that  seems  to  border  on  in- 
fatuation, was  fatally  incensing  General  Pulteney,  a  relation 
with  enormous  fortune,  and  who  had  warned  him  that  unless 
he  gave  up  his  stage  tastes,  and  his  connection  with  an  actress, 
he  should  forfeit  all  chance  of  succeeding  to  his  estates.  Not 
content  with  this,  he  offered  him  a  seat  in  Parliament ;  but  a 
sort  of  madness  seems  to  have  hurried  Colman  on.  Nothing 
can  be  more  generously  affectionate  than  Garrick's  letters. 
Every  scrap  of  news  is  retailed,  and  many  a  service  done,  to 
his  friend,  in  his  absence,  t 

The  important  news  of  the  sale  was  quite  true;  but  he 
little  suspected  the  effect  it  was  to  leave.  Colman  presently 
told  him  that  he  had  a  letter  from  a  person  of  fashion.  "  I  can 
^guess,"  replied  Garrick,  "  what  its  subject  was ;  it  was  to  offer 
a  share  in  the  patent."  It  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world  he 
dreamed  that  his  friend  would  think  of  entering  into  opposi- 

*  "  The  Travellers,"  wrote  Garrick,  after  one  of  these  visits,  "  send  their 
thanks  for  a  week  of  more  pleasure  than  they  have  ever  enjoyed.  They  are 
going  now  to  mortify  with  tough  mutton,  and  a  bottle  of  port."  The  old 
Duke  of  Newcastle  was  sometimes  of  the  party. 

t  He  told  him  of  Foote's  engaging  the  Barrys  for  the  Haymarket,  and 
gives  a  hint  of  Foote's  curious  temper.  He  began  to  find  out  that  the  ex- 
penses were  likely  to  be  enormous,  and  that  his  friends  were  not  enthusi- 
astic. "When  Barry  comes,"  says  Garrick,  "he'll find  Foote  very  cold. 
They  my  he  abtues  him  already" 


314  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1766— 

tion  against  him.  The  bait  was  too  tempting.  With  a  sus- 
picious eagerness  Colman  was  back  in  town  again — having,  in 
his  correspondence  with  Garrick,  quite  ignored  the  subject 
During  the  rest  of  that  year  the  negotiations  did  not  advance. 

There  was  one  night  in  October,  1766,  which  was  a  remark- 
able one.  Rousseau  had  come  to  London,  and  was  being  filed. 
Garrick  was  determined  to  do  honour  to  the  distinguished 
stranger,  and  brought  him  to  the  theatre  to  see  his  own  Lusig- 
nan,  in  a  piece  which  was  likely  to  be  the  most  familiar  to  a 
foreigner — "  Zara."  Lard  Chcdkstone  was  to  follow.  The  King 
and  Queen  came  also,  from  a  curiosity,  it  was  believed,  to  see 
the  author  of  the  "  Confessions."  Mr.  Garrick  took  charge  of 
the  guest,  and  he  was  placed  on  a  high  seat  in  the  box.  It 
was  reported  that  he  had  shown  his  relish  of  the  plays,  quite 
h  travers — laughing  at  Lusignan,  and  crying  at  Lord  ChaUcstone; 
though,  indeed,  the  last  was  scarcely  so  absurd  as  might 
appear;  for  the  spectacle  of  an  old  battered  rake  of  a  lord, 
racked  acutely  from  gout  and  gravel,  was  more  an  object  of 
pity  and  disgust  than  of  laughter.*  The  ludicrous  vanity  of 
the  man  was  the  feature  of  the  night,  and  Mrs.  Garrick  often 
told  of  her  terror,,  as  he  would  stretch  out  of  the  box  to  show 
himself  to  the  audience,  and  of  her  having  to  take  him  by  the 
coat  tail  to  save  him.  Thus,  in  its  boxes,  as  well  as  on  the 
stage,  Drury  Lane  saw  many  a  pleasant  bit  of  comedy. 

Meanwhile  Colman  had  written  a  comedy,  which  was  ready 
by  February.  It  was  called  the  "English  Merchant " — a 
piece  founded  on  Voltaire's  "  L'Ecossaise,"  which,  in  its  turn, 
had  been  founded  in  some  measure  on  the  "  Douglas  "  of  Home 
— through  such  odd  shifts  and  suits  had  a  good  play  to  pass. 
Garrick  worked  hard  for  it,  though  he  was  kept  awake  all 
night  by  violent  coughing.  The  good  air  of  Hampton,  how- 
ever, set  him  up,  and  with  his  "  warmest  affections  to  his  dear 
Coley,"  he  hoped  he  would  come  down  on  a  Wednesday,  and 
take  share  of  a  fine  haunch  of  venison  which  Mrs.  Garrick 
promised  them.  He  would  do  anything,  and  offered  an 
epilogue,  in  which  he  said,  modestly,  he  would  do  his  best,  if 
Colman  was  not  already  provided. 

But  a  change  which  he  intended  in  the  arrangements  of  his 
theatre  seems  to  have  brought  about  a  fresh  coolness.  By  the 
recent  alterations,  the  house  was  now  made  each  night  over  a 

*  The  vulgar  proverb,  "  mocking  is  catching,"  happily  applied  in  re- 
straint of  mimicking  physical  infirmities,  was  to  be  fortified  by  the  instance 
of  Foote,  who  lost  his  leg  by  an  accident ;  and  even  of  Garrick,  who  was 
later  a  martyr  to  the  two  maladies  whose  agonies  he  had  so  often  mimicked 
on  the  stage. 


1768.]        COLMAN  AND  COVKNT  GARDEN.  315 

hundred  guineas  more  valuable  in  capacity  than  it  was  before ; 
and  now  held  337  guineas  instead  of  220.  Such  increased 
receipts  of  course  brought  increased  expenses,  and  he  proposed 
to  charge  an  author,  who  took  his  benefit  night,  seventy 
guineas  for  expenses  instead  of  sixty.  He  proposed  a  judi- 
cious change  in  dealing  with  any  new  play,  always  set  down 
as  the  sole  entertainment  for  the  night.  As  the  performance 
began  at  five  and  ended  about  nine,  the  audience  were  dis- 
missed too  early;  and  as  what  required  every  aid  was  left  to 
its  own  unadorned  attractions,  Garrick  suggested  that  every 
new  piece  should  be  supported  by  a  farce  or  light  comedy.  He 
began  the  system  with  Colman's  play;  but  the  latter  was  angry, 
and  refused  to  submit  to  the  regulation.  As  a  matter  of 
course  the  manager  gave  way  to  his  friend,  whose  resentment 
was  inflamed  by  finding  that  Garrick's  plan  and  Garrick's 
advice  would  have  been  best  to  follow;  for  the  play  failed,  and 
was  thinly  attended.  But  Colman  would  not  forgive.  When, 
in  April,  Garrick  found  himself  once  more  at  Bath,  taking  the 
waters,  and  growing  "fat  as  a  hog,"  Colman  arrived  with 
a  French  friend.  They  met  coldly.  "  We  pulled  off  our  hats 
to  each  other,  but  did  not  smile."  Kind  friends  wished  hard 
to  reconcile  them — that  is,  to  abate  Column's  resentment ;  for 
with  Garrick,  of  course,  there  was  no  difficulty,  though,  he 
said,  happily  enough,  that  he  feared  it  would  be  "  only  adarnJ! 
In  June  a  sort  of  infatuation  hurried  Colman  into  tne  scheme 
of  taking  Covent  Garden  Theatre.  Powell — also  under  heavy 
obligations  to  Garrick — joined  with  him  in  the  speculation. 
Harris  and  Rutherford  were  the  two  other  partners.  The 
whole  negotiation  was  conducted  with  the  secrecy  of  a  plot; 
but  never  did  man  pay  so  heavy  a  penalty  for  gratifying 
theatrical  taste.  He  was  supposed  to  be  heir  to  the  enormous 
Bath  estates,  and  General  Pulteney,  when  he  heard  of  the 
plan,  had  fairly  warned  him  of  his  displeasure;  but,  with  what 
can  only  be  called  madness,  Colman  persevered.  Never  did 
penalty  come  so  swiftly;  within  a  few  months  the  affairs  of 
the  theatre  began  to  fall  into  disorder;  and  within  a  few 
months  also,  General  Pulteney  died,  and  left  his  vast  property 
away  from  him.  He  could  not  have  hoped  to  have  received 
the  whole  of  this  splendid  fortune;  but  it  was  always  under- 
stood that  Colman  was  in  some  shape  to  be  his  heir.  The 
foolish  youth  fancied  he  had  overcome  all  the  General's  scru- 
ples by  a  "  clever  letter,"  quoting  the  precedents  of  Sir  Richard 
Steele,  Sir  William  Davenant,  and  other  persons  of  condition, 
who  had  managed  theatres !  Clever  letters  have  never  done 
much  beyond  ministering  to  the  self-sufficiency  ot  ttafcit^wcfcttrfc. 


316  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1766— 

The  stage  has  cost  many  of  its  votaries  serious  sacrifices  of 
character,  station,  and  fortune,  but  from  none  has  this  Jugger- 
naut exacted  so  tremendous  a  penalty.  He  seems  to  have 
kept  Garrick  in  the  dark  until  all  was  nearly  concluded.  Hol- 
land, another  of  Garrick's  actors,  a  young  man  whom  he  had 
taught,  and  to  whom  he  had  been  specially  kind,  joined  in  the 
affair.  Many  were  hoping  that  with  the  new  confederacy, 
Garrick's  ruin  was  at  hand. 

Colman  often  came  to  break  the  matter  to  Garrick,  but  he 
fenced  it  off,  and  had  many  qualms  in  bringing  it  out  To 
George  Garrick,  his  own  brother,  Garrick  laid  open  his  heart, 
and  there  we  see  his  liberal  view  of  the  matter.  George 
and  Lacy  were  furious.  "  I  cannot  think,"  wrote  Garrick, 
"  that  Colman's  joining  Powell,  when  he  and  I  were  at  vari- 
ance, and  from  an  offer  of  Powell  and  his  confederates,  blame- 
able;  however,  Colman  will  act  under  my  wing  if  I  would 
have  him,  and  so  do  not  inflame  matters,  my  dear  George"  Thus 
generous  was  his  view.  It  was  with  Powell's  treachery  he  was 
disgusted;  the  latter  had  even  broken  his  articles  to  carry  out 
his  scheme.  "  He  was  a  scoundrel,"  said  Garrick,  and  Colman 
would  repent  his  connection  with  him  "in  every  vein." 
Though  some  clamour  was  raised  at  his  levying  the  thousand 
pounds — the  penalty  in  the  articles,  which  the  actor  had 
broken  with  such  cool  effrontery — it  was  surely  absurd  to 
expect  Quixotic  toleration  for  the  man  who  had  so  treated 
him.  He  could  even  admit  that  Colman,  as  stage  manager, 
was  worth  five  hundred  a  year  to  the  new  partners,  and  that 
it  would  be  worth  his  own  while  to  pay  that  sum  to  deprive 
them  of  his  services. 

This  dangerous  opposition  from  an  important  theatre,  having 
in  its  management  skill,  talent,  and  the  prestige  of  "new 
blood,"  seemed  to  augur  ill  for  the  fortunes  of  Drury  Lane. 
It  was  now  to  have  serious  losses,  both  by  death  and  deser- 
tion. The  Yates's  had  deserted,  so  had  Powell ;  Mrs.  Gibber 
was  dead ;  Mrs.  Pritchard  and  Mrs.  Clive  were  on  the  eve  of 
retiring.  Garrick  himself  was  "  worried,"  and,  perhaps,  losing 
enthusiasm  in  his  work,  too  much  harassed,  and  already  sigh- 
ing for  repose.  Yet,  such  was  the  good  fortune  that  was  to 
attend  him  in  all  concerns  to  the  very  end  of  his  life,  that  this 
precise  moment  was  to  be  the  turning-point  at  which  a  new 
tide  of  success  was  to  set  in  for  Drury  Lane. 

Now  began  to  be  heard  of,  two  rising  actresses — Miss  Pope 
and  Miss  Younge — ready  now  to  take  the  places  left  by  the  de- 
serters. Mrs.  Abington,  who  had  gone  to  Dubtin,  an  obscure 
third-rate  actress,  after  working  that  excitable  audience  into  a 


1768.]        COLMAN  AND  COVENT  GARDEN.  317 

furore  of  admiration,  had  come  back  flushed  with  triumph, 
with  all  the  cachet  of  success.  She  at  once  fell  into  the  lead- 
ing parts.  Her  style  was  matured,  her  comedy  elegant.  He 
found  yet  stronger  help  in  Barry  and  Mrs.  Dancer,  who,  after 
a  long  interval,  had  appeared  at  the  Haymarket  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  a  first  dtbfit,  and  these  he  secured  for  the  season 
at  the  liberal  salary  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  Once  more 
the  stage  of  Drury  Lane  was  to  echo  to  the  melodious  chime  of 
two  incomparable  artists.  Mrs.  Dancer,  by  playing  so  much 
with  Barry,  had  caught  many  of  his  tender  notes,  and  in  the 
round  of  characters,  Othello  and  Desdemona,  Castalio  and 
Mmimia,  began  to  draw  crowds.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
there  ever  was  such  a  pair  upon  the  English  stage.  Even  from 
the  prints — the  little  frontispieces  to  the  printed  plays,  where 
we  see  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barry  " — his  tall  figure  breathing  anger 
and  rage  and  reproach,  she  on  her  knees  at  his  feet,  pas- 
sionately pleading  in  all  the  richness  of  the  true  tragedy 
queen's  magnificence,  we  catch  a  faint  idea  of  the  tenderness 
and  interest  which  this  wonderful  couple  excited. 

The  end  of  Column's  venture  came  with  extraordinary  speed. 
Before  the  year  was  out  the  most  complete  shipwreck  over- 
took the  enterprise,  with  frantic  dissension — bailiffs  breaking 
in,  and  utter  destruction.  An  actress  was  to  be  indirectly  the 
cause.  The  whole  system  of  management  was  indeed  a  false 
one.  From  the  quantity  of  Colman's  writing  brought  out 
during  that  short  space,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suspect  that 
his  vanity  was  what  hurried  him  into  the  speculation.  He 
served  the  audience  with  a  Colman's  "King  Lear,"  newly 
adapted  and  altered,  but  which  was  not  found  as  good  as  the 
detestable  Tate ;  also  his  own  "  English  Merchant,"  his  "  Jea- 
lous Wife,"  a  comedy  called  "The  Oxonian  in  Town,"  and 
"  The  Clandestine  Marriage,"  in  which  he  had  a  share.  The 
prologue  in  the  opening  was  his  also.  Much  indeed  was  re- 
deemed by  Goldsmith's  incomparable  "Good-natured  Man," 
which  was  brought  out  on  Jan.  29,  1768.  This  fresh  bit  of 
open-air  nature  ought  to  have  stayed  the  impending  doom; 
but  the  wits  of  the  time  might  have  turned  a  rhyme  on  the 
significant  retrenchment  of  Mr.  Twitcher  and  Flannigan,  the 
two  bailiffs,  who  were  to  reappear  in  sober  earnest,  before  the 
end  of  the  season,  and  not  be  then  so  easily  retrenched. 
Goldsmith,  when  Barry  and  his  wife  were  passionately  de- 
claiming at  Drury  Lane,  had  pushed  his  way  out  of  the  Drury 
Lane  pit,  saying  aloud,  "  Brownri^g,  by  G — !" — alluding  to 
the  well-known  murderess.  For  the  doctor  was  now  ranged 
among  the  ranks  of  the  manager's  enemies,  and  made  commas 


The  whole  town  rushed  to  see  t 
the  pair  in  Lear  and  Othello,  am 
chivalrous  heroes  and  tender  hero 
in  now  and  again  with  some  of  hi 
time  Drury  Lane  flourished  unint 
to  have  the  services  of  these  gri 
inconveniences  and  worry.     Thei\ 
set  by  success ;  they  were  presen 
ing  grievances;  and  when  aggri 
tences  for  not  doing  their  duty. 
a  natural  and  decent  excuse  for  hi* 
who  had  become  Mrs.  Barry,  ws 
with  this  and  last  night's  perfor 
weak,"  and  if  the  matter  is  press 
able  of  going  through  the  business 
position,  which  affected  the  "rur 
play  of  "  Zenobia,"  drew  him  also 

The  Covent  Garden  disorder,  ii 
Macklin  was  quarrelling  about  h 
"Powell's  Sultana."  The  many-1 
tracted ;  and  through  an  inf  atuati 
Mrs.  Lessingham,*  a  fine  enterp 
Powell,  too,  a  little  later  was  cut 
putrid  fever;  Holland,  his  friend, 
and  thus  the  opposition,  that  seer 
away. 

The  season,  too,  was  remarkat 
tounding  comedy  by  a  Dublin  sU 


1768.]  DRURY  LANE.  319 

stranger  to  Garrick  at  the  time,  and  the  proceeding  seemed  a 
little  "  cool."  But  he  was  encouraged  to  go  on,  and  the  result 
was  the  highly  successful  comedy  of  "False  Delicacy,"  which 
had  a  surprising  "  run,"  and  was  one  of  the  genuine  successes 
of  Garrick's  era.* 

The  success  of  this  fade  composition  is  one  of  the  mysteries 
of  the  stage.  It  was  of  course  given  out  that  the  piece  was 
elaborately  prepared  by  Garrick  to  gratify  his  spleen,  and 
damage  the  success  of  Goldsmith's  play.  But  it  had  long  been 
in  Garrick's  hands,  and  a  promise  had  been  given.  More 
reasonable  seemed  the  complaint,  that  it  had  been  fixed  for  the 
week  of  the  doctor's  comedy;  but  the  manager  felt  he  was  not 
bound  to  go  out  of  his  way  to  serve  the  man  who  only  a  few 
weeks  before,  had  come  into  his  pit  to  ridicule  a  new  tragedy, 
and  make  a  disturbance.  But  later,  we  shall  see  more  fully 
what  were  the  relations  of  the  great  actor  with  that  great  poet 
and  dramatist. 


CHAPTER  IH 

DRURY  LANE — GARRICK  IN  SOCIETY. — 1768-69. 

At  the  end  of  the  season  the  King  of  Denmark  had  come  to 
London,  having  exhausted  all  the  attractions  of  Paris.  Having 
seen  many  of  the  established  London  shows,  he  expressed  a 
wish  to  see  the  wonderful  actor ;  and  a  company  was  hastily 

fot  together,  to  play  "  The  Suspicious  Husband,"  and  "  The 
'rovoked  Wife."t     He  was  also  diverted  with  an  English  farce 
— the  humours  of  "Mungo" — and  allowed  the  piece  to  be 

*  I  refer  readers  to  Mr.  Forster's  humorous  description  of  the  comedy 
in  his  Life  of  Goldsmith.  The  play  was  so  successful,  and  Garrick  said  so 
much  of  it,  that  Lord  Pembroke  was  eager  to  be  back  from  Paris  to  see  it, 
though  he  said,  with  true  aristocratic  pride,  that  he  could  expect  very 
little  from  such  a  name  as  "  Kelly,"  especially  if  there  be  an  "0  "  before 
it.  Some  wonderful  things,  however,  both  in  politics  and  in  the  drama, 
have  been  done  by  men  with  this  objectionable  "  0  "  before  their  names. 

f  Sir  John  Hawkins  is  amusing  on  this.  He  says  that  Garrick  "  received 
an  order  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain  "  to  entertain  his  Majesty  by  an  ex- 
hibition of  himself  "  in  six  characters."  "  On  his  way  to  London,"  goes  on 
the  Knight,  "  he  called  on  me,  and  told  me  this  as  news.  I  could  plainly 
discern  in  his  looks,  the  joy  that  transported  him ;  but  lie  affected  to  be 
vexed  at  the  shortness  of  the  notice,  and  seemed  to  arraign  the  wisdom  of 
their  councils  by  exclaiming,  "You  see  what  heads  they  have!"  The 
truth  was,  Garrick  was  seriously  embarrassed,  for  his  performers  were  all 
scattered,  and  with  difficulty  he  secured  Miss  Bellamy  and  Woodward. 
Tet  Sir  John's  picture  of  Garrick's  little  affectation  is  not  overdramxu 


320  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1768 — 

dedicated  to  him.  That  strange  prince,  whose  tour  through 
London  and  Paris  was  one  whirl  of  masquerading  and  shows, 
was  pleased  with  the  great  player,  and  there  is  still  in  the 
family,  the  handsome  snuff-box  with  a  portrait,  set  in  jewels, 
on  the  lid,  a  present  from  the  King.  But  during  these  triumphs 
he  was  to  hear  of  the  death  of  the  old  partner  of  his  triumphs — 
the  unique  Lady  Macbeth — the  incomparable  Pritchard.  Prom 
the  strange,  rough  Gainsborough  came  the  news :  "  Poor  Mrs. 
Pritchard  died  here  " — at  Bath — "  on  Saturday  night,  at  eleven 
o'clock:  so  now  her  performance  being  no  longer  present  to 
them,  who  must  see  and  hear  before  they  can  believe,  you  will 
know,  my  dear  sir — but  I  beg  pardon,  I  forgot — Time  puts  all 
in  his  fob,  as  I  do  my  timekeeper — watch  that,  my  dear — "* 

Another  death  was  that  of  Palmer,  but  forty  years  old,  a 
true  and  airy  comedian,  with  an  agreeable  figure  and  person, 
and  a  pleasant  coxcombry  in  his  manner  even  off  the  stage, 
which  would  have  pleased  Elia,  as  "  highly  artificial.*  No 
more  would  he  now  "  top  the  jaunty  part."  The  old  line  were 
dropping  away  slowly. 

By  this  time  the  fitful  Arthur  Murphy  thought  there  had 
been  a  "  cool "  of  sufficient  length  between  him  and  Mr.  Gar- 
rick.  That  friendly  Irishman,  Bickerstaff,  volunteered  the 
office  of  mediator.  Garrick  had  been  talking  with  him,  and 
Murphy's  name  being  mentioned,  spoke  with  eager  warmth 
and  kindness,  which  Bickerstaff  at  once  reported.  He  told 
Garrick  that  Murphy  felt  these  expressions  deeply,  and  only 
wished  for  a  handsome  opportunity  of  putting  an  end  to  all 
their  little  quarrels,  and  proposed  that  they  should  meet  some 
night  at  his  "  hovel  "  in  Somerset  Place,  and  have  a  little  even- 
ing together  with  Samuel  Johnson.  Garrick's  answer  is  frank 
and  generous.  "  You  are  a  good  Christian,"  he  wrote.  "  I 
shall  with  the  greatest  pleasure  meet  the  company  you  men- 
tion at  your  house.  As  I  am  almost  upon  my  theatrical  death- 
bed, I  wish  to  die  in  charity  and  goodwill  with  all  men  of 
merit,  and  with  none  more  so — as  he  wishes  it  too — than  with 
Mr.  Murphy. — P.S.  Pray  let  us  meet  as  if  we  had  never 
thought  unkindly  of  each  other." 

But  in  the  next  month  Garrick  was  to  pay  the  usual  penalty 
for  Mr.  Murphy's  "friendship."  The  latter's  sensitiveness 
began  to  be  disturbed  about  a  loan  of  £100  from  Garrick,  the 
only  security  for  which  was  the  profit  of  some  play  to  be  written 
in  future.     Garrick  was  not  able  to  bring  out  the  new  play, 

*  He  signs  himself — "  Who  am  I  but  the  same,  think  you  ? — T.  Q." 
("  Impudent  scoundrel,"  adds  Mr.  Garrick.) 


1769.]  DRURT  LANK.  321 

"  Zenobia,"  that  season,  and  sent  it  back  to  the  author  for  safe 
custody,  possible  alteration,  &c.  This  Murphy  resented.  He 
did  not  like  the  air  of  putting  his  plays  in  pawn,  as  it  were — 
"which  is  to  work  itself  clear,  the  Lord  knows  when.  This  is 
the  old  trait  of  business,  and  I  much  wish  to  avoid  it"  "  What 
a  pity!"  replied  Garrick,  with  infinite  temper,  "that  your 
natural  good-humour  and  good  sense  will  now  and  then  fail, 
when  you  are  to  judge  of  me ! "  He  then  shows  h<5w  mistaken  he 
was :  "  I  think  it  a  very  small  favour  to  lend  money  to  a  friend; 
and  to  lend  it  with  his  silver  spoons  in  my  drawer,  seems  to 
me  the  very  spirit  of  pawnbroking,  without  the  three  blue  balls. 
You  are  acquainted  with  no  man  who  would  have  more  pleasure 
in  serving  you  in  every  manner  he  could,  than  myself."  With 
all  this,  Garrick  strained  a  point,  and  the  play  was  actually 
fixed  for  the  first  month  of  the  next  year,  with  a  day  for  read- 
ing. But  Mr.  Murphy  was  "sensitive"  stilL  He  did  not  care 
about  it.  And  Lacy  had  again  begun  to  thwart  him,  and  to 
disregard  the  articles  of  their  late  reconciliation.  He  now 
affected  to  be  offended  with  George  Garrick,  and  spoke  of  him 
injuriously.  Garrick  himself  was  weary  of  this  petty  warfare. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  end  his  theatrical  life  then — 
"  Fate,  and  Mr.  Lacy,  who  alone  seems  insensible  of  my  ser- 
vices, will  drive  me  away,  and  they  shall  have  their  ends  .  .  . 
therefore  I  shall  immediately  prepare  for  my  brother's  retreat, 
and  will  most  assuredly  follow  him.  I  will  have  no  more 
altercations  with  Mr.  Lacy.  I  now  see  the  depth  of  his  good- 
will to  me  and  mine,  and  shall  act  accordingly."  There  is  dis- 
gust and  weariness  in  this  complaint,  and  it  would  seem  almost 
a  fixed  resolution.  As  usual,  excuses  were  made,  promises  of 
amendment  given;  his  easy  nature  overlooked  all  that  had 
happened,  and  was  content  to  go  on  as  before. 

For  the  new  season,  he  employed  Bickerstaff  to  alter  Cibber's 
old  political  comedy  of  "  The  Nonjuror,"  which  had  done  good 
service  as  a  political  drama.  In  the  new  hands  it  became 
"  The  Hypocrite,"  and  it  is  impossible  too  highly  to  praise  the 
tact  and  power  with  which  the  adaptation  was  made.  New 
characters  from  Moliere  were  put  in,  and  the  local  and  ephe- 
meral air  of  the  whole  removed.  This,  indeed,  is  a  depart- 
ment no  less  important  than  that  of  play-writing  itself;  and 
by  such  judicious  treatment,  many  fine  pieces  of  humour,  sup- 
posed to  be  old-fashioned  because  belonging  to  an  old  era, 
can  be  made  acceptable  and  delightful  to  a  modern  audience. 
The  art  lies  in  the  adapter,  generally  a  man  of  true  humour, 
putting  himself  in  the  place  of  the  author,  and  fancying  how 
he  would  alter;  and  also,  in  a  nice  discrimination  oi  V&ak 


322  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1768— 

is  the  essence  of  the  piece,  and  what  the  mere  trimmings 
and  accessories.  No  one  had  a  nicer  touch  than  Garrick,  and 
he  succeeded  in  imparting  the  same  instincts  to  his  lieutenants 
and  deputies — reverential  yet  bold,  firm  yet  versatile.  We 
indeed  revive  an  old  piece  now  and  again,  like  Foote's  "  Liar;1' 
but  as  all  that  is  attempted  is  compression,  the  piece  suffers 
from  such  violent  handling,  and  becomes  abrupt. 

"  The  Hypocrite  w  was  acted  delightfully,  Abington  excelling 
herself  in  the  Coquette  of  the  piece,  and  Weston  for  ever  asso- 
ciating his  name  with  Mawworm.  "  Zingis,"  an  Indian  Colonel 
Dow's  Tartar  play,  was  an  alterative,  and  a  sign  of  Garrick 
hankering  after  his  old  love — the  "  Tig  and  Tiry  "  solemnities. 
Home's  dreary  bit  of  "  Ossian,"  "  The  Fatal  Discovery,"  and 
the  persecuting  Mrs.  Griffith's  "  School  for  Rakes/'  with  Clive 
and  the  charming  Baddeley — these  were  the  features  of  the 
season. 

Then  again  comes  another  retirement — each  year  now  seems 
to  be  marked  by  one  of  these  fatal  desertions.  Clive,  in  the 
prime  of  her  powers — though  she  spoke  of  herself  as  an  "  old 
woman  " — the  best  soubrette  the  English  stage  has  ever  seen, 
inexhaustible  in  spirit,  vivacity,  and  variety,  still  delighting, 
still  "  drawing,"  had  determined,  with  a  true  dignity  and  self- 
restraint,  to  abstain  in  time.  She  was  the  true  stage  romp- 
had  much  of  the  spirit  of  Woffington  in  her ;  and  though  she 
often  did  battle  with  Garrick,  and  he  rather  shrank  from  en- 
counters with  her,  there  was  no  bitterness  under  that  opposi- 
tion— nothing  like  that  of  "  that  worst  of  bad  women,  Mrs. 
Abington."  When  she  was  making  her  last  curtsey,  she  got 
him  to  play  with  her  in  "The  Wonder,"  and  her  grateful 
letter  characteristically,  like  all  the  Clive  letters,*  shows  that 
when  the  accounts  come  to  be  closed  in  a  long  friendship,  true 
regard  may  underlie  much  apparent  bickering.  "I  am  ex- 
tremely obliged,"  she  wrote,  in  November,  1768,  "for  your 
very  polite  letter;  how  charming  you  can  be  when  you  are  good/ 
....  I  shall  certainly  make  use  of  the  favour  you  offer  me ; 
it  gives  me  a  double  pleasure — the  entertainment  my  friends 
will  receive  from  your  performance,  and  the  being  convinced 
that  you  have  a  sort  of  sneaking  kindness  for  your  JPtYy.  i"  sup- 
pose I  shall  have  you  tapping  me  on  the  slioxdder,  as  you  do  to 
Fiolante,  when  I  bid  you  farewell,  and  desiring  one  tender  look  before 
we  part;  though,  perhaps,  you  may  recollect,  and  toss  the  pancake 

*  In  the  Forster  Collection  are  many  of  these  letters,  with  their  sprightly 
style  and  diverting  spelling,  most  entertaining.  These  I  have  used  in  a  re- 
cently published  "  life  of  Mrs.  dive,"  one  of  Mr.  Reader's  useful  series  of 
dramatic  memoirs. 


1769.]  GARRICK  IN  SOCIETY.  328 

into  the  cinders.  You  see  I  never  forget  any  of  your  good  things." 
Players  then  knew  how  to  write  as  well  as  to  act.  On  the 
24th  of  April,  1769,  this  performance  took  place;  and  Gar- 
rick's  "fine  Lady"  spoke  an  epilogue,  which  her  neighbour, 
Walpole,  graciously  wrote  for  her.  She  carried  away  with 
her  a  long  stretch  of  memory,  as  she  recalled  the  old  triumphs 
— could  roam  back  from  the  last  night  she  played  with  the 
great  Garrick,  to  the  Booth  at  "Bartlemy  Pair."  A  month 
later  Havard,  another  of  the  Old  Guard,  dropped  away — the 
lines  of  Drury  Lane,  both  officers  and  soldiers,  were  thinning 
fast.  These  gaps  of  the  old  ranks  were  hard  to  fill;  the 
new  actors  were  not  of  the  same  material ;  the  high  salaries 
and  the  competition  were  beginning  to  tell ;  or,  perhaps,  as  in 
the  case  of  religions  or  churches,  adversity  is  the  healthiest 
discipline  for  a  theatre. 

He  was  already  repenting  that  he  had  not  adhered  to  the 
resolution  he  had  brought  back  with  him  from  abroad.  From 
this  time  also  he  had  begun  to  taste  in  a  far  greater  degree  the 
pleasures  of  social  life,  the  visits  to  great  houses  became  more 
frequent,  his  enjoyment  of  club  life,  and  the  company  of  men 
like  Reynolds  and  Goldsmith,  more  keen.  His  French  train- 
ing recommended  him  even  more.  To  such  entertainment  the 
duties  of  the  playhouse  were  a  serious  impediment.  Indeed, 
it  would  seem  one  of  the  hardest  incidents  in  the  player's  lot, 
that  he  is*  cut  off  from  the  time  of  the  day  most  seasonable  for 
enjoyment;  that  when  others  relax,  his  labour  begins.*  To 
keep  his  connections  in  "  the  City,"  he  was  careful  to  show 
himself  several  times  during  the  winter  at  Toms'  Coffee-house 
in  Cornhill,  which  the  younger  merchants  frequented  about 
^Change  time ;  and  was  very  often  found  at  a  club,  which  had 
been  established  expressly  for  the  sake  of  his  company,  at  the 
Queen's  Arms  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  where  he  met  his 
friends — Patterson,  the  City  Solicitor ;  Sharpe,  the  surgeon  ; 
Clutterbuck,  Draper,  and  other  steady  business  men,  of  sound 
sense — whom  he  consulted  in  every  difficulty,  and  who  were  of 
infinite  use  to  him  with  their  advice.  He  used  to  be  seen  also 
at  the  Doctors'  Club — Batson's — where  he  had  many  friends, 
among  whom  was  a  Dr.  Wilson,  who,  in  his  old  age,  became 
an  admirer  of  Garrick's  playing,  scarcely  ever  missed  a  per- 
formance, and  had  a  special  seat  of  his  own  in  the  pit     This 

*  For  him  the  pleasant  meal,  the  curtains  drawn  close,  the  glowing  fire, 
the  little  table,  which  so  gratefully  crown  the  day's  labours,  is  an  unknown 
pleasure.  He  is  condemned  to  the  early  dinner — half  lunch,  with  the  sun 
ahining,  at  best  a  cold  demi-jour  accompaniment,  so  odious  to  that  fine 
dramatic  critic,  Elia. 


324  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1768— 

character  was  always  found  at  the  coffee-house  surrounded  by 
a  party,  for  he  was  a  good  talker,  and  his  theme  was  usually 
the  praises  of  his  favourite.  It  was  scarcely  surprising  that 
Mr.  Garrick  should  have  been  very  attentive  to  this  admirer. 
It  is  impossible  not  to  commend  this  unwearied  assiduity  with 
which  he  watched  and  cultivated  that  tender  and  delicate 
plant,  the  favour  of  the  public.  We  might,  like  Hawkins,  call 
them  "little  innocent  arts;"  and  it  should  be  remembered, 
that  he  had  been  already  scared  by  a  loss  of  popularity,  and 
that,  after  all,  where  such  extravagant  favour  is  bestowed, 
decency  and  a  grateful  appreciation  will  lose  nothing  to  keep 
such  favour  alive. 

He  was  a  welcome  companion  at  other  pleasant  meetings ; 
as  indeed  must  have  been  "  the  first  man  in  the  world  for 
sprightly  conversation."  Boswell's  gay  scenes,  the  nights  at 
Sir  Joshua's  and  Mr.  Dilly's,  are  too  familiar  to  all  to  be  re- 
peated again;  and  they  show  the  actor  in  a  very  pleasant 
light,  rallying  Goldsmith  on  the  new  coat :  "  Come,  come,  talk 
no  more  of  that ;  you  are  not  the  worst,  eh,  eh  1 "  Or  "  fondly 
playing  "  round  Johnson,  "  the  sage,"  as  Boswell  calls  him,  in- 
dulgently. Garrick's  talk  is  as  agreeable  as  any  of  the  others'; 
and  though  his  friend  Colman  held  up  some  of  his  tricks — his 
never  going  into  society  "  without  laying  a  trap  to  get  away," 
his  going  off  in  a  shower  of  sparks,  caused  by  some  good  story 
of  his,  and  his  stealing  glances  to  see  how  the  "  Duke's  butler" 
was  affected  at  the  dinner  party — still  there  is  a  distinction 
between  the  really  social  Garrick  and  the  great  actor  and 
manager,  en  evidence,  as  it  were,  and  feeling  himself  "  a  lion " 
at  great  houses,  watched,  and  admired,  and  expected  to  keep 
to  his  reputation.  Every  man  of  note  must  wear  these  two 
different  dresses.  Sir  Joshua  said  the  reason  Garrick  con- 
tinued on  the  stage  so  long,  and  took  such  pains  with  his  pro- 
fession, was  to  retain  his  influence  with  important  friends  and 
distinguished  persons,  whose  nature  he  knew  well  enough, 
to  guess  that,  if  he  once  lost  his  own  consideration  with  the 
public,  he  should  find  himself  deserted.  The  whole  of  Gar- 
rick's character  and  lifeindeed  reveals  to  us  a  new  philosophy; 
$ov  the  common  tendency  ot  tEe^mere  vulgar  player  would  be 
to  "sink"  the  profession — ostrich-like,  liiae  itjjn  the  saricP^ 
forgetting  that  in  the  company  of"£hose  who  patr^yy zftjnm^  h6 
is ^sought  ani^teemedfor  his  genius  in  his  profession.  ¥et" 
no  manTad  such  dTmcultie^tcroVercome.  The"  Very  Witting  of 
a  player  was  then  a  serious  obstacle.  "Sir,"  said  Johnson, 
when  he,  for  once,  did  justice  to  his  old  schoolfellow,  "(Jar- 
rick  did  not  find,  but  made,  his  way  to  the  tables,  levees,  and 


1769.]  GARRICK  IN  SOCIETY.  325 

almost  to  the  bedchambers  of  the  great."  The  smallest  witling 
seemed  to  take  airs  on  the  strength  of  this  superiority,  and 
Garrick  seems  to  have  felt  all  through  that  whenever  he  had 
an  advantage  some  such  hint  might  be  insinuated  to  "  bring 
him  down."  Many  found  a  delight  in  praising  other  actors 
before  him,  with  a  sham  admiration,  "to  see  how  he  would 
bear  it"  His  "  envy  "  was  then  said  to  break  out ;  he  became 
miserable.  Yet  this  was  only  "  uneasiness,"  at  the  best,  per- 
haps discomfort,  at  seeing  the  motive  that  prompted  this 
praise.  He  was  "  uneasy  "  when  he  heard  of  a  rival,  and  what 
player  is  not — especially  when  he  knew  that  rival  was 
inferior  ?  * 

He  had  many  little  arts  to  make  himself  agreeable :  his 
verses — his  epigrams  for  the  ladies — his  charades — his  good 
things.  He  had  a  sort  of  passion  for  writing  trifles  known  as 
vers  de  socidtd,  and  celebrated  every  suitable  occasion  with  some 
little  light  tribute  of  gallantry  or  compliment.  To  be  able  to 
"  turn  a  verse "  of  some  kind  was  necessary  to  the  reputa- 
tion of  "an  ingenious  young  gentleman;"  and  looking 
over  Dodsley's  curious  six-volume  collection  of  "occasional 
poems,  we  are  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  spirit,  neatness, 
and  gaiety— if  not  wit— which  lords,  and  marquesses,  and 

*  Henderson  used  to  give  an  admirable  representation  of  this  harmless 
nervousness,  in  a  dialogue  between  Garrick  and  an  Irish  nobleman,  who 
was  praising  Moasop.     Garrick's  depreciation  is  very  gentle : — 

Nobleman. — Now,  Mr.  Garrick,  Mossop's  voice  ?  What  a  fine  voice — so 
clear,  full,  and  sublime  for  tragedy ! 

Garrick. — O  yes,  my  lord ;  Mossop's  voice  is  indeed  very  good — and  full 
— and — and —  But,  my  lord,  don't  you  think  that  sometimes  he  is  rather 
too  loud  ? 

Nobleman. — Loud !  Very  true,  Mr.  Garrick,  too  loud.  When  we  were 
In  college  together  he  used  to  plague  us  with  a  spout,  a  rant,  and  a  bellow ! 
Why,  we  used  to  call  him  Mossop  the  Bull/  But  then,  Mr.  Garrick,  you 
know  his  step !  so  very  firm — treads  the  boards  so  charmingly. 

Garrick. — True,  my  lord.  Tou  have  hit  his  manner  very  well  indeed — 
very  charming!  But  do  you  not  think  his  step  is  sometimes  rather  too 
firm  ?    Somewhat  of  a — a  stamp :  I  mean  a  gentle  stamp,  my  lord? 

Nobleman. — Gentle — not  at  all.  At  college  we  called  him  Mossop  the 
Paviour.    But  his  action — his  action  is  so  very  impressive ! 

Garrick. — Yes,  my  lord,  I  grant  indeed  his  action  is  very  fine — fine — 
very  fine.  He  acted  with  me  originally  in  Barbarossa,  when  I  was  the 
Aehmet :  and  his  action  was — a — a — to  be  sure,  Barbarossa  is  a  great  tyrant 
—  but  then  Mossop,  striking  his  left  hand  on  his  hip  a-kimbo,  and  his  right 
hand  stretching  out  thus !  Tou  will  admit  that  sort  of  action  was  not  so 
very  graceful  f 

Nobleman. — Graceful ;  no.  Why,  at  college  we  used  to  call  him  Mossop 
the  Teapot. 

This  of  course  is  exaggerated,  for  effect  O'Keefe  often  saw  Hendenoo. 
give  it,  and  it  is  certainly  amusing. 


326  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1768— 

baronets,  and  men  about  town  could  throw  into  these  perform- 
ances.* 

Garrick's  have  all  the  air  of  being  "  dashed  off."  It  is  sur- 
prising the  quantity  of  these  little  jeux  d}  esprit  he  poured  out 
in  the  course  of  his  life ;  and  it  would  almost  seem  that  no 
little  incident  that  could  occur  at  a  country  house,  where  he 
was  the  centre  of  all  the  gaiety,  but  was  duly  sung  and  cele- 
brated in  Mr.  Garrick's  agreeable  rhymes.  Did  a  lady  lose  her 
slipper  or  stumble  over  a  footstool,  she  was  sure  to  find  on  her 
dressing  table  in  the  morning,  "Lines  on  the  Duchess  of 

D losing  her  slipper,"  or,  "  On  Lady  S r's  stumbling." 

We  can  almost  trace  his  whole  social  career;  following  mm 
from  house  to  house  by  these  agreeable  trifles.  They  help  us 
also  to  all  his  little  social  mortifications,  reveal  his  wounded  vani- 
ties— weaknesses  which  he  wore  upon  his  sleeve — and  which  he 
had  not  trained  himself  like  other  men  to  conceal.  Four  lines 
were  sent  to  Angelica  Kaufman,  to  whom  he  was  sitting: — 

"  While  thus  you  paint  with  ease  and  grace, 
And  spirit  ail  your  own, 
Take,  if  you  please,  my  mind  and  face, 
But  let  my  heart  atone.'* f 

This  is  charming.  He  calls  on  her  Grace  of  Devonshire,  at 
noon,  is  shown  into  the  breakfast-room,  to  find  that  she  has 
not  as  yet  risen.  He  goes  away,  leaving  a  scrap  of  paper  on 
the  table,  with  these  lines: — 

"  PAST  ONE  O'CLOCK,  AND  A  CLOUDY  MORNING. 

"  What  makes  thy  looks  so  fair  and  bright, 

Divine  Aurora,  say? 
'  Because  from  slumber  short  and  light, 

I  rise  to  wake  the  day ! ' 
0  hide  for  shame,  thy  blushing  face, 

'Tis  all  poetic  fiction ! 
To  tales  like  these  see  Devon's  face 
A  blooming  contradiction  ! " 

The  Old  Watchman  of  PiecadSly. 

*  At  Bath  Eastern  there  was  Lady  Miller's  "  vase  "  in  the  pump-room 
for  the  reception  of  livelier  verses  and  satires.  Some  of  these  were  smart 
and  happy,  and  were  even  collected  and  published.  A  prize  was  some- 
times offered,  and  a  subject  proposed.  Once  "  Charity  "  was  given,  and 
Mr.  Garrick,  a  regular  visitor,  slipped  in  three  lines : 

THE  VASE  SPEAKS. 

u  For  Heaven's  Bake,  bestow  on  me 
A  little  wit,  for  that  would  be 
Indeed  an  act  of  charity." 
These  did  not  receive  the  prize ;  and  as  he  wrote  indignantly  on,  his 
verses  "  were  treated  with  great  contempt,  while  Reverend  Tawdry  was  re- 
warded."—Hill  MSS. 
t  Hill  MSS. 


1769.]  GARRICK  IN  SOCIETY.  327 

Nor  did  he  keep  these  tributes  for  effect,  or  for  fashionable 
friends.  They  were  part  of  the  homage  paid  for  so  many 
years  and  so  steadily,  to  the  wife  he  loved  and  honoured.  As 
her  birthday,  or  some  little  festival  of  hers,  came  round,  the 
copy  of  verses,  as  tender  and  devoted,  found  their  way  to  her 
table,  accompanied  by  a  more  substantial  souvenir.  A  little 
scrap  which  has  been  preserved,  helps  us  to  know  one  of  their 
little  quarrels.  It  is  called  "David  and  Mary,  or  the  Old  Cart," 
and  describes  rather  comically  the  falling  out  and  reconcilia- 
tion which  took  place  on  David's  purchase  of  this  vehicle : — 

"  But  one  luckless  day,  in  his  folly  of  heart, 
Poor  David  was  prompted  to  buy  an  old  cart ; 
At  a  thing  so  uncommon,  soft  Mary  took  fire, 
Untied  David's  tongue,  and  he  wagged  it  in  ire."* 

His  complaint  to  Mrs.  Bouverie,  written  only  a  short  time 
before  his  death,  is  very  lively.  He  threatens  "  The  Bankrupt 
Beauty  "  with  legal  process  for  her  neglect  of  him : — 

"  Four  smiles  a  year,  fair  Bouverie 
Agreed  to  pay  me  quarterly ; 
And  though  one  smile  would  make  me  blest, 
She  will  not  pay — though  warmly  prest — 
Nor  principal,  nor  interest. 
***** 
111  file  my  bill  in  Chancery. 
Her  eyea,  her  cheeks,  her  lips,  her  nose, 
Mortgaged  to  me — /  ivitt  foreclose."  f 

There  is  one  "  riddle "  of  the  more  formal  pattern,  which, 
though  printed,  is  scarcely  known,  and  certainly  deserves  the 
foremost  rank  among  such  productions.  It  has  also  a  witti- 
ne8s  of  its  own,  in  misleading  the  reader  or  guesser,  by  artfully 
suggesting  the  more  "  namby-namby "  associations  of  hearts 
and  "flames": — 

"  Kitty,  a  fair  but  frozen  maid, 

Kindled  a  flame  I  still  deplore. 
The  hood-winked  boy  I  called  in  aid, 
Much  of  his  near  approach  afraid, 

So  fatal  to  my  suit  before. 

At  length,  propitious  to  my  prayer, 

The  little  urchin  came. 
At  once  he  sought  the  midway  air, 
And  soon  he  clear'd  with  dexterous  care 

The  bitter  relics  of  my  flame. 

To  Kitty,  Fanny  now  succeeds, 
She  kindles  slow  but  lasting  fires  ; 

With  care  my  appetite  she  feeds  ; 

Each  day  some  willing  victim  bleeds, 
To  satisfy  my  strange  desires. 

•  HillMSS.  f  Ibid. 


328  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

Say  by  what  title  or  what  name, 

Must  I  this  youth  address  ? 
Cupid  and  he  are  not  the  same— 
Tho'  both  can  raise  or  quench  a  flame— 

I'll  kiss  you  if  you  guess." 

The  answer  is  "  A  Chimney  Sweep." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE. — 1769. 

This  year  was  seen  that  rather  absurd  extravagana — the 
Shakspeare  Jubilee  at  Stratford — a  show  wholly  foreign  to 
English  tastes  and  manners,  and  certainly  not  to  be  carried  out 
with  success  on  English  ground.  The  romantic  and  classic  little 
town  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon  was  not  enjoying  the  venera- 
tion with  which  Shakspearean  pilgrims  have  since  regarded  it 
The  house  in  which  the  poet  was  born  was  spoken  of  as  "  a 
little,  small,  old  house;"  there  were  no  funds,  and  no  public 
subscriptions  to  purchase  the  ground  on  which  it  stood,  or  re- 
verently restore  it.  Visitors  were  then  shown  the  famous  bust* 
not  yet  robbed  of  all  character  by  the  stupid  profanation  of 
Malone,  and  could  see  the  colour  of  the  hair  and  eyes,  as  faith- 
fully preserved  by  tradition ;  but  only  a  few  years  before  the 
great  sacrilege  had  been  committed,  and  a  Mr.  Gastrell  had 
cut  down  the  cherished  "  mulberry  tree,"  because  it  shut  out 
the  light  from  his  windows.  When  Mr.  Garrick  came  to  town 
from  Bath,  a  gentleman  waited  on  him  with  a  very  flattering 
letter  from  the  Mayor  and  corporation,  proposing  to  make  him 
one  of  their  body;  offering,  also,  the  present  of  a  box  made 
out  of  the  sacrificed  mulberry  tree.  In  return,  he  was  invited 
to  present  them  with  a  bust  or  picture  of  Shakspeare,  together 
with  a  portrait  of  himself,  both  to  be  placed  in  their  new  town- 
hall.  The  actor  could  not  but  be  flattered  by  a  compliment 
which — even  at  a  heavy  cost — placed  him  in  such  company; 
and  the  opening  of  this  new  town-hall  seems  to  have  suggested 
to  his  mind  the  festival  that  was  presently  to  be  the  talk  of 
the  kingdom. 

London  soon  heard  of  the  mulberry  box,  and  of  the  fashion 
in  which  it  was  proposed  to  return  these  compliments,  and  some 
lively  verses  were  going  round ;  for  everything  that  "  turned 
up,"  there  were  verses  always  ready.  Garrick  took  up  the 
scheme  with  ardour.  The  last  night  of  his  season  he  an- 
nounced it  from  the  stage,  in  one  of  those  numerous  epilogues 


1769.]  THE  SHAXSPKARE  JUBILEE.  329 

with  which  he  used  to  illustrate  and  "  point "  the  humours  of 
the  day. 

No  one  in  the  kingdom  would  have  been  better  suited  for 

the  organization  of  SUch  a  project ;  for  nn  nnft  in  the*  Ifingdorn 

80  well  fnnfininp.fi  f,he  great  playe,r  and  t  ~~ 

the  link  hfttwftftn  the  sf-ngfl,  and 


name,  and  personal  influence,  acti 
"tine"  and  tashionable^wh"^  ' — 


the  gentleman.    He  was 
'  ",•   and  his 

_________ _  ivalits-fiuccfiBS,* 

he  was  the  whole  soul  of  the  affair.  He  it  was  that  gathered 
the  company ;  and  it  was  to  be  he,  who  had  to  discharge  all 
the  expenses.  The  preparations  were  on  a  large  and  costly 
scale.  Everybody  about  the  place  was  interested,  and  a  noble 
proprietor  in  the  neighbourhood  actually  cut  down  more  than 
a  hundred  trees  near  the  river,  to  open  out  the  view. 

It  was  determined  to  erect  on  the  common  near  the  river,  a 

figantic  Rotunda,  on  the  model  of  the  "  elegant "  building  that 
ad  been  recently  erected  at  Ranelagh,  where  the  ceremonies 
were  to  take  place.  The  sixth  of  September  was  fixed  for  the 
opening  day.  The  time,  however,  was  so  short,  and  so  much 
had  to  be  got  through,  that  three  weeks  before  the  opening 
almost  nothing  had  been  done.  Garrick  sent  down  his  men 
from  the  theatre,  with  all  the  Drury  Lane  lamps,  and  a  whole 
wardrobe  of  rich  dresses  and  theatrical  finery;  but  they  found 
that  not  even  a  beginning  had  been  made.  The  boards  for 
the  Rotunda  had  not  come  from  Birmingham,  and  on  the 
ground  were  lying,  in  a  perfect  wreck,  all  the  Drury  Lane 
lamps,  which  had  been  broken  to  pieces  on  the  journey.  But 
the  most  amusing  part  of  the  whole  was  the  temper  and  dis- 
position of  the  inhabitants,  who  could  neither  understand  the 
projected  celebration,  nor  its  details,  and  who  viewed  the 
business — to  be  for  their  advantage — with  open  distrust  and 
hostility.  They  would  give  nothing,  and  lend  nothing,  and 
Mr.  Garrick's  agents  became  anxious  to  get  away.  Even  the 
innkeepers,  who  might  look  forward  to  it  as  to  their  legiti- 
mate harvest,  were  grumbling,  and  had  a  strange  idea  that 
their  plate  and  furniture  would  be  sacked  by  the  horde  of  ex- 
cursionists who  were  to  arrive.     It  seemed  to  be  contrived 

that  all  the  management  and  responsibility  should  be  thrown 

> 

*  An  actor,  on  the  occasion  of  the  Jubilee,  now  sent  Garrick  a  present  of 
Shakspeare's  gloves.  The  original  donor  of  the  gloves,  who  was  a  glazier, 
said  they  had  *'  been  often  on  the  Poet's  hands."  The  glazier's  father  and 
"  our  Poet "  were  cousins  ;  and  on  presenting  the  gloves,  the  glazier  said, 
"  Sir,  these  are  the  only  property  that  remains  of  our  famous  relation.  My 
father  possessed  and  sold  the  estate  he  left  behind  him,  and  these  are  all 
the  recompense  I  can  make  for  this  night's  performance."  Garrick  actually 
accepted  the  questionable  relic. 


330  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769 

upon  him.*  He  engaged  to  share  the  risk  of  loss  with  the 
corporation  —  the  profits  to  go  hi  honour  of  Shakspeare. 
Becket  was  appointed  "  Grand  Bookseller  to  the  Jubilee,"  and 
honoured  with  a  lodging  in  Shakspeare's  own  house. 

At  last  the  great  day  came  round.  It  had  been  put  almost 
a  month  too  late.  The  "silvery  Avon,"  to  which  so  many 
poetical  apostrophes  were  to  be  made,  had  been  gradually 
rising,  and  the  weather  looked  threatening:  still  the  company 
poured  in,  and  came  in  crowds,  from  every  quarter  of  the 
kingdom.  The  accommodation  for  the  guests  proved  of  the 
most  wretched  description;  and  the  shifts  they  were  put  to, 
the  sufferings  they  experienced,  and  the  monstrous  extortions 
of  the  townspeople,  were  long  remembered  as  the  real  features 
of  the  Jubilee.  The  harpies  of  the  place  laid  themselves  out 
to  pillage  the  visitors,  in  every  possible  way.  For  the  most 
"wretched  little  shed,  with  any  rags  patched  into  the  shape  of 
abed,"  a  guinea  was  charged;  a  standing-place  for  a  horse, 
without  hay  or  oats,  half  a  guinea;  and  in  a  humorous  account 
of  the  affair,  afterwards  written  to  the  papers,  and  which  seems 
very  like  Foote's  own  hand,  it  was  said  that  the  English  Aris- 
tophanes was  charged  nine  guineas  for  six  hours'  sleep;  and 
had  to  pay  two  shillings  for  asking  a  bumpkin  the  hour! 
Everybody  was  to  return,  disgusted  with  these  townsfolk  of 
the  bard  they  were  celebrating. 

At  dawn  on  Wednesday,  Sept  6th,  the  visitors  were  roused 
by  the  firing  of  cannon,  and  disturbed  in  their  wretched  beds, 
by  some  theatrical  waits,  in  Drury  Lane  finery,  going  round 
playing  "gittars,"  who  stopped  before  each  house,  and  sang, 
with  affected  jollity,  a  Bard  "Roundelay": — 

"  Let  beauty  with  the  sun  arise  1 
To  Shakspeare  tribute  pay ! 
With  heavenly  smile  and  speaking  eyes 
Qive  lustre  to  the  day." 

The  scene  at  breakfast  in  "  Peyton's  "  room  must  have  been 
amusing;  for  Foote  had  arrived,  and  was  sitting  there,  half 
angry,  half  amused,  and  scoffing  at  everything.  There  was  a 
picture  in  the  room — allegorical,  according  to  the  fashion  of 
the  moment,  with  the  motto,  "  Oh,  for  a  muse  of  fire!" 

*  Among  his  papers  I  find  many  memoranda  showing  his  anxiety.  He 
had  heard  of  the  "  rumoured  exorbitant  charges,"  and  was  to  take  care  that 
"  no  more  should  be  asked  than  a  guinea  a  bed,  as  at  the  races."  Peyton, 
the  landlord  of  the  chief  inn,  was  to  furnish  an  estimate  for  an  ordinary 
for  the  performers,  say  fifty  in  number.  "  Mbm.  :  Boats  on  the  Avon  t 
Lodgings  for  Lord  Spencer  and  family,"  who  were  coming.  Then  follows 
a  characteristic  mem. :  "A  good  bed  for  Mr,  Foote"  so  thtt  the  satirist 
should  have  nothing  to  put  him  out  of  humour. — Fobster  MSS. 


1769.]  THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE.  331 

M  '  Oh,  for  a  muse  of  fire '  and  mettle, 
Cries  out  Foots,  to  boil  the  kettle ; 
Cune  your  little  squalling  souls, 
Bring  us  butter,  bring  us  rolls. 
Look  at  Caliban's  wild  picture, 
Oh,  how  like  the  poet  Victor. 
Teacups  rattle,  kettles  hiss — 
Victor  !  Victor  !  Foots  is  Victor. 
Victor,  do  not  mind  the  picture. 
All,  all,  all, 
Bawl,  bawl,  bawL 
Be  friends  again,  and  kiss." 

By  eight  o'clock  the  magistrates  had  assembled  in  the  open 
street,  and  had  met  Mr.  Garrick  (who  was  called  the  "  Steward 
of  the  Festival ")  at  the  town-hall,  where  they  presented  him 
with  a  medallion  of  Shakspeare,  carved  on  the  eternal,  and  in- 
exhaustible "  mulberry  tree,"  richly  set  in  gold.  Mr.  Garrick 
himself  paid  the  charges  of  this  ornament.  He  made  "  a  suit- 
able reply:"  he  had  to  make  many  such  through  these  lengthy 
proceedings,  and  fastened  this  "  elegant  mark  of  distinction " 
upon  his  breast  Most  people,  indeed,  who  took  part  in  the 
show,  wore  a  silver  medal  or  a  favour,  and  it  was  said  that  the 
sale  of  the  "  elegant  marks  of  distinction  "  produced  a  respect- 
able sum. 

From  the  town-hall  the  whole  company  marched  on  in  pro- 
cession to  the  charming  church,  where  the  Oratorio  of  "  Judith  " 
was  to  be  sung ;  written  by  Dr.  Arne,  Mrs.  Cibber's  brother,  who 
like  everybody  whom  Garrick  obliged,  was  presently  to  be  dis- 
satisfied, and  "  aggrieved,"  and  pettish.  Mr.  Barthelmon  led ; 
his  wife  was  first  soprano.  The  whole  was  dismal  and  dreary 
beyond  description ;  the  chorus  was  bad,  and  about  as  meagre 
as  the  audience.  The  great  crowd  had  not  yet  arrived.  The 
weather  was  chilly :  no  one  saw  the  exact  connection  between 
the  bard  and  Dr.  Arne's  "Judith."  Still  we  seem  to  see  the 
whole  scene :  the  pretty  church,  the  Mayor  and  dignitaries, 
and  Mr.  Garrick  in  the  place  of  honour,  with  his  medal  Mrs. 
Garrick  beside  him;  Mr.  Barthelmon  and  his  men  fiddling 
away  in  the  gallery ;  and  Foote  behind  a  pillar  turning  the 
whole  into  a  jest. 

When  the  Oratorio  was  over,  which  was  not  until  nearly 
three  o'clock,  a  procession  was  again  formed,  with  the  steward 
at  its  head,  from  the  church  to  the  Rotunda,  the  band  in  front, 
and  a  chorus  chanting,  in  would-be  joyous  rapture,  this  dog- 
gerel : — 

°  This  is  the  day— a  holiday  ! 
Drive  care  and  sorrow  far  away  1 
Let  all  be  mirth  and  hallowed  joy  ! 
Here  Nature  nursed  her  darling  W$  I " 


332  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

The  spectacle  must  have  been  infinitely  ludicrous ;  and  we  can 
almost  call  up  Foote's  face,  as  he  limped  along.  Here  a  ban- 
quet was  served  for  some  hundred  ladies  and  gentlemen :  an 
ih  elegant "  dinner,  says  Victor,  Mr.  Garrick's  dependant ;  but 
other  accounts  are  not  so  favourable.  The  guests  were  charged 
fifteen  shillings,  for  which  there  was  ample  profusion  of  turtle, 
claret,  Madeira,  and  such  choice  things.  The  whole  seems  to 
have  broken  down,  as  other  gigantic  feasts  have  since  broken 
down.  Some  guests  could  get  nothing,  others  got  what  "  was 
called  turtle."  There  was  great  confusion,  owing  to  the  want 
of  seats,  and  from  people  long  neglected,  and  whose  patience 
had  given  way,  rising  en  masse  to  help  themselves. 

Then  some  ten  musicians  entered  the  orchestra,  and  struck 
up  a  series  of  songs,  catches,  and  glees,  all  tuned  to  the  same 
key  of  semi-rapture.  Many  of  these  were  written  by  Garrick, 
others  by  Bicker-staff,  his  drudge  and  lieutenant.  The  former 
were  spirited  and  characteristic ;  and  one  in  particular,  "  The 
Warwickshire  Lad,"  had  a  really  fresh,  open-air  ring,  that  was 
suitable  and  striking.  It  was  trolled  very  often  during  the 
festival,  and  with  Dibdin's  music,  became  popular,  and  is  still 
sung  in  the  county: — 

A  SONG. 

"  Te  Warwickshire  lads  and  ye  lasses, 

See  what  at  our  Jubilee  passes ; 

Come  revel  away,  rejoice  and  be  glad, 

For  the  lad  of  all  lads  was  a  Warwickshire  lad- 
Warwickshire  lad, 
All  be  glad, 

For  the  lad  of  all  lads  was  a  Warwickshire  lad,"  Ac 

The  inevitable  mulberry  tree  came  in  for  its  share  of  lyrical 
honour ;  and  it  would  seem  that  Garrick  himself  stood  up  and 
sang  to  it,  holding  a  cup  " made  of  the  tree  "  in  his  hand: — 

THE  MULBERRY  TREE. 

"  Behold  this  fair  goblet,  'twas  carved  from  the  tree 
Which,  0  my  sweet  Shakspeare,  was  planted  by  thee  ; 
As  a  relic  I  kiss  it,  and  bow  at  the  shrine, 
What  comes  from  thy  hand  must  be  ever  divine. 
All  shall  yield  to  the  mulberry  tree, 
Bend  to  thee, 
Blest  mulberry ; 
Matchless  was  he 
Who  planted  thee, 
And  thou,  like  him,  immortal  be." 

One  of  the  country  fellows  was  said  to  have  been  utterly 
mystified  by  the  bass  viol ;  a  "  Banbury  man  "  told  some  rustic 
inquirers  that  they  were  about  to  celebrate  "  Shakspeare's 


1769.]  THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE.  333 

resurrection. "    Wits  like  Foote  insisted  that  the  popular  idea 
was  that  of  "  a  Jew  Bill." 

Between  nine  and  ten  the  company  went  home  to  dress,  and 
in  the  interval  the  amphitheatre  was  cleared  and  turned  into  a 
ball-room.  Meantime  the  town  was  illuminated.  Large  trans- 
parencies had  been  painted,  in  front  of  the  town-hall,  by  the 
Drury  Lane  artists ;  but  these,  which  were  of  a  Shakspearean 
character,  still  more  mystified  the  passing  crowd.  The  ball 
was  brilliant,  and  the  room  handsome.  Every  one  thought  of 
Ranelagh.  Thus  the  first  day's  entertainment  concluded. 
Everything,  so  far,  had  been  successful  But  next  morning 
came  a  change.  The  weather  had  been  dark  and  lowering ;  the 
Avon  had  been  gradually  rising,  and  now  the  rain  was  stream- 
ing down.  Nothing  more  dismal  could  have  been  conceived, 
than  for  a  number  of  persons  of  quality  to  be  thus  shut  up  in  a 
little  country  town,  without  resources  or  even  room.  The  out- 
door affectations  of  jollity,  the  "  demonstrations  of  joy,"  had 
to  be  all  suspended.  The  rustics  were  delighted.  They  looked 
on  the  rains,  and  the  rising  of  the  Avon,  as  a  righteous  judg- 
ment! 

The  grand  feature  of  the  whole,  "  The  Pageant,"  was  thus 
interfered  with.  For  it  had  been  intended  that  there  should 
be  a  procession  of  characters  through  the  streets.  All  the 
dresses  had  been  brought  down  from  Drury  Lane.  Most  of 
the  leading  players  were  to  walk.  "  Gentleman  "  Smith  had 
borrowed  Garrick's  own  Bichard's  cap.  All  had  to  hurry  to 
the  Rotunda,  where  homage  was  to  be  paid  to  "  the  Bard,"  in 
a  formal  manner,  in  an  Ode  written  and  spoken  by  Garrick, 
and  "  set "  by  Arne.  He  himself  was  a  little  out  of  spirits 
that  day,  perhaps  affected  by  the  weather,  and  the  rather 
serious  responsibilities  he  had  undertaken.  It  all  rested  on 
his  shoulders.  There  was  a  busy  scene  that  morning  at  the 
Mayor's  house;  and  to  add  to  his  annoyances,  a  local  barber 
— not  quite  sober — gashed  him  from  chin  to  mouth.  Up  to 
the  last  moment  almost,  Mrs.  Garrick  and  the  ladies  were 
"  running  about "  applying  styptics. 

The  scene  was  brilliant.  The  Steward  was  seated  in  front 
of  the  orchestra,  with  the  female  singers  on  each  side  of  him, 
in  a  suit  of  brown,  richly  embroidered  with  gold  lace,  and  his 
wand  and  medal.  The  Rotunda  was  crowded ;  while  the  rain 
was  heard  pattering  down  on  the  roof.  The  Ode  was  con- 
sidered an  excellent  performance.  Garrick  seems  to  have 
roused  the  audience  to  enthusiasm.  The  Ode  was  revised  and 
corrected  by  Warton,  and  later  much  ridiculed.  Johnson  said, 
contemptuously,  it  defied  criticism. 


334  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

The  airs  were  sung  by  the  choir,  while  Garrick  declaimed 
the  "  Recitative* " — a  practice,  it  is  said,  introduced  then  for 
the  first  time,  and  with  the  happiest  effect. 

After  the  Ode  came  a  singular  proceeding.  I  find  in  a  sort 
of  manuscript  "  Prompt  Book,"  the  "  order "  of  this  part  of 
the  show,  neatly  written  out,  with  heads  for  the  speech  he 
was  to  address  to  the  company — "  the  Ode  writer's  zeal  and 
gratitude  has,  I  fear,  carried  him  beyond  his  depth,"  he  wrote 
with  a  modesty  fait  a  loisir.  It  was  his  first  attempt  in  that 
way,  he  said,  and  he  might  hope  for  the  indulgence  always  ex- 
tended to  any  one  who  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  a  new 
<fiaracter.  "  The  only  remaining  honour  is  to  speak  for  him  n 
— "  pause,"  said  the  Prompt  Book.  Mr.  Garrick  here  calcu- 
lated on  the  audience  not  understanding  exactly:  so  he  was  to 
go  on.  "  Perhaps  my  proposition  came  a  little  abruptly  on 
you.  With  your  permission  I  will  give  you  time,  by  a  piece  of 
music  to  collect  your  thoughts"    This  was  true  stage  " business." 

After  the  music,  he  stood  up  again,  when  there  succeeded  a 
bit  of  buffoonery  quite  unworthy  of  such  dignity  as  there  was 
in  the  festivity.  The  famous  Lord  Ogtiby  appeared  in  the 
gallery,  in  his  great  coat,  and  calling  out  that  he  had  a  good 
deal  to  say  against  the  memory  of  Shakspcare,  was  invited 
down  into  the  orchestra  by  Garrick.  He  there  threw  off  his 
coat,  and  appeared  in  "  a  suit  of  fashionable  blue  and  silver  * 
— as  a  Macaroni  or  Buck  of  the  day,  and  then  began  a  strain 
of  comic  abuse  and  satire,  directed  against  Shakspeare.  The 
whole  had  been  planned,  and  was  meant  to  be  deeply  ironical; 
but  part  of  the  audience  seems  to  have  accepted  it  as  earnest, 
and  another  portion  not  to  have  understood  it.* 

Some  were  not  a  little  fatigued  by  all  this  speeching.  To- 
wards the  end  there  came  a  pressure  of  the  crowd,  many  of 
the  benches  gave  way,  and  it  went  about  that  my  Lord  Car- 
lisle had  been  seriously  hurt  by  the  falling  of  a  door. 

Later  came  the  dinner,  the  feature  of  which  was  a  turtle  of 
a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  weight.  This  was,  as  it  were,  the 
special  day,  and  the  fashionable  company  having  now  all 
arrived;  for  at  night  was  to  be  the  great  masquerade,  and 
the  fireworks.  The  town  was  full  of  noblemen  and  ladies  of 
quality,  who  were  dressing  in  all  sorts  of  out-of-the-way  little 
corners.  The  fatal  rain  was  still  streaming  down  and  the  river 
rising  steadily.  It  had  already  overflowed  its  banks,  and 
had  begun  to  flood  the  field  in  which  the  Rotunda  had  been 


*  Mr.  Cradock,  who  was  present,  thought  this  interruption  a  sudden  im- 
pertinence of  King's.     But  it  was  all  set  down  in  the  book. 


1769.]  THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE.  335 

built  It  was  determined,  however,  to  make  an  attempt  to 
let  off  the  fireworks,  under  Angelo's  guidance ;  but  they  proved 
a  miserable  failure. 

Hitherto  Foote  had  been  one  of  the  features  of  the  enter- 
tainment He  was  seen  going  about  everywhere,  ridiculing 
everything.  Murphy  was  with  him,  and  there  was  a  report 
abroad  that  the  two  were  preparing  some  bit  of  extravagance. 
On  the  Mall  he  had  met  the  foolish  country  gentleman,  who 
had  told  him  "  he  had  come  out  of  Essex/'  and  whom  he 
put  out  of  countenance  by  asking  who  "drove"  him.  For 
some  reason  not  known — it  may  have  been  from  some  quarrel 
with  Garrick — he  quitted  the  town  after  the  masquerade. 
But  he  took  with  him  a  mysterious  and  ungenerous  hostility 
both  to  Garrick  and  to  the  festival  which  Garrick  had  so  much 
at  heart — a  hostility  which  was  to  break  out  later  in  bitter 
jests,  and  pasquinades,  and  every  shape  of  ridicule. 

The  masquerade  began  at  eleven.  By  this  hour  the  ap- 
proaches to  the  Rotunda  were  all  covered  with  water,  and  the 
horses  had  to  wade  knee-deep  to  reach  the  doors.  Even  there, 
planks  had  to  be  laid  down,  to  enable  the  ladies  to  get  from 
their  carriages.  Such  a  flood  in  the  river  had  not  been  known 
within  the  memory  of  any  Stratford  man. 

Most  of  the  guests  were  in  fancy  dresses,  many  in  dominoes 
and  masks.  There  were  present  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  Lord  and 
Lady  Hertford,  Lord  Grosvenor,  Lord  Denbigh,  Lord  Spencer, 
Lord  Craven,  Lord  Beauchamp,  the  Duke  of  Manchester,  Lord 
Plymouth,  Lord  Carlisle,  Lord  North,  Sir  Watkin  Wynne, 
Lord  Pembroke,  and  many  more.  All  these  were  personal 
friends  of  Garrick's.  For  the  meanest  dress,  four  guineas  was 
asked,  and  obtained.  Many  of  the  neighbouring  squires,  and 
their  wives  and  daughters,  pinched  themselves  severely  to 
meet  the  extravagance  of  this  festival.  But  there  was  one 
character,  now  almost  historic,  who  attracted  notice  there,  but 
who  now  is  of  far  more  interest  to  us  than  any  of  the  fashion- 
able persons  there,  or  their  costly  dresses.  This  wa3  Mr. 
James  BoswelL  He  had  come  fresh  from  General  Paoli 
in  London,  who  was  staying  in  Bond  Street  He  made 
his  famous  appearance  in  the  character  of  a  Corsican.  He 
had  written  a  Prologue,  to  be  spoken  before  the  masquerade, 
"  but  was  prevented  by  the  crowd."  This  account  is  from  a 
"  communication  "  to  the  papers,  which,  from  its  unconscious 
vanity,  and  delightful  naivete,  betrays  BoswelTs  own  hand  in 
every  line.  It  tells  us  that  he  "  entered  the  amphitheatre 
about  twelve  o'clock,"  and  wore  the  dress  of  "  an  armed  Cor- 
sican chief  " — a  short  dark  coat  of  coarse  cloth,  with  a  scaxtaft, 


336  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

waistcoat,  and  black  spatterdashes.  On  his  head  he  had  a 
black  cloth  cap,  with  the  golden  inscription,  "  Viva  la  Libertd" 
and  the  cloth  cap  was  besides  decorated  with  a  blue  feather, 
"  so  that  it  had  an  elegant,  as  well  as  a  warlike  appearance." 
He  wore,  besides,  a  stiletto  stuck  in  a  cartouche-box,  and  a 
musket  slung  across  his  back.  He  had  no  wig  or  powder,  but 
his  own  hair  plaited  into  a  queue,  and  tied  at  the  end  with  a 
bunch  of  blue  ribbons.  To  complete  the  absurdity  of  his  ap- 
pearance, he  carried  a  long  vine-stalk  in  his  hand,  "  by  way 
of  staff,"  carved  at  the  top  "  with  a  bird,  emblematic  of  the 
sweet  Bard  of  Avon."  He  would  not  wear  a  mask,  explaining 
to  everybody  "  it  was  not  proper  for  a  gallant  Corsican."  As 
soon  as  he  entered  "he  drew  universal  attention."  "  He  was 
first  accosted  by  Mrs.  Garrick,"  and  had  a  good  deal  of  conver- 
sation with  her.  In  the  course  of  the  night,  too,  there  was 
"an  admirable  conversation"  between  Lord  Grosvenor  as  a 
Turk,  and  the  armed  Corsican,  on  the  constitutions  of  their 
different  countries;  and  "Captain  Thomson  of  the  navy,  in 
the  character  of  an  honest  tar,  kept  it  up  very  welL  He  ex- 
pressed a  strong  inclination  to  stand  by  the  brave  islanders. 
Mr.  Boswell  danced  both  a  minuet  and  country  dance,  with  a 
very  pretty  Irish  lady,  Mrs.  Sheldon,  wife  to  Captain  Sheldon,  of 
(he  38th  Regiment  of  Foot  (Lord  Blaynetfs)"  This  minuteness 
is  truly  Boswellian.  "  She  was  dressed  in  a  genteel  domino, 
and  before  she  danced,  threw  off  her  mask."  Mr.  Boswell,  it 
was  added,  had  come  to  the  Jubilee  from  "  a  desire  of  paying  a 
compliment  to  Mr.  Garrick,  with  whom  he  has  always  been  on 
a  most  agreeable  footing**  It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  cha- 
racteristic figures  in  the  whole  scene.     But  this  was  not  alL 

The  "  celebrated  friend  of  Paoli,"  as  he  called  himself,  con- 
tented himself  with  distributing  copies  of  his  verses: — 

"  From  the  banks  of  Golo's  rapid  flood, 
Alas  !  too  deeply  tinged  with  patriot  blood, 
Behold  a  Corsican — in  better  days 
Eagerly  I  sought  my  country's  fame  to  raise."* 

*  To  another  of  the  magazines  Mr.  Boswell  sent  a  more  minute  ac- 
count, more  characteristic  than  anything  in  the  Life  of  Johnson.  He  was 
greatly  affected  by  the  whole  scene.  "  My  bosom  glowed  with  joy  when  I 
beheld  a  numerous  and  brilliant  company  of  nobility  and  gentry — the  rich, 
the  brave,  the  witty,  and  the  fair  assembled.  But  I  could  have  wished  thai 
prayers  had  been  read,  or  a  short  sermon  preached.  It  would  hare  conse- 
crated our  Jubilee,  and  begun  it  with  gratefully  adoring  the  Supreme  Father 
of  all  Spirits,  from  whom  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift"  The  per- 
formance of  the  Ode  had  been  "  noble  and  affecting,  like  an  exhibition  in 
Athens  or  Rome.  I  do  believe  if  any  one  had  attempted  to  disturb  the 
performance,  he  would  have  been  in  danger  of  his  life."  He  admired  Gar- 
rick's  delivery,  who  seemed  "  inspired  with  an  awful  elevation  of  eouL    It 


1769.]  THE  SHAKSPEARE  JUBILEE.  337 

Not  until  four  o'clock  did  the  ball  terminate.  It  was  thought 
that  some  1,500  persons  were  present,  and  with  it  virtually 
terminated  the  Jubilee.  The  next  day,  indeed,  there  was  the 
breakfast  over  again,  and  a  horserace  for  the  Jubilee  cup  of  £50; 
but  the  course  was  a  foot  deep  in  water.  Lord  Grosvenor,  Mr. 
King,  and  others  of  note  on  the  turf,  entered  horses ;  and  the 
plate  was  won  by  a  groom  called  Pratt,  who  declared  that, 
"though  he  knew  nothing  of  Shakspeare,  or  of  anything  he  had 
done,  he  would  never  part  with  it."  Then  all  went  in  to  dinner, 
"  the  French  horns  and  clarionets  attending ; "  and  the  whole 
wound  up  with  fireworks — for  thd  rain  had  ceased — and  with 
another  ball,  which  must  have  been  languid  enough.  Such 
was  the  Jubilee  of  1769. 

It  was  not  a  pecuniary  success ;  but  /without  Garrick  it 
would  have  been  a  miserable  failure.  It  cost  him  individually 
a  great  deal  of  money.*  Even  his  own  presents  to  the  town 
represent  a  good  sum.  His  was  the  well-known  statue  by 
Koubiliac,  which  now  stands  in  the  town-hall,  and  the  fine 
full-length  of  himself,  by  Gainsborough,  which  Mrs.  Garrick 
always  thought  the  best  likeness. 

The  theatres  made  capital  out  of  this  affair.  Covent  Gar- 
den led  off  with  a  theatrical  Jubilee.  Lacy,  Garrick's  partner, 
a  man  of  plain  and  practical  sense,  had  not  relished  the  Strat- 
ford scheme,  and  had  forebodings  about  his  Drury  Lane  "pro- 
perties." Still  he  had  great  confidence  in  the  genius  of  Gar- 
rick, who  presently  had  a  Show  ready  for  Drury  Lane.  He 
gave  Dr.  Arne  the  sum  of  sixty  guineas  for  music  to  the 
Ode,  and  at  the  end  of  the  month,  after  the  "  Country  Girl n 
was  played,  produced  it,  with  the  stage  arranged  like  an  or* 
chestra — he  himself  reciting  it  in  the  centre.    This,  however, 

would  be  unpardonable  should  I  not  acknowledge  the  pleasure  I  received 
from  Dr.  Arne's  music ;  nor  must  I  neglect  to  thank  the  whole  orchestra.  I 
had  a  tcrene  and  solemn  satisfaction  in  contemplating  the  Church,  Garrick 
seemed  in  an  ecstasy.  When  the  songs  were  singing  he  was  all  life  and 
spirit.  At  the  words  'Warwickshire  Thief,*  his  eyes  sparkled  with  joy.  I 
was  witness,  from  my  own  hearing,  what  did  great  honour  to  Lord  Gros- 
venor.  After  the  Ode,  his  Lordship  came  up  into  the  orchestra,  and  told 
Mr.  Garrick  that  he  had  affected  his  whole  frame — showing  him  his  nerves 
and  veins  still  quivering  and  well  agitated  I  laughed  away  spleen  in  a 
droll  simile.  Taking  the  whole  of  this  Jubilee,  said  I,  it  is  like  eating  an 
artichoke  entire.  We  have  some  fine  mouthful*,  but  also  swallow  the 
leaves  and  the  hair,  which  are  confounded  difficult  of  digestion."  This 
truly  Boswellian  sketch  would  almost  seem  to  have  been  thrown  off  after  his 
return  from  the  masquerade — when  he  was  quite  overset  by  his  own  per- 
formances, and  perhaps  by  the  wine. 

*  He  took  the  whole  charges  on  himself,  and  they  amounted  to  over 
£2,000. 


338  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

did  not  "  take,"  and  it  was  only  performed  seven  nights.  But 
he  thought  of  producing  a  grander  spectacle;  he  accordingly 
wrote  a  humorous  little  sketch,  and  on  the  14th  of  October 
brought  out  "  The  Jubilee." 

Considering  the  state  of  the  stage  at  that  time,  it  was  a 
wonderful  production,  pleasantly  written,  and  combining  both 
farce  and  spectacle.  In  it  was  shown  the  courtyard  of  the 
Stratford  Inn,  Moody,  who  was  the  official  Irishman,  having 
to  sleep  in  a  postchaise ;  with  all  the  humours  which  mkht 
arise  from  the  overcrowding  of  the  little  town.  It  alluded 
to  the  Shakspearean  names  given  to  the  rooms  in  the  inn  :— 
"  A  waiter  orders  one  to  carry  eight  glasses  of  jelly  to  the 
little  thin  man  who  is  with  the  tall  lady,  in  l  Love's  Labour 
Lost,1  and  bids  another  stop  the  quarrel  in  the  '  Katharine  and 
Petruchio.'  King  played  one  of  the  local  country  clowns, 
whose  terrors  and  prejudices  had  furnished  much  amusement 
The  procession,  through  what  represented  a  street  in  Stratford, 
must  have  been  really  imposing.  There  were  sixteen  drum- 
mers leading  the' way,  a  band  of  music,  men  carrying  banners, 
and  then  a  long  train  of  actors  and  actresses,  all  dressed  to  re- 
present the  leading  parts  of  Shakspeare's  plays — each  play 
being  apart.  Garrick  walked  as  Benedick,  King  as  Touchstone, 
Mrs.  Abington  as  the  comic  muse,  and  Mrs.  Barry  as  the  tragic 
muse,  drawn  in  a  triumphal  car.  They  were  divided  into  "  the 
Soman  characters,"  Ccesar,  Cariolanus;  "Roman  ladies  dis- 
hevelled, &c." 

Thus,  in  a  certain  sense,  he  did  not  lose  by  the  Jubilee, 
down  at  Stratford.  But  the  jesting  was  endless,  the  ridicule 
killing.  The  newspapers  and  magazines  were  never  weary  of 
ringing  the  changes  on  what  was  considered  a  mere  display  of 
vanity,  meant  for  the  glorification,  not  of  Shakspeare,  but 
of  his  priest  Warburton's  contempt,  which  spared  no  foe, 
could  not  restrain  itself,  even  in  the  instance  of  a  friend  like 
Garrick.  Of  the  Ode,  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  that  Cibber's  non- 
sense occasionally  verged  on  sense ;  but  that  "  this  man's  sense, 
wJwre  he  does  deviate  into  sense,"  was  always  like  nonsense. 
Worse  than  all,  it  seems  to  have  stimulated  the  enmity  of  his 
old  half -friend — but  better  half-enemy — Foote,  in  whose  mind 
the  monstrous  "  humbug  "  of  the  whole  show  had  almost  the 
effect  of  scarlet  on  a  buLL 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  339 


CHAPTER  V. 

SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. — 1769. 

Anyone  sitting  with  Garrick  at  Hampton — say  only  a  short 
time  before  his  death — and  asking  what  impression  of  life  he 
had  taken  away,  after  his  long  experience  within  and  outside 
the  walls  of  his  theatre,  must  have  learned  from  him,  how 
many  mean  corners  of  the  heart  had  been  shown  to  him ;  but 
what  he  must  have  recalled  with  most  pain  was,  that  some, 
whom  all  through  his  life  he  had  striven  to  conciliate,  who  had 
treated  him  badly  and  ungraciously,  whom  he  had  forgiven 
and  tried  to  conciliate,  should  again  have  laid  themselves  out 
to  be  unkind  to  him.  There  were  a  few  from  whom  he  bore 
everything  with  undisturbed  good  temper,  but  who  could  never 
forgive  him,  for  being  more  prosperous  than  they  were.  No 
good  offices  could  bind  them.  Those  ungracious  hearts  he  was 
never  weary  of  trying  to  win,  and  chief  among  these  were 
Samuel  Foote  and  (it  might  be  added)  Samuel  Johnson.  The 
behaviour  of  these  two  adds  something  to  the  humiliating 
history  of  the  smaller  human  weaknesses,  and  at  the  same  time 
contributes  to  the  history  of  a  mind  that  raised  itself  to  a  high 
station,  by  restraint,  forbearance,  a  kindly  charity,  and  perhaps 
a  contemptuous  indifference  to  petty  malice.  Foote's  behaviour 
to  him,  all  through,  was  the  strangest,  and  though  he  felt  him- 
self bound  by  no  feeling  of  loyalty  to  spare  any  friend,  he 
seems  to  have  had  a  special  dislike  to  Garrick 

While  the  manager  was  acting  his  plays,  or  accepting  his 
services  whenever  he  chose  to  give  them — though,  as  we  have 
seen,  they  were  sure  to  bring  embarrassment — he  could  hardly 
restrain  his  envy  or  malice.  He  had  held  him  up  in  one  of  his 
lectures  as  "  penurious,"  and  churlishly  discouraging  dramatic 
authors.  But  presently  a  dreadful  shock  was  to  fall  on  him, 
the  first  of  the  two  great  blows  of  his  life.  It  was  perhaps 
the  lightest,  as  being  physical, — the  fall  from  his  horse,  at 
Lord  Mexborough's,  which  so  shattered  his  leg,  that  nothing 
but  amputation  could  save  his  life.  This  mutilation  was  a 
terrible  stroke  for  the  man  whose  life  was  one  broad  grin,  and 
whose  jests  and  mimicries  were  set  off  with  all  the  quick 
motions  and  spirited  action  which  carelessness  and  good  spirits 
could  prompt  He,  who  jeered  at  the  ludicrous  helplessness  of 
others,  moral  as  well  as  physical,  was  now  hoverix^  \&\re^tt&. 


340  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

life  and  death,  and  at  best  could  only  hope  to  emerge  into  the 
world,  a  maimed  and  helpless  cripple,  that  would  require  all 
pity  and  indulgence.  Weak,  miserable,  in  agonies  of  pain,  not 
being  able  to  sleep  without  opiates,  a  kind  and  considerate 
letter  from  the  "  mean  hound  "  he  had  so  often  slandered  came 
to  bear  him  comfort  It  told  him  how  deeply  all  his  friends  took 
his  misfortune  to  heart.  Colman  in  particular  was  deeply  con- 
cerned. Garrick  offered  his  own  labour  and  exertions,  to  look 
after  the  theatre  in  the  Haymarket,  and  had  taken  care  to  put 
paragraphs  in  the  papers  to  contradict  false  reports.  The 
other's  acknowledgment  is  one  of  the  most  dismal  in  the  world. 
He  was  "  a  miserable  instance  of  the  weakness  and  frailty  of 
human  nature,"  "Oh,  sir,"  he  went  on,  almost  abjectly,  "it 
is  incredible  all  I  have  suffered,  and  you  will  believe  me  when  I 
assure  you  that  the  amputation  was  the  least  part  of  the  whole." 
They  flattered  him  with  the  hope  of  getting  soon  up  to  town. 
"  Change  of  place  to  a  man  in  my  way,  is  but  of  little  import- 
ance ;  but  for  one  reason  I  wish  it,  as  it  will  give  me  an 
opportunity,  in  person,  of  expressing  some  part  of  my  gratitude  to 
dear  Mr.  Garrick  for  all  his  attention  and  goodness  to  me"  Mrs. 
Garrick,  too,  had  sent  some  kind  messages  which  seemed  to 
have  touched  him  much.  He  could  not  sufficiently  express  his 
gratitude  to  her.  When  Garrick  would  lose  her,  he  "  would 
have  more  to  regret  than  any  man  in  the  kingdom. "  We 
might  pity  him  in  this  wretched  state,  did  we  not  suspect  it 
was  the  mere  prostration  produced  by  his  sufferings.  "  Oh, 
sir,  it  is  incredible  all  I  have  suffered."  He  should  have 
thought  of  what  he  made  others  suffer ;  and  when  some  years 
later  he  could  drag  the  wretched  Mrs.  Dodd  and  her  husband, 
on  his  stage  at  the  Haymarket,  he  showed  that  such  a  lesson 
was  thrown  away  upon  him,  and  almost  seemed  to  deserve  the 
final  chastisement  which  crushed  him.  A  "return"  of  the 
accumulated  amount  of  suffering  and  mortifications  he  con- 
trived to  heap  on  innocent  persons,  would  be  astonishing. 
Nearly  every  piece  of  his  owed  its  point  to  such  personality. 

A  single  story  will  illustrate  the  character  of  these  two  men, 
who  were  in  such  curious  relationship  all  their  life  long.  It  is 
told  by  Cumberland,  who  was  actually  present  He,  Sir 
Robert  Fletcher,  and  Garrick,  went  to  dine  with  Foote,  at 
Parson's  Green.  At  the  end  of  dinner,  Foote  thought  the 
baronet  had  gone  away,  and  the  moment  his  back  was  turned 
began,  in  his  usual  fashion,  to  ridicule  his  late  guest  The 
baronet  actually  happened  to  be  in  another  part  ot  the  room, 
and,  much  hurt,  called  out  to  him  to  wait,  at  least,  until  he 
had  gone.    The  situation  was  most  awkward.     The  unscrupu- 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTK  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  341 

lous  wit  was  actually  abashed.  Then  Garrick,  with  infinite 
address  and  kindness,  came  to  the  rescue,  and  set  himself  to 
reconcile  the  affronted  guest  to  what  had  happened ;  and  this 
he  did  with  such  exquisite  art,  and  tact,  and  goodwill,  throw- 
ing over  all  such  a  comic  air,  that  he  eventually  succeeded. 
We  know  enough  of  Foote  to  guess  how  he  would  have  inflamed 
the  situation,  and  complicated  the  matter  still  more,  with  a 
malicious  humour,  and  told  the  thing  everywhere,  as  one  of  his 
best  stories. 

In  one  of  his  fitful  returns  of  friendship  he  asked  Garrick  to 
dine  with  him,  gave  him  a  present  of  some  geese,  and  was 
addressed  by  his  guest,  next  day — always  grateful  for  any  signs 
of  grace — in  some  pleasant  rhymes.  No  doubt,  the  other  had 
his  rough  jest  about  the  "Garrick  and  the  geese:" 

"  Dear  Foote,  I  love  your  wit,  and  like  your  wine, 
And  hope  when  next  with  you  I  dine — 
(Indeed,  I  do  not  care  how  soon) — 
I  hope — nay,  beg  it — as  a  boon, 
That  you  will  get  decanter  six, 
Ye  various  wines  that  number  fix ; 
So  may  the  generous  grape  you  give — 
(To  give  it  may  you  ages  live  t ) — 
From  bottle  to  decanter  pass, 
And  not  a  cloud  to  stain  the  glass. 
*  ♦  »  *  » 

I  took  my  leave  in  such  a  hurry, 
With  drinking,  too,  in  such  a  flurry, 
With  gibes  and  jests  so  crammed  my  mind, 
Again  we  left  the  goose  behind, 
*    Which,  by  the  bearer,  please  to  send 
To  me,  your  very  thankful  friend."* 

Not  a  cloud  to  stain  the  glass!  That  very  soon  gathered. 
Nothing  could  change  the  nature  of  the  man,  and  he  was  pre- 
sently— only  the  next  year — ridiculing  and  "  taking  off" "  the 
friend  who  had  addressed  him  in  this  warm  and  kindly  way. 
This  hostility  really  endured  through  Footed  life,  and  merely 
intermitted.  The  sure  and  steady  course  of  Garrick's  success, 
his  growing  progress  in  wealth  and  estimation,  and  above  all, 
some  of  Garrick's  pleasant  absurdities,  were  all  so  much  exas- 
peration to  his  strange  souL  The  food  of  that  soul  was  a  sort 
of  boisterous  jesting,  which  he  called  good-humoured  satire,  or 
rallying,  and  which,  in  another,  might  have  been  so  con- 
sidered ;  for,  as  in  the  case  of  Douglas  Jerrold,  there  can  be  a 
reputation  for  "  bitter  things,"  and  a  kindly  heart  at  the  same 
time.  But  Foote's  behaviour  seems  to  be  but  too  consistent  with 
his  speeches.     His  conduct  to  Garrick  alone  would  prove  this. 

•  HillMSS. 


342  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

The  latter's  kindness,  his  good-nature  in  overlooking  the  past, 
his  assistance  with  money,  might  have  been  set  down  to  fear ; 
and  it  was  not  unnatural  that  the  sensitive  Garrick  should 
have  an  almost  morbid  terror  of  this  theatrical  highwayman, 
who  was  stopping  every  one  on  the  road.  Footed  tongue  was 
never  weary  of  retailing  stories  about  Garrick's  "  meanness.71 
Some  of  these  were  diverting  enough — as  his  picture  of  the 
actor  and  Hurd  walking  up  and  down  the  Adelphi  Terrace,  the 
former  in  an  agony  at  seeing  a  waste  in  a  candle  in  his  dining- 
room,  distracted  between  obsequious  attention  to  the  bishop, 
and  economy.  His  bust  was  on  Foote's  desk,  near  his  money; 
"but,"  said  the  wit,  showing  it,  "you  see  he  has  no  hands." 
This  was  good,  and  perhaps  fair,  if  he  did  not  go  beyond.  But 
from  a  man  who  had  not  the  decency  to  spare  his  dead  wife, 
not  much  restraint  towards  friends  could  be  expected.  Just 
after  her  death,  he  dined  out  as  usual,  with  a  large  party, 
where  he  affected  a  sort  of  grotesque  sorrow,  which  amused 
the  servants.  When  he  added  that  he  had  been  all  the  morn- 
ing "  hunting  for  a  second-hand  coffin  to  bury  her  in,"  he  suc- 
ceeded perfectly,  and  sent  them  from  the  room  in  convulsions.* 
And  now  freshly  returned  from  the  Jubilee,  and  in  dearth 
of  a  subject,  he  was  everywhere  telling  his  ill-natured  stories. t 
A  witty  but  malicious  speech  of  his — an  impromptu  fait  aloisir 
— was  in  everybody's  mouth.  "  A  Jubilee,"  he  said,  "  as  it 
hath  lately  appeared,  is  a  public  invitation,  circulated  and 
urged  by  puffing,  to  go  post  without  horses  to  an  obscure  bo- 
rough without  representatives,  governed  by  a  Mayor  and 
aldermen,  who  are  no  magistrates ;  to  celebrate  a  great  poet, 
whose  own  works  have  made  him  immortal,  by  an  Ode  without 
poetry,  music  without  melody,  dinners  without  victuals,  and 
lodgings  without  beds ;  a  masquerade  where  half  the  people 
appeared  bare-faced ;  a  horse-race  up  to  the  knees  in  water ; 
fireworks  extinguished  as  soon  as  they  were  lighted,  and  a 
gingerbread  amphitheatre,  which,  like  a  house  of  cards,  tum- 
bled to  pieces  as  soon  as  it  was  finished."]:  His  behaviour 
seems  almost  inexplicable.  He  must  have  visited  the  festival 
at  the  request  of  Garrick.     Yet  he  had  no  sooner  left,  than  he 

*  Taylor,  vol.  ii.,  p.  362. 

f  He  furnished  Boswell  with  the  occasion  for  a  pun.  Garrick  had  a  happy 
knack  at  "  turning  "  a  prologue  ;  but  Foote  could  not  spare  him  even  thi* 
gift,  and  said  all  Garrick's  prologues  had  a  culinary  turn,  and  should  have 
for  a  motto,  jamdudum  patinxt.  "  He  might  be  answered,"  said  the  Laird 
of  Auchinleck,  "  Any  pattens  rather  than  your  '  Piety  in  Pattens.' " 

X  The  "  Ode  without  poetry  "  was  a  thrust  at  the  man  who  had  always 
been  his  friend.  Even  the  forethought  of  providing  "  a  good  bed  for  Mr. 
Foote,"  deserved  the  little  return  of  at  least  forbearance. 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  343 

began  to  ridicule  it  in  every  possible  way.  Every  newspaper 
was  said  to  contain  satires  and  squibs  directed  against  the 
celebration  from  his  hand.  At  last  he  carried  his  animosity 
so  far  as  to  meditate  a  piece  in  which  Garrick  was  to  be 
brought  in,  and  "  taken  off."  A  lady  asked  him,  were  his 
figures  at  "  the  little  theatre  "  to  be  the  size  of  life.  "  No, 
madam,"  he  answered,  "  about  the  size  of  Garrick."  To  the 
list  of  those  whom  he  had  mimicked,  or  threatened  to  mimic, 
was  now  to  be  added  the  respectable  name  of  the  English 
Boscius. 

The  sensation  pageant  of  the  Jubilee  at  Drury  Lane,  with 
its  extraordinary  success,  only  quickened  his  burning  desire  to 
exhibit  his  friend ;  and  he  really  meditated  bringing  out  at  his 
own  theatre  a  sort  of  burlesque  procession,  in  which  there  was 
to  be  a  figure  of  Garrick,  who  was  to  be  addressed  by  one  of 
the  mob  in  the  often-quoted  lines — 

"  A  nation's  taste  depends  on  you, 
Perhaps  a  nation's  virtue  too." 

And  Garrick's  image  was  made  to  answer,  flapping  its  wings : 

"  Cock-a-doodle-doo ! " 

This  coarse  bit  of  wit  quite  took  possession  of  his  mind,  and 
though  he  was  not  able  to  carry  out  his  notion  of  the  proces- 
sion, he  came  back  to  the  "  cock-a-doodle-doo  "  idea  very  often 
and  fondly.  The  project  was  much  talked  of  and  speculated 
over,  a  trick  of  his  in  all  his  "  foot-pad  "  schemes,  to  stimulate 
public  curiosity.  Garrick,  naturally  indignant,  said  to  his 
friends  that  such  treatment  did  not  come  handsomely  from  a 
man  who  at  that  moment  actually  owed  him  five  hundred 
pounds — a  speech  that  was  soon  reported  to  Foote,  and  rather 
disturbed  his  guilty  conscience.  He  affected  to  be  furious  at 
such  a  disclosure,  and  with  some  exertion  got  together  the 
sum — borrrowing  it,  however,  of  his  friends — to  repay  Gar- 
rick. In  this  way  he  fancied  he  was  now  clear  of  all  re- 
straint 

Yet  Garrick  dreaded  this  public  gibbeting  so  much,  that  we 
can  readily  imagine  he  made  fresh  advances  to  soothe  his  enemy. 
There  is  a  story  of  their  accidental  meeting  at  Lord  Stafford's 
door,  and  of  Garrick's  asking,  before  they  went  in,  "  Was  it  to 
be  peace  or  war  ? "  "  Oh,  peace,  by  all  means,"  said  the  wit. 
That  was  but  a  truce — possibly  during  the  dinner.  Davies — 
no  partial  reporter — seems  to  hint  that  the  forbearance  was  to 
be  purchased  by  a  new  loan.  They  met  at  houses  of  their  ac- 
quaintance, at  whose  tables  Mr.  Foote  "rattled  away."  No 
one  enjoyed  his  sallies  more  than  Garrick,  or  laughed  so  mxicl^ 


344  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769 

or  applauded  more  heartily.  But  it  was  noticed  that  the  latter 
did  not  shine  where  Foote  was  present,  being,  not  unnaturally, 
under  some  restraint.  It  was  noticed,  indeed,  that  there  was 
a  class  of  men  of  the  boisterous  sort,  who  had  very  much  the 
same  effect  upon  Garrick.  No  one,  the  same  authority  tells  us, 
was  more  illiberal  in  his  attacks  on  the  absent  Garrick — in  all 
companies  "  pooh-poohing  "  his  merits  as  an  actor,  laughing  at 
his  writings,  accusing  him  of  trickery  and  meanness ;  in  short* 
to  use. the  reporter's  strong  expressions,  "  rendering  his  conver- 
sation disgusting  by  his  nauseous  abuse  of  Mr.  Garrick. " 

At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  admitted  that'  there  were  fail- 
ings about  Garrick — his  pride  in  the  acquaintance  of  the  great, 
his  belief  that  he  himself  was  the  engrossing  subject  of  the 
thoughts  and  interest  of  the  public,  his  little  airs  of  superiority 
— which  to  a  man  of  Footed  temper  and  wit  were  an  hourly 
challenge,  and  literally  irresistible.  Another  matter  to  which 
due  weight  should  be  given,  is  Garrick's  apparent  placidity  and 
endurance,  which  really  might  seem  to  suggest  to  Foote  that 
"  the  hound  "  had  not  much  feeling,  and  cared  very  little  for 
such  treatment.  He  was  so  accustomed  to  impunity,  that  he 
had  literally  lost  the  sense  of  restraint  This  unkindness  fretted 
Mrs.  Garrick  more  than  it  did  her  husband ;  and  when  she  was 
sitting  for  her  portrait,  Northcote,  who  was  with  Reynolds, 
could  hear  her  complaining  of  this  ceaseless  and  unaccountable 
persecution,  which  was  embittering  their  lives.  But  she  was 
to  be  comforted  by  Reynolds,  who  told  her  it  was  the  inferior 
nature  that  always  thus  indemnified  itself. 

If  there  be  one  impartial  character  of  this  period  whom  we 
could  ask  to  arbitrate  in  such  a  matter,  it  is  Reynolds,  the 
amiable  painter,  who,  in  the  dialogue  in  which  he  affected  to 
make  Johnson  describe  Garrick's  character,  but  in  which  his 
own  generous  heart  was  speaking,  true  justice  is  done  to  both 
Foote  and  Garrick ;  and  to  the  popular  stories  that  went  about 
as  to  their  relations,  which  Davies  and  other  slanderers  were 
glad  to  repeat,  that  Garrick  in  society  shrank  from  competition 
with  Foote,  and  became  silent.  "  The  reason  was,"  says  Rey- 
nolds, "  he  disdained  to  compete  with  one  whose  style  of  con- 
versation and  wit  was  vulgar  merriment,  indecency,  and  im- 
piety. "  Even  in  mimicry,  where  Foote  excelled,  he  was  left  far 
behind  by  Garrick,  who,  besides  beating  him  in  the  nicest  and 
most  exact  imitation  of  peculiarities,  gave  the  tone  of  mind  and 
modes  of  thought.  "  Foote  went  out  of  himself,  but  without 
going  into  another  man." 

He  had  presently  discovered  a  fresh  injury  in  Garrick's  play- 
ing a  round  of  his  own  favourite  characters,  which  he  affected 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  345 

to  believe  was  done  with  the  view  of  drawing  away  the  public 
from  his  little  theatre.  Drury  Lane  had  been  kept  open  for  a 
short  time  after  its  usual  season  for  closing,  which  was  another 
outrage.  But,  indeed,  he  had  no  title  to  expect  consideration 
from  a  man  he  had  so  injured.  He  had  begun  by  attacking 
him  in  the  newspapers,  in  letters,  fables,  and  such  squibs — a 
form  of  annoyance  to  which  he  knew  Garrick  was  sensitive. 
At  that  time,  Garrick  was  suffering  acutely  from  an  infamous 
libel,  written  at  him  by  the  wretch  Kenrick,  and  called  "  A  La- 
mentation for  the  Loss  of  his  Nikey,"  which  had  just  come 
out,  and  which  referred  to  the  ruin  of  his  friend  Bickerstaff, 
who  had  fled  from  the  country  to  avoid  the  consequences  of  an 
infamous  crime ;  and  while  Garrick's  friends  were  sorely  dis- 
tressed for  him,  and  the  warm-hearted  Moody  "  hoped  to  God 
that  he  did  not  suffer  this  injury  a  place  in  his  mind,  but  let  it 
.go  to  hell  from  whence  it  came,"  the  delicate  Foote  could  choose 
this  moment  to  attract  yet  more  attention  to  Garrick's  name. 
This  seems  to  be  about  the  worst  trait  in  all  his  behaviour. 

He  was  to  open  his  theatre  in  February  of  the  following  year, 
1773,  and  had  prepared  one  of  his  best  pieces  of  personality. 
This  was  called  the  "  Handsome  Housemaid,  or  Piety  in  Pat- 
tens ; "  and  he  again  intended  to  introduce  Garrick  on  so  favour- 
able an  opportunity,  as  it  was  to  be  in  his  favourite  shape  of  a 
puppet  show.  A  mask  and  puppet  had  been  made  as  like  Gar- 
rick as  could  be  contrived,  with  a  man  concealed  inside.  At 
the  proper  cue,  he  was  to  clap  his  arms  to  his  side,  and  crow 
loudly,  and  thus  revive  the  stale  jest  of  "  cock-a-doodle-doo. " 
All  this  reads  pitiably,  and  the  jest  was  of  the  lowest  sort 
Perhaps  it  was  so  represented  to  him,  for  he  seems  to  have 
abandoned  it  in  that  shape ;  not,  however,  before  it  had  gone 
round  all  the  coffee-rooms  and  clubs  what  pleasant  entertain- 
ment was  to  be  made  out  of  Mr.  Garrick.*  Good-natured 
friends  soon  carried  the  plan  to  the  ears  of  Garrick,  who  was 
thrown  into  agonies  by  such  a  prospect. 

When  the  night  came  round,  the  crowd  was  so  great  and 
curiosity  was  so  intense  that  the  doors  of  the  playhouse  were 
broken  open,  and  the  streets  about  the  Haymarket  were  im- 
passable. Hats,  swords,  and  cloaks,  and  shoes,  were  all  torn 
off  and  lost.  Hundreds  got  in  without  paying  admission 
money.  Many  ladies  fainted,  and  one  girl  had  her  arm  broken. 
There  was  almost  a  riot.     Foote  excelled  himself  on  this  night 

*  Cooke  tells  a  good  story  of  his  exciting  the  jealousy  and  fears  with 
which  the  manager  was  supposed  to  be  tortured,  by  telling  him  of  a  new 
Roscius  he  was  bringing  out ;  and  of  his  then  having  this  puppet  brought 
in.     Garrick  was  still  uneasy.    "  What,  jealous  of  Punch  t "  «»id.  !£<*&&« 


footlights,  and  was  convulsing  h 
On  this  night,  however,  his  e 
did  not  find  such  favour.  It  ex« 
tions  of  personality.  Mrs.  Ya 
"  House-maid,"  Polly  Pattens.* 
commentator,  was  dragged  in,  J 
He  now  had  his  revenge,  and  "  t 
ner  admirably.  He  held  him  u 
Punch's  wife,  Joan,  with  Garrick's 
This  was  his  revenge.  But  wh 
more  personal,  began  to  give  nai 
berland,  and  Mr.  Cradock,  the  a 
riot  took  place,  which  was  with 
Yet  within  a  few  months  he  v 
his  plays  from  Garrick,  and  ha< 
whom  he  had  held  up  at  the  Ha; 
The  unfailing  temper,  the  real  ? 
have  had  its  influence  on  him ;  1 
time  drawn  to  the  man  he  so  ria 
is  not  so  unfair  a  supposition — hi 
him.  Garrick  answered  him  c 
agreeing  to  go.  "  He  has  too  1 
Footed  society  not  to  accept  1 
And,  at  the  end,  he,  with  true  ti 
Foote  with  a  fine  account  he  had 
It  was,  he  heard  on  excellent  au 
formance,  there  was  a  full  houE 
pleased."    We  can  scarcelv  belie 


w*—m 


1769.J  SAMUEL  FOOTK  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  347 

not  with  the  greatest  truth  say  that  I  am  most  sincerely  and  affec- 
tionately yours,  Samuel  Foote." 

He  was  growing  impatient  of  the  slow  gains  which  his  trade 
brought  him  in,  and  of  the  weary  journeys  and  endless  labour 
it  took  him  to  earn  his  crust  A  kind  of  despondency  had 
come  over  him,  which  almost  seemed  the  shadow  of  the 
calamity  that  was  travelling  on  behind  him.  If  he  had  not 
heart  for  bitterness  against  his  more  successful  friend,  it  was 
from  no  awakening  of  generosity;  if  he  wrote  warmly  and 
gratefully,  and  offered  his  hospitalities,  it  was  from  the  ordi- 
nary decencies  of  gratitude,  for  money  security  just  under- 
taken, and  kindness,  and,  perhaps,  want  of  spirits  for  attack. 
The  "  stingy  little  hound  "  had  just  endorsed  his  note  to  pay 
one  Sowden,  who  was  pressing  Foote,  and  in  return  received 
a  copy  of  a  compliment  to  Mrs.  Garrick,  in  which  she  was 
likened  to  Madame  De  Maintenon.* 

Garrick,  always  indulgent  and  good-natured,  received  all 
these  advances  tolerantly,  and  puts  the  maimed  and  dispirited 
satirist  in  good-humour  with  compliments,  telling  how  his 
speeches  had  quite  upset  Mrs.  Baddeley,  the  actress,  who,  on 
the  strength  of  them,  wanted  an  increase  of  salary.  "My 
wife  sends  her  best  wishes,  and  begs  you  will  not  keep  too 
much  company,  nor  make  your  pelly  too  pig  with  entremets 
and  hors-d'oeuvres.  It  is  a  bitty  you  are  so  bleasant  to  so  riot 
yourself  to  teth.Mt  A  good-natured  jest  against  Mrs.  Garrick's 
foreign  pronunciation. 

Yet,  after  all  this  sham  sympathy  and  affected  gratitude, 
his  old  envy  could  not  be  restrained.  It  was  exhibited  even  at 
his  own  table,  not  very  long  before  Garrick's  death,  and  a 
curious  scene  it  was.  It  shows  that  the  old  envy  was  incurable, 
and  "  speaks  volumes,"  as  the  phrase  runs.  Young  Mr.  Lyttle- 
ton,  Lord  Lyttleton's  son — a  fashionable  scapegrace — was 
dining  with  him  with  two  other  gentlemen,  and  mention  was 
made  of  Garrick.  Mr.  Lyttleton,  to  please  his  host  ("  For  you 
must  know,"  said  Garrick,  telling  the  story,  "  that  Foote  hates 
me "),  struck  in,  on  the  usual  tack,  " Garrick  is  so  mean"  He 
was  at  once  stopped — not  by  the  Iwst,  but  by  one  of  the  gentle- 
men present — "  Sir,  I  shall  hear  nothing  against  Mr.  Garrick ; 
he  is  a  man  of  honour,  my  friend,  and  you  do  not  know  him.'* 

*  Garrick's  tone  about  Foote  was  always  friendly.  "  Foote  is  in  great 
spirits/'  he  wrote  to  Colman,  "  but  bitter  against  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 
The  Duchess  has  had  him  in  her  closet,  and  offered  to  bribe  him  ;  but  Cato,. 
though  he  had  one  leg  more  than  our  friend,  was  not  more  stoically  vir- 
tuous." 

f  Forster  MSS. 


348  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769 

And  his  spirited  defence  was  seconded  again,  not  by  the  host, 
but  by  another  friend  of  Garrick's,  who  was  present.  The 
young  man  said,  in  reply,  that  this  was  not  his  opinion  merely, 
but  that  of  his  father,  Lord  Lyttleton,  who  knew  Mr.  Garrick 
better  than  he  did.  They — not  Mr,  Foote — told  him  that  if  his 
father  had  said  so,  he  knew  about  as  little  as  his  son  did.  This 
painful  discussion  at  a  supposed  friend's  table  was  reported  to 
Garrick,  and  caused  him  deep  pain,  so  much  so  that  he  could 
not  give  Mrs.  Garrick  the  pain  of  knowing  it.  Lord  Lyttleton 
was  an  old  friend,  and  the  speech  may  be  dismissed  as  an  in- 
vention of  the  son's.  " For  you  know  Foote  hates  me/"  There 
was  the  truth  at  last,  and  a  humiliating  one  it  was. 

Yet  all  this  could  pass  from  Garrick's  mind  like  a  cloud, 
when  a  second  and  more  terrible  misfortune  than  the  loss  of  a 
limb  came  to  overwhelm  Foote — the  terrible  charge  of  which 
indeed,  he  was  acquitted,  but  which  ended  his  jesting.  No 
sooner  had  this  blow  fallen  than  all  was  forgotten.  The  sense 
of  a  hundred  ungracious,  unkind  acts  had  passed  away.  The 
heart  of  the  true  Samaritan — that  could  see  only  the  spectacle 
of  distress  and  suffering,  and  nothing  else — was  there.  He  was 
unwearied  in  his  exertions.  His  great  influence  with  the  papers, 
with  the  Chronicle,  with  the  Morning  Post,  and  others,  was 
exercised.  "  There  was  not  a  step  in  the  preparation  of  his 
defence,"  says  Mr.  Forster,  "  that  was  not  sedulously  watched 
by  Garrick. "  The  unhappy  man,  whose  unlucky  destiny  it 
was  to  require  some  such  trial  to  make  him  sensible  to  the 
common  claims  of  gratitude,  wrote,  in  a  tumult  of  acknowledg- 
ment, "  God  for  ever  bless  you,  my  dear,  kind  friend  !  Ten 
thousand  thanks  for  your  note.  I  shall  make  the  proper  use 
of  it  directly.  May  nothing  but  halycon  days  and  nights 
crown  the  rest  of  your  life,  is  the  sincere  prayer  of  S.  Foote.  n 

He  was  saved,  perhaps  owing  to  the  exertions  of  this  kind 
and  forgiving  friend.  Garrick  himself  was  that  year  quitting 
the  stage,  and  it  was  a  little  curious  that  the  two  men  whose 
relations  had  been  so  strange  should  have  died  the  following 
year,  within  a  few  months  of  each  other.  But  their  end  was 
very  different.  For  Garrick's  was  the  procession  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  the  pall  upheld  by  friends  he  had  found 
and  attached  to  him ;  but  the  poor  jester,  hurrying  into  exile, 
a  lonely  death  at  Dover :  hi$  last  moments  were  watched  by  a 
servant,  and  a  stage  treasurer  came  down  to  see  him  interred- 

Turning  from  this  painful  picture  of  human  weakness  and 
malice,  we  might  at  least  hope  that  with  Samuel  Johnson — old 
friend,  almost  schoolfellow — he  might  have  found  true  comfort 
and  a  hearty  sympathy — possibly  a  kindly,  and  perhaps  rough, 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  349 

admonition  and  correction;  but  in  that  quarter  at  least,  no 
meanness  of  envy  or  petty  spite.  Since  the  failure,  or  at 
at  best,  the  succes  d'estime  of  "Irene,"  he  had  scarcely  seen  or 
heard  of  his  old  friend,  whose  play,  however,  he  had  taken 
care  should  be  successful — at  least,  so  far  as  profit  went.  Yet 
Johnson  appeared  to  be  dissatisfied.  Justice  had  not  been 
done  to  his  play.  He  had  been  busy  with  his  periodical,  "  The 
Kambler;"  and  though  for  a  time  he  used  to  come  behind  the 
scenes  and  mix  with  the  actors,  he  soon  withdrew  himself,  his 
contempt  for  players,  with  his  roughly  expressed  opinions,  not 
being  likely  to  make  him  very  welcome  there.  His  excuse  to 
Garrick  of  its  temptations,  was  a  mere  plaisanterie.  The  man 
who  wrote  of  the  stage  as  "  a  condition  which  makes  almost 
every  other  man,  for  whatsoever  reason,  contemptuous,  inso- 
lent, petulant,  selfish,  and  brutal,"  could  not  be  popular  with 
the  profession.*  There  was  so  much  that  was  fine  and  noble 
in  Johnson,  so  much  that  has  endeared  him  to  us,  that  even 
when  duty  to  Garrick  makes  us  dwell  on  this  strange  be- 
haviour, we  may  have  the  excuse  that  all  this  was  mere  ebul- 
lition. But  when  ebullition  takes  the  shape  of  action,  extenu- 
ation becomes  more  difficult  Garrick  had  such  ebullitions, 
but  he  never  allowed  temper  to  vent  itself  in  the  shape  of 
action.  Once,  indeed,  Johnson  gave  way  to  a  generous  burst, 
and  did  hearty  and  cordial  justice  to  his  friend.  "  Sir,  it  is  won- 
derful to  see  how  little'  Garrick  assumes.  Garrick  had  ap- 
plause dashed  in  his  face,  sounded  in  his  ears,  and  went  home 

every  night. Garrick  has  made  a  player  a  higher 

character.  All  this,  too,  was  supported  by  wealth  of  his  own 
making."  He  added  that  he  himself  in  such  a  position  would 
have  had  a  couple  of  fellows  walking  on  before  him  with  long 
poles,  to  knock  down  any  one  that  stood  in  his  way.  Cibber 
and  Quin  would  have  jumped  over  the  moon. 

When  Garrick  was  talking  of  retiring,  it  was  plain  to  every 
one  who  knew  him  that  he  was  "  tired,"  mentally  and  physic- 
ally. Yet  Johnson  was  the  one  to  say  coarsely,  "Garrick 
begins  to  complain  of  fatigue  !  Sir,  the  man  that  bawls  tur- 
nips may  complain,"  &c.  This  hostility  was  indeed  surprising 
and  unaccountable.  The  tranquil  affluence  of  Garrick  was  a 
daily  irritation.  Sometimes  he  would  break  out,  in  a  mixed 
company,  with  a  malicious  and  over-coloured  allusion  to  their 

*  "  Now,  sir,"  he  said  to  Boswell,  "  to  talk  of  respect  for  a  flayer  / " 
(smiling  disdainfully ).  .  .  .  "What,  a  fellow  who  claps  a  lump  on  his  back, 
and  a  lump  on  his  leg,  and  cries, ' / am  Richard  the  Third /'"  He  was 
clearly  thinking  of  Garrick.  "A  ballad-singer,"  he  said,  "was  a  higher 
man." 


350  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

early  trials — to  that "  three  halfpence  in  your  pocket  on  coming 
up  to  London" — reminiscences  which  made  Garrick  wince  be- 
fore his  friends.  But  Garrick  bore  such  ill-bred  reminders  wito 
unvarying  sweetness  of  temper.  From  Garrick  was  to  come 
the  capital  compliment  to  his  Mend  on  the  completion  of  that 
marvellous  monument  of  labour  and  knowledge,  the  "  English 
Dictionary,"  a  work,  it  may  be  said,  as  entertaining  and  amus- 
ing as  it  was  instructive: 

"And  Johnson,  well  armed,  like  a  hero  of  yore, 
Has  beat  forty  French,  and  will  beat  forty  more." 

In  return  Johnson's  surly  remarks  were  perpetually  travelling 
to  Garrick's  ear.  It  was  said,  indeed,  that  he  would  allow  none 
to  abuse  Garrick  but  himself — at  best  a  very  questionable  shape 
of  attachment,  and  to  be  perfectly  explained  by  his  favourite 
principle  of  arguing  in  support  of  a  proposition,  which  he  would 
oppose  if  any  one  else  brought  it  forward.  Warm  admirers  of 
"  grand  old  Samuel/'  as  he  had  been  affectedly  called,  will  feel 
something  like  pain  at  coming  to  a  harsh  conclusion,  as  to  this 
behaviour  to  his  early  friend.  Does  Boswell  repeat  to  him  a 
saying  of  Garrick's,  that  if  he  were  now  beginning,  he  should 
not  play  low  characters,  like  Abel  Drugger,  Johnson  sneers, 
that  he  was  not  in  earnest  "  Then  why  did  he  say  so  I " 
"Why,  sir,  to  make  you  answer  as  you  did,"  and  Johnson 
added  that  he  had  probably  made  the  same  speech  some  twenty 
times  before.  When  it  was  said,  that  a  little  compliment  of 
Garrick's  to  the  Queen,  introduced  on  the  stage,  was  "  mean," 
he  broke  out,  "  How  is  it  mean  in  a  player — a  fellow  who  ex- 
hibits himself  for  a  shilling?"  But  Sir  Joshua  calmly,  and 
admirably,  set  him  right,  and  defended  the  profession  of  a 
player.  Instances  would  be  endless.  He  had  to  own  that  his 
"  enemy,"  as  we  may  call  him,  was  liberal,  and  gave  away  more 
money  than  any  man  in  England  that  he  knew  of.  But  then 
— no  one's  liberality  depended  so  much  "  on  the  humour  of 
the  moment."  He  came  in  to  Davies's  house,  loud  in  his  com- 
plaints of  Garrick's  stinginess,  who  had  refused  him  an  order 
to  the  theatre  for  Mrs.  Williams,  because  he  thought  the  place 
would  be  worth  three  shillings  on  that  night !  When  Boswell 
incautiously  said,  he  was  sure  Mr.  Garrick  would  not  refuse 
him  such  a  trifle,  Johnson  told  him,  haughtily,  that  he  had 
known  Garrick  longer  than  he  had,  and  therefore  knew  him 
better.  Knowing  him,  then,  so  much  better,  and  so  long,  he 
might  have  recollected,  that  a  short  time  before,  Garrick  had 
given  this  very  blind  Mrs.  Williams,  not  three  shillings,  but 
two  hundred  pounds !    But  it  was  Garrick's  lot  that  he  should 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  351 

be  called  "  stingy"  by  exactly  the  persons  who  had  least  title 
to  do  so. 

This  depreciation  was  constant,  and  can  be  traced  through 
the  whole  of  their  relations.  When  Garrick,  after  his  mar- 
riage, had  moved  to  his  new  house  in  Southampton  Street,  and 
was  engaged  with  all  the  trouble,  and  pleasant  cares,  of  a  new 
establishment,  he  had  rather  lost  sight  of  Johnson,  and  meet- 
ing him  one  day,  "  gently  complained  of  his  neglect " — how 
like  Garrick ! — and  insisted  he  should  fix  a  morning  to  come 
and  breakfast.  The  manner  in  which  he  was  then  welcomed, 
Johnson  chose  to  interpret  as  "condescending"  and  patroniz- 
ing ;  and  his  sensitiveness  was  so  touched,  that  he  sat  down, 
and  in  one  of  his  "  Ramblers,"  sketched  a  character  so  personal 
that  no  one  could  mistake  it.  Prospero  had  invited  his  blunt 
friend  Asper  to  breakfast.  He  came,  but  found  that  the  im- 
patience of  his  host  arose,  not  from  any  desire  to  communicate 
his  happiness,  but  to  enjoy  his  superiority.  Asper  gave  his  name 
at  the  door,  but  the  time  the  footman  was  absent,  gave  him 
reason  to  suspect  there  was  deliberation  going  on.  He  was 
then  shown  up  the  staircase,  "  carefully  secured  by  mats  from 
the  pollution  of  my  feet.  The  best  apartments  were  then  osten- 
tatiously set  open,  that  I  might  have  a  distant  view  of  the 
magnificence  which  I  was  not  permitted  to  approach ;  and  my 
old  friend  receiving  me  with  all  the  insolence  of  condescension 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  conducted  me  to  a  back  room,  where 
lie  told  me  he  always  breakfasted,  when  he  had  not  great  com- 
pany." The  floor  was  covered  with  a  cloth,  which  the  ser- 
vant was  ordered  to  lift  up.  "  I  did  not  gratify  his  folly  with 
outcries  of  admiration,  but  coldly  bade  the  footman  let  down  the 
doth"  They  sat  down.  Then,  as  Johnson  absurdly  says, 
"  he  had  hoped  that  pride  was  glutted  with  persecution  " — 
when  his  host,  restless  and  anxious,  observed  that  the  cover 
of  Johnson's  chair  had  got  awry,  and  begged  he  would  let  the 
servant  arrange  it.  He  added,  that  he  had  ordered  some 
chairs  for  ordinary  use,  but  they  had  not  come  home.  John- 
son, restraining  himself,  praised  the  tea ;  but  the  host  said  he 
had  a  much  finer  sort,  of  which  only  a  little  was  left,  which  he 
must  keep  for  those  "  whom  he  thought  himself  bound  to  treat 
with  particular  respect."  Another  time,  however,  his  guest 
should  taste  that.  He  then  observing  his  host's  attention  wan- 
dering, he  gave  his  servant  directions  about  the  jeweller  and 
silversmith,  and  that  if  "  Lord  Lofty  "  called,  he  was  to  be 
shown  into  the  best  parlour.  Some  rare  Dresden  china  was 
then  produced  to  be  admired,  which  the  visitor  determined 
not  to  look  at ;  but  his  curiosity  getting  the  better,  he  was  en- 


352  THK  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

treated  to  set  tbem  down,  "  as  those  who  were  accustomed 
only  to  common  dishes  seldom  handled  china  with  much  care.0 
Asper  was  philosophic  enough  at  this  insult  "  not  to  dash  his 
baubles  to  the  ground"  The  host  then  fell  into  a  quiet  fit  of 
meditation  on  what  was,  after  all,  the  vanity  of  these  things 
— they  did  not  add  much  to  human  happiness ;  that  he  still  re- 
called the  old  old  days,  when  they  began  this  struggle  together, 
mutually  assisting  each  other  in  their  exigencies — "  when  he 
and  I  were  upon  a  level"  The  guest  was  meditating  some 
"  bitterness  of  reproof,"  when  the  host  suddenly  recollected  he 
had  an  engagement  to  attend  some  ladies  in  the  Park,  and 
offered  to  take  his  friend  part  of  the  way;  but  the  other  took 
his  leave  "  without  any  intention  of  seeing  him  again,  unless 
some  misfortune  should  restore  his  understanding."  Johnson 
then  makes  some  reflections  to  qualify  these  bitters,  that  it 
could  not  be  intentional,  and  that  it  was  better  to  take  no 
notice,  &c. 

Some  five-and-twenty  years  later,  when  talking  over  tie 
actor — grumbling  at  him,  "his  reputation  for  avarice  saved 
him  from  hatred  :  you  despise  but  do  not  hate  an  avaricious 
man ; "  he  then  added,  "  Garrick  might  have  been  better  attacked 
for  living  more  spendidly  than  suited  a  player.  That  might  hate 
galled  him  more."  For  the  moment  he  forgot  Prospero,  and  that 
he  himself  had  actually  attacked  him  in  that  weak  place.  At 
the  same  time,  it  is  plain,  he  did  not  mean  more  than  to  satisfy 
his  own  private  resentment  by  this  little  bit  of  spite.  It  might 
be  a  good  hint  to  his  friend,  and  show  his  anger ;  but  he  did 
not  expect  that  the  whole  town  would  discover,  and  apply,  the 
likeness,  and  was  really  shocked  when  he  found  it  was  so.* 
Long  after,  he  affected  to  complain  to  Mr.  Thrale  that  Garrick 
had  never  forgiven  him.  That  surprisingly  even-tempered 
nature  forgave  not  only  that,  but  much  more — and  even  a 
second  ungracious  attack. 

When  Johnson  was  preparing  his  edition  of  Shakspeare,  he 
announced  that  the  principle  that  would  guide  him,  would  be 
the  collation  of  all  the  early  printed  editions.  Garrick  was 
known  to  have  an  unrivalled  collection — certainly  not  to  be 
matched  in  England — and  Johnson  knew  the  special  advantage 
he  would  have  in  the  use  of  these  treasures.  Garrick,  when 
he  heard  of  his  seriously  taking  up  the  plan,  sent  word  that 
his  library  was  open  to  him — the  key  left  with  the  servant, 
and  that  a  fire  would  be  always  kept  ready — perhaps  the 
most  welcome  and  unrestrained  way  in  which  the  use  of  books 

*  Cradock. 


1769.]  SAMUEL  FOOTE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  353 

could  be  offered.  Will  it  be  credited  that  Johnson  saw  here  a 
fresh  attempt  to  patronize  him,  "the  fellow  wanted  to  be 
courted."*  He  should  have  collected  those  rare  and  priceless 
books,  packed  them  up,  and  sent  them  to  be  strewn  about  the 
garret,  where  Johnson  worked,  t  Johnson  nursed  his  fancied 
injury.  When  the  Shakspeare  appeared,  every  one  wondered 
at  seeing  no  allusion  to  the  Koscius  of  the  age — who  had  done 
so  much  for  Shakspeare — the  King  Lear,  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  and 
Richard  of  the  era.  When  asked  about  this  omission,  Johnson 
would  say,  in  his  easy  way,  "  Garrick,  sir,  has  been  liberally 
paid  for  anything  he  has  done  for  Shakspeare. "  On  another 
occasion  he  was  again  pressed  for  the  reason.  Did  he  not 
admire  Garrick  1  "  Yes — as  a  poor  player  that  frets  and  struts 
his  hour  on  the  stage,  as  a  shadow.  My  dear  sir,"  he  added, 
impatiently,  "  if  I  had  praised  him,  I  must  have  praised  many 
more,"  which  was  a  poor  pretence,  as  Garrick  stood  quite 
apart  from  all  the  rest.  But  this  was  nothing:  merely  a 
matter  of  taste.  He  went  further.  He  tortured  Garrick's 
offer  of  his  books  into  a  refusal,  and  Garrick,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, found  himself  again  held  up  to  the  public  in  such  a  pas- 
sage as  this :  "  I  collated  such  copies  as  I  could  procure,  and 
wished  for  more ;  but  have  not  found  the  collectors  of  these  rarities 
very  communicative.  Of  the  editions  which  chance  or  kindness 
put  into  my  hands,"  &c. 

Garrick  never  forgive  him!  Only  a  few  months  later,  there 
was  a  dinner  at  BoswelTs,  in  Bond  Street,  "  where  he  played 
round  him  with  a  fond  vivacity,  taking  hold  of  the  breasts 
of  his  coat,  and,  looking  up  in  his  face  with  a  lively  arch- 

*  Garrick,  after  this  injustice,  actually  called  the  man-servant  in  to 
Hawkins;  and  made  him  repeat  the  instructions  so  carefully  given  to  him. 
"  I  was  told,  sir/'  said  the  man,  "  to  let  Mr.  Johnson  have  any  books  he 
wanted."  But  Sir  John  "  conjectured  "  that  Ganick's  "  object "  was  thus 
to  get  "  thanks,  and  perhaps  some  additional  compliment." 

t  The  latter's  treatment  of  books  was  notorious.  Garrick  found  John- 
son one  day  in  his  private  study,  where  was  his  choice  collection  of 
elegantly  bound  presentation  copies,  busy  throwing  the  books  down  one 
after  the  other,  and  strewing  the  floor.  The  owner  was  naturally  angry, 
and  said  it  was  his  private  cabinet.  "  I  was  determined  to  examine  your 
collection,"  said  the  other  insolently,  "  and  find  it  consists  of  three  sorts 
— stuff,  trash,  and  nonsense."  There  must  have  been  great  sweetness,  on 
Garrick's  side,  that  could  put  up  with  this  treatment.  He  used  even  good- 
naturedly  to  take  off  his  friend,  asking  him,  in  his  solemn  tones,  "  David, 
haveyouaPetrarcha?"  "Yes,  sir."  "Don't  sigh,  David.  Send  it  to  me." 
Burney  tells  us  the  handsome  volume  was  lent ;  and  Boswell,  later,  de- 
scribed the  doctor  holding  that  very  book  up,  at  full  arm's-length  over  his 
head,  in  a  sort  of  rapture.  It  slipped  and  fell  on  the  floor,  with  its  back 
all  strained  and  dislocated.  This  little  point  shows  how  minutely  accurate 
—even  to  the  name  of  a  book — was  Boswell. 


354  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

ness,  complimented  him  on  the  good  health  he  then  seemed  to 
enjoy."  Boswell  had  set  a  passage  in  the  "  Mourning  Bride" 
above  anything  in  Shakspeare ;  and  Garrick,  in  alarm,  defended 
his  demigod,  saying,  we  must  not  make  the  poet  suffer  for  the 
badness  of  their  memories — making  "  the  sage  "  smile  at  hifl 
eagerness.  This  little  scene — one  of  the  prettiest  in  Boswell 
— shows  Garrick  in  his  most  charming  guise — playful,  affec- 
tionate, and  forgiving.  Perhaps,  after  all,  we  may  have  a 
faint  hope  that  this  was  only  Johnson's  "  way,"  and  that  the 
two  understood  each  other.  Yet  there  is  more  to  come ;  and 
Johnson's  singular  behaviour  about  the  Literary  Club  shows 
the  same  secret  grudge.  That  society  was  founded  in  the  year 
1764,  with  Reynolds,  Johnson,  Burke,  Beauclerk,  Langton, 
Goldsmith,  Chamier,  Nugent,  and  Hawkins,  as  original  mem- 
bers. Garrick  did  not  return  from  abroad  until  a  year  and  a 
half  later,  and  with  such  friends,  might  fairly  claim  admission 
— at  least  as  well  as  Hawkins  or  Chamier.  When  no  pro- 
posal was  made,  he  began  to  be  a  little  restless  and  fidgety, 
would  stop  at  Hawkins's  on  his  way  to  Hampton,  and  ply 
him  with  questions — Had  he  been  at  the  club  last  night  t 
— Did  they  talk  of  him  ? — Was  Johnson  there  ? — Did  he  say 
that*  Davy  was  a  pleasant  fellow  enough  in  his  way,  but  no 
poet  or  scholar  ?  When  he  first  heard  of  the  plan,  Garrjck 
said,  "I  like  the  notion.  I  think  I  shall  be  of  you."  A 
light  speech,  but  not  an  unnatural  one.  It  was  scarcely  pru- 
dent of  the  placid  and  friendly  Sir  Joshua  to  repeat  it  "  HfU 
be  one  of  us/"  roared  Johnson,  delighted  to  have  him  on  the  hip. 
"  How  does  he  know  we  will  permit  him  ? — the  first  Duke  in 
England  has  no  right  to  hold  such  language."  This  was  his 
tone  to  Reynolds.  To  Hawkins,  who  was  willing  to  admit 
Garrick,  he  objected,  "he  will  disturb  us  by  his  buffoonery." 
And  finally,  when  Mrs.  Thrale  started  the  subject,  he  broke 
out  with :  "  If  Garrick  does  apply,  I'll  blackball  him.  Surely 
one  ought  to  sit  in  a  society  like  ours,  *  unelbowed  by  game- 
ster, pimp,  or  player.' "  Here  are  three  distinct  significations 
of  hostility,  addressed  to  three  distinct  witnesses.  Hawkins 
adds,  that  he  so  contrived  matters,  that  the  actor  was  never 
formally  proposed,  and  by  consequence,  never  admitted.  In 
this  he  is  a  little  mistaken :  Garrick's  admission  did  not  take 
place  for  eight  or  nine  years,  and  Johnson's  opposition  and  in- 
fluence may  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  this  long  postpone- 
ment. 

Boswell,  reporting  his  "vanity"  and  Johnson's  "envy," 
said  the  actor  "was  always  jealous  that  Johnson  spoke  lightly 
of  him,''    Hawkins  adds,  that  Garrick  used  to  complain  that 


1769.]  SAMUEL  F00TE  AND  SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  355 

Johnson  "  was  capricious  in  his  friendship,  and,  as  he  termed 
it,  coquettish  in  his  display  of  it;  and  when  Boswell  good- 
naturedly  reported  to  him  some  little  praise  by  Johnson  of 
his  knack  of  writing  prologues,  Garrick  could  not  conceal 
his  delight  and  joy  at  the  unexpected  encomium.  Stock- 
dale  brought  tears  into  his  eyes  by  reporting  to  him  a 
poor  compliment  of  Johnson's.  These  are  trifles ;  but  they 
show  a  surprising  evenness  and  sweetness,  a  kindly  and  simple 
nature — an  amiable  return  for  such  behaviour.  When  Gar- 
rick would  give  a  good-humoured  imitation  of  his  friend, 
even  here  he  showed  his  anxiety  as  to  this  one  matter. 
Taking  him  off,  he  would  make  him  say,  "  Davy  has  some 
convivial  pleasantry  about  him,  but  is  a  futile  fellow."  In  re- 
turn, Johnson,  after  coming  from  behind  the  scenes,  would 
tell  his  friends,  "  I  met  Davy  behind  the  scenes  last  night, 
dressed  for  his  part.  I  was  glad  to  see  him,  but  I  believe  he 
was  ashamed  to  see  me."  Johnson  repeated  this  story  in 
various  shapes.  It  was  when  Garrick  was  dressed  for  Scrub, 
or  Drugger,  and  I  think  we  can  see  in  it,  a  harmless  delicacy 
— a  wish  not  to  disturb  the  more  dignified  image  of  his  his- 
trionic self,  which  he  wished  to  rest  in  the  mind  of  the  friend 
he  so  respected — that  of  Lear  or  Richard.  Indeed,  the  pre- 
sence of  Johnson  could  have  been  no  welcome  addition  be- 
hind the  scenes.  When  every  eye  in  front  is  wet  with  tears 
at  the  sorrows  of  Lear,  and  even  Clive,  at  the  wing,  is  sobbing 
out,  "  D — n  him,  he  can  act  a  gridiron  !  "  the  great  actor  is 
disturbed  by  the  loud  voices  of  Murphy  and  Johnson,  laugh- 
ing and  talking  over  something  else.  As  he  comes  off,  he  re- 
monstrates gently,  and  tells  Johnson  he  distracts  his  feelings. 
"  Pshaw !  sir,"  says  Johnson,  coarsely,  "  Punch  has  no  feelings !  "* 
This  to  the  manager,  before  the  other  players,  and  from  a 
friend,  was  unkind.     The  speech  was  recollected  and  enjoyed,  t 

*  Johnson,  though  he  had  a  contempt  for  players,  did  excellent  justice  to 
his  acting.  Who  can  repeat  Hamlet* 9  soliloquy.  '  To  be,  or  not  to  be,'  as 
Garrick  does  it  ? "  said  Boswell,  foolishly,  and  with  that  misplaced  praise 
which  really  depreciates.  "Anybody  may,"  said  Johnson.  ''Jemmy, 
there, '  a  child,1  will  do  it  as  weU  in  a  week."  Garrick  was  no  declaimer ; 
yet  he  was  the  only  actor  I  ever  saw  whom  I  could  call  a  master  both  in 
tragedy  and  in  comedy ;  though  I  believe  him  best  in  comedy.  A  true  con- 
ception of  character,  and  natural  expression  of  it,  were  his  distinguishing 
excellences."  This  was  his  real  excellence,  and  not  the  poor  recitatio 
"  To  be,  or  not  to  be  " — perhaps  his  weakest  point. 

t  Garrick  and  his  associations  were  always,  by  some  fatality,  unpleasant 
for  Johnson.  Thus,  when  Walmesley's  old  letters  of  introduction  to  Col- 
son,  now  nearly  forty  years  old,  came  to  light,  having  been  carefully  trea- 
sured by  Abraham  Kewling,  a  friend  wrote  to  Garrick, "  If  I  had  called,  as 
I  sometimes  do,  on  Dr.  Johnson,  and  showed  him  one  of  these,  ^tver*  W\* 


356  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1769. 

Wilkes,  repeating  the  stupid  slander  of  stinginess,  said,  in 
Johnson's  presence,  that  Garrick  "would  play  Scrub  to  the 
end  of  his  life;"  then,  brought  on  a  discussion,  which  ex- 
tracted from  Johnson  an  admission  that  Garrick  gave  away 
more  than  any  man  in  England.*  After  a  fine  panegyric 
on  Garrick's  liberality,  and  his  wonderful  self-restraint  under 
the  tempest  of  praise  "  dashed  in  his  face " — "  Sir,  a  liberal 
man ;  a  little  vanity,  indeed ;  but  he  has  shown  that  money 
is  not  his  first  object,"  he  might  seem  liberal.  Yet,  when 
Boswell  quotes  Foote's  stupid  jest  about  his  going  out  with 
an  intent  to  be  generous,  and  its  all  vanishing  in  the 
street  at  the  ghost  of  a  halfpenny  candle,  Johnson  agrees 
complacently,  "  That  is  very  true,  sir.  No  man  ever  so 
much  depended  on  the  humour  of  the  moment."  It  would 
be  far  more  true  to  say,  that  it  was  not  on  the  humour 
of  the  moment  that  he  was  generous;  that  he  reflected,  and 
perhaps  wrote  a  letter;  and  thus,  his  benevolence  was  mea- 
sured, and  infinitely  superior  to  a  charity  of  impulse.  No 
"  ghost  of  a  halfpenny  candle  "  had  come  between  Foote  and 
his  kind  assistance.  No.  It  was  a  humour  that  lasted  all  his 
life — a  humour  not  by  any  means  of  the  moment :  as  most  ap- 

Slications  for  money  came  to  him  by  letter,  he  had  time  to 
eliberate.    We  can  mark  every  year  of  his  life  by  a  series  of 
generous  actions  and  of  thoughtful  aid. 

From  the  same  hostile  quarter  came  the  grudging  testimony 
that  he  was  the  first  man  in  the  world  for  sprightly  conversa- 
tion, though  he  thought  that  conversation  was  light.  Even  after 
the  actor's  death,  as  will  be  seen,  Johnson's  encomiums  were 
conventional  and  ill-applied.  What  were  Garrick's  real  faults 
escaped  him,  and  it  was  reserved  for  Goldsmith's  nicer  obser- 
vation to  hit  off  those  social  histrionics,  the  blemish  of  Gar- 
rick's life.  "He  had  friends,  sir,"  Johnson  said,  after  the 
actor  had  passed  away,  "  but  no  friend.  He  was  too  much 
diffused.  He  found  people  always  ready  to  applaud  him,  and 
for  the  same  thing,  and  so  saw  life  with  great  uniformity." 
He  ought,  at  leasts  to  have  found  one  friend  in  his  own  school- 
fellow and  companion — whose  failure — the  school  and  the  play 
— he  had  helped  to  the  best  of  his  power,  t 

mentioned  as  one  Johnson,  I  should  have  risked,  perhaps,  the  chance  of  one 
of  his  ghastly  smiles." 

*  The  kindly  Reynolds  made  this  excuse  for  him,  that  Johnson  con- 
sidered Garrick  as  his  property,  and  would  allow  no  one  to  attack  or  praise 
him  without  contradiction.  He  wrote  the  two  well-known  dialogues  in 
Johnson's  manner  to  show  this. 

f  Even  in  trifles  we  see  instances  of  Garrick's  thoughtful  kindness.  Bos- 
well and  Johnson  pay  a  visit  to  Lichfield.    Johnson  was  scarcely  at  home 


1770.]  THE  ADELPHI.  357 

And  yet,  after  all,  it  seems  as  if  Garrick's  regard  and  affec- 
tion for  him,  are  his  best  extenuation.  We  know  what  a 
struggle  was  always  going  on  in  that  fine,  strong,  powerful 
nature — how  Johnson  prayed  and  wrestled  with  himself  and 
the  meaner  passions,  which  so  often  overpowered  him.  Some- 
times, therefore,  in  dealing  with  Garrick,  the  generous  feeling 
prevailed,  and  he  did  him  more  than  justice ;  but  the  next 
moment  he  was  thinking  of  the  success,  and  of  Garrick's  social 
artifices,  which  to  him  were  contemptible,  and  then  the  less 
worthy  feeling  seemed  to  prevail.  After  all,  this  may  be  the 
solution;  and  all  hearty  admirers  would  be  delighted  that 
such  strange  behaviour  could  be  reconciled  with  Johnson's 
really  fine  temper. 

At  the  end,  when  Garrick  had  passed  away,  some  such 
better  influence  prevailed.  "  Garrick  was  a  very  gQofl  man," 
lie  said ;  "  the  cheerfiilpg*  maTT^f  bin  affi    a  dnrnnt  liygr  in  a 

nessT^ There  is  something  pretty  and  appropriate  in  that 
epitaph,  something  so  nicely  describing  Garrick,  something  so 
inviting,  that  we  condone  all,  and  fondly  believe  that  Johnson, 
his  old  schoolfellow,  then  understood  him — but,  alas!  too  late. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ADELPHI — COUNTY  VISITS. — 1770. 

The  same  old  taste  for  high  life,  and  this  rather  foolish  am- 
bition to  do  as  those  did  who  were  above  him  in  rank  and 
wealth,  made  Mr.  Garrick  now  prepare  to  leave  his*  house  in 
Southampton  Street*  where  he  had  lived  more  than  twenty 
years.  They  were  but  two — their  house  was  large  and  hand- 
some enough;  well  situated,  too,  for  one  of  his  condition. 
But  he  was  eager  for  something  grander,  and  more  "  fashion- 
able." Four  brothers,  of  the  name  of  Adam — two  of  whom 
were  architects  of  repute,  who  have  left  admirable  works 
behind  them — had  entered  upon  what  was  then  considered  a 
colossal  undertaking.  They  had  bought  the  old  Durham  yard 
— where  Garrick  long  before  had  his  wine  vaults — with  the 

there ;  but  a  letter  arrives  to  Peter  Garrick,  enjoining  him  to  pay  every 
attention  to  the  visitors.  When  a  great  honour  was  paid  to  Garrick  in 
being  sent  for  to  read  for  the  King,  Johnson  chuckled  over  the  coldness 
which  the  Royal  host  had  shown  at  the  entertainment.  He  dwelt  on  Oar- 
rick's  mystification  and  disappointment ;  then  went  off  in  the  old  stock 
charge — avarice  and  love  of  praise. — D'Arblay's  Diary. 


358  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [17701 

sheds  and  buildings  about  it,  and  conceived  the  daring  scheme 
of  throwing  out  a  handsome  terrace,  raised  on  a  series  of 
arches,  over  the  river  side.*  In  a  spirit  of  Scotch  nationality 
they  had  brought  all  their  masons  and  bricklayers  from  Scot- 
land, and  the  work  was  stimulated  hy  the  monotonous  drone 
of  the  bagpipe.  The  Adelphi  was  then  considered  a  splendid 
undertaking,  The  name  was  given  in  compliment  to  the 
brothers;  and  the  two  dingy  approaches,  John  and  Robert 
Streets,  were  named  after  them.  The  arches  are  solid  and 
substantial ;  the  houses  handsome,  and  decorated  with  Italian 
tracery,  that  was  then  considered  in  the  best  classical  taste. 
Garrick  was  taken  with  the  situation,  and  through  Lord  Mans- 
field's interest  obtained  the  promise  of  one  of  the  houses,  even 
before  it  was  completed.  These  mansions  are  really  sumptuous 
in  their  finish.  It  proved  to  be  a  costly  venture,  and  was  much 
above  the  resources,  perhaps  above  the  position  of  "  a  player;" 
for  the  other  houses  were  taken  by  men  of  rank  ana  wealth 
— like  Beauclerk  and  Mr.  Hoare.  But  one  of  Mr.  Garrick's 
little  weaknesses  was  to  do  as  people  of  rank  and  wealth  did 

What  is  now  number  four,  was  the  one  he  chose,  and  he 
fitted  it  up  almost  with  magnificence.  The  plafond  of  the 
drawing-room  was  painted  by  Zucchi,  with  Venus  and  the 
Graces ;  and  a  rich  Italian  marble  chimney-piece,  said  to  have 
cost  £300,  adorned  the  fireplace.  All  his  choicest  pictures 
hung  round  upon  the  wails.  Yet,  like  many  a  house  built  to 
be  "architectural,"  it  turned  out  a  failure.  There  was  too 
much  light  in  front,  from  the  river  and  the  sun ;  and  the  back 
rooms,  where  the  pictures  were,  were  dungeon-like,  from  the 
shadow  of  the  neighbouring  houses.  It  is  conceivable  that 
the  situation  had  a  charm — from  the  gaiety  and  animation  of 
the  river,  the  passing  boats,  and  the  hum  and  bustle  of  the 
Strand  close  by,  yet  shut  out,  and  remote.  Even  now,  that 
deserted  terrace — lonely  and  grass-grown  as  it  is — has  a  quaint 
air ;  it  belongs  not  to  our  age ;  the  houses,  with  their  Italian 
arabesques,  seem  like  a  scene  from  old  Drury  Lane ;  and  it 
did  not  take  much  imagination  to  conjure  up  that  not  un- 
picturesque  evening  when  Boswell  and  Johnson  strolled  there, 
and  leant  on  the  rails,  looking  over  the  river,  and  talked  of 
the  friend  that  had  once  lived  in  the  house  they  had  just  leftf 

*  It  has  never  been  noticed  that  this  was  a  realization  of  a  dream  of 
Diocletian's  Palace  at  Spalato,  which  Adam  had  visited  and  drawn. 

t  It  was  the  office  of  the  literary  Fund,  and  business  was  conducted 
in  Garrick's  fine  drawing-room.  It  would  have  made  him  u  turn  in  his 
grave  "  had  he  thought  that  David  Williams's  Society  was  to  have  its 
home  in  his  house. 


*—* 


1770.]  county  visits.  359 

In  the  March  of  this  year,  an  act  of  friendship  was  to  draw 
him  into  one  more  unpleasant  conflict  with  the  public.  Kelly, 
the  drdevant  staymaker,  had  brought  him  a  new  piece,  which 
Garrick's  tact  must  have  told  him  could  not  have  been  brought 
out  without  danger.  Kelly  had  written  bitter  satires  on  the 
players  of  both  houses  in  succession,  in  feeble  imitation  of  "  The 
Kosciad."  He  had  talked  of  "  Olive's  weak  head  or  execrable 
heart/'  and  spoken  of  Mrs.  Dancer  as  "  a  moon-eyed  idiot." 
This  was  mere  scurrility.  Garrick,  with  infinite  difficulty,  had 
smoothed  away  these  green-room  resentments ;  but  the  author 
had  since  enlisted  under  Government,  and  had  been  writing 
down  the  popular  side,  and  Wilkes's  friends  had  determined 
not  to  let  so  tempting  an  opportunity  go  by.  The  friends  of 
the  manager,  and  even  those  who  had  some  terror  of  the 
"  hack's  "  pen,  mustered  strongly,  and  the  first  scene  of  "  A 
Word  to  the  Wise "  was  the  signal  for  an  outrageous  riot. 
Through  the  combined  efforts  of  the  two  parties,  not  a  word 
was  caught  of  the  piece.  When  it  was  concluded,  the  author 
himself  was  anxious  that  no  more  should  be  heard  of  it,  and 
that  a  new  play  should  be  announced  for  the  next  night ;  but 
an  alarming  deputation  of  some  gentlemen,  supporters  of  the 
manager,  waited  on  him  behind  the  scenes,  and  threatened  to 
sack  the  house  if  the  new  play  was  not  given  out — which  was 
accordingly  done. 

It  may  be  conceived  what  a  promise  of  riot  this  held  out ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  prologue  began  on  the  following  night,  both 
parties  rushed  to  the  attack.  In  vain  Garrick  appealed  to 
them,  with  a  request  from  the  author  that  his  play  might  be 
withdrawn.  His  "friends,"  with  an  embarrassing  partisan- 
ship, insisted  it  should  go  oil  In  vain  the  author  himself  im- 
plored that  his  piece  might  be  withdrawn.  He  was  not  listened 
to.     The  night  closed  in  utter  riot  and  confusion. 

We  presently  find  him  setting  off  on  a  visit  to  friends  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight.  These  were  the  Fitzmaurices,  who  were  the 
centre  of  a  pleasant  coterie,  with  Lord  Clanricarde,  the  admiral 
of  the  station,  and  others.  The  Governor,  Mr.  Stanley,  who 
did  not  know  him,  sent  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Garrick,  with  a 
hope  that  they  would  come  to  stop  with  him  at  Steeple ;  and 
offered  his  yacht  during  their  stay.  They  were  indeed  made 
much  of.  They  left  behind  them  memories  of  a  delightful 
gaiety  and  badinage.  Mrs.  Garrick  was  pronounced  "the 
queen,"  and  her  health  was  drunk  every  day  after  her  depar- 
tnre,  with  a  fond  recollection.* 

*  It  was  insisted  by  the  little  coterie  that  Mr.  Hewson,  the  clergyman, 
when  giving  prayers  at  Shanklin,  laid  a  special  stress  upon,  tha  '*«&&"  <rat 


360  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1770. 

His  mode  of  life  seemed  to  change  with  these  high  preten- 
sions. The  visits  multiplied.  Many  entertainments  were 
given  at  the  new  house.  They  were  seen  at  balls  and  mas- 
querades— at  Mrs.  Cornely's  famous  one  in  1770,  where  the 
great  actor  was  dressed  as  a  Macaroni  Doctor,  and  his 
"  lady  "  as  an  Italian  peasant  Now  he  was  to  be  asked  down 
to  Wynnstay,  in  obedience  to  many  a  pressing  invitation. 
Going  down  to  this  house,  he  met  some  flattering  proofs  of  his 
popularity.  For  at  Shrewsbury  the  whole  town  was  in  a  fer- 
ment, and  the  Haven  Inn,  where  the  party  put  up,  was  besieged 
with  the  curious.  When  he  appeared,  there  was  a  crowd,  who 
made  free  and  rustic  remarks  on  his  person,  eye,  hair,  &c.  He 
travelled  quite  en  seigneur,  with  six  horses  and  four  men-ser- 
vants, which  seems  a  state  more  befitting  a  man  of  rank  than 
even  a  wealthy  player.*  Whether  it  was  that  he  was  thus  ab- 
sorbed by  fashion  and  pleasure,  or  that  a  real  theatrical  decay 
Was  slowly  coming,  the  affairs  of  the  theatre  seemed  to  lose 
much  interest. 

Now  came  an  event  which  to  his  sensitive  soul  must  have 
been  like  a  shock,  and  have  robbed  him  of  his  rest  at  nights. 
One  day  a  terrible  letter  reached  him.  It  was  only  a  few  lines 
long,  but  it  warned  and  threatened,  and  was  signed  "  Junius.1' 
When  we  know  that  in  his  heart  he  shrank  from  the  cheapest 
and  meanest  anonymous  rascal  who  wrote  to  him,  we  may 
imagine  the  effect  of  this  awful  power,  who  was  striking  in  the 
dark.  He  had  done  a  foolish  thing.  Woodfall,  the  printer, 
had  mentioned  carelessly,  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  Junius  would 
write  no  more,  and  Mr.  Garrick  had  sent  this  joyful  news  with 
all  speed  to  the  King,  by  one  of  the  Court  pages,  Ramus,  whom 
he  knew  very  wellt  The  King,  however,  mentioned  the 
matter  to  his  friends,  and  perhaps  to  those  whom  it  most 
seriously  concerned ;  and  it  thus  speedily  came  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  unseen  power.     His  warning  to  Garrick  ran : — 

"  I  am  very  exactly  informed  of  your  impertinent  inquiries,  and 
of  the  information  you  so  busily  sent  to  Richmond,  and  with 
what  triumph  and  satisfaction  it  was  received.     I  knew  every 

gracious  Queen  Charlotte,"  to  prevent  his  friends  making  any  mistake  as  to 
the  queen  they  were  to  pray  for.  Wherever  they  went,  they  always  left 
behind  them  the  same  playful  memories,  and  affectionate  regard. 

*  Forster  MSS.  There  are  many  little  hints  of  this  growing  taste  for 
gaiety — more  verses,  more  letters.  I  have  seen  his  hair-dresser's — Oast's 
— bill  for  the  last  year  of  his  management,  for  wigs,  dressings,  "  pomadums," 
and  it  is  very  large. — BuL  Col. 

t  Woodfall  received  this  secret,  alarming  warning :  "  Beware  of  David 
Garrick  !  He  was  eent  to  pump  you,  and  went  directly  to  Richmond  to 
tell  the  King  I  would  write  no  more." 


1770.]  COUNTY  VISITS.  861 

particular  of  it  next  day,  through  the  indiscretion  of  one  who 
makes  it  a  rule  to  betray  everybody  that  confides  in  him.  Now 
mark  me,  vagabond  /  Keep  to  your  pantomimes,  or  be  assured 
you  shall  hear  of  it.  Meddle  no  more,  thou  busy  informer ! 
It  is  in  my  power  to  make  you  curse  the  hour  in  which  you 
dared  to  interfere  with — Junius." 

Woodfall,  who  had  much  regard  for  Garrick,  remonstrated 
humbly  with  the  tremendous  writer.  But  he  received  a  stern 
order — " the  letter  to  D.  6.  must  go  forward ; "  all  he  allowed 
was  that  "impertinent  inquiries  should  be  changed  into 
"  practices."  But  Woodfall  went  further,  and  quietly  took  out 
the  allusion  to  the  King,  through  fear  it  would  compromise 
himself.  Garrick  was  aghast.  "  Mark  me,  vagabond ! "  was 
offensive  enough.  After  some  deliberation,  he  wrote  to  Wood- 
fall  a  curious  letter,  which  was  dignified  and  confident,  and  yet 
seemed  to  appeal  to  Junius's  forbearance,  with  many  artful 
compliments  of  superior  strength,  talents,  &c.  "However 
mighty  may  be  the  power  with  which  he  is  pleased  to  threaten 
me,  I  trust,  with  truth  on  my  side  and  your  assistance,  to  be 
able  to  parry  the  vigour  of  his  arm,  and  oblige  him  to  drop  his 
point,  not  from  want  of  force  to  overcome  so  feeble  an  adversary  as  I 
am."  He  then  explains  the  matter,  and  justifies  himself. 
This  was  sent  forward  by  Woodfall,  and  it  elicited  a  half- 
satisfied  acceptance  from  Junius.  "If  he  attacks  me  again, 
I  will  appeal  to  the  public  against  him;  if  not,  he  may 
safely  set  me  at  defiance."  This  was  thrown  in  contemp- 
tuously, in  a  letter  full  of  more  important  subjects;  but 
from  such  a  quarter  it  seemed  a  good  deal,  and  must  have 
comforted  Garrick's  sensitive  heart.  Junius  had  also  alluded 
to  Wilkes,  no  friend  of  Garrick's,  though  he  wrote  him 
letters  full  of  false  bonhomie,  and  compliments,  and  a  jovial 
affection.  Home  Tooke  had  accused  him  of  having  sent  Gar- 
rick a  threatening  letter,  telling  him  not  to  play  "  Jane  Shore." 
Wilkes  replied,  denying  the  accusation.  He  said,  indeed,  that 
it  was  noticed  that  Mr.  Garrick  had  altered  his  manner  of  play- 
ing Hastings,  and  leant  with  undue  emphasis  on  certain  pass- 
ages which  could  be  applied  to  Wilkes's  case ;  and  also  that 
some  "  warm  Mends  "  talked  of  showing  their  disapproval,  and 
had  waited  on  Mr.  Garrick.  This  looked  very  like  "  intimida- 
tion." Garrick  replied  simply,  and  with  spirit,  that  he  had 
made  no  alteration,  and  would  continue  to  play  the  piece  in 
the  same  way.  This  furnishes  a  glimpse  of  the  true  cha- 
racter of  the  demagogue,  and  of  the  sort  of  "liberty"  that 
was   meant  by  "Wilkes  and  Liberty."    How  Wiiksa  *aA 


362  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1770. 

Johnson  could  talk  together  oyer  their  dead  friend  has  been 
seen. 

All  this  was  vexatious  enough ;  but  his  enemies  were  now 
to  be  delighted  with  news  of  a  fresh  trouble,  which  must  have 
tried  him,  and  his  gentle  wife,  sorely.  It  was  hard  for  him, 
certainly,  to  be  gay  and  diverting  at  those  great  houses,  where 
he  was  made  so  welcome. 

For,  happy  as  the  manager  of  Drury  Lane  might  be  con- 
sidered, wealthy,  prosperous,  enjoying  the  friendship  of  the 
best  and  noblest  natures  in  the  land,  few  knew  what  secret 
trials  he  had  to  endure,  and  what  persecution  his  own  yielding, 
or  perhaps  weak,  temper  invited.  The  brigands  of  Grub 
Street,  the  scoundrels  who  found  a  profession  in  publishing,  or 
suppressing,  libellous  pamphlets ;  the  tribe  of  Kenricks,  Pur- 
dons,  Smarts,  knew  that  in  his  complacent  or  timorous  nature 
they  were  sure  to  find  their  account.  Of  these  Kenrick,  or 
Dr.  Kenrick,  as  he  was  always  deferentially  called,  was  the 
most  unscrupulous  and  infamous.  He  stands  apart  from  his 
fellows,  is  a  marked  character  of  the  time,  and  like  one  of  the 
bullies  who  sometimes  infested  the  taverns,  is  seen  striving  to 
fasten  on  men  like  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Colman,  even  Boswell, 
and  on  Garrick  himself.  A  manager  who  had  influence  and 
riches  was  a  far  more  profitable  object  than  needy  poets  or  jour- 
nalists. He  began  with  the  usual  advance,  a  play,  which  Gar- 
rick, on  his  return  from  abroad,  brought  out  at  once.  It  was 
called  "  FalstafTs  Wedding,"  and  intended  as  a  continuation  of 
"Henry  IV.,"  but  was  promptly  damned.  Later  he  came 
with  another  piece,  which  Garrick  could  not  bring  himself  to 
refuse.  A  few  years  later,  he  came  again  with  a  comedy;  but 
here  Garrick  was  obliged  to  make  a  stand.  He  gave  excuses 
about  being  pledged  to  other  plays,  promised  that  he  would 
consider  it  carefully,  and  if  suitable,  would  accept  it.  He  then 
declined  it,  and  turned  the  man  he  had  been  trying  to  con- 
ciliate into  a  furious  assassin.  At  the  first  opportunity  a 
scurrilous  and  unscrupulous  onslaught  might  be  looked  for, 
and  that  opportunity  came  speedily. 

Bickerstaff,  a  man  of  undoubted  talent,  and  with  a  true  vein 
of  pleasant  comedy,  who  has  given  to  the  English  stage  many 
fresh  agreeable  pieces,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  one  of  Garrick^ 
most  useful  aides-de-camp.  The  manager  found  him  service- 
able in  a  hundred  ways.  Ho  could  alter  an  old  comedy  like 
the  "Nonjuror"  with  fair  skill,  and  fit  it  to  the  fashion  of 
the  day.  Garrick  always  treated  him  with  true  kindness,  a 
perfect  equality,  and  a  delicacy,  quite  characteristic  of  himself, 
towards  one  who  was  really  a  dependant. 


1770.]  COUNTY  VISITS-  36S 

Yet  he,  too,  was  following  the  desperate  calling  of  the  hack, 
now  begging,  now  borrowing ;  and  at  last,  in  this  very  year,  it 
became  known  on  town  that  Bickerstaff  had  fled  suddenly, 
to  avoid  the  certain  penalty  which  would  have  overtaken 
him,  for  a  shocking  and  monstrous  crime.  There  were,  no 
doubt,  plenty  who  thought  this  was  no  more  than  incident  to 
the  degrading  life  of  such  creatures ;  but  the  scoundrel 
Kenrick  was  on  the  watch.  He  knew  of  their  friendship,  and 
in  a  few  days  a  malignant  and  scurrilous  pamphlet,  full  of 
dark,  yet  unmistakeable  hints,  had  appeared,  entitled  "La- 
mentation for  the  Loss  of  his  Nykey."* 

The  insinuations  in  this  production  there  could  be  no  mis- 
taking. It  was  followed  up  by  another,  entitled  "  Love  in  the 
Suds, '  which  seems  to  have  gone  through  four  or  five  editions- 
In  this  there  was  an  attempt  to  explain  away  the  meaning 
put  in  the  first  libel,  while  even  worse  was  insinuated.  He 
ridiculed  the  actor's  defects — pointed  the  general  decay  in  his 
gifts,  and  said  that  he  had  been  hissed,  he  had  "  died  "  so  tamely 
in  Richard,  and  made  Boscius  gloat  over  Foote's  accident : 

"  Curse  on  his  hone  !    One  leg,  but  one,  to  break ! " 

Yet  there  was  a  crafty  and  tortuous  scheming  that  accom- 
panied this  open  ruffianism — a  secret  by-play,  which  is  a 
highly  curious  feature  in  the  business.  In  the  papers  appeared 
some  queries,  coming,  as  it  were,  from  a  friend  of  Garrick's, 
accusing  the  libeller  of  cowardice,  and  saying  that  George 
Garrick  had  waited  on  him  to  demand  the  satisfaction  of 
a  gentleman.  The  libeller  then  replied  to  himself,  saying 
that  the  challenge  was  general,  with  no  time  or  place  spoken 
of.  Nearly  at  the  same  time  an  anonymous  letter  was  sent  to 
Garrick,  warning  him,  as  "a  sincere  friend,"  against  "that 
desperate   villain    Kenrick,"    which    "cowardly  villain,"   to 

*  From  the  miserable  wretch  who  was  hiding  at  St  Malo  came  a  piteous 
appeal  to  Garrick,  in  which  shame  and  despair  are  strangely  blended  : — 
"  Si  votre  cosur  a  conserve*  jusqu'a  present,  la  moindre  trace  de  cette  pre- 
vention que  voua  avez  autrefois  avoue*  pour  un  homme,  qui  est  aujourd'hui 
le  plus  malheureux  qui  soit  sur  la  terre,  je  voua  supplie  de  me  faire  la  con- 
noitre  par  trois  ou  quatre  mots.  Pe*ne*tre*  avec  un  chagrin  le  plus  amer,  qui 
peat  blesser  le  coour,  soyez  persuade*,  que  je  n'ai  rien  de  demander  de  votre 
bonte,  que  de  vous  ecrire  plus  an  longue :  si  vous  n'dtes  pas  dans  ce  senti- 
ment de  me  permettre,  imaginez  que  cette  lettre  vient  d'un  mort  au 
vivant :  jettez  la  dans  le  feu,  et  n'en  pensez  plus.  Je  n'ai  pas  le  moindre 
doute  que  mon  chagrin  me  h&tera  au  tombeau,  mais  par  un  chemin  peut- 
fitre  plus  longue  que  je  ne  le  souhaiterai  .  .  .  J'etois  loin  de  soupcpnner  que 
la  dernicre  fois  que  j'entroia  dans  votre  libraire,  serait  la  derniere  que  j'y 
entrerais  de  ma  vie,  et  que  je  ne  reverrai  plus  le  maitre."  Garrick  en- 
dorsed this  appeal,  "  From  that  poor  wretch  Bickerstaff!  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  answer  it" 


364  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1770. 

retrieve  his  reputation,  was  going  about,  declaring  in  all  places 
that  he  was  now  ready  to  give  Mr.  Garrick  the  satisfaction  of 
a  gentleman.  Kenrick  was  indeed  going  about,  bragging  that 
the  player  was  afraid  to  meet  him.  He  himself  had  a  wife  and 
children ;  but  if  Mr.  Garrick  would  settle  half  his  fortune  on 
his  family,  in  case  of  an  accident,  he  would  meet  him  at  once. 
This  effrontery  was  quite  in  keeping.  Yet  Garrick  had  the 
inconceivable  folly  to  think  of  temporising  and  privately 
remonstrating.  "  Sir,"  he  had  written,  "  I  am  really  sorry  for 
the  figure  you  made  in  the  late  transaction  with  me.  Could 
not  you  have  finished  a  little  better,  for  the  sake  of  that 
honour  which  so  readily  drops  from  your  pen  ?  .  .  .  Do  you 
imagine  I  would  have  risked  my  reputation  to  have  acted 
unlike  a  man,  even  to  him  who  has  been  ungratefully  vilifying 
me  ?  No,  sir.  I  would  have  honoured  you  by  giving  the  satis- 
faction of  a  gentleman,  if  you  could  (as  Shakspeare  says)  have 
screwed  your  courage  to  the  sticking  place  to  have  taken  it."  For- 
tunately, his  better  judgment  made  him  change  his  intention, 
and  this  paper  was  never  sent*  In  the  whole  transaction  he 
seems  for  once  to  have  been  goaded  out  of  his  usual  self- 
restraint  ;  and  the  sending  such  a  fellow  a  challenge,  which  he 
seems  to  admit  he  did,  was  a  grave  mistake.  He  took  the 
more  sensible  course  of  an  appeal  to  the  King's  Bench.  But 
here  again  the  indulgence,  or  perhaps  weakness,  of  the  actor 
intervened,  and  his  prudence  deeming  conciliation  more  profit- 
able than  punishment,  interposed,  and  he  accepted  the  rascal's 
humble  apologies.  The  whole  is,  indeed,  curious ;  as  showing 
a  class  of  annoyances  and  persecutions,  against  which  the 
public  man  had  to  defend  himself  as  best  he  could ;  and  which, 
indeed,  seem  to  have  been,  as  it  were,  licensed,  t 

Barry,  whose  health  was  now  failing,  and  who  was  indeed  a 
martyr  to  infirmities,  the  delicacy  and  kindness  of  the  manager 
considered  in  every  way.  His  and  his  wife's  joint  salary  had 
been  raised  by  two  hundred  pounds ;  he  was  left  free  in  the 
choice  of  parts ;  his  ease  and  health  were  consulted ;  and  he 
was  never  called  on  to  do  anything  which  would  displease  or 
degrade  him.  J 

*  It  is  endorsed,  "  This  not  sent  to  that  scoundrel  Dr.  Kenrick.  .... 
It  was  judged  best  not  to  answer  any  more  of  Dr.  Kenrick's  notes ;  he  had 
behaved  so  unworthily." 

t  Mr.  Forster  has  given  the  story  of  Goldsmith's  persecution  by  this 
ruffian,  at  length. 

£  There  is  one  scene  connected  with  Barry's  decay,  which  is  almost 
pathetic.    When  he  was  playing,  and,  tottering  to  a  chair  kept  at  the  wing 

for  him,  said,  in  allusion  to  his  infirmities,  "  I  am  now  old ,"  there  was 

A  jeer,  from  the  galleries,  and  a  coarse  laugh.    Sheridan  was  present 


1770.]  county  visits.  365 

A  new  question  was  about  the  play  of  "  Alzuma,"  which  was 
then  actually  in  rehearsal  Murphy  wished  the  leading  part 
to  be  taken  from  Mrs.  Abington,  and  given  to  Mrs.  Barry. 
His  morbid  fancy  saw  a  conspiracy  between  the  manager  and 
the  actress,  and  that  Garrick  and  she  were  plotting  to  revenge 
themselves  on  him,  by  destroying  the  chance  of  his  success. 
He  at  once  sent  to  recall  his  play ;  nothing  would  change  him ; 
he  raked  up  all  his  old  griefs ;  no  business  of  his,  he  told 
Barry,  was  ever  done  in  a  candid  manner,  except  that  of 
"  The  Grecian  Daughter."  "  My  peace  of  mind  on  that  occa- 
sion I  owe  to  you  and  Mrs.  Barry :  upon  every  occasion  Mr. 
Garrick  has  been  a  thorn  in  my  side."  This  was  an  ungenerous 
and  unjust  imputation;  but  he  thus  artfully  tried  to  draw 
Barry  into  the  quarrel,  and  actually  told  a  whole  string  of  old 
accusations  against  Garrick.  "  If  the  intention  of  this  crooked 
dealing  was  not  to  thwart  Mrs.  Barry,  the  whole  is  pointed  at 
me.  The  attempt  to  hinder  me  from  writing  a  comic  character 
for  her  is  new;  out  the  public  universally  admire  her  genius, 
and  I  beg  to  be  one  of  the  number."  The  parts  were  then 
sent  back.  Garrick  did  not  lose  his  temper,  though  he  said, 
"  I  am  too  old  and  too  happy  to  love  altercation."  He  was  in 
hopes,  he  wrote  to  Barry,  "  that  after  eighteen  years'  acquaint- 
ance, we  should  at  least  have  finished  in  harmony  and  good- 
will. I  am  afraid  that  he  has  unwarily  got  into  some  mis- 
understanding with  Mrs.  Abington;  and  thinking  a  quarrel 
with  an  actress  about  her  part  would  be  too  trifling  a  reason 
for  taking  away  his  play,  he  has  chosen  to  exhibit  a  complaint 
against  me;  but  I  defy  the  malice  of  my  most  inveterate 
enemies  to  prove  the  least  intentional  injury  from  me  to  him, 
since  our  first  knowledge  of  each  other :  can  Mr.  Murphy  do 
the  same  ?  "  But,  always  temperate,  and  with  an  eye  to  bring- 
ing the  matter  to  a  practical  issue,  he  offered  to  refer  the 
matter  to  any  legal  friend — not  mutual — but  Murphy's;  to 
Wallace,  Bearcroft>  Cowper,  Tighe — or  any  of  his  Lincoln's 
Inn  friends — the  condition  to  be,  that  if  they  decided  tho 
matter  against  Garrick,  he  should  forfeit  a  sum  equal  to  the 
profits  of  a  new  play ;  but  if  otherwise,  Murphy  should  ask 
pardon  "  for  his  unjustifiable,  unfriendly  behaviour,  and  un- 
warrantable suspicions."  To  this  fair,  and,  it  must  be  said, 
very  unequal  proposal,  the  only  answer  was  a  furious  letter  of 
recrimination  for  Garrick : 

"  If  Mr.  Garrick  considered  it  as  his  duty  to  forget  what  he 
thought  former  injuries,  how  did  it  happen  that  he  told  a  rela- 
tion of  Mr.  Murphy,  at  Bath,  two  years  ago,  '  Yes,  I  could  do 
great  things  with  his  play;  but  you  know  he  has  written  against 


366  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICE.  [1770. 

w£  ?  If  I  remember  former  injuries,  it  is  because  the  wounds 
are  opened  by  the  hand  that  gave  them.  To  store  up  resent- 
ment for  occasional  use  was  the  black  character  of  Tiberius." 
He  then  declared  the  reference  "  ludicrous."  "  I  have  much 
esteem  for  the  gentleman  named,  but  must  take  leave  to  think 
myself  a  competent  judge  in  my  own  affairs. "  Garrick  had 
reminded  him  of  their  eighteen  years'  acquaintance,  and  of  the 
quarrels  and  penitence,  and  the  reconciliations  which  Murphy 
himself  had  sought,  as  Murphy's  own  letters  could  prove.  This 
last  allusion  seemed  to  sting  him  to  fury.  He  had  hoarded  no 
man's  letters !  He  had  written  none  that  he  could  be  ashamed 
of! 

We  shall  have  but  one  more  glimpse  of  Mr.  Murphy;  and  it 
is  a  relief  to  be  able  to  finish  with  one  who  has  played  so  un- 
worthy a  part  in  Garrick's  life — whose  own  life  was  such  an 
alternation  from  bullying  to  fawning,  from  bluster  to  obsequi- 
ousness. There  is  no  more  unpleasant  figure  to  meet  the  eye, 
as  we  look  back  on  all  that  time.  Even  as  we  turn  to  his  por- 
trait— taken  when  he  had  grown  elderly — we  can  discover  this 
air  of  false  good-humour,  overlying  a  something  that  is  ill-con- 
ditioned and  vicious.  For  the  twenty  years  or  so  during  which 
he  survived  his  old  enemy,  his  life  was  much  of  the  old  charac- 
ter— now  dedicating  to  Lord  Lauderdale,  or  "animadverting 
severely  on  his  lordship's  character,"  now  doing  hack-work  for 
the  booksellers;  translating  "Tacitus,"  which  he  modestly 
styled  "a  gaol  delivery  from  Gordon;"  slavishly  obsequious  to 
Johnson,  who  in  return  was  said  to  have  pronounced  him  the 
beau  ideal  of  a  fine  gentleman.  Later,  he  actually  contracted 
the  doctor's  overbearing  manner  in  conversation.  Gradually 
his  necessities  became  more  pressing;  but  the  adventurer's 
good  luck  often  came  to  his  rescue.  Now  he  is  left  a  legacy ; 
now  a  "  Mrs.  Plunkett "  gives  him  an  allowance ;  but  his  most 
curious  piece  of  fortune  was,  that  one  who  had  been  held  up 
with  him  in  "  The  Eosciad,"  the 

"  Pert  prim  prater  of  the  Northern  race, 
Guilt  in  his  heart,  and  famine  in  his  face," 

and  who  is  represented  as  urging  Murphy's  claims  to  promo- 
tion to  the  chair,  should  long  after — as  Lord  Loughborough — 
have  come  to  his  aid  substantially,  and  given  him  the  profit- 
able, but  temporary,  office  of  Commissioner  of  Bankrupts.  A 
better  "  thing "  was  a  small  pension,  procured  by  Lord  Sid- 
mouth,  for  this  "steady  friend  and  supporter  of  our  unri- 
valled Constitution."  But  nothing  seemed  to  help  him,  and 
to  the  end  he  was  always  to  be  the  old  Arthur  Murphy.  Be- 
fore he  died,  "  he  had  eaten  himself  out  of  every  coffee-house 


1770.]  COUNTY  VISITS.  367 

between  Temple  Bar  and  the  West-end."  From  Mr.  Rogers 
he  obtained  money;  and  when  payment  was  talked  of,  assigned 
him  over  all  his  works  as  a  security,  which  the  creditor  pre- 
sently discovered  to  have  been  already  assigned  away  to  a  book- 
seller. To  the  end,  too,  he  had  always  the  satisfaction  of 
abusing  Mr.  Garrick.  If  it  was  asked  in  a  club  why  did  not 
Mr.  Garrick  acknowledge  that  amusing  farce,  "High  Life 
below  Stairs,"  he  could  explain  it :  "  Sir,  he  stole  it  from  me. 
I  sent  it  to  him;  and  afraid  of  detection,  he  got  that  clergyman 
Townley  to  father  it"  To  the  end  he  maintained  that  singular 
estimate  of  the  merits  of  Garrick :  "  Off  fthr  ctftgp,  fiifj  hf,:™^ 
a  little  sneaking  rascal ;  but  an  the  stage — O,  my  great  God  !"* 
From  this  point  to  the  end  of  Garrick's  management  it  does 
seem  as  though  Drury  Lane  had  begun  to  languish  a  little :  a 
sort  of  respectable  monotony  seemed  to  set  in.  Nothing  strik- 
ing or  novel  in  the  way  of  drama  or  actor  seemed  now  to  rise, 
though  there  were  new  actors  and  new  plays  in  plenty.  The 
manager,  growing  more  and  more  rcdiercht  by  his  friends  of 
high  rank,  acted  only  at  intervals,  to  bring  up  the  receipts — 
and  it  must  have  been  flattering  to  him  to  think  his  name  was 
always  a  talisman — or  else  to  oblige  his  noble  friends.  He 
would  play  scarcely  about  twenty  times  in  the  season;  a  great 
change  from  his  old  industry,  of  over  a  hundred  times.  Yet  he 
was  not  left  idle.  His  hands  were  fulL  Vexations  and  worries 
behind  the  scenes  were  setting  in.  The  fine  old  school  of 
players,  who  had  been  trained  under  contempt,  and  in  adver- 
sity, had  nearly  all  passed  away.  The  newer  generation 
wanted  docility  and  humility,  and  had  excessive  ideas  of  their 
own  worth  and  consequence.  He  himself  was  beginning  to 
lack  the  energy  and  spirit  necessary  to  deal  with  such  preten- 
sions; and  there  was  now  rising  a  decided  insubordination, 
principally  led  by  the  actresses.  The  actors,  indeed,  gave 
trouble,  though  they  were  amenable  to  reason,  and  in  the  end 
submitted ;  but  the  withdrawal  of  Pritchard  and  Clivc  had  left 
him  completely  at  the  mercy  of  that  "  worst  of  bad  women," 
the  unscrupulous  Abington.  There  was  no  one  to  take  her 
line  of  parts,  and  no  one  so  popular  in  special  characters. 
Hence  set  in  for  him  a  new  class  of  troubles,  which  he  must 
have  detested — wrangles  with  women.  This  disorder  was  to 
be  inflamed  by  the  ever-troublesome  Murphy,  who,  not  content 
with  his  old  taste  of  doing  battle  singly  with  the  manager, 
was  now  to  get  into  the  green-room  with  a  play;  contrived  to 

*  "  I  have  heard  him,"  says  Mr.  Taylor,  M  utter  these  words  several  times 
during  the  evening,  without  any  variation."  Mr.  Forster  told  me  he  had 
often  heard  Mr.  Rogers  relate  the  story. 


368  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1770. 

fight  with  Garrick  about  Abington;  then  fought  with  both 
Abington  and  Garrick  together. 

We  may  therefore  hurry  over  the  dramatic  incidents  of  the 
remaining  period  of  his  connection  with  Drury  Lane.  The 
good  comedy  of  the  "West  Indian,"  by  Cumberland,  in  1771, 
introduced  a  good  writer  to  the  stage.*  There  was  also  the 
turgid  "  Braganza,"t  considered  by  many  excellent  judges  of 
the  day  to  be  quite  equal  to  Otway  and  Shakspeare,!  and  a 
dreary  "  Almida,"  by  a  lady  he  had  met  abroad,  and  whose 
civilities  became  a  claim  for  the  bringing  out  of  a  play.  There 
was  also  Burgoyne's  cheerful  piece — a  soldier  dramatist — "  The 
Maid  of  the  Oaks,"  which,  strange  to  say,  was  a  dramatic  re- 
production of  a  fite  at  Lord  Derby's,  and  for  which  he  was 
obligingly  lent  the  decorations,  dresses,  &c,  used  by  the  noble 
host.  A  new  claim  for  his  judgment  was  the  introducing  of 
the  cheerful  "  Runaway,"  in  which  Mrs.  Cowley  tried  her 
powers  before  attempting  the  better  known  "  Belle's  Strata- 
gem," a  piece  written  in  a  good  key,  and  belonging  to  a  good 
school,  but  not  of  the  first  rank. 

There  was  one  act  of  folly  in  his  life  to  which  Garrick  might 
look  back  with  compunction.  This  was  that  famous  and  Gothic 
mutilation  of  "  Hamlet,"  the  outrageous  hewing  to  pieces  of 
the  noble  play,  which  seems  inconceivable  in  one  who  had  such 
reverence.  His  excuse  was  that  there  was  no  guide,  even  for 
the  best  intentioned.  He  himself  had  always  been  busy 
with  alterations,  and  in  the  best  faith.  There  was  scarcely  a 
stage  play  of  Shakspeare  which  he  had  not  touched,  and,  it 
must  be  said,  with  some  delicacy.  But  with  regard  to  "  Ham- 
let," he  had  a  sort  of  feeling  that  was  almost  morbid,  and  which 
had  grown  stronger  every  year.  It  was  with  him  a  kind  of 
diseased  hobby;  and  stimulated  by  confederates,  and  cautiously 
reflecting  over  it,  he  had  brought  himself  to  think  that  the 
later  acts  of  "  Hamlet "  were  a  mass  of  hideous  deformity,  and 
so  much  rubbish. 

Steevens  looked  forward  with  delight  to  the  hacked  and  hewed 
"  Hamlet."  The  alteration  was  "  a  circumstance  in  favour  of 
the  poet,  "which  he  had  been  longing  for.  There  might  be  variety 
in  tnis  play;  but  in  his  humble  opinion  that  variety  was  often 
impertinent,  and  always  languishing,  on  the  stage.     After  the 

*  "  D — n  his  dishclout  face  ! "  Northcote  overheard  Garrick  say,  at  he 
rattled  on  when  sitting  to  Sir  Joshua;  "  only  that  1  touched  up  his  play«, 
and  wrote  prologues  and  epilogues  for  them,  they  would  never  go  down." 
Between  the  painter  and  actor  there  was  the  freest  speech. 

t  Produced  in  1775. 

$  "Vigorous  and  warm  he  comes  from  Shakspeare 's  schooL" — 2/WrpAy. 


1770.]  county  visits.  369 

third  act,  the  genius  of  Shakspeare  "  retires,  or  only  plays  bo- 
peep  through  the  rest  of  the  piece."  He  suggested  throwing 
the  remainder  of  the  play  into  a  farce,  to  appear  after  it :  it 
might  be  called  "Tbe  Gravediggers,"  with  the  pleasant  humours 
of  Osrick,  the  Danish  macaroni.  His  friend  Dr.  Hoadly  en- 
joyed the  prospect  also.  He  was  afraid  too  little  was  going  to 
be  done,  "  and  only  twenty-five  lines  added !  "  He  too  had 
turned  over  the  folios,  and  proposed  to  aid  in  the  "  tinkering." 
When  Ophelia  talked  to  her  father  of  "repelling  Hamlet's 
letter,"  would  it  not  help  the  action  to  have  one  produced, 
which  he  might  take  to  the  king  ¥  All  which  could  be  done 
by  the  insertion  of  the  following  mock  Shakspearean : — 

"  Oph. —        There's  his  last  letter  to  me  ; 
This  packet,  when  the  next  occasion  suits,  I  shall  return. 

Pol. — Go  we  with  this  to  the  king. 
This  must  be  known."  * 

Then  Hamlets  behaviour  to  Ophelia  was  always  unmeaning  and 
crueL  Would  it  not  be  better  that  he  should  show  that  he 
was  discouraging  her  love  purposely,  as  he  had  other  dreadful 
purposes  on  his  mind  ?    Here  was  the  Hoadlyan  version  : — 

"Softly  now, 
The  fair  Ophelia  !    I  have  made  too  free 
With  that  sweet  lady's  ear.    My  place  in  Denmark, 
The  time's  misrule,  my  heavenly-urged  revenge, 
Matters  of  giant  stature,  gorge  her  love, 
As  fish  the  cormorant. 

*  *  *  *  * 

My  heart !    Could  I,  in  my  assumed  distraction, 
Drive  her  sad  mind  from  all  so  ill-timed  thoughts 
Of  me,  of  mad  ambition,  and  this  world  ! " 

It  was  suggested  that  a  good  deal  of  the  "  rubbish"  had  been 
put  in  at  the  suggestion  of  "  the  Hopkins  of  the  day  " — Hop- 
kins was  GarricKS  stage  manager — to  suit  various  seasons  and 
actors ;  and  the  whole  had  been  printed,  without  discrimina- 
tion, on  the  authority  of  that  officer.  It  is  melancholy  to  read 
of  such  critics,  who  may  be  fairly  placed  in  the  profane  band 
whose  pleasure  and  occupation  is  knocking  noses  and  fingers 
off  old  statues,  like  barbarian  tourists.  Mr.  Malone's  white- 
washing the  coloured  bust  at  Stratford  was  only  symbolical  of 
the  greater  Goths,  who  treated  Shakspeare's  works  in  the  same 
outrageous  way.  Some  of  Garrick's  folly  may  therefore  be 
fairly  apportioned  among  the  "  judges  "  who  encouraged  him. 

In  December,  1772,  this  precious  composition  was  brought 
out.  A  more  extraordinary  medley  could  not  be  conceived. 
The  dreamy  inaction  of  Hamlet  was  got  rid  of  by  plenty  of 
exclamations  and  "business."    He  was  in  perpetual  m&t\£rcu 


370  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVED  GARRICK.  [1770. 

The  King  defended  himself  bravely,  and  what  Garrick  himself 
called  the  "  rubbish  of  the  fifth  act,"  which  included  the  grave- 
diggers'  6cene,  was  all  shovelled  away,  with  the  diggers'  own 
mould.  An  acute  Frenchman,  De  la  Place,  who  knew  the 
English  mob,  owned  that  he  trembled  for  their  temerity  in 
depriving  the  stage  of  the  "Fossoyeurs  qui  de  tout  ont  fait  ses 
delices."*  A  happy  compliment  to  the  despised  groundlings ! 
But'  the  whole  was  received  with  indifference  and  languor  in 
the  performance.  It  was  a  pity  indeed  that  one  of  Garrick's 
last  acts  should  have  been,  at  the  lowest,  a  blunder.  It  caused 
much  amusement  in  the  town,  where  it  was  considered  to  ap- 
proach a  burlesque.! 

Murphy,  his  friend,  had  prepared  a  ponderous  satire  of  great 
length  in  ridicule  of  these  alterations,  which  he  was  wise 
enough  not  to  publish — a  scries  of  scenes  between  Garrick, 
George  Garrick,  Hopkins  the  stage  manager,  Johnson  the 
property-man,  and  Becket  the  bookseller.  It  is  a  poor  and 
laborious  piece.  The  usual  defence  for  attacks  of  this  sort 
directed  by  "  friends,"  against  Garrick,  was  that  they  were  all 
mere  "squibs,"  and  full  of  good-natured  "fun,"  and  that  they 
could  do  no  harm.  This  was  also  Foote's  excuse.  But  in  all 
these  attacks  is  to  be  found  a  malicious  sting,  which  cannot  be 
so  defended.  In  Murphy  this  meditated  attack  was  treacher- 
ous, for,  as  we  have  seen,  he  approved  of  what  had  been  done. 

This  wonderful  composition  held  its  ground  for  almost  eight 
years ;  was  acted  even  after  Garrick's  retirement,  then  gave 
place  to  the  purer  Shakspeare  in  1780,  and  will  never  be  heard 
of  again.  But  Garrick's  Borneo,  Cibber's  Richard,  and  Tate's 
Lear,  are  not  to  be  so  easily  got  rid  of.  As  it  was  at  this  point 
that  the  slow  decay  of  the  stage  seemed  to  set  in,  we  may  now 
take  a  glance  at  its  fine  company — the  grand,  strong  cohort 
which  Garrick  trained  and  directed — the  noble  procession 
which  was  fast  beginning  to  grow  thin,  and  fade  out  in  the  dis- 
tance.    No  such  procession  ever  came  again. 

*  I  possess  the  original  prompter's  copy  of  this  sacrilegious  work,  with 
all  Garrick's  changes.  It  is,  I  believe,  the  only  copy ;  for  it  has  never  been 
printed. 

t  One  of  Garrick's  projects,  of  which  he  had  spoken  to  French  friends, 
was  an  edition  of  Shakspeare.  For  this  end  he  had  made  that  wonderful 
collection  of  "  old  plays,"  which  are  now  in  the  Museum,  and  which  Eli* 
pored  over  with  delight,  and  the  gems  of  which  he  picked  out,  and  set  so 
daintily. 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  371 


CHAPTER  VH. 

THE  GREAT  ACTORS. — 1772. 

Zoffany,  the  theatrical  artist,  has  painted  a  very  charac- 
teristic scene  of  Drury  Lane  green-room,  in  which  are  grouped 
all  the  leading  performers.*  The  manager  himself  sits  to  the 
left,  in  an  easy  attitude,  his  legs  over  the  arm  of  a  chair,  de- 
claiming some  part  for  their  instruction.  Hogarth  is  in  the 
middle,  pointing  to  the  instructor;  while  Mrs.  Garrick  sits 
with  the  rest,  demurely  listening — as  though  she  belonged 
actually  to  the  company.  Even  their  little  dog  is  there,  and 
George  Garrick,  the  faithful  henchman,  stands  obsequiously, 
with  his  hand  on  his  brother's  chair,  and,  characteristically 
enough,  is  the  only  one  of  the  company  who  is  not  seated. 
The  whole  has  an  almost  domestic  air :  the  manager's  wife 
always  came  down  to  rehearsals — brought  her  work — listened 
— and  was  deferentially  asked  her  opinion  by  her  husband ; 
and  though  this  devotion  was  often  smiled  at,  and  his 
favourite  excuses  to  a  claimant,  "  Well,  well,  I'll  speak  to  Mrs. 
Garrick,"  often  mimicked,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  her 
presence  and  interest  in  the  business  was  founded  on  good 
policy,  and  had  the  happiest  effect.  For  it  brought  order, 
dignity,  and  self-respect ;  and  as  ^the  chief  and  his  wife  im- 
ported these  courtesies  and  decencies  of  life,  so  they  had  in- 
sensibly the  effect  of  bringing  about  a  similar  tone  among 
their  subordinates. 

Yet  Zoffany's  selection  seems  arbitrary.    It  does  not  fairly 
represent  the  strength  of  Drury  Lane — that  wonderful  com-  | 
pany,  which,  for  nearly  thirty  years,  continued  so  strong,  j 
sterling,  and  varied  in  its  talents,  with  an  almost  classic 
solidity  in  their  dealing  with  a  part.     This  was  indeed  the 
merit  of  this  excellent  set,  who  were  a  perfect  "  school,"  with 
all  that  honest  work,  labour,  study,  and  talent  could  train 
them  in.     No  clap-trap  would  be  endured,  and  if  we  look  at  . 
their  portraits — such,  at  least,  as  have  been  done  by  the  skil-  ; 
ful  touch  of  Reynolds  and  Zoffany — we  shall  see  what  a  power  j 
of  highly  developed  expression  they  could  infuse  into  their 
faces. 


*  There  are  also  present  Beard,  Baddeley,  Woodward,  Aicken,  Smith, 
Macklia,  Mrs.  Yates,  Mrs.  Abington,  and  O'Brien. 


372  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GABRICK.  [1772. 

Garrick,  while  he  ruled  Drury  Lane,  might  be  said  to  have 
controlled  two  different  generations  of  actors.  The  older  one 
was  by  far  the  most  remarkable,  and  was  the  choice  and  bril- 
liant corps  with  which  the  splendid  successes  of  Drury  Lane 
were  achieved.  It  included  Macklin,  Barry,  Woodward,  Mos- 
sop,  Sheridan,  King,  Foote,  Smith,  Yates,  Shuter,  and  Boss ; 
with  Pritchard,  Clive,  Cibber,  Woflington,  and  Yates.  The 
newer  generation,  who  came  during  the  last  years  of  his 
administration,  were  Parsons,  Dodd,  JBensley,  Shuter,  Weston, 
O'Brien,  Powell,  and  the  two  Palmers;  with  Miss  Pope,  Miss 
Younge,  Mrs.  Barry,  Mrs.  Abington,  and  perhaps  Mrs.  Siddons. 
Towards  the  end  of  his  reign,  when  his  retirement  had  been 
talked  of  for  some  time,  a  sort  of  insubordination  and  irregu- 
larity set  in ;  the  indulgence  in  "  airs  "  and  humours,  which 
have  always  been  the  curse  of  the  stage,  the  good  salaries,  and 
the  petting  of  the  town,  began,  and  tempted  the  overbalanced 
histrionic  soul  to  kick.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  clearer  than 
that  it  was  Garrick,  and  Garrick  alone,  who  did  all  for  the 
stage.  At  the  other  house,  where  there  was  no  such  control, 
there  was  constant  disorder  and  decay;  the  moment  he  retired 
the  gradual  decadence  which  has  continued  almost  to  the  pre- 
sent time,  set  in. 

What  a  company  to  act  great  plays !  what  a  green-room ! 
It  was,  indeed,  a  fine  classical  school,  where  all  were  masters 
— not  rude,  raw  creatures,  taken,  as  it  were,  from  the  plough 
— but  who  had  served  long  years  in  the  ranks.  What  full, 
round,  brightly  coloured  figures !  They  stand  out — we  seem 
to  know  them — like  historical  characters.  The  parts  in  which 
they  played  filled  the  minds  of  the  playgoers  who  were  fortu- 
nate enough  to  see  them,  and  came  back  as  something  wonder- 
ful and  satisfactory  to  think  on.  It  is  in  looking  over  the 
wonderful  series  of  theatrical  portraits  of  that  time — those 
noble  mezzotints  of  McArdell,  Smith,  and  others,  who  worked 
under  the  inspiration  and  direction  of  Reynolds,  and  Zoffany— 
that  we  catch  an  idea  of  what  true  expression,  and  dramatic 
character,  was  then.  As  we  look  on  these  incomparable  works, 
we  seem  to  be  looking  at  the  play  itself ;  the  stately,  sump- 
tuously dressed  women;  the  wonderful  faces  and  figures 
(figure,  as  well  as  face,  teeming  with  expression)  of  the  Kings, 
Woodwards,  Footes,  Westons,  and  of  Garrick  himself.  We 
turn  over  these  old  prints,  and  find  the  secret ;  see  Woodward 
as  the  Fine  Gentleman  in  Garrick's  farce — a  figure  most  charac- 
teristic, in  dress  least  of  all,  but  in  attitude,  face,  motion,  all 
he  meant  to  be;  and  Foote's  curious  and  half-Irish  face, 
earnest,  mischievous,  and  a  little  malevolent  about  his  drawn 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  373 

mouth ;  his  eyes  earnest,  his  head  on  one  side.  Or  King, 
with  Mrs.  Baddeley,  in  the  scene  from  "  The  Clandestine  Mar- 
riage "—a  noble  scene,  so  true  and  dramatic  that  we  seem  to 
be  looking  on  at  the  play.  Everything  about  the  old  lord: 
his  hard,  old,  bony  face  composed  to  a  leer  of  hopeless  admira-" 
tion ;  the  stiffness  of  his  old  joints ;  the  sumptuousness  of  his 
embroidered  suit ;  the  spasm  of  adoration,  seen  even  in  his 
wrists :  all  this  in  fine  contrast  to  the  stately  Baddeley  beside 
him,  smiling  and  amused.  The  picture  itself  seems  as  true  as 
the  play  itself.  In  such  times  well  might  the  Chelsea  china 
works  send  out  little  statuettes,  of  that  precious  material,  of 
Clive,  Woodward,  and  Garrick,  in  all  these  characters ;  for  the 
china  had  then  something  to  express. 

The  women,  too — the  Clives,  Bellamys,  Cibbers,  Woffingtons, 
Pritchards,  and  Yateses — what  finished,  trained  creatures,  each 
in  their  own  walk ;  each  something  to  look  at,  and  study ;  each 
having  a  style,  a  force  of  her  own.*  Here  was  the  unique 
Lady  Macbeth,  Pritchard,  with  a  plain  yet  intellectual  face, 
"  of  whom  we  should  entertain  a  very  high  opinion,  had  she 
left  us  nothing  but  the  face  in  her  portraits,"  said  Leigh  Hunt. 
She  was  vulgar,  certainly — "Pritchard's  genteel,"  Churchill's 
ironical  compliment  settled  the  question — though  not  "a 
vulgar  idiot,"  as  Johnson,  with  characteristic  bluntness,  called 
her.  He  heard  her  talk  of  her  "  gownd,"  and  declared  loudly 
that  she  never  travelled  beyond  the  "  lengths  "  of  her  own  part 

We  hear  the  enchanting  tones  of  another  of  Garrick's 
heroines — Cibber.  It  was  curious  her  face  should  resemble 
his,  so  remarkably  that  she  might  have  passed  as  his  sister. 
Never  were  there  such  tender,  melting  notes,  such  passion, 
such  grief,  and  in  the  true  pathos  of  Otway  she  was  at  home, 
and  unapproachable.  Her  tenderness  was  natural,  for  it  was 
said  that  in  pathetic  parts  she  wept  genuine  tears ;  and  that 
her  agitation  turned  her  face  pale,  even  through  the  rouge. 
She  was  not  what  is  called  "a  fine  woman ;"  but  she  had  that 
look  of  interest  and  sympathy,  which  is  a  superior  charm. 
Later  playgoers  gathered  an  idea  of  Cibber  from  Mrs.  Siddons, 
for  there  was  thought  to  be  a  likeness  between  them.  Miss 
Seward  heard  both,  and  seems  to  have  preferred  the  latter,  as 
having  more  variety,  and  less  monotony.  But  there  was 
a  "  sensation  "  about  Mrs.  Siddons,  which  carried  away  every 
one ;  and  subdued  tenderness  and  exquisite  pathos  are  not  so 

*  Mr.Chaloner  Smith,  of  Dublin,  possessed  a  collection  of  these  treasures, 
all  in  "  choicest "  condition.  Turning  them  over  we  see,  far  better  than 
any  tradition  or  description  could  show  us,  what  those  great  players  wfera 
like  in  expression  and  attitude. 


374  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

likely  to  impress  the  crowd.  Cibber  was  the  unique  Cordelia, 
the  unique  Ophelia,  the  unique  Mrs.  Beverley,  and  represents  a 
type  of  acting  unhappily  too  rare. 

Garrick  was  indeed  rich  in  his  heroines ;  nor  did  the  line 
ever  fail  him.  When  Pritchard  and  Cibber  were  gone,  there 
was  Mrs.  Yates,  still  at  her  maturity,  and  Mrs.  Barry;  and 
when  they  began  to  fail,  Mrs.  Siddons  rose  at  the  right 
moment.  With  an  antique  cast  of  face,  and  a  stately  magni- 
ficence in  her  figure  and  bearing,  Yates  was  a  true  and 
gorgeous  auxiliary.  In  parts  where  good  sterling  tragedy  was 
wanting,  or  rage,  jealousy,  and  fury  conspicuous,  these  gifts 
served  her,  and  gave  her  a  distinct  department  She  had 
more  warmth  and  emotion  than' Pritchard.  Her  voice  was 
strong  and  powerful.  She  transported  with  delight  two 
veterans  who  were  alive  a  few  years  back,  and  who  had  seen 
her  in  all  her  days  of  glory — John  Taylor  and  Mr.  Godwin.* 
Here,  too,  was  Mrs.  Barry,  who  could  put  surprising  and 
piteous  tenderness  into  a  voice  naturally  a  little  unmusical, 
whoso  Rosalind  was  charmingly  playful,  animated,  and  loving 
to  a  degree ;  and  who  could  play  the  Widow  Brady,  sing  her 
Irish  songs,  and  dance,  with  singular  versatility.  She  had  to 
feel  the  painful  reminder  of  decay,  the  most  cruel  trial  of  the 
histrionic  world ;  and  Mr.  Taylor  was  present  at  a  memorable 
scene,  when  she  and  Mrs.  Yates,  then  almost  veterans,  met  for 
the  first  time,  on  the  same  stage,  in  "Jane  Shore."  This  won- 
derful combination  crowded  the  adjacent  streets  with  a  crowd 
larger  than  any  known  on  "  royal  nights."  But  it  was  a  sad 
change  for  the  heroine  of  the  silver-toned  Barry.  Instead  there 
were  only  two  elderly  women — the  enchanting  Mrs.  Barry,  with 
a  coarse,  croaking  voice,  and  the  "  face  of  an  old  man,"  and 
Yates,  weak  and  faded. 

Here  was  Woffington,  "dallying  and  dangerous,"  faithful 
and  loyal,  with  a  surprising  spirit  that  carried  her  through 
everything;  and  Clive,  like  Shakspeare's  toad,  "ugly  and 
venomous,"  but  with  a  jewel  of  liveliness  and  spirit  in  her 
head — a  bustle  and  animation,  the  established  titular  chamber- 
maid, and  hoyden ;  which  in  our  time  might  have  privileged 
her  to  lose  all  restraint  and  self-respect,  and  allowed  her  to 
play  any  trick  or  buffoonery.     But  with  her  it  was  all  nature ; 

*  The  former  told  Mr.  Campbell  that  he  thought  her  the  most  stately 
and  dignified  actress  he  had  seen,  until  Siddons  came.  Godwin,  so  late  as 
1834,  rapturously  recalled,  as  the  perfection  of  acting,  the  admirable  recon- 
ciliation  scene  between  her  and  Garrick  in  "  The  Wonder  " — the  "  mixture 
of  majesty,  condescension,  and  love,  which  brought  both  the  Court  and 
audience  to  her  feet." 


1772.]  THE  GRKAT  ACTORS.  375 

and  the  stage  to  her  was  a  room  at  her  own  lodgings.  There, 
too,  we  see  Miss  Pope,  the  real  link  between  the  palmy  Garrick 
era  and  our  day — between  Churchill  and  Leigh  Hunt.  "  Pope," 
says  Lamb,  "  a  gentlewoman  ever,  with  Churchill's  compliment 
still  burnishing  upon  her  gay  Honeycomb  lips."  Leigh  Hunt> 
too,  saw  her  with  delight,  and  recognised  the  old  excellence 
that  had  drawn  forth  the  praise  of  "  The  Kosciad."  How 
strange,  and  what  a  stretch  of  time  it  seems  to  cover,  to  have 
been  criticised  by  Churchill  and  also  by  Leigh  Hunt ! 

"  Her  genius,"  says  Hunt,  in  that  pleasant  criticism,  valuable 
because  criticising  Garrick's  school,  "is  of  a  very  lasting  na- 
ture, for  it  does  not  depend  upon  bodily  exertion.  She  never  talks 
to  her  audience.  One  of  her  great  beauties  is  a  most  judicious 
emphasis  of  speech,  that  unites  the  qualities  of  reading  and  of 
talking ;  for  it  has  all  the  strength  of  the  one,  tempered  by  all 
the  familiarity  of  the  other.  ....  This  is  peculiarly  observ- 
able in  her  performance  of  Mrs.  Candour  in  *  The  School  for 
Scandal/  in  which  her  affected  sentiments  are  so  inimitably 
aided  by  the  natural  turns  of  her  voice,  that  it  is  no  wonder  her 
scandal  carries  perfect  conviction  to  everybody  round  her." 
These^are  preciousjind  *****  princjp]^. oJL Acting.  She  was 
train«t~froma  child  under  Garrick's  own  eye,  and  she  thus 
gives  us  a  faithful  idea  of  his  school. 

There,  too,  was  Miss  Younge,  "  with  a  voice,"  says  Elia,  in  a 
fine  passage,  as  he  gazes  at  the  Garrick  Club  pictures,  "  which 
might  have  competed  with  the  silver  tones  of  Barry,  so  en- 
chanting in  its  decay  do  I  remember  it ;  of  all  her  parts  ex- 
ceeding herself  in  the  Lady.  There  earth  touched  heaven ! " 
The  oldest  in  the  service  were  perhaps  the  Yateses ;  he,  an  ad- 
mirable and  solid  actor,  with  a  solemn  manner,  full  of  humour, 
unassisted  by  twist  or  grimace.  His  manner  was  "  of  the  dry 
or  grave  humour,  but  perfectly  natural ;  his  speech  slow;  he 
knew  he  had  his  audience,  and  therefore  took  them  at  his 
leisure."  There  were  those  who  recollected  seeing  him  at  Bar- 
tholomew Fair,  on  the  platform  of  a  booth.  But  he  rose  from 
this,  and  found  his  way  to  the  little  Ipswich  Theatre,  where  he 
had  played  long,  long  ago,  with  "  Mr.  Lyddal,"  in  "  Oronooko." 
That  acquaintance  brought  him  great  profit ;  for  Garrick  never 
forgot  his  friends.  Drury  Lane  was  their  home.  Yet  they 
took  airs ;  and  when  Garrick  wished  Mrs.  Yates  to  help  him  in 
his  hobby  of  the  Jubilee,  she  went  and  acted  at  Birmingham 
without  his  leave.  Latterly  he  heard — and  we  may  be  sure 
there  was  truth  in  the  story — that  they  furnished  ridiculous 
notes  of  him  to  Mrs.  Brooke,  who  was  writing  a  novel.  Yet  he 
was  glad  to  welcome  them  back  to  his  theatre  when  they  wished 


376  THE  LICTB  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

to  return.  Drury  Lane  was  fortunate,  too,  in  the  training  and 
principles  of  its  company  at  this  era.  Her  husband  had  caught 
so  much  of  Garrick's  theory  as  to  "  think  out "  a  conception  of 
a  part  When  he  received  a  new  one,  he  set  himself  to  recall 
some  living  model  which  he  had  met ;  and  taking  this  for  a 
basis,  thus  worked  it  up. 

Sometimes  is  seen  there,  though  fitfully — chiefly  when  he 
comes  over  from  Ireland  to  play  for  his  intelligent  daughter's 
benefit,  charging  her,  however,  with  the  expense  of  the  jour- 
ney— a  hard,  strange  figure,  the  oldest  of  the  old  actors — Mack- 
lin.  That  curious  face — the  nose  and  chin  gradually  drawing  to- 
gether, as  he  grew  old,  like  that  of  Punch ;  features  which  seemed 
to  disdain  each  other ;  that  harsh  voice,  which  "  largely  deals 
in  half-formed  sounds  " — were  familiar  to  Drury  Lane  green- 
room. To  the  end  Garrick  was  willing  to  befriend  him,  to  give 
him  or  his  daughter  an  engagement,  or  to  act  his  Plays.  But 
nothing  could  conciliate  him.  There  is  no  more  unpleasant 
picture  than  the  old  age  of  this  player,  who  is  said  to  have  died 
at  the  age  of  97,  and  in  whose  old  age  all  the  old  ill-nature 
was  developed.*  To  the  end  the  name  of  Garrick  would 
quicken  his  faculties,  and  he  contrived  to  pour  into  the  ear  of 
the  two  persons  who  wrote  his  life  the  story  of  his  unforgiving 
hatred.  Among  the  old  man's  papers  they  found  some  sketches 
which  he  had  no  doubt  failed  in  getting  into  newspapers  or 
magazines,  and  which  are  shocking  from  the  concentrated 
malignity  they  show.f 

*  Angelo  describes  him  instructing  a  professional  candidate,  putting  bis 
dreadful  face  forward,  as  who  should  say,  "  Look  at  me."  "  First,  sir,"  he 
would  croak,  "  you  should  have  a  silvery  voice;  and,  secondly,  sir,  a  pleasing 
face."  Even  when  his  memory  began  to  fail,  he,  unconsciously,  would  make 
his  host  and  admirer  uncomfortable  by  taking  one  of  his  guests  for  his  enter- 
tainer, and  addressing  all  his  remarks  to  him.  Mr.  Taylor  has  some  curious 
stories  about  him. 

f  "fiarrick's  Character. — His  eye  was  dark,  but  not  characteristical  of 
any  passion  but  the  fierce  and  the  lively.  To  friendship  with  man,  or  love 
And  friendship  with  woman,  he  never  was  disposed  ;  for  love  of  himself 
always  forbid  it.  Envy  was  his  torment— ever  dreading  merit  in  the  lowest 
of  his  brethren,  and  pining  at  the  applause  and  fortune  that  their  labours 
procured  them. 

"  He  had  a  narrow,  contracted  mind,  bounded  on  one  side  by  suspicion, 
by  envy  on  the  other,  by  avarice  in  the  front,  and  by  pale  fear  in  the  rear, 
with  self  in  the  centre.  Out  of  these  limits  he  never  expatiated,  unless  fear 
and  ostentation  exerted  their  functions  conjointly. 

"  He  never  could  enjoy  the  convivial  felicities  of  society,  especially  with 
those  persons  who  were  most  capable  of  tasting  and  contributing  the  free 
inquiries  of  ingenious  minds.  He  had  read  that  the  more  refined  minds  of 
all  ages  had  a  particular  pleasure  in  the  mental  intercourse  of  the  ingenious 
few.    Of  this  custom  he  was  resolved  to  avail  himself ;  but  it  was  just  at 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  377 

It  is  impossible  not  to  admire  the  power  and  vigour  of  this 
terrible  description. 

In  the  green-room  they  must  have  been  often  merry  at  the 
pompous  enunciation  of  that  great  Dublin  player,  Sheridan, 
who  thought  he  was  quite  equal  in  power  and  gifts  to  the 
manager.  A  smile  must  have  gone  round,  as  he  talked  of  a 
servant  as  "  a  minion ! n  Even  in  the  days  of  "  The  Rosciad," 
when  he  had  been  playing  nearly  twenty  years,  his  was  pro- 
nounced "a  doubtful  name."  A  doubtful  name  it  still  re- 
mains, like  that  of  many  other  players,  whom  jealousy  or 
wounded  sensitiveness  has  overset  Self-restraint  is  as  neces- 
sary to  an  actor,  as  elocution  itself.     Sheridan  was  always  in 

an  hypocrite  avails  himself  of  religion,  by  ostentation  and  imposture ;  for 
he  herded  constantly  with  wits,  and  was,  in  letters,  a  professed  Tartuffe  to 
«1L 

"  He  had  a  hackneyed  kind  of  metaphorical,  theatrical,  tinselled  phrase- 
ology, made  out  of  tags  and  ends,  quotations  and  imitations  of  our  English 
poets  ;  and,  indeed,  from  the  Greek  and  Latin  authors,  as  often  as  his  me- 
mory served  him  with  the  scraps  and  mottoes  it  had  quaintly  picked  up ; 
for  he  knew  no  book  of  antiquity,  nor,  indeed,  of  modern  note,  Prior,  La 
Fontaine,  Swift's  poetry,  and  a  few  more  of  that  kind  excepted  ;  these  he 
constantly  imitated,  plundered,  disguised,  and  frittered  in  occasional  pro- 
logues, epilogues,  and  complimentary  poems  upon  parrots,  lap-dogs,  mon- 
keys, birds,  growing  wits,  patrons,  and  ladies.  But  what  he  most  excelled 
in  was  writing  epigrams  and  short  poems  in  praise  of  himself  and  his  pro- 
ductions, and  in  defamation  of  a  rival  actor,  or  of  any  of  those  poor  people 
of  the  stage  whom  he  wished  to  be  unpopular.  With  such  shreds  and 
patches  he  constantly  fed  the  daily  papers,  the  reviews,  and  magarinea. 
Each  of  his  associate  wits  had  a  peculiar  quaintness  of  phrase  and  greeting, 
such  as  '  My  sprig  of  Parnassus,  let  me  pour  my  incense  ! ' 

"  He  laboured  for  private  esteem,  but  always  in  vain  !  Fear,  envy,  and 
Avarice  were  seen  even  in  deeds  that  appeared  convivial,  benevolent,  and 
liberal !  He  was  a  maker  of  professions,  but  a  slave  to  interest !  He  was 
honoured  as  an  actor,  hated  as  a  man,  and  despised  as  an  author !  He  ever 
made  friendship  a  footstool  to  his  interest  and  ambition.  The  two  men 
that  he  was  most  obliged  to,  he  always  hated  and  feared.  He  ruined  the 
one  and  planned  the  destruction  of  the  other !  He  could  have  no  lasting 
intimacy  with  anybody.  He  was  totally  void  of  any  kind  of  address  to  men 
or  women,  in  any  rank  or  circumstance  of  life,  that  the  judicious,  and  those 
who  had  thought  on  that  art,  called  genteel  or  well-bred. 

"  In  private  life,  had  this  man  been  interdicted  the  use  of  mimicry,  of 
simulation  and  dissimulation,  he  would  have  appeared  what  in  reality  he 
was,  a  superficial,  insignificant  man.  But  with  the  help  of  those  arts,  he 
was  entertaining,  and  appeared  sagacious,  learned,  good-natured,  modest, 
and  friendly  to  those  who  had  no  dealings  with  him  ;  but  to  those  who  had, 
he  was  known  to  the  very  heart ;  for  his  attachment  to  interest  in  dealings 
made  him  as  obvious  as  if  Nature  had  made  a  window  to  his  heart.  The 
paltry  actions  of  this  man  are  well  known :  his  intimates  I  need  not  de- 
scribe.   The  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit. 

11 A  stronger  instance  of  its  influence — *.«.,  envy — sure  never  was  known, 
than  in  the  person  we  have  now  under  consideration  ;  for,  not  satisfied 
with  endeavouring  to  destroy  the  fame  of  every  contemporary  actor*  ha 


378  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

battle  or  discontent.  As  we  look  at  his  picture,  "  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan in  his  great  part  of  Katto"  with  his  bare  throat,  his  wild 
face,  we  call  up  exactly  his  style — the  untiring  lung,  the 
swinging  arm — 

"  Why  most  impatience  fall  three  paces  back  f 
Why,  paces  three,  return  to  the  attack  ? 
Why  is  the  right  leg,  too,  forbid  to  stir, 
Save  in  motion  semicircular  ? " 

Simply  because  he  wanted  warmth  and  sympathy,  and  the 
true  histrionic  fire,  worth  all  elocution,  its  rules,  and  whole 
manual  exercise.  Nothing  could  be  more  mortifying  than 
this  decay  of  popularity.  Macklin's  rude  tongue  was  the  first 
to  tell  him :  "  Poor  Sherry  has  been  acting  mad,  haranguing 

mad,   teaching    mad,   reading   mad,    managing    mad 

England  soon  found  out  his  incapacity,  the  dissonance  of  his 
voice,  the  laboured  quaintness  of  his  emphasis,  the  incessant 
flux  of  his  speech,  his  general  appearance.  He  has  been  de- 
attacked  even  that  of  the  actresses,  and  succeeded.  Nor  was  the  traduoe- 
ment  of  the  living  fame  of  male  and  female,  of  every  age  and  rank  upon 
the  stage,  sufficient  to  gorge  the  maw  of  envy;  it  flew  to  the  dead  !  and 
insidiously  broke  open  the  hallowed  tombs  of  Betterton,  Booth,  Wiiks — 
Nature's  favourite  children  ;  these  very  spirits  would  he  slyly  bring  upon 
the  carpet ;  mimic,  though  he  never  saw  them ;  tell  anecdotes  of  them,  and 
traduce  their  immortal  fame,  by  stigmatising  them  as  mannerists,  and  de- 
nominating them  as  persons  who  spoke  in  recitative.  Thus  would  he  serve 
them  up  to  ignorant  people,  who  believed  and  wondered ;  and  to  depend- 
ants and  flatterers,  who  retailed  the  libellous  anecdotes,  invectives,  and 
quaint  conceits,  and  concluded  that  the  art  was  never  known  but  by  the 
narrator,  who,  with  an  apparent  modesty,  and  a  concealed  impudence,  made 
himself  the  hero  of  the  historical  criticism. 

"  His  mind  was  busied  upon  the  external  and  partial  looks,  tones,  gaits* 
and  motions  of  individuals  in  their  ordinary  habits.  Of  the  passions,  their 
degrees  and  kinds,  and  of  their  influence  upon  the  organs,  and  their  impres- 
sions upon  the  body,  he  knew  but  little,  very  little  indeed  1  His  mind  and 
knowledge  were,  like  his  body,  little,  pert,  acute,  quick,  weak,  easily  shocked 
and  worn  down,  subtle,  plausible, 

"  By  this  external  partial  imitation  of  individuals,  he  continually  exer- 
cised his  mind  and  body.  This  wretched  buffoonery  comprised  his  know- 
ledge, his  humour,  his  learning,  conversation,  wisdom,  virtue,  elegance, 
breeding,  and  his  companionable  qualities. 

"  Whenever  a  manager  sets  up  his  own  power,  taste,  or  avarice  against 
the  power,  judgment,  or  entertainment  of  the  people,  he  forfeits  every 
right  to  their  favour;  nay,  he  merits  their  contempt  and  resentment*  Gar- 
rick  never  obliged  the  public  in  any  one  article  during  the  time  of  his 
management ;  on  the  contrary,  he  took  every  step  by  which  he  could  erect 
himself  into  a  tyrant,  to  crush  the  spirit  and  genius  of  merit  both  in  actors 
and  authors ;  to  corrupt  the  public  taste  ;  to  fill  his  own  coffers ;  and  to 
make  his  own  judgment  the  standard  of  every  species  of  dramatic  merit. 

"  His  wit  always  wanted  strength,  his  descriptions  humour,  his  manner 
pleasantry,  his  conduct  integrity,  his  disposition  good-nature,  and  his  de- 
portment decency." 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  379 

spised  as  an  actor.  His  audiences  laughed  him  to  scorn ;  he 
has  tired  out  Bath,  and  every  theatre  in  London.  The  public 
would  not  attend  him."  "  If  any  one  has  a  doubt  about  his  in- 
sanity, let  a  subject  be  started,  and  let  him  be  drawn  into  a 
conversation.  Observe  his  confidence,  his  haughtiness,  his 
peremptoriness,  his  utter  inattention  to  what  others  advance 
in  argument,  and  I  think  they  will  conclude  that  he  will  die 
in  a  madhouse."*  Angelo  recollected  this  mortifying  neglect 
when  Sheridan  and  Henderson  joined  in  public  recitations — 
the  delight  of  the  audience  at  "  John  Gilpin  ; "  but  their  un- 
concealed impatience  as  the  old  actor  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  to  give  Dryden's  Ode.  To  the  last*  however,  no 
believed  in  himself. 

Here  we  see  the  lively  Abington,  with  a  small  piquant  face, 
rendered  smaller  by  the  loftiest  head-dress,  a  sly  under-look,  and 
an  arch  manner  of  speech.  The  true  Lady  Bab  or  Lady  Betty 
Modish.  "  Worst  of  bad  women,"  as  she  was  to  Mr.  Garrick,  in 
her  own  line  she  was  irresistible.  It  must  have  been  some 
whim  that  made  her  so  earnest  in  taking  up  Dr.  Johnson,  and 
forcing  him  to  her  benefit,  and  to  her  house.  No  one  could 
deliver  a  smart  speech  with  such  severity.  Yet  she  could  not 
touch  the  highest  point  of  airy  comedy.  She  had  been  fetched 
out  of  the  dregs  of  the  town,  and  lived  four  years  as  a  tavern 
girL  Mr.  Murphy  could  tell  a  curious  story  or  two  about 
Beau  Tracy,  and  this  era  of  hers.t  It  was  infinitely  to  the 
credit  of  her  tact  and  esprit  that  she  should  have  raised  her- 
self, and,  like  Woffington,  have  learned  refinement  and  accom- 
plishments. She  could  tell  of  the  strange  society  in  Dublin, 
when  ladies  of  first  fashion  were  at  her  feet,  imploring  hints 
about  their  dress.  The  "Abington  Cap"  was  in  all  the 
milliners,  shops.  Her  manner  was  bewitching.  No  one  could 
play  a  fan  so  delightfully ;  and  it  was  noticed  she  had  some 
odd  little  tricks  in  her  acting,  such  as  turning  her  wrist, 
and  "  seeming  to  stick  a  pin  at  the  side  of  her  waist."  Mr. 
Abington,  "a  neat,  gentlemanly  little  figure,"  played  in  the 
band,  and  Mr.  Needham,  then  a  Buck  of  the  City,  was  the 
favoured  admirer  behind  the  scenes.  J  Poor  Mr.  Abington  was 
playing  away  in  front,  and  perhaps  indifferent.  This  curious 
lady,  when  she  was  flush  of  money,  hired  her  own  house  in 
Piccadilly,  opposite  the  Green  Park ;  but  when  a  worse  season 
set  in,  accepted  a  mean  lodging  cheerfully.     For  her  the  praise 

*  This  indecent  attack  was  published  by  Macklin  in  Dublin, 
t  The  gossiping  Taylor  also  picked  up  a  good  many  anecdotes  about  her. 
t  "  Abington  caps  for  those  that  need  'em,"  was  the  jest  of  pleasant 
Dublin. 


380  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1772. 

of  being  the  first  Lady  Teazle,  and  of  haying  sat  often  to  Sir 
Joshua.  When  her  acting  life  was  over,  we  see  her  at  her 
house  receiving  company,  and  out  of  the  season  carefully 
closing  the  shutters,  but  still  living  there,  so  as  not  to  be  sus- 
pected to  be  in  town.  At  her  little  parties,  where  came  Dora 
Jordan,  it  was  noticed  that  she  was  unwearied  in  dwelling  on 
the  praises  of  Garrick,  and  his  gifts.  Those  were  the  old 
glories  which  had  made  hers,  and  she  had  long  forgotten  the 
hours  of  mortification  and  vexations  she  had  caused  nim. 

Now  sweeps  in  the  splendid  Hartley;  whose  face,  with  a 
small  chin,  seems  to  recall  that  of  Emma,  Lady  Hamilton. 
"  A  finer  creature,"  said  Mr.  Garrick,  in  raptures,  "  I  never 
saw.     Her  make  is  perfect ! "    Moody,  who  had  gone  down  to 
report  on  her,  was  not  favourably  impressed,  and  gave  a  por- 
trait of  what  seemed  to  him  a  mere  country  actress.     "  She  is 
a  good  figure,  with  a  handsome  small  face,  and  very  much 
freckled;    her  hair  red,  and  her  neck  and  shoulders  well 
turned.     There  is  no  harmony  in  her  voice ;  but  when  forced 
(which  she  never  fails  to  do  on  the  least  occasion)  is  loud  and 
strong,  but  an  inarticulate  gabble.     She  is  ignorant  and  stub- 
born.    She  talks  lusciously,  and  has  a  slovenly  good-nature 
about  her  that  renders  her  prodigiously  vulgar."*    We  leave 
her  and  Abington  in  their  gorgeous  dresses,  spread  over  with 
rich  coloured  rings  of  lace  and  embroidery,  sweeping  past  us, 
to  go  on.     Then  comes  Bellamy,  so  "  very  beautiful,   as  she 
seemed  to  young  O'Keefe,  "with  her  blue  eyes,  and  very 
fair."      "I  often  saw  her  splendid  state  sedan-chair,  with 
suberb  silver-lace  liveries,  waiting  for  her  at  the  door  of  Liffey 
Street  Catholic  ChapeL"    Her  house  there  was  in  Kildare 
Street     With  all  her  pettish  insolence  and  airs,  we  may  sus- 
pect Mr.  Garrick  was  good-naturedly  partial  to  her,  and  made 
allowance.    And  next  her,  the  charming  Baddeley,  whose 
gaudy  and  fitful  career  reads  like  a  troubled  dream,  and  robbed 
the  stage  of  a  graceful  actress.     No  stranger  picture  of  life 
can  be  conceived  than  her  singular  story ;  her  short  and  showy  ' 
course,  across  which  flit  royal  dukes,  infatuated  lords,  rough 
and  rude  colonels,  strange  elopements,  "  settlements,"  quarrel- 
ings,  and  the  gradual  fall  and  degradation,  when  a  footman 
winds  up  the  procession.     Even  the  dull  and  decent  George 
Garrick  she  drew  into  a  duel  with  her  own  husband.     The 
well-worn  saying  that  "truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,"  cer- 
tainly holds;   but  infinitely  more  does  it  hold  behind  the 
scenes. 

*  The  reader  will  note  in  what  a  good  graphic  style  the  players  of  thote 
days  could  write. 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  381 

Here  was  Ross,  a  large,  plump,  unwieldy  man,  with  solemn 
and  "proper"  manners,  giving  out,  and  with  truth,  that  he 
came  of  one  of  the  best  families  in  Scotland ;  Love,  the  admi- 
rable Falstaff,  who  was  thought  to  surpass  Quin ;  Smith,  "  the 
genteel,"  "  a  fine  gentlemanly  man ; "  and  Lewis,  of  whom  it 
was  written,  with  a  nice  distinction,  that  his  line  was  the  gen- 
tleman of  "that  higher  land  of  comedy,  which  hardly  now 
exists,  which  Smith  has  in  the  exterior,  and  which  O'Brien  might 
have  attained."  There  was  Shuter,  whom,  it  was  said,  Mr. 
Garrick  pronounced  the  greatest  comic  genius  he  had  ever 
seen.  Yet  he  must  have  been  disfigured  by  what  is  known  to 
stage  slang  as  gagging.    According  to  Churchill, 

"  He  never  cared  a  pin 
Whether  he  left  out  nonsense,  or  put  in." 

Nothing,  indeed,  gives  a  better  idea  of  what  actors  were,  and 
what  the  stage  was — when  Garrick's  influence  still  reigned, 
though  he  had  passed  away  himself — than  Elia's  retrospect, 
and  fond  recalling  of  his  palmy  days  of  the  drama.  His 
description  of  Bensley's  playing — an  exquisite  analysis  itself, 
and  almost  a  bit  of  acting  on  paper — shows  what  a  world  of  in- 
dicative expression,  meaning — of  acting,  in  short — has  been  lost 
to  us.  What  actor  now  would  be  made  to  follow,  or  even 
comprehend,  that  delicate  reading  of  Makoliot  "He  was 
magnificent  from  the  outset ;  but  when  the  decent  sobrieties  of 
the  character  began  to  give  way,  and  the  poison  of  self-love 
gradually  to  work  ....  how  he  went  smiling  to  himself! 
With  what  ineffable  carelessness  would  he  twirl  his  gold  chain 
— what  a  dream  it  was !  You  were  infected  with  the  illusion 
....  you  had  no  room  for  laughter  ....  the  man  seemed 
to  tread  upon  air,  to  taste  manna,  to  walk  with  his  head  in  the 
clouds." 

Dodd's  wonderful  face  the  same  skilful  touch  paints  for  us, 
the  face  that  "  looked  out  so  formally  flat  in  Fappington,  so 
frolicly  pert  in  Tattle,  so  impotently  busy  in  Backbite,  so 
blankly  divested  of  all  meaning,  or  resolutely  expressive  of 
none,  in  Acres*  ....  In  expressing  slowness  of  apprehen- 
sion this  actor  surpassed  all  others.  You  could  see  the  first 
dawn  of  an  idea  stealing  slowly  over  his  countenance,  climbing 
up  by  little  and  little,  with  a  painful  process,  till  it  cleared  up 
at  last,  to  the  fulness  of  a  twilight  conception.  ....  He 
seemed  to  keep  back  his  intellect  .  .  .  .  A  glimmer  of  under- 

*  "  Dodd,  in  Acres,  who  had  the  most  extraordinary  way  of  hitching  in 
a>  meaning,  or  subsidirg  into  blank  folly,  with  the  best  grace  in  nature."— 
JIazlUL 


382  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARKICK.  [1772. 

standing  would  appear  in  a  corner  of  his  eye,  and  then  go  out,  for 
lack  of  expression.  A  part  of  his  forehead  would  catch  a  little 
intelligence,  and  be  a  long  time  in  communicating  it  to  the  re- 
mainder." Here,  again,  is  the  lost  art — which  excited  the 
house  and  brought  tears  of  laughter;  not  the  grimace — the 
speaking  with  a  twang  out  of  the  mouth  corner,  which  is  the 
height  of  humour  now.  If  we  look  at  the  wonderful  Abel 
Drugger  face,  by  Zoffany,  we  shall  have  a  glimpse  of  this  facial 
struggle,  this  picture  of  emotion.* 

So  with  the  Palmers,  admirable  comedians,  with  a  real  style, 
a  fashion  of  giving  the  airy  gentlemen  of  comedy — what  Lamb 
called  "  the  highly  artificial  manner  "  of  "Jack  Palmer."  Now 
these  nice  refinements  seem  lost  There  is  the  one  conven- 
tional way  of  giving  the  gentleman  of  fashion,  the  one  way  for 
the  villain,  for  the  comic  fellow,  and  the  rest.  "  In  sock  or 
buskin,"  says  Elia,  "there  was  air  of  swaggering  gentility 

about  Jack  Palmer When  you  saw  Bobby  in  the  'Duke's 

Servant/  you  said,  what  a  pity  such  a  pretty  fellow  was  only  a 
servant.  ....  Jack  had  two  voices,  both  plausible,  hypocriti- 
cal, and  insinuating ;  but  his  secondary  or  supplementary  voice 
was  more  decidedly  histrionic  than  his  common  one.     It  was 

reserved  for  the  spectator The  lies  of  young  Wilding 

and  the  sentiments  in  Joseph  Surface  were  thus  marked  out*  in  a 
sort  of  italics  to  the  audience." 

There,  too,  was  Davies,  always  whispering  and  plotting. 
This  bookseller  actor  had  his  grievances  too — was  dissatisfied 
that  he  was  not  allowed  to  mouth  Bajazet  as  "  curs  mouth  a 
bone."  The  manager  was  often,  as  he  said,  "  agitated,"  and 
thrown  out,  by  his  habitual  want  of  readiness  in  his  parts,  and 
had  to  reprimand  him  severely;  but  the  unlucky  Davies  ex- 
plained that  once,  during  the  run  of  "Cymbeline,"  he  caught  a 

*  Elia's  observation  was  always  nicely  accurate.  Hoadly's  sketch  of 
Dodd — some  thirty  or  forty  years  before — is  also  good.  "  He  has  more 
the  stalk  and  nilnagt  of  a  dancing  master  than  the  ease  of  a  gentleman. 
....  I  speak  of  his  legs.     He  has  a  white,  calf -like,  stupid  face.  .... 

His  voice  is  good He  seems  sensible,  alive,  and  attentive  to  what 

is  going  on,  and  properly  so.  He  singB  agreeably ;  though  there  is  a 
formal  kind  of  parade  kept  up  by  his  singing  gently  (not  to  be  easily 
avoided  in  the  strange,  unnatural  circumstances  and  attitudes  that  the 
songs  and  their  symphonies  place  him  in,  in  the  front  of  the  stage),  that 
hides  and  disguises  nature,  but  which  he  reconcile*  better  than  I  remember 
anybody.  His  pauses  are  sensible,  and  filled  with  proper  action  and  look." 
His  etching  of  Mrs.  Dodd  in  Mrs.  Oakley  is  equally  good :  "  She  was  not  a 
moment  out  of  the  character,  and  amazingly  proper  and  ready  in  the  re- 
partee, and  taking  up  the  half-sentences  before  they  fed  to  nothing,  which 
abound  in  that  natural  comedy,  at  in  all  easy  discourse."  When  there  was 
such  nice  criticism,  no  wonder  there  was  good  playing. 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  383 

sight  of  the  awful  apparition  of  Churchill's  face  in  the  pit, 
which  quite  overset  him.  He  went  to  Dr.  Johnson,  and  told 
all  his  grievances — how  Mr.  Garrick's  persecution  had  "  driven 
him  from  the  stage."  Yet,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  had  been 
lent  money  by  Garrick,  and  seems  to  have  deeply  resented  that 
more  was  not  lent.  Nothing  can  be  better  than  Garrick's  ex- 
postulation in  reference  to  Davies  being  driven  from  the  stage 
by  Garrick's  temper.*  "But  why  would  you  expose  my  in- 
firmities at  a  time  when  you  were  asking  and  receiving  favours 
from  me,  and  when  I  was  exerting  all  the  little  interest  I  had 
in  your  service  ?  ....  I  am  ashamed  to  mention  these  things, 
but  I  repeat  them  to  you,  as  the  last  words  of  a  dead  acquaint- 
ance." Davies  had  the  "last  word,"  however,  and  satisfied 
himself  by  a  torrent  of  reproaches  and  bitter  recapitulation  of 
his  wrongs.  In  another  sense  he  had  the  last  word  too ;  for 
when  his  foe  had  passed  away,  and  could  neither  lend  nor  de- 
mand back  his  money,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  his  "  Life,"  with- 
out the  fear  of  a  reply  before  him.f  He  does  not  seem  to  have 
ever  forgiven  Garrick.  Even  in  his  later  trouble  with  the 
jealous  Henderson,  he  was  whispering  that  Garrick  had  only 
made  a  feint  of  recommending  him;  which  was  refuted  by  one 
who  was  present  when  Garrick  praised  his  acting,  and  had 
warmly  pressed  on  Sheridan  the  duty  of  engaging  him  at  once. 
The  "  Life,"  by  which  he  made  money,  was  full  of  insidious 
strokes  at  his  former  patron,  though  at  the  end,  when  he  came 
to  sum  up  the  character  of  his  hero,  he  found  himself  obliged 
to  do  him  justice.}:  Yet  Garrick  had  generously  allowed  him 
a  benefit  night,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake. 

*  It  was  notorious  that  it  was  Churchill's  attack  that  preyed  upon  his 
mind.    Stockdale  says  he  lost  £500  a-year. 

t  I  have  seen  an  obsequious  letter  of  Davies',  venturing  to  suggest  that 
the  coronation  of  a  French  king  would  be  a  more  effective  pageant  on  the 
stage  than  that  of  an  English  one ;  and  also  thanking  him  for  his  "generous 
subscription  to  Wan  ley."  Garrick  endorsed  it  "  Mr.  Davies — once  an  actor 
— now  a  conceited  bookseller;  nor  is  that  all,  Anti-Mendax," — (Bullock 
HSS.)  "  Anti-Mendax  "  was  the  signature  to  some  personal  attacks  on  him, 
in  the  papers.  We  can  conceive  Garrick — knowing  the  secrets  of  these  false 
friends  and  their  false  compliments — making  this  bitter  endorsement  No 
man  ever  had  such  material  for  being  sarcastic  on  human  nature.  Children 
alone  he  could  except :  kindness  to  them  was  always  a  feature  in  his  cha- 
racter. Angelo,  the  fencing  master's  son,  used  to  be  invite!  for  the  day 
to  Hampton,  with  a  companion ;  and  the  good-natured  actor — then  en 
retraitc — would  read  stories  to  them  after  dinner.  In  time  he  would  fall 
asleep,  and  they  recalled  Mrs.  Garrick  cautiously  and  jealously  guarding 
them  against  disturbing  him,  and  fondly  putting  a  handkerchief  about  his 
head.     It  was  like  Lady  Easy  in  the  comedy. 

X  He  was  greatly  surprised  that  Mrs.  Garrick  was  displeased  at  his 
attacks.    The  Life  was  read  aloud  in  portions  to  a  select  club  of  booksAlLn* 


384  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

Here  was  the  odd  "Dagger  Marr,"  who  thought  himself 
equal  to  Garrick,  and  wouldf old  his  arms  scornfully,  and  look 
after  him  with  a  scowl,  saying,  if  he  had  but  his  eyes,  he 
would  play  him  for  any  sum.  And  here  was  the  useful  Cross, 
long  prompter  at  Drury  Lane — and  Hopkins,  the  stage  ma- 
nager—  old  retainers,  who  worshipped  their  captain;  with 
Waldron,  who  played  in  Scrub,  and  who,  long  after,  in  the 
Kemble  days,  used  to  praise  that  great  actor — but  always 
added :  "  But  Mr.  Garrick,  bless  my  soul !  that  was  quite  a  dif- 
ferent sort  of  thing  / "  Here  was  Havard,  a  good,  useful  actor, 
with  "an  easy,  vacant  face;"  and  Holland,  who  copied  Garrick. 
"  Attitude,  action,  air,  pause,  start,  sigh,  groan,  he  borrowed, 
and  made  use  of  as  his  own."  Isaac  Sparks,  Packer,  and 
Ackman  were  all  humble  and  serviceable  players,  useful  as 
rank  and  file.t  Havard  was  one  of  his  "  Old  Guard,"  and  was 
always  faithful  and  true;  and  when  leaving  the  stage,  had  the 
unusual  grace  to  write  his  old  master  a  grateful  and  kindly 
letter.  He  was  linked  with  the  old  days.  Garrick  had  been  truly 
kind;  and  after  his  last  benefit*  made  him  a  present  of  ahorse. 

at  the  Devil  Tavern.  He  once  played  FainaU,  in  "  The  Way  of  the  World,'1 
when  Mr.  Taylor  and  many  friends  were  present.  He  seemed  *'  an  old, 
formal-looking  man,  with  a  dull  gravity  in  his  acting,  and  a  hollow  ram- 
bling in  his  voice."  He  made  a  speech,  owning  his  inability,  bat  hoping 
his  goodwill  would  be  accepted.  He  seemed  to  decay  gradually,  and  it 
was  not  a  little  singular,  that  all  those  who  had  profited  by  Qarrick's 
friendship,  and  then  turned  against  him,  should  have  gradually  sunk  and 
ended  badly.  He  died  in  1785,  in  reduced  circumstances — the  "  pretty 
wife  "  in  1801.  It  is  said  ahe  became  actually  destitute,  and  spent  her  last 
days  in  the  workhouse. 

Here  is  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  strange  creatures  that  hung  about 
Drury  Lane.  Garrick  employed  an  oddity  called  Stone  to  pick  up 
41  supers,"  as  they  are  called : — 

"  Sib,"  he  complained,  "  Mr.  Lacy  turned  me  out  of  the  lobby  yesterday, 
and  behaved  very  shabby  to  me.  I  only  ox'd  him  for  my  two  guineas  for 
the  last  Bishop,  and  he  swore  I  shouldn't  have  a  farthing.  I  can't  live 
upon  air.  I  have  a  few  Cupids  you  may  have  dirt  cheap,  as  they  belongs 
to  a  poor  journeyman  shoemaker  who  I  drinks  with  now  and  then. — I  am, 
your  humble  servant,  "  W.  Stoks." 

Garrick  answered:  "Stone — You  are  the  best  fellow  in  the  world. 
Bring  the  Cupids  to  the  theatre  to-morrow.  If  they  are  under  six,  and 
well  made,  you  shall  have  a  guinea  a-piece  for  them.  Mr.  lAcy  will  pay 
you  himself  for  the  Bishop.  He  is  very  penitent  for  what  he  has  done.  If 
you  can  get  me  two  good  Murderers  I  will  pay  you  handsomely,  particu- 
larly for  the  spouting  fellow  who  keeps  the  apple  stand  on  Tower-hill ;  the 
cut  in  his  face  is  quite  the  thing.  Pick  me  up  an  Alderman  or  two  for 
1  Richard,'  if  you  can  ;  and  I  have  no  objection  to  treat  with  you  for  a  1st, 
comely  Mayor.  The  barber  will  not  do  for  Brutus,  although  I  think  he 
may  succeed  as  a  Thief  in '  The  Beggars'  Opera.'  "  D.  G." 

The  Bishop  had  rehearsed  the  part  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  in  "  Henry 
the  Eighth,"  with  such  good  effect,  that  Garrick  often  addressed  him  as 


1772.]  THE  GREAT  ACTORS.  385 

The  grateful  actor  wrote  to  him  in  language  not  familiar  to 
those  whom  Garrick  was  in  the  habit  of  loading  with  his 
favours.  He  had  given  him  all  thanks  behind  the  scenes,  yet  . 
he  must  formally,  and  upon  paper,  express  all  he  felt.  The 
style  is  that  inflated  style  to  which  all  actors  have  a  leaning, 
and  which  they  seem  to  catch  from  the  scraps  of  dramatic 
"  fine  "  language  floating  through  their  brain.  "  Believe  me, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  these  feelings  are  wrote  upon  my  heart,  and 
must  continue  as  long  as  the  frail  tenement  that  contains  it. 
May  your  health  and  Mrs.  Garrick's  continue  perfect — at  least, 
with  so  small  a  difference  that  it  may  only  add  a  relish  to  the  future 
enjoyment  of  it,  as  the  absence  of  friends  the  more  endears  their 
next  meeting.  May  every  circumstance  of  your  lives  be  easy, 
and  every  wish  completed !  And  now  my  heart  is  somewhat 
lighter."  The  prayer  of  this  excellent  old  actor  and  really 
grateful  retainer  is  original  and  ingenious — namely,  wishing 
one's  friend  only  just  so  much  inconvenience  in  the  way  of 
sickness  as  to  give  a  whet  to  the  enjoyment  of  health.  This 
kind  benediction  could  not,  however,  secure  such  a  tempered 
indisposition  for  Garrick,  who  was  to  suffer  acutely  by  and  by. 
Here  too  was  Woodward,  great  master  in  "  science  of  gri- 
mace," as  Churchill  a  little  unjustly  puts  it,  taking  only  one 
side  of  his  humour,  which  could  be  tempered  by  the  sound  as- 
sociation of  the  school  around  him,  and  exhibit  fine  comedy  in 
such  parts  as  Bobadil  and  the  Copper  Captain.  Smith,  "  the 
genteel,  the  airy,"  was  a  type  lost  to  us  now,  invaluable  in 
those  gay  comedy  gallants  and  men  of  fashion,  who  indeed 
are  not  on  the  stage  now.  "I  fancy,"  says  Elia,  "he  was 
more  airy,  and  took  the  eye  with  a  certain  gaiety  of  person." 
King,  too,  that  admirable  and  solid  actor,  Elia  had  seen,  and 
admired  for  that  artificial  air  which  he  imparted  to  Sir  Peter.* 
It  would  be  tempting  to  dwell  further  on  this  fine  cohort, 
as  well-disciplined  as  they  were  fine.  These  little  sketches 
will  just  give  us  a  hint  of  what  characters  they  were  who 
moved  round  Garrick. 

"  Cousin  of  Winchester."  He,  however,  never  played  the  part ;  the  reader 
will  see  the  reason  from  the  two  subjoined  letters : — 

"  Sir — The  Bishop  of  Winchester  is  getting  drunk  at  the  Bear,  and 
•wears  he'U  be  d — -d  if  he  acts  to-night — I  am  yours,    "  W.  Stoke." 

"  Stone — The  Bishop  may  go  to  the  .    I  do  not  know  a  greater 

rascal,  except  yourself.  "  D.  G." 

#  "  His  acting  left  a  taste  on  the  palate  sharp  and  sweet,  like  a  quince, 
with  an  old,  hard,  rough,  withered  face,  like  a  john-apple,  puckered  up  into 
a  thousand  wrinkles,  with  shrewd  hints  and  tart  replies."  There  is  a  perfect 
picture  in  this  description. 

C<3 


386  THE  UFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 


CHAPTER  VI1L 

IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM. — 1772. 

In  those  days,  too,  the  principles  which  regulated  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  stage  were  of  axdignified  kind,  and  worthy 
of  a  great  profession.  Nothing,  as  I  have  said,  was  more 
surprising  than  the  respect  enjoyed  by  actors,  or  their  import- 
ance. Garrick  went  regularly  to  Court ;  and  this  was  expected, 
and  commented  on,  if  omitted.  Here  was  an  official  recogni- 
tion of  a  great  theatre.  In  those  days,  too,  the  Drury  Lane 
players  had  a  scarlet  dress — as  being  attached  to  the  Royal 
Household.     Baddeley  was  the  last  who  wore  this  uniform. 

The  great  actor's  own  behaviour  showed  the  respect  that 
he  felt  was  owing  to  himself  and  to  the  public.  In  his 
green-room,  in  the  intervals  between  his  scenes,  he  never 
gossiped ;  but  kept  a  little  apart,  as  it  were  living  still  in  his 
assumed  character.  This  was,  of  course,  set  down  to  pride 
and  self-importance.  He  told  a  friend,  who  was  by  no  means 
inclined  to  conceal  his  faults,  that  he  was  never  free  from  a 
certain  nervousness  and  sense  of  responsibility.  On  the  days 
that  he  was  to  play,  he  never  dined  out,  but  remained  at  home 
quiet  and  undistracted,  taking  some  light  repast  at  two  o'clock, 
and  admitting  no  visitors.*  It  was  remarked  that  none  of  the 
great  players,  such  as  Barry  or  Clive,  could  be  induced  to  show 
themselves  in  the  boxes  during  the  after-piece ;  but  went  home 
decorously,  so  as  not  to  impair  the  impression  left  on  the  audi- 
ence. Here  was  a  wholesome  and  significant  principle.  Once, 
and  once  only,  he  owned  that  he  had  come  on  the  stage  intoxi- 
cated. He  had  been  persuaded  to  dine  at  a  great  house,  and 
had  taken  too  much  liquor.  When  he  came  on  as  Lord  Chalk- 
stone,  he  appeared  all  exhilaration  and  spirits,  laughed  as  he 
tried  to  act,  but  could  not  utter  a  word.  Friends  in  the  house 
tried  to  cover  this  exhibition  with  exaggerated  applause,  and 
the  greater  part  of  the  audience  did  not  perceive  what  had 
happened ;  but  he  was  dreadfully  mortified,  and  it  was  a  lesson 
to  him  never  to  be  betrayed  into  such  a  failing  again. t 

On  the  stage,  then,  there  was  an  admirable  tone  and  disci- 
pline— a  perfect  respect  for  the  audience,  more  than  repaid  by 
that  audience  by  a  respect  as  perfect  for  the  actor.     The  fami- 

#  Stockdalc.  t  Cradock. 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  387 

liarity  known  as  "  gagging  "  was  kept  under  an  almost  ascetical 
restraint*  Tolerant  in  most  points,  Garrick  was  known  to  be 
rigid  in  matters  like  this.  Once,  however,  when  playing  in 
"The  Way  to  Keep  Him,"  with  Mrs.  Clive,  that  lady  whis- 
pered some  private  joke,  which  so  completely  upset  him  that 
he  could  not  finish,  but  was  obliged  to  "  make  his  bow,  amid  a 
roar  of  electrical  laughter."  But  this  was  an  accident,  t  It 
was  often  repeated  now  Roscius  had  told  Shuter  "  not  to  be  too 
comical"    Advice  for  a  whole  line  of  Shuters. 

He  was  unwearied  in  "  drilling  "  his  actors,  whatever  their 
rank;  and  they  had  learned  the  custom  of  taking  instructions 
from  him  with  docility.  Indeed,  it  is  surprising  to  see  what 
infinite  power  his  prosperity  and  success  in  direction,  his  wealth 
and  good  gifts  as  an  actor,  gave  him  in  the  theatre.  How  much 
a  play  gained  by  this  unity  of  conception  may  be  conceived. 
To  this  was  owing  the  unequalled  success  of  "  Every  Man  in 
his  Humour,"  which  was  rehearsed  for  months ;  and  the  ma- 
nager was  known  to  rigidly  apply  the  same  principles  to  him- 
self. Benedick  he  had  studied  and  gone  over  patiently  for 
many  weeks  before  he  could  please  himself.  Other  parts  he 
studied  as  long,  and  then  abandoned,  being  doubtful  as  to 
their  success.  It  is  the  old  story — labour  and  study  make  up 
a  good  portion  of  what  the  world  calls  genius. 

Through  his  life  we  have  seen  much  of  what  seemed  his 
"  finessing."  Yet  he  was  at  the  head  of  a  great  establishment, 
with  a  serious  responsibility.  A  false  step — a  sudden  and 
hasty  quarrel  with  one  of  his  corps — a  dismissal  in  anger — 
would  be  a  fatal  injury.  He  had  to  deal  with,  literally, 
hundreds  of  complainants,  suitors,  and  grievance-mongers.  He, 
besides,  felt  their  power ;  if  they  combined,  they  could  injure ; 
even  their  little  idle  stories  wrung  his  souL  It  is  inconceivable 
what  he  suffered  through  his  morbid  nature.  He  was,  besides, 
precipitate  in  temper,  and  he  knew  this.  From  all  these  com- 
posite dealings  he  had  learned  to  believe  that  his  only  safety  was 
in  a  sort  of  diplomacy,  in  letter  writing,  and  hearing  of  private 

*  "  0,  comical  actor ! "  exclaimed  Tate  Wilkinson, "  it  is  a  debt,  and  a  dan- 
gerous debt,  not  easily  forgot  or  forgiven  ;  for  how  can  the  performer  think 
that  though,  perhaps,  the  town  last  night  laughed,  and  gave  indulgence,  that 
he  is  free !  Far  from  it ;  he  has  lost  the  golden  ore — their  good  opinion 
— and  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  regain  it.  For  the  actor  is  dreadfully 
wrong  who  think*  because  himself  and  friends  laugh  at  what  is  termed 
jokes,  out  of  all  time,  place,  and  character,  it  is  forgiven  in  general."  There 
is  admirable  truth  as  well  as  philosophy  in  this. 

t  Wilkinson  owns  that,  something  of  the  same  sort  having  happened  to 
him,  he  tried  it  again,  on  purpose,  on  the  next  night — when  there  was  a 
general  hiss.     "  And  I  have  remembered  the  lesson,"  he  says.  "  ever  since." 


388  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

reports  and  rumours,  and  being  directed  by  them.  This  was 
foolish,  and  it  grew  to  be  an  incurable  habit.  Such  eager 
craving  to  know  what  was  said  of  him  brought  him  infinite 
suffering.  Small,  low  creatures  found  their  account  in  this 
failing.  It  was  one  more  physical  than  moral  As  Davies, 
who  often  had  a  happy  turn  of  expression,  says,  "  all  sorts  of 
news  he  greedily  swallowed,  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
laying  a  plot  to  hurt  his  own  mind.  Many  things  will  be  said 
of  every  man,  that  no  man  should  be  solicitous  to  know"  Cer- 
tainly, as  we  have  seen  before,  no  one  could  have  had  such 
strange  points  of  contact  with  the  odd  side  of  human  nature, 
and  never,  before  or  since,  was  the  player's  world  so  large,  im- 
portant, and  full  of  vitality.  He  was  in  the  very  centre.  On 
the  whole,  he  treated  the  dependants  on  him  with  the  most 
surprising  justice.  Sometimes,  indeed,  in  this  direction,  he  gave 
way  to  temper,  and  used  language  he  was  sorry  for.  He  was 
now  and  again  "  worried "  by  something  into  heat,  but,  says 
Davies,  "of  this  impropriety  he  was  generally  sensible,  and 
made  ample  reparation  to  the  person  whose  mind  he  had  disturbed" 
It  was  said  he  was  "  jealous  "  of  other  actors.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  was — taking  it  in  the  sense  of  "uneasiness"  at  the 
success  of  rivals,  which  in  any  profession  is  the  first  step 
towards  decay.  Who  must  not  feel  this — and  how  much 
greater  the  honour  for  him  who  forces  himself  to  aid  and 
honour  those  from  whom  such  danger  is  to  be  apprehended  t 
To  Mossop,  Barry,  Sheridan,  and  Powell — all  put  forward 
offensively  as  rivals — he  behaved  ever  generously.* 

He  had  many  ways,  besides  that  of  actual  money  assistance, 
of  helping  those  under  him.  He  would  buy  things  from  them 
— china,  books,  and  the  like.f    His  players  ought  to  have 

*  Davies  says,  "  I  never  remember  to  have  heard  him  speak  warmly  in 
the  commendation  of  any  actor,  living  or  dead."  Others,  however,  heard 
him  praise  Barry  in  the  warmest  way,  saying,  "  he  was  the  only  lover  on 
the  stage."  Of  Sheridan  he  said,  "  he  had  never  known  so  able  a  collabo- 
rateur."  Powell  he  instructed  and  praised  to  every  one.  But  Davies  knew 
him  very  little. 

t  In  this  way  he  offered  to  take  from  Davies  a  copy  of  the  Mutntm 
Fiorentium,  in  satisfaction  of  a  debt.  The  following  little  receipta  will  be 
interesting : — 

"David  Gabrick,  Esq.,  to  E.  Shctxb. 
"  1760. 
"  Aug.  4.    To  a  set  of  Table  China  . 
To  a  Bottle  and  Bason    . 
To  a  pr  of  Candlesticks  .        .        . 
To  two  Caudle  Cups 

£16    4    6 
"Bee4  y«  contents  in  full,  Ed.  Shutkb." 


£    s. 

cL 

13  13 

0 

1    5 

0 

0  16 

0 

0  10 

6 

1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  389 

loved  him.  Yet  it  is  curious  the  gloss  that  was  put  on  every- 
thing he  did.  His  "  greed  of  praise  "  was  said  to  be  so  great 
that  he  would  accept  it  from  the  humblest  hanger-on  of  the 
theatre.  Stockdale,  saved  from  ruin  by  his  patronage,  dwells 
on  this  ungratefully,  and  tells  how  he  would  ask  some  un- 
derling of  the  theatre,  "  Well,  Hopkins,  what  did  they  think 
of  me  last  night?"  "Oh,  sir,"  the  answer  would  be,  "you 
were  never  greater !  "*  This  was  a  practice  of  his,  and  seems 
to  show  rather  a  compliment  and  a  kindly  courtesy  to  those 
who  were  in  subordinate  place — to  appear  anxious  to  have 
their  opinion.  For  on  the  stage,  beyond  any  other  profession, 
praise  is  success;  nay,  praise  and  success  seem  a  fixed  quantity: 
when  one  is  praised,  it  is  withdrawn  from  another.  When 
praise  begins  to  grow  faint,  success  is  failing  also.  The  con- 
fidence, too,  that  he  had  in  his  own  unsurpassed  gifts,  made 
him  utter  incautiously  such  speeches  as  "  that  when  he  left  the 
stage,  the  stage  would  be  in  a  very  low  state  indeed  " — a  pro- 
phecy that  he  saw  fulfilled.! 

"  Received  of  David  Garrick,  Esq.,  the  sum  of  eighty-four  pounds  (read 
eighty-four),  being  the  value  of  a  Diamond  Gold  Buckle,  as  by  appraise- 
ment.— B.  Victor." 

"  London,  May  25, 1757." 

Of  course  it  would  be  said  that  the  "  knowing  Davy  "  found  his  advantage 
in  these  transactions ;  but  the  reader  will  note  that  the  article  was  duly 
valued.— BvUock  MSS. 

*  What  the  great  manager  was  accustomed  to  do  in  his  green-room  may 
be  conceived  from  the  following : — "  Well,  now  ;  hey,  Cross  !  don't  you 
think  my  brow  and  eye  as  Bajazet — how  do  you  think  I  should  play  it  ? " 
u  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  prompter,  "  like  everything  else  you  do — your  Bajazet 
would  be  incomparable  1 "  to  which  we  all  bowed,  and  assented. —  WU- 
Icinton. 

t  A  curious  little  scene  once  took  place  at  his  house.  On  the  York  cir- 
cuit, a  Mr.  Frodsham  had  a  high  reputation,  and  played  the  whole  round 
of  light  comedy  and  leading  tragedy.  He  was  so  petted  and  admired  that 
his  conceit  became  amusing.  One  year  he  went  up  to  London  for  a 
holiday,  to  the  great  concern  of  the  York  audiences,  who  were  certain  tHfrt 
if  Mr.  Garrick  once  saw  him,  it  was  all  over  with  the  York  stage.  He  sent 
in  his  card  to  Garrick,  as  "  Mr.  Frodsham,  of  York,"  a  free  and  easy  de- 
scription that  amused  Garrick.  Garrick  asked  had  he  seen  him  play.  The 
other  answered  that  he  had  seen  Mr.  Garrick  himself  in  Hamlet,  and 
■added,  airily, "  that  it  was  his  own  favourite  character."  "  Well,  now,"  said 
the  other ;  "  pray,  now,  how  did  you  approve,  Frodsham  ?  I  hope  I  pleased 
you."  "  Oh,  yes,  certainly,  my  dear  sir,"  the  other  answered ;  "  vastly 
clever  in  several  passages — but,  as  a  whole,  I  can  scarcely  endorse  the  public 
opinion  of  London."    Garrick  was  a  little  taken  aback  at  this  candour. 

The  country  actor  arrived  next  morning  to  breakfast,  and  was  welcomed 
by  his  host  and  hostess.  Carrying  out  his  rather  rude  and  ignorant  tac- 
tique  of  nil  admirari,  he  made  no  allusion  to  the  play  he  had  seen,  until 
Garrick  himself  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  his  Sir  John  Brute  last 
sight.     "  Now,  no  compliment ;  but  tell  Mrs.  Garrick.    Do  ^o\x  \isx&*  Vu 


390  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1772. 

This  was  the  pleasant  side  ;  yet  it  is  inconceivable  the  sum 
of  troubles,  trials,  and  cares,  the  control  of  his  histrionic  corps 
brought  him.  No  one  can  have  an  idea  of  all  that  went  on 
behind  the  scenes  of  Drury  Lane — the  sulks,  the  pettishness, 
the  vanities,  the  open  revolts  of  the  regiment,  a  hundred  strong, 
that  served  under  "  King  Davy."  A  great  deal  of  all  this,  it 
must  be  owned,  he  brought  on  himself.  He  wished  everybody 
to  think  well  of  him,  and  to  think  him  right  He  could  not 
resist  listening  to  the  whispers  and  stories  of  his  inferior  de- 
pendants. 

The  cloud  of  players'  fanciful  wrongs  and  miserable  com- 
plaints and  winnings,  to  be  found  in  a  hundred  little  episodes 
in  his  "  Correspondence,'1  is  a  sure  proof  of  his  capacity  and 
exquisite  tact  behind  the  scenes.  During  those  thirty  years, 
all  through  those  grievances,  rejoicings,  defiances,  wounded 
sensibilities,  open  attacks,  secret  insinuations,  to  be  followed 
almost  invariably  by  the  most  servile  and  degrading  submis- 

would  have  pleased  at  York  ?  Tell  what  you  think."  "  Oh,  certainly — 
certainly,"  said  the  other.  "  I  was  highly  delighted.  But,  you  know,  I 
had  been  told  Hamlet  was  your  best  character,  though  I  flatter  myself  I 
play  it  almost  as  well  But  your  Brute,  Mr.  Garrick,  was  excellence 
itself.  Tou  stood  in  the  drunken  scene  flourishing  your  sword.  I  am  sure 
you  saw  me  in  the  pit  at  the  same  time,  and  seemed  to  say,  '  D — n  it, 
Frodsham,  did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that  at  York  ? ' "  Garrick 
laughed  a  little  affectedly  at  this  candour,  to  which  he  was  so  unused  ;  and 
to  change  the  conversation,  "Well,  now,  hey!"  he  said,  "for  a  taste  of 
your  quality,  and,  Mrs.  Garrick,  bear  a  wary  eye."  The  other,  without 
the  least  concern,  struck  at  once  into  Hamlet's  first  soliloquy.  He  spouted 
it  in  his  own  York  way  ;  while  Garrick  darted  his  fiery  eyes  at  him,  and 
seemed  to  search  his  soul.  This  was  a  favourite  habit  of  his  in  presence  of 
inferiors,  and  was  a  little  homage  which  he  paid  to  those  wonderful  orbs. 
When  he  had  done,  the  great  actor  told  him  there  were  some  "  tones  "  in  his 
declamation  which  he  did  not  relish.  The  other  answered,  with  some  tart* 
ness,  that  Mr.  Garrick  was  not  accustomed  to  his  style.  "  I  can  assure  you, 
when  I  first  heard  you  and  Mrs.  Cibber,  I  thought  you  had  very  strange 
'  tones  ; '  but  I  suppose  I  should  get  accustomed  to  them."  This  was  free 
speaking  indeed.  "  Why,  now,"  said  the  great  actor,  wondering,  "  thia  is 
— why,  now,  really,  Frodsham,  you  are  a  d— d  queer  fellow.  But  I  tell 
you  what,  you  shall  have  a  fair  trial  on  my  stage,  in  any  part,  and  then  we 
shall  talk  of  terms.  "  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Garrick,"  said  the  other,  "  you  are 
quite  mistaken  if  you  think  I  am  come  to  beg  an  engagement*  I  am  a 
/fascitis  down  at  my  own  quarter,  I  just  came  up  to  see  a  few  plays,  sod 
thought  it  only  a  becoming  compliment  to  call  on  a  brother  actor ; "  and 
then,  with  a  negligent  bow,  took  his  leave.  There  was  true  comedy  in  this 
little  scene. 

At  Liverpool  were  two  actors,  Gibson  and  Ridout,  who  were  consi- 
dered there  superior  to  Roscius.  A  deputation  going  up  to  London  on 
local  business,  were  charged  to  see  this  London  player,  who  was  so  much 
talked  of,  and  reported  that  he  was  not  to  ho  compared  with  Gibson  and 
Ridout. 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  391 

sion— in  short,  the  player's  traditional  programme— we  see 
him  the  same  always — calm,  temperate,  and  with  right  upon 
his  side ;  masterly  in  discussion,  firm  where  he  feels  that  his 
goodness  has  been  too  far  tried,  and,  above  all,  generously 
making  no  account  either  of  their  angry  menaces  and  haughty 
language,  or  of  the  grovelling  submission  with  which  that 
lauguage  was  sought  to  be  atoned  for.  No  man  was  ever 
less  likely  to  exact  a  humiliating  amende.  The  annals  of 
this  theatre,  as  preserved  in  the  "Correspondence,"  are  a 
record  of  the  pettiness  behind  the  curtain ;  and  the  manager 
could  nowhere  elso  have  learnt  such  capital  lessons  in  human 
character.  No  matter  what  motives  were  imputed,  or  even 
what  language  was  used,  he  was  sure  to  forgive,  and  "  think 
no  more  of  it"  Every  one  was  flattering  him  and  intriguing 
for  his  favour.  There  were  those,  too,  who  knew  well  his 
morbid  sensitiveness,  his  nervousness  as  to  what  was  said  against 
him,  and  at  the  same  time  his  eagerness  to  hear  it.  Did  King 
the  actor  express  himself  hastily  in  the  green-room  about  a 
new  play — there  was  Mr.  Hopkins,  the  prompter,  ready  to 
carry  these  remarks  straight  to  the  manager,  who,  much  hurt, 
and  no  doubt  brooding  over  it,  required  an  explanation  in  writ- 
ing :  "  Mr.  Garrick's  compliments  to  Mr.  King,  though  he  is 
seldom  surprised  at  what  may  happen  in  a  theatre,  yet  he 
should  be  obliged  to  Mr.  King  if  he  would  let  him  know,  by  a 
note,  what  he  was  pleased  to  say  about  him  and  the  farce  of 
*  The  Invasion/  to  Mr.  Hopkins.  Mr.  Garrick  assures  Mr. 
King  that  he  will  not  send  his  answer  to  the  prompter,  but  to 
himself."  King,  an  excellent  actor,  but  knowing  his  own 
value,  indeed  gave  him  infinite  trouble.  He  would  periodically 
break  out  in  an  enormous  letter  of  peevish  grievances,  firing, 
as  Garrick  said,  a  long  gun  at  him.  Garrick  had  talked  in  a 
friendly  way  of  his  always  staying  at  Drury  Lane,  and  had 
added,  "0  damn  it!  never  fear,  111  take  care  of  you" — 
this  brought  out  a  whole  catalogue  of  wrongs.  Mrs.  King  had 
been  engaged,  "  not  with  good  grace ; "  he  himself  was  made 
a  sort  of  "  hack  of,"  thrust  in  after  "  command  nights,"  made 
to  fill  gaps,  where  other  actors  were  allowed  not  to  play,  actors 
who  were  "  shamefully  better  paid,"  and  who  were  "periodically 
sick,  or  impertinent,  about  the  month  of  April."  He  was  put 
into  unfit  parts — Woodward,  of  Covent  Garden,  "  had  more," 
Smith  more,  and  both  less  to  do.  He  could  only  agree  to 
certain  haughty  conditions.  He  was  not,  he  hinted,  to  have 
an  unworthy  advantage  taken  of  his  friendship  towards  Mr. 
Garrick. 

Garrick  sent  an  answer  which  is  admirable  for  ite  moAaxv 


392  THE  UFB  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

tion.  He  summarises  the  complaints.  "  These,"  he  says,  "  are 
the  allegations  of  my  friend,  Mr.  King,  in  the  midst  of  our 
friendship,  and  when  he  was  possessed  of  my  entire  confidence; 
however,  all  these  hardships  do  not  seem  to  yourself  insuffer- 
able, for,  with  only  an  exception  or  two,  you  are  willing  to 
submit  to  them,  if  the  manager  of  Drury  Lane  will  give  you 
your  price.  Have  you  not,  Mr.  King,  been  conscious  of  some 
breaches  of  friendship  to  me,  and  are  you  not  producing  these 
allegations  as  excuses  for  your  own  behaviour?  Have  you 
not,  instead  of  an  open,  manly  declaration  of  your  thoughts  to 
your  friend,  whispered  about  in  hints  and  ambiguities  your 
uneasiness  ?  All  which  by  circulation  have  partly  crept  into 
the  newspapers ;  and  though  you  have  disclaimed  being  privy 
to  their  circulation,  yet  you  have  certainly  been  the  first  cause 
of  it ;  while  I  aver,  so  lately  as  a  fortnight  ago,  you  came  to 
my  house  at  Hampton,  showed  no  signs  of  displeasure,  but 
rode  with  me  to  town  with  all  the  cheerfulness  of  ease,  and 
in  the  warmest  spirit  of  confidence.  Was  your  friend  to 
be  the  last  to  hear  of  your  complaints  or  to  suspect  them  ? " 
The  other  renewed  what  might  be  called  his  "  whine."  He 
fell  back  upon  the  "disinclination"  shown  to  receive  Mrs. 
King.  His  name  in  the  play-bill  had  been  squeezed  into  a 
line,  or  huddled  away  too  close  to  the  large  capitals  of  the 
play-bill.*     Such  were  an  actor's  grievances. 

Smith,  the  comedian — the  "Gentleman  Smith,"  who  had 
been  brought  up  at  Eton,  with  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  and 
who  stipulated  with  managers  for  a  regular  furlough  every 
year  to  go  to  Newmarket,  and  who  really  loved  Garrick — 
would  also  take  his  turn  at  trying  the  manager's  temper.  He 
had  been  always  saying  that  he  was  dying  to  be  at  his  theatre, 
and  would  come  to  him  upon  any  terms.  When  a  place  was 
found  for  him,  he  then  began  to  "  haggle  "  about  guineas  in- 
stead of  pounds,  and  finally  said  he  would  accept,  but 
that  he  would  be  "miserable."  Naturally  Garrick  did  not 
relish  this  tone,  after  what  he  had  meant  to  be  a  compliment 
As  usual,  he  had  all  the  reason  and  argument  of  the  case  upon 

*  Tet  with  these  troubles  and  anxieties  Garrick  could  bear  generous  testi- 
mony when  it  was  deserved,  and  in  a  preface  to  a  little  farce  he  wrote  far 
King,  he  told  the  public  he  did  it  to  show  his  regard  for  a  performer, 
"  who  during  a  long  engagement  has  never  yet,  unless  confined  by  real 
illness,  disappointed  the  public,  or  distressed  the  managers"  Whatever  had 
been  their  little  private  bickeringB,  it  was  "handsome**  in  Garrick  to  make 
this  avowal.  Indeed,  he  was  delighted  always  to  convenience,  h*lp, 
indulge,  those  who  were  at  all  gracious  to  him.  So,  too,  Miss  Macklin, 
daughter  of  his  old  enemy,  he  was  delighted  to  oblige,  telling  her  that  the 
had  every  claim  on  him,  from  her  behaviour  to  him. 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  393 

his  side.  He  had  even  offered  to  make  up  the  difference  "  out 
of  his  own  pocket."  The  other  was  presently  penitent,  and 
"would  not  offend  him  for  the  world.  If  to  have  idolized 
you  deserves  your  resentment^  no  one  can  be  more  guilty  than 
yours,"  &c* 

Garrick  then  engaged  him  on  handsome  terms ;  but  in  a  few 
months  the  old  dissatisfaction  broke  out.  A  lady  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  On  a  Saturday  he  assured  Garrick  that  no 
terms  or  offers  from  the  other  theatre  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  separation ;  but  Garrick  discovered  that  on  the  Thursday 
he  had  been  making  up  a  sort  of  contingent  treaty  with  the 
manager  of  Covent  Garden.  Thus  on  all  sides  he  was  met  by 
this  underhand  deception.  He  was  allowed  to  stay  at  the 
theatre,  but  only  to  break  out  again.  The  manager  had  good- 
naturedly  given  him  leave  of  absence  for  some  days,  and  on 
his  return  Mr.  Smith  was  indignant  that  a  certain  play  had 
been  played  in  his  absence.  Gaxrick's  tone  shows  how  much 
he  was  worried.    "  I  shall  not  describe  my  distress  and  troubles 

for  many  days  past  on  fixing  upon  plays Indeed  these 

frequent  billets  of  complaint  betray  an  unsatisfied  mind ;  and 
I  am  as  little  able  to  account  for  this  dissatisfaction,  as  I  find 
that  no  art  of  mine  is  able  to  remove  it."  Even  at  a  revival 
of  the  Jubilee,  when  Garrick  asked  him  to  walk  in  the  pro- 
cession he  refused,  begging  piteously  to  be  let  off,  saying  it 
would  make  him  "miserable,  t  The  manager  had  certainly 
crosses  of  his  own  in  dealing  with  all  these  humours. 

But  his  relations  with  the  ladies  of  his  kingdom,  whose  lively 
insubordination  and  pettish  mutinies  required  delicate  and 
diplomatic  management,  were  more  serious.  The  men  players 
had,  to  a  certain  degree,  to  be  humoured  like  women,  but  the 
women  required  a  firmer  touch.  Their  airs  and  grievances  are 
almost  amusing ;  but  they  always  found  the  manager,  while 
calm,  and  even  gallant,  firm  as  a  rock.  The  lively  "Pivy" 
Clive,  the  stately  Mrs.  Barry,  Pope,  the  "  established  "  Hoyden 
of  the  theatre,  Miss  Younge,  Mrs.  Yates,  Mrs.  Abington,  all 
tried  the  effect  of  a  modified  revolt  upon  the  manager's  good 
temper ;  and  it  is  instructive  to  see  how  skilfully  he  managed 
these  useful,  but  refractory,  ladies.     Mrs.  Clive,  whose  ringing 

*  Gentleman  Smith  was  almost  amusing  as  "a  humbug,"  with  a  little 
of  the  Joseph  Surface,  in  his  playing  on  the  boards  of  real  life.  In  this 
**  airy  "  way  he  made  that  scandalous  elopement  to  Dublin  with  the  hand- 
some HaS-Uey.    His  letters  on  the  subject  of  this  "fall,"  are  really  comic. 

t  In  a  letter  to  Taylor,  Smith  long  after  wrote,  "  I  never  can  speak  of 
him  but  with  idolatry,  and  have  ever  looked  upon  it  as  one  of  the  greatest 
blessings  of  my  life  to  have  lived  in  the  days  of  Garrick." 


394  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

laugh  and  almost  boisterous  activity  was  invaluable  where  a 
piece  had  to  be  "  carried  "  through  by  bustle,  was  perhaps  the 
most  difficult  of  all  to  deal  with. 

For  so  valuable  an  actress,  Garrick  had  her  services  on  easy 
terms — £300  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  nights.  On  so  mer- 
curial a  lady  a  "  light  rein  "  was  necessary :  the  least  indulgence 
would  develop  into  licence.  In  a  good-humoured  way  Garrick 
would  warn  her  that  any  neglect  of  theatrical  duty  must  be 
severely  punished.  "  Take  care,"  he  said  to  her,  "  or  you  will 
be  surely  '  catched  \"  On  the  following  Saturday  this  lively 
creature  went  down  in  a  friend's  carriage  to  a  merry-making  at 
Greenwich.  In  her  absence  "  The  Devil  to  Pay  "  was  suddenly 
put  up,  and  she  was  sent  for.  Her  maid,  like  herself,  was  out 
for  the  day,  and  had  the  keys  of  the  wardrobe.  Nor  was  there 
in  the  wardrobe,  the  proper  dress  for  the  part.  Down  at  Green- 
wich she  was  disturbed  by  the  messenger  of  the  angry  manager, 
and  one  of  the  gentlemen  was  so  obliging  as  to  relieve  her  mind, 
by  sending  in  one  of  his  grooms  to  say,  that  she  would  come 
after  all,  if  she  was  wanted. 

For  this,  offence  she  was  heavily  fined,  and  she  wrote  a  pet- 
tish, indignant  letter  of  expostulation,  which  was  all  bad  spell- 
ing. It  must  be  said  she  made  out  an  excellent  case,  that  it 
was  never  before  expected  of  a  performer  to  be  in  waiting,  when 
their  names  are  not  in  the  papers  or  bills ;  and  she  reminded 
him  that  "  she  had  never  disappointed  him  four  times,  that 
she  always  had  good  health,  and  had  been  ever  above  subter- 
fuge." "  I  hope,"  she  goes  on,  "  this  stopping  of  money  is  not  a 
French  fashion.  I  believe  you  will  not  find  any  part  of  the 
English  laws  that  will  support  this  sort  of  treatment  of  an 
actress."  His  dislike  to  her  was  as  mysterious  as  the  reason 
he  gave  the  Eev.  Laurence  Sterne  for  it,  who  was  behind  the 
scenes  often.  The  Rev.  Laurence,  of  course,  told  the  actress 
what  Garrick  had  told  him.  No  one,  of  course,  kept  confi- 
dence with  the  good-natured  manager.  She  had  done  every- 
thing to  oblige  him.  Did  it  not  cost  her  five  pounds  in  coach 
hire,  coming  up  and  down  to  school  Mrs.  Vincent  when  she 
came  out  in  Polly?  "  I  have  never  envied  you  your  equipages 
nor  grandeur,  the  fine  fortune  you  have  already,  and  must 

still  be  increasing I  have  great  regret  in  being  obliged 

to  say  anything  that  looks  like  contention.  I  wish  to  be  quiet 
myself,  and  I  am  sure  I  never  laid  any  schemes  in  my  life  to 
make  any  one  uneasy  or  unhappy."  At  the  end  she  gives  him 
warning  that  "  they  are  people  of  consequence,  who  know  the 
truth  of  what  I  say,  and  who  will  be  very  much  surprised  to 
hear  how  I  have  been  treated." 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  395 

It  would  be  hard  to  be  wroth  with  this  true  woman's  letter. 
We  may  be  sure  the  fine  was  taken  off.  No  wonder  that  a 
little  later  she  should  think  that  he  always  had  "  a  sneaking 
kindness  for  your  *  Pivy,'  "  and  she  could  own  that  he  could  be 
charming  when  he  was  good. 

But  a  more  dangerous  rebel  than  "  Pivy  "  was  Mrs.  Abing- 
ton,  whose  insubordination  was  not  relieved  by  the  good-nature 
of  Mrs.  Clive.  Mrs.  Abington  was  an  actress  of  great  effect, 
in  the  good  standard  comedy  parts;  but  she  was  always 
captious,  making  difficulties.  "  Could  I  put  you  on  the  highest 
comic  pinnacle,"  he  said  to  her,  "  I  certainly  would  do  it ;  but 
indeed,  my  dear  madam,  we  shall  not  mount  much,  if  your  cold 
counteracting  discourse  is  to  pull  us  back  at  every  step." 
When  it  was  discovered  that  the  play  for  the  night  must  be 
changed  to  "  The  West  Indian,"  as  Reddish  was  ill,  the  lady 
took  the  usual  airs.  She  was  weak  and  ill :  at  three  o'clock  it 
surely  was  too  much  to  expect  her  to  read  her  part,  get  her 
dress  ready,  and  find  a  hairdresser.  She  wrote  to  him  hotly 
that  he  behaved  with  such  incivility,  that  her  health  and  spirits 
are  quite  hurt  by  it ;  if  Mr.  Garrick  really  thinks  her  such,  as 
he  is  pleased  to  describe  her  in  company,  he  can  readily  find 
the  remedy,  by  relieving  her  from  her  engagement. 

The  manager,  however,  as  usual,  has  the  best  of  it.  She  had 
played  the  character  before  in  the  season,  he  said,  therefore  she 
could  not  want  much  preparation.  The  message  had  been  sent 
to  her  in  the  morning,  not  at  three.  "  You  knew  our  distress 
yesterday  almost  as  soon  as  I  did,  and  did  not  plead  the  want 
of  a  day's  notice,  clothes,  hairdresser,  &c.  Though  you  were 
in  spirits,  and  rehearsing  a  new  farce,  you  suffered  us  to  be 
obliged  to  call  on  the  lady  of  another  house,  to  do  your  busi- 
ness, when  neither  our  distresses,  the  credit  of  the  theatre,  or 
your  own  duty  and  justice,  could  have  the  least  influence  on 
you.  These  are  serious  truths,  madam,  and  not  to  be  de- 
scribed as  the  lesser  peccadilloes  of  a  fine  lady."  And  as  to 
her  releasing  him,  his  only  hope  was  that  he  would  be  soon 
delivered  from  "the  capriciousness,  inconsistency,  injustice, 
and  wickedness  of  those  to  whom  I  always  intended  the 
greatest  good  in  my  power."  Well  might  he  recall  the  old 
loyalty,  the  sense  of  duty,  of  Woffington  and  Clive. 

Another  time,  she  finds  she  has  enemies  about  Mr.  Garrick. 
She  was  called  on  to  play  to  empty  benches.  Then  she  was 
jealous  that  Mrs.  Barry  was  to  nave  a  better  part,  and  ap- 
pealed to  the  man  whom  she  had  so  worried,  to  stand  her 
friend.  He  answered  her,  "  Let  me  be  permitted  to  say,  that 
I  never  yet  saw  Mrs.  Abington  theatrically  happy,  fot  *.n**s3&. 


■P 


396  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1772. 

together.  I  am  willing,"  he  concludes,  "to  do  you  all  the 
justice  in  my  power;  and  I  could  wish  you  would  represent 
me  so  to  persons  out  of  the  theatre,  and  indeed  for  your  own 
sake ;  for  I  always  hear  this  tittle-tattle  again,  and  have  it  always 
in  my  power  to  prove  that  I  am  never  influenced  by  any  little  con- 
siderations to  be  unjust  to  Mrs.  Abington,  or  any  other  performer  J1 

This  tone  had  the  best  effect.  For  the  lady  wrote  back,  that 
his  letter  was  "  very  cross,"  and  there  was  in  it  "  a  coldness 
and  severity  "  which  added  greatly  "  to  the  afflictions  of  your 
distressed  humble  servant,  Frances  Abington."  It  was  no 
wonder  that  his  heart  was  sickened  with  these  discussions,  recur- 
ring over  and  over  again ;  for  the  same  grumbling  was  sure  to 
turn  up  presently,  and  the  old  unreasonableness  had  to  be  re- 
futed all  over  again.  Later  on  she  told  the  prompter — "  You 
will  be  pleased  to  let  the  manager  know,  that  I  am  ill,  though 
I  thank  God  I  have  not  lost  the  use  of  my  limbs,  as  he  has  been 
pleased  to  tell  tJie  public"  The  actors  and  actresses  fancied  that 
everything  in  the  papers  was  inspired  by  Garrick.* 

His  opening  of  a  treaty  with  Mrs.  Yates  was  characteristic. 
"  If  you  have  no  objection  to  enter  into  a  treaty  with  me,  be 
pleased  to  name  your  time  and  place,  and  I  shall  be  as  punctual 
as  I  ought  to  be  to  so  fine  a  woman,  and  so  good  an  actress." 
The  lively  Mrs.  Yates  answered  in  the  same  sprightly  tone,  but 
with  a  perfect  eye  to  business.  Considering  her  "novelty,'' 
to  say  nothing  of  her  beauty,  she  required  £700  a  year ;  and 
as  she  loved  to  be  well  dressed — £200  a  year  for  clothes.  He 
agreed  for  £800  a  year,  including  everything ;  and  "  Dickey," 
her  husband,  was  to  have  £12  a  week  for  one  year.  But  in  a 
few  months  came  the  usual  airs.  The  first  night  she  was  an- 
nounced she  did  not  play,  without  giving  any  reason;  and 
during  the  season  she  appeared  about  thirty  times  in  alL 
Reasonably  annoyed,  Garrick  wrote  forcibly  to  her  husband,  pro- 
testing against  having  the  business  destroyed  by  these  fancies. 
Only  the  night  before,  he  had  heard  her  acting  with  all  ani- 
mation ;  yet  in  the  morning  a  message  was  left  with  the  promp- 
ter, that  they  were  "  to  think  no  more  of  her  " — or  that  "  she 
would  send  to  let  them  know."  At  one  time  she  expressed  a 
wish  for  some  comedy  parts,  and  those  she  named  were  at  once 
given  to  her.  Then  she  declined  them,  "  because  they  were  in 
possession  of  another  actress,  and  she  was  not  indelicate  enough 
to  interfere  with  that  lady."  Yet  the  very  next  thing  the 
manager  hears,  is  her  seizing  on  the  part  of  Belinda-,  though  it 

*  "  If  you  imagine  that  I  in  the  least  countenance,  or  am  accessory  to, 
any  scribbling  in  the  papers,  you  are  deceived.  I  detest  all  such  methods 
of  showing  my  resentment 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  397 

had   long  been   the  property  of   a  leading  actress  in  the 
theatre ! 

About  three  weeks  later,  she  again  took  offence,  and  unrea- 
sonably refused  to  play  Almeria.  Garrick  sternly  rebuked 
her,  as  he  could  well  do,  when  he  pleased.  The  players  had 
taken  a  fancy  for  playing  a  particular  part,  only  on  the  night 
of  their  benefit,  by  which  the  house  suffered.  "  I  hope,  there- 
fore, Mrs.  Yates  will  not  be  the  only  one  to  oppose  so  reason- 
able an  order  of  the  manager.  I  must,  therefore,  entreat  her 
to  comply  with  my,  request."  The  answer  was  in  an  extra- 
ordinary tone.  "In  respect  to  Almeria,  I  think  it  a  part  un- 
worthy of  a  capital  actress ;  but  if  my  playing  it  for  a  few 
nights  will  oblige  you,  I  am  ready  to  do  it.  I  cannot  help  con- 
cluding with  a  few  lines  from  your  favourite  author : — 

'0!  'tia  excellent 
To  have  a  giant's  strength/  "  &c 

This  insolence,  indeed,  and  the  constant  trouble  in  removing 
such  fanciful  grounds  of  offence,  it  is  quite  plain,  had  a  great 
share  in  disgusting  him  with  the  stage.  Even  in  this  instance, 
he  had  come  home  ill,  and,  worn  out  with  six  hours'  rehearsing, 
was  trying  to  restore  himself  by  a  sleep  in  his  "  great  chair," 
when  this  petulant  note  was  brought  in,  and  had  to  be 
answered. 

It  was  nearly  the  same  with  all  the  ladies.  Miss  Younge, 
"  the  idol  of  Bristol,"  had  been  also  in  revolt  She  refused  to 
play  Ptola.  "  Madam,"  wrote  the  manager,  "  if  you  are  able 
to  play  Viola,  I  suppose  you  will,  as  his  Majesty  of  England — 
not  the  copper  one  of  Drury  Lane — commands  it.  If  you 
should  not  find  yourself  fit,  I  will  do  the  best  in  the  power  of 
yours,  &c. — D.  Garrick."  This,  though  a  little  ironical,  was 
still  good-humoured,  and  did  not  deserve  the  angry  answer:  "  I 
do  not  understand  what  you  mean  by  his  Majesty  of  England, 
or  the  copper  one  of  Drury  Lane.  I  have  on  all  occasions, 
without  airs  or  finesse,  come  out  to  do  my  business,  and  felt  it 
my  pleasure,  as  well  as  duty ;  and  therefore  cannot  think  my- 
self humanely  treated,  when  I  complain  and  feel  the  bad  effects 
of  a  cough,  that  you  should  send  me  this  haughty  style  of 
letter" — with  more  to  the  same  point  Garrick  wrote  back 
bitterly,  and  thoroughly  disgusted — "I  am  very  warm,  and 
sincere  in  my  attachments ;  but  if  I  find  any  actor  or  actress 
distressing  me,  or  the  business,  unjustly  or  fantastically,  I  will 
withdraw  my  attachment  the  moment  they  show  me  they  have 
none."  He  then  complained,  justly,  that  the  theatre  was  grow- 
ing quite  demoralized  by  this  new  fashion,  and  reminded  her, 


398  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

with  great  truth,  of  the  conscientious  drudgery  and  sacrifices 
by  which  he  had  won  his  position : — "  I  was  long  the  slave  of 
the  stage.  I  played  for  everybody's  benefit,  and  even  revived  parts 
for  them,  and  sometimes  acted  new  ones"  No  one  was  gracious 
enough  to  make  such  sacrifices  for  him.  He  might  well  be 
pardoned  for  reminding  her  that  "  there  was  a  time  when,  by 
myself,  I  could  fill  a  house ;  that  favour,  luckily  for  me,  the 
public  still  continue,  or  we  might  play  to  empty  benches. " 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  he  dealt  out  a  little  hard 
measure  to  Miss  Pope,  so  long  one  of  the  pillars  of  Drury 
Lane,  the  original  Polly  Honeycomb,  and  creator  of  a  host  of 
gay  parts.  After  many  years'  service  she  proposed  a  new  en- 
gagement, with  an  increase  of  salary,  which  Garrick  declined 
in  some  polite  letters.  The  managers  would  be  very  sorry  to 
lose  her;  her  place  would  be  with  great  difficulty  supplied;1 
but  they  hoped  she  would  continue  with  them  at  her  present 
agreement  She  took  their  compliments  impatiently,  and 
wrote  back  hastily,  that,  as  to  her  merit,  it  had  been  more 
than  overpaid  by  the  pubUc,  "  without  even  a  paragraph  to  pre- 
jvdice  them."  She  was  determined,  she  said,  to  shake  off  affec- 
tion, and,  like  the  Swiss,  perform  only  with  those  who  pay 
best.  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  answer  she  received  was  a 
cold  one — a  reminaer  that  they  had  lost  Mrs.  Barry  to  keep 
her,  and  a  refusal  to  engage  her. 

But  some  months  after  came  repentance — at  least,  the  re- 
pentance that  arose  from  want  of  an  engagement  elsewhere. 
She  sent  Baftor,  Mrs.  Olive's  brother,  to  intercede ;  but  Gar- 
rick was  firm.  She  then  got  an  offer  from  Ireland,  which  she 
shrank  from,  as  it  cut  her  off  from  all  her  friends.  She  im- 
plored of  him  to  forgive  an  error,  not  proceeding  from  a  bad 
mind,  but  a  foolish  one.  This  was  their  first  disagreement  in 
fourteen  years ;  and  with  humiliation  she  laid  it  to  the  account 
of  the  little  vanity  which  is  inseparable  from  the  profession. 
"  As  I  know  no  excuse  to  palliate  my  wrong  conduct,  I  most 
rely  upon  your  generosity  to  forgive,  and  still  to  be  my  friend." 
It  seemed  hard  to  resist  so  piteous  an  appeal ;  but  Garrick,  with 
a  sternness  not  common  with  him,  was  immoveable.  The  ex- 
pressions, want  of  affection,  turning  Swiss,  he  said,  were  as 
harsh  as  unexpected.  Her  letter  had  given  him  great  pain. 
Still,  after  her  final  answer,  he  had  given  her  two  months,  in 
the  hope  of  her  seeing  her  mistake,  and  returning  to  her  busi- 
ness ;  "  and  let  me  add,  in  spite  of  your  frequent  incivility  to 
me,  to  your  best  friend,"  for  he  had  always  tried  "  to  be  not 
only  just  and  friendly,  but  fatherly,  to  Miss  Pope,"  Now  it 
was  too  late.     Her  parts  had  been  given  away — new  engage- 


1772.]  IN  THE  GREEN-ROOM.  399 

ments  had  been  made.  It  was,  therefore,  impossible  to  give 
her  a  situation  "  at  the  theatre  that  could  possibly  be  agree- 
able to  her."  This  might  seem  a  little  harsh  on  the  manager's 
part;  but  he  was  tired  out  with  these  vagaries,  and  perhaps 
disgusted  by  ingratitude. 

She  went  off  to  Dublin,  miserable.  But  she  left  behind  her 
a  faithful  friend  and  intercessor.  Kitty  Clive,  no  longer 
fair  and  young,  but  old  and  raddled,  pleaded  hard  for  the 
«xile,  her  poor  unfortunate  friend,  Miss  Pope.  She  remem- 
bered only  that  fine,  just,  upright  heart,  so  little  sensitive  to 
the  shadows  of  an  old  grudge  or  spite.  "  By  this  time,  I  hope 
you  have  forgot  your  resentment,  and  will  look  upon  her  be- 
haviour, as  having  been  taken  with  a  dreadful  fit  of  vanity, 
which,  for  that  time,  took  her  senses  from  her ;  and  having 
.been  tutored  by  an  affected  beast,  who  turned  her  head:  but 
pray  recollect  her  in  the  other  light,  a  faithful  creature  to  you,  on 
whom  you  could  always  depend;  amiable  in  her  character,  both 
in  her  being  a  very  modest  woman,  and  very  good  to  her 
family;  and  to  my  certain  knowledge,  has  the  greatest  regard 
for  you.  Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Garrick,"  pleads  hards  the  good- 
natured  being,  "  I  hope  it  is  not  yet  too  late  to  reinstate  her, 
before  you  quit  your  affairs  there :  I  beg  it,  I  entreat  it :  I 
shall  look  on  it  as  the  greatest  favour  you  can  confer  on  your 
obliged  friend,  C.  Olive."  This  was  not  to  be  resisted.  The 
poor  actress  had  been  writing  humbly  from  Dublin,  that  as 
"  every  interested  view  "  was  at  an  end  from  his  leaving  the 
stage,  "she  could  lament  that  without  suspicion  of  flattery, 
and  own  that  he  had  been  the  father  of  it  I  am  not  sorry 
that  this  was  my  year  of  banishment,  since  it  would  have 
given  me  much  greater  pain  to  have  been  present."  She  did 
not  know  what  was  in  train.  A  few  weeks  later,  the  glad 
news  reached  her.  Garrick,  whatever  he  did,  always  did  it 
handsomely,  and  bade  her  name  her  own  terms  now.  Her 
heart  was  too  full,  and  words  could  only  faintly  express  her 
joy.  If  she  should  have  once  more  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him, 
he  will  receive  her  as  his  prodigal  daughter.  "Pardon  my 
detaining  you  so  long;  but  I  am  so  happy,  and  in  such  good 
spirits,  I  had  quite  forgot  myself."* 

This  little  picture  is  creditable  to  all.  Clive  is  the  real 
figure  of  the  situation — a  woman  of  true  stuff  and  true  heart, 
and  whom  Garrick's  fine  temper  could  appreciate  at  her  real 


*  Perhaps  I  also  ought  to  make  some  such  apology  to  the  reader ;  but 
these  little  touches  are  of  real  interest,  and  are  all  the  time  working  out 
the  Tiew  of  Garrick's  character. 


400  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772. 

worth,  in  spite  of  many  outbursts  of  temper  and  serious  insults ; 
for  such  discrimination  and  allowance  was  one  of  his  real 
virtues,  and  real  charms.  Yet  there  was  something  dishearten- 
ing in  this  ceaseless  struggle  with  women — this  endless  re- 
monstrating against  airs  and  humours,  which  began  again  in 
one  so  soon  as  they  were  baffled  in  another.  At  his  time  of 
life,  such  contests  became  inexpressibly  wearying  and  dispirit- 
ing. And  though  "  three  women  did  not  drive  him  from  the 
stage,"  they  sickened  and  fatigued  him. 

Clive  must  have  been  most  diverting  in  the  green-room: 
her  gifts,  her  temper,  her  humours,  her  airs,  her  noise.  Every 
one  was  delighted  to  note  how  the  manager  quietly  slipped  out 
of  her  way  when  she  was  in  one  of  her  "  fits ; "  and  how  she 
was  seen  rushing  here  and  there,  looking  for  him.  For  she 
thought  he  planned  everything  on  purpose  to  annoy  her:  as 
when  he  added  a  new  character  to  nis  farce  of  "  Lethe,"  and 
which  he  introduced  to  set  off  her  benefit,  his  name  only  was 

g'ven — "  the  new  character  of  Lord  ChaUcstone  by  Mr.  Garrick.* 
er  hostility  was,  indeed,  often  carried  beyond  decent  lengths, 
as  when  he  entered,  on  the  first  night  of  "  Barbarossa,"  in  a 
"glittering  silver-spangled  tissue  shape."  I  shall  give  the 
amusing  Wilkinson :  "  when  Mrs.  Clive,  instead  of  Court  adula- 
tion, cried  out,  *  O,  my  God !  room,  room !  make  room  for  the 
royal  lamplighter ! "  which  rudeness  disconcerted  him  much 
for  the  remaining  part  of  the  evening ;  and  certainly  it  was 

*  This  was  most  pardonable  in  the  case  of  an  after-piece.  Yet  in  the 
bill  her  name  is  set  down  !  Wilkinson  gives  the  scene  in  a  few  dramatic 
and  spirited  touches.  "  Madame  Clive  at  noon  came  to  the  theatre,  and 
furiously  rang  the  alarm  bell ;  for  her  name  being  omitted  was  an  offence 
so  serious  that  nothing  but  Blood  !  was  the  word.  Could  she  have  got 
near  him,  and  he  had  been  severe  in  his  replies,  I  dare  say  she  would  have 
deranged  King  David's  wig  and  dress,  as  adorned  for  Lord  Chalkstome. 
Mrs.  Clive  was  a  mixture  of  combustibles :  she  was  passionate,  cross,  vulgar; 
yet  sensible,  a  very  generous  woman,  and,  as  a  comic  actress,  of  genuine 
worth — indeed,  indeed,  she  was  a  diamond  of  the  first  water.  When  her 
scene' of  the  Fine  Lady  came  on,  she  was  received  with  the  usual  expres- 
sion of  gladness  on  her  approach,  as  bo  charming  an  actress  truly  deserved ; 
and  her  song,  from  the  Italian  opera,  where  she  was  free,  with  a  good  ridi- 
culous take-off  of  Signora  Mingotti,  was  universally  encored,  and  she  came 
off  the  stage  much  sweetened  in  temper  and  manners  from  her  first  going 
on.  '  Ay,'  said  she,  in  triumph, '  that  artful  devil  could  not  hurt  me  with 
the  town,  though  he  had  struck  my  name  out  of  the  bilL'  She  laughed 
and  joked  about  her  late  Hi-humour  as  if  she  could  have  kissed  all  around 
her,  though  that  happiness  was  not  granted,  but  willingly  excused ;  and 
what  added  to  her  applause  was  her  inward  joy,  triumph,  and  satisfaction, 
in  finding  the  little  great  man  was  afraid  to  meet  her,  which  was  of  all 
consolations  the  greatest"  There  is  a  singular  charm  of  quaintness  and 
simplicity  in  these  pictures  of  Wilkinson's  which  will  make  the  reader  ex- 
cuse me  for  quoting  so  much  of  them. 


1772.]  MOSSOP'S  END.  401 

too  free,  and  not  well  timed,  as  he  was  tremblingly  alive  all 
over,  on  the  first  night  of  a  new  play."  Yet  Clive  had  the 
good  old  honest  loyalty  to  her  profession. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MOSSOP'S  END — GOLDSMITH — HENDERSON. — 1772-1775. 

Then  came  the  ill-fated  Mossop,  who  was  so  celebrated  for 
the  expression  of  anger,  and  for  strange  breathings  and  blow- 
ings, and  rolling  eye.  After  his  death,  one  of  his  play-books 
was  discovered  "marked"  with  "much  breath,"  "eyes  up- 
wards," "  surprise  and  peevish,"  "  breathe  out,"  "  slow  step," 
and  "head  declined,"  and  "G-tone"  But  we  ought  not  to 
laugh  at  the  old  tragedian.  He  had  fallen  on  evil  days.  At 
Dublin,  during  his  brief  reign,  it  was  his  stately  practice  to 
light  his  theatre  with  wax  whenever  the  august  genius  of 
Shakspeare  was  invoked.  Then  with  his  brief  struggle  and 
slender  prosperity,  soon  came  decay,  in  spite  of  the  "Lady 
Patronesses,  the  Countess  of  Brandon,  Lady  Rachel  Mac- 
donnell,  sister  to  the  Earl  of  Antrim,"  and  the  rest  His  story 
seems  almost  piteous :  his  desperate  difficulties,  his  arrests,  his 
dismal  end  in  London. 

In  this  episode  Garrick  was  to  appear  in  a  character  full  of 
dignity  and  compassion,  and  in  which,  too,  from  one  whose  life 
had  been  spent  in  vilifying  him,  was  to  be  wrung  a  death-bed 
amende  and  acknowledgment  of  repentance. 

He  had  for  some  time  lost  sight  of  the  tragedian,  whose 
very  name  must  have  always  brought  back  unpleasant  associa- 
tions to  him.  When  Mossop  quitted  Drury  Lane,  we  have 
seen  that  he  went  to  Dublin,  where  the  fatal  craze  for  "  ma- 
nagership" took  possession  of  him;  and  the  desperate  and 
costly  struggle  between  him  on  the  one  side,  and  Barry  and 
Woodward  on  the  other,  is  one  of  the  most  exciting  chapters 
in  the  history  of  the  Irish  Stage.  We  have  seen,  too,  how 
Garrick  helped  him  there.  In  the  end,  the  fortunes  of  all 
were  wrecked,  and  after  a  miserable  contest  of  some  years,  the 
combatants  dispersed,  overwhelmed  with  ruin ;  while  Mossop 
found  himself  back  in  London,  quite  broken  in  spirits,  health, 
and  fortune. 

He  had  some  friends,  who  strongly  pressed  him  to  appeal 
once  more  to  Garrick ;  but  the  tragedian  had  still  his  pride 
to  support  him,  and  disdained  to  make  such  advance.  He 
said  that  Garrick  knew  very  well  that  he  was  in  London.    No 


402  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772 — 

man  had  less  pride  of  that  sort  than  Garrick ;  but  he  knew 
what  was  due  to  his  own  dignity  and  interest.  In  this  state 
of  things  no  application  was  made,  no  offer  came,  and  the  sea- 
son went  by. 

A  friend  then  proposed  that  he  should  go  abroad  with  him 
as  a  sort  of  companion,  which  he  did,  and  he  enjoyed  the  luxury 
of  the  Grand  Tour.  He  returned  in  about  a  year's  time;  but, 
it  was  noticed,  was  now  quite  changed,  having  grown  shattered, 
dilapidated,  wasted,  solitary,  and  gloomy.  The  lustre  of  his 
eye,  which  had  been  so  effective  in  tragedy,  was  dimmed. 
Again  it  was  pressed  on  him  that  he  should  make  overtures  to 
Garrick;  but  he  once  more  declined  to  stoop  to  what  he 
thought  such  a  humiliation.  We  may  have  some  sympathy  for 
this  dignity  in  the  broken  actor ;  for  he  had  been  born  a  gen- 
tleman, and  educated  as  such,  and  something  must  be  allowed 
for  the  stiff  old  "  Irish  pride."  Among  the  friends  who  inte- 
rested themselves  for  him  was  a  certain  young  fellow  "of 
parts,"  Welsh,  later  to  be  a  Dissenting  minister,  and  who  fre- 
quented the  theatres.  He  was  always  with  Mossop,  hearing 
from  him  the  story  of  his  wrongs.  He  was  known  to  Gold- 
smith, and  others  of  that  coterie ;  but  most  frequented  the  circle 
where  the  small  snarlers  and  sneerers  at  Garrick's  reputation 
were  busy.  It  was  said,  indeed,  that  he  had  sent  in  a  drama, 
on  a  Welsh  subject,  to  the  manager,  whose  rejection — and  the 
rejection  of  a  play  seemed  to  be  the  grossest  of  known  human 
injuries — inflamed  the  author's  enmity.  He  took  up  his 
friend's  case,  and  in  the  most  bitter  and  personal  pamphlet* 
made  a  savage  onslaught  on  Garrick.  It  was  quite  plain  that 
in  the  materials  he  was  prompted  by  Mossop,  as  he  himself  was 
a  mere  youth,  and  his  memory  could  have  furnished  him  with 
but  few  stage  recollections.  There  was  something  violent  and 
impetuous  in  his  nature ;  and  those  who  not  so  long  ago  could 
recollect  the  placid,  unimpassioned  face  of  the  Unitarian  mi- 
nister— his  tall  figure,  in  its  deep  purple  velvet  suit — would 
hardly  suppose  that  he  had  figured  in  the  fierce  theatrical 
wrangles  of  a  past  generation.* 

This  production  was  entitled  "  A  Letter  to  David  Garrick, 
on  his  conduct  as  a  principal  manager  and  actor  at  Drury  Lane 
Theatre  (1772);"  and  there  were  portions  of  it  so  near  the 
truth,  or  so  near  what  the  world  thought  to  be  the  truth,  as  to 
give  Garrick  sore  annoyance.  It  told  him,  how  strange  it 
seemed  that  every  actor  was  "  shot  at "  in  the  public  papers, 
from  some  corner,  while  Garrick  always  escaped.     When,  too, 

*  Taylor  Records. 


1775.]  mossop's  end.  403 

any  article  dealing  severely  with  Garrick  was  offered  for  inser- 
tion, it  was  curious  how  it  was  always  declined.  He  had  dis- 
covered the  secret.  Mr.  Garrick  was  the  proprietor,  or  part 
proprietor,  of  most  of  the  journals.  There  was  a  grain  of  truth 
in  this.  "  Hence,  I  am  afraid,  the  inimitable  Mr.  Garrick,  the 
faultless  actor,"  &c.  But  he  forgot  that  enemies  could  indem- 
nify themselves  in  pamphlets,  as  he  was  doing.  How  unworthy 
were  the  arts  by  which  the  manager  and  actor  tried  to  crush 
every  one  with  talent.  First,  he  resorted  to  mimicry.  It  is 
well  known  that  Quin  was  long  the  object  of  this  ridicule;  but 
he  was  too  strong.  Others  of  less  power  and  ability  were 
crushed  and  ruined.  "You  will  recollect  the  cases  of  Ryan, 
Delane,  Hallam,  Bridgwater,  Giffard,  Sparks,  Sheridan.  If  a 
brother  in  the  profession  is  praised  in  company,  either  his  face, 
figure,  or  virtues,  you  are  stretched  on  the  rack"  Their  private 
character  was  misrepresented  by  an  adroit  anecdote.  In  this 
way  were  treated  Mrs.  Yates,  Woodward,  Smith,  Abington,  all 
to  please  fops  and  persons  of  quality,  "  who  admire  everything 
from  the  mouth  of  that  dear  Garrick."  His  conduct  as  a  ma- 
nager was  all  to  the  same  end — depreciating  others.  The  best 
actors  were  huddled  into  processions  and  raree  shows.  This 
was  to  feed  his  vanity  and  avarice — though  more  his  vanity 
than  his  avarice.  "  I  have  laughed  to  hear  you  say  that  you 
wished  to  retire  at  once  if  any  successor  could  be  found ;  but 
there  was  no  one  else  who  could  draw  a  house."*  How  un- 
worthy was  his  depreciating  the  splendid  abilities  of  the  de- 
parted Cibber,  "  and  the  chorus  of  wits  who  listen,  take  up  the 
cue,  and  say  she  whined  and  walked  with  her  elbows  stuck 
close  to  her  sides.  Why,  she  was  all  nature  and  tenderness. 
You  are  mere  stiff  acting,  and  excite  only  admiration.  I  have 
seen  you  in  '  Borneo  ana  Juliet,'  you  all  correctness  and  for- 
mality, she  all  melting  tenderness ;  and  yet  they  tell  me,  you 
talked  in  a  room  of  acting  your  Borneo  'to  a  post.'  Why  is 
Barry  thrust  into  parts  wholly  unsuited  to  him  ?  Is  it  to  ex- 
hibit him  to  contempt  as  the  ruins  of  a  great  actor  ?  Why  was 
Mossop  excluded  t " 

Then  it  went  off  into  a  very  plain  and  personal  account  of 
the  great  actor's  defects  and  peculiarities.  This  was  done  in  a 
shockingly  gross  manner.  It  dwelt  on  his  manner  of  grasping 
his  forehead,  and  on  his  "  strange  twitches."  "  You  are  per- 
petually in  the  extreme,"  always  struggling  to  show  the  whole 
face  and  "  glare  of  your  eye  "  to  the  audience.     That  face  was 

*  It  was  true,  nevertheless.  If  there  was  any  falllng-off  in  the  houses, 
his  name  was  sure  to  draw  them  again. 


404  THE  UFK  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772— 

now  all  wrinkled.  The  motive  of  this  attack  might  seem  ap- 
parent. It  was  popularly  ascribed  to  zeal  in  the  cause  of  his 
friend.  But  when  Garrick's  desk  and  pigeon  holes  gave  up 
their  stores,  a  paper  was  found  among  them,  addressed  to 
Garrick,  just  after  its  publication,  which  shows  the  treacherous 
and  Condottieri  spirit  that  was  at  the  bottom  of  all  party  war- 
fare of  the  time.  It  was  written,  as  it  were,  in  a  sort  of 
friendly  tone,  and  had  the  air  of  friendly  warning.  It  was 
anonymous,  and  spoke  of  the  new  pamphlet  just  published, 
and  of  the  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  it  For  it  was 
"  elegantly  wrote,"  by  a  young  man,  who  was  "  making  him- 
self a  first-rate  genius."  He  then  gives  the  grounds  of  his  sus- 
picion as  to  the  author,  "  whose  name  is  Williams."  He  had 
been  in  his  company,  and  heard  him  say  that  "  he  intended  to 
revise  you  in  the  winter ;  that  he  was  sorry  to  think  you  a 
thorough  bad  man;  and  that  he  thought  it  the  business  of 
every  one  to  prevent  you  debauching  the  public  taste  and  man- 
ners. This  piece  was  elegantly  wrote,  and,  to  do  you  irrepar- 
able mischief,  only  wants  to  be  generally  known.  I  really 
think  he  intends  to  pursue  his  blow.  You  will  fall  into  un- 
merciful hands;  and  I,  who  know  your  merits  as  well  as  your 
faults,  would  wish  you  would  take  some  method  to  undeceive  this 
young  man"  Mr.  Garrick  might  suppose  the  adviser  might 
have  some  interest  in  this  caution,  but  "  it  was  all  from  regard 
to  the  young  man.  He  might  be  better  employed,  and  his  humanity 
better  directed"* 

This  clumsy  device  was  almost  transparent.  It  actually  came 
from  "  the  first-rate  genius  "  himself — and  we  can  see  it  in  his 
own  handwriting,  among  Garrick's  papers,  to  this  day— who, 
after  slandering  the  manager  to  show  his  ability,  was  now  will- 
ing to  be  bought  off"  from  further  attacks!  It  is  the  most 
curious  specimen  of  the  dangerous  and  unscrupulous  tone  of  the 
"  hack-writing "  of  the  time,  whom  the  feeble  law  of  libel 
turned  into  bludgeon  men,  and  garotters  of  society. 

The  stages  in  this  little  affair  were  like  the  scenes  in  a 
comedy.  Both  were  acting.  Garrick,  however,  was  seriously 
scared;  and,  true  to  his  timid,  and  it  must  be  said,  unpro- 
fitable policy,  of  conciliating  such  secret  enemies,  actually 
prepared  a  letter  to  Williams,  as  it  were,  asking  his  advice  on 
the  matter.  "  Give  me  leave  to  put  a  case  to  you,  and  entreat 
your  reason  and  your  learning  (of  both  of  which  I  have  a  great 
opinion)  to  determine  for  me."  In  conclusion,  he  said — "Such 
a  complicated  scene  of  treachery  and  falsehood  was  scarce  ever 

*  Forater  MSS. 


1775.]  mossop's  end.  405 

heard  of.  Will  you  give  your  advice,  whether  you  think  it 
would  be  best  to  publish,  the  whole  matter,  with  the  evidence  to 
expose  the  monster,  or  whether  you  would  advise  the  injured 
person  to  desire  a  meeting  with  the  party,  and,  as  he  is  a  man 
of  abilities,  make  him  conscious  of  his  evil  doings,  and,-  like  a  true 
Christian,  forgive  him  ?  A  line  directed  to  P.M.,  at  the  Somer- 
set Coffee  Boom,  will  be  safely  delivered  to  your  well-wisher 
and  admirer.  The  writer  of  this  letter  will  see  you  whenever 
you  please." 

.  This  letter,  however,  was  not  sent  He,  perhaps,  thought 
it  beneath  his  dignity  to  make  such  an  appeal.  It  shows  what 
his  first  impulses  were.  Some  years  before,  the  Welsh  minister 
came  to  the  Haymarket  with  a  farce,  that  seemed  coarse  even 
to  Mr.  Bate,  the  fighting  clergyman — and  later  this  libeller  of 
Garrick  was  take  into  confidence  and  intimacy  by  Column,  the 
dear  friend  of  Garrick.  His  became  one  of  the  figures  well 
known  and  familiar  in  town,  towards  the  beginning  of  the 
century:  and  the  recipients  of  the  Literary  Fund  have  good 
reason  to  recall  the  memory  of  the  Bev.  David  Williams. 

This  reckless  advocacy  of  his  unfortunate  friend,  Mossop — 
now  ill  and  despairing — redeemed  a  good  deal  of  his  hostility. 
Williams  tried  to  appeal  to  the  public  through  the  papers,  but 
unsuccessfully;  and  "  one  Gibbs,  publisher  of  Owen's  Chronicle 
and  Westminster  Journal,  forwarded  privately  to  Garrick  a 
letter  signed  "  Menander "  which  had  oeen  sent  for  insertion, 
and  obsequiously  "begs  Mr.  Garrick's  orders"  in  this  matter, 
which  he  hopes  will  be  kept  secret,  as  it  would  be  a  disadvan- 
tage to  him  to  have  it  known.  He  was  most  likely  afraid  of 
the  bold  and  fearless  author,  "  whom,"  he  writes  to  Mr.  Garrick, 
"  you  may  guess."  Menander's  letter  is  in  the  same  bitter  key 
as  the  pamphlet,  and  has  some  dismal  hints  of  the  proud  but 
degraded  actor.  Dr.  Fothergill,  he  wrote,  had  ordered  Mr. 
Mossop  abroad,  but  he  was  still  quite  at  the  service  of  the 
public  if  called  upon.  "Mr.  Garrick,  being  broker  in  this  trans- 
action, and  Mr.  Mossop's  talents  being  commodities  of  a  sort 
which  he  does  not  choose  to  deal  in,  the  public  may  be  disap- 
pointed and  insulted  one  winter  more  with  bad  acting,  farces, 
shows,  and  Mr.  Garrick  now  and  then,  by  way  of  a  bad  draw." 
Here  was  the  prompting  of  the  poor,  broken  tragedian,  whose 
morbid  dream  was  that  the  public  was  hungering  and  thirst- 
ing for  the  "  great  Mossop,"  his  declamation  and  his  "  military 
plan,"  now  old  and  exploded,  and  not  worth  satire.  "  You 
may  be  assured,  "  goes  on  his  friend,  "  if  Mr.  M.  does  not  ap- 
pear it  is  owing  to  the  great  Boscius,  who  not  only  hates  a 
rival,  but  must  nave  no  one  near  him.  .  •  •  •  In  short,  it  is  aa 


406  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772 — 

false  that  Mr.  Mossop  is  unfit  for  the  stage,  as  it  would  be  to 
say  that  Mr.  Garrick  does  not  speak  through  his  nose,  and  has 
not  lost  the  power  of  pronouncing  many  English  words,  and  in 
all  young  characters  does  not  look  like  an  old,  doating,  shrivel- 
led beau."  These  personalities  were  not  likely  to  profit 
Mossop,  who  still  stood  aloof,  and  disdained  to  make  any  offer. 
Still  decaying,  morally  and  physically,  he  offered  himself  to 
the  Covent  Garden  managers,  who  were  inclined  to  accept  his 
services ;  but  Mrs.  Barry,  perhaps  recollecting  their  old  battles 
in  Dublin,  positively  refused  to  appear  in  any  part  with  him. 
The  rest  of  his  story  is  piteous  indeed.  He  sank  lower  and 
lower,  until  about  Christmas  time,  two  years  later,  he  was 
dying  of  a  fatal  illness,  and  almost  of  want.  Williams,  his 
advocate,  attended  him  as  a  clergyman.  Even  then  the  solemn 
pomposity,  ridiculed  so  long  before,  was  strong  on  him. 
There  was  something  almost  grotesque  in  his  devotional  de- 
clamation ;  and  in  his  last  agony  he  seemed  actually  to  speak 
of  the  attributes  of  the  Great  Being  to  whom  he  was  hurrying, 
as  if  they  were  those  of  Bajazet  or  Zanga. 

A  change  had  come  upon  him.  By  and  by  his  mind 
wandered  away  to  Garrick,  and  his  last  moments  were  em- 
bittered by  remorse  for  all  the  cruel  motives  he  had  so  unjustly 
imputed  to  him.  He  acknowledged  that  it  was  all  his  own 
wretched  pride,  and  he  enjoined  Williams  to  bear  this  reparation 
to  the  offended  manager.  "Great  God,  forgive,"  he  said. 
"  Witness  not  only  that  I  die  in  charity  with  him,  but  that  I 
leave  him  as  a  great  and  virtuous  man.  God  Almighty  bless 
and  prosper  him  for  ever ! "  As  a  matter  of  course,  he  owed 
a  large  sum  of  money  to  the  man  he  had  slandered,  and  this 
weighed  on  his  mind.  Soon  after  he  died,  and  only  a  few 
pence  were  found  in  his  pocket.  Such  was  the  end  of  the  luck- 
less tragedian,  who  had  had  a  university  education,  and  asso- 
ciated with  fine  gentlemen,  and  whom  Dublin  countesses  had 
welcomed  to  their  soirtes,  and  gaming  tables. 

Williams  wrote  to  Garrick,  with  the  dying  actor's  message, 
and  seems  to  have  been  struck  with  remorse,  by  the  ajnendc 
made  on  that  death-bed.  It  is  highly  characteristic  to  see  how 
he  tries  to  make  Mossop  excuse  his  part  in  the  slander.  He 
makes  Mossop  say,  "  0  my  dear  friend,  how  mean  and  little 
does  Mr.  Garrick's  behaviour  make  me  appear  in  your  eyes,  to 
whom  I  have  given  so  different  an  idea  of  him."  Williams 
added  that  his  friend  lamented  the  injustice  he  had  done  Mr. 
Garrick,  not  only  in  some  pecuniary  matter,  "  but  in  giving  ill 
impressions  of  your  character  to  his  acquaintance"  This  is  highly 
curious;  and  it  is  plain  that  the  Dissenting  clergyman  had  some 


1775.]  mossop's  END.  407 

twinges  of  conscience  for  his  past  behaviour,  or  perhaps  wished 
to  use  the  opportunity  to  make  an  amende  to  the  injured  Gar- 
rick. 

The  latter  lost  not  a  moment  in  acknowledging  what  he 
called  this  "  affecting  letter."  All  his  resentment,  both  to  the 
dead  actor  and  to  the  calumnious  writer,  seemed  to  have 
utterly  passed  away.  The  whole  account  had  distressed  him 
exceedingly.  He  had  always  been  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
behaviour  could  have  given  Mossop  that  unkind,  "  and,  I  hope, 
unmerited  turn  of  mind  against  me.  I  have  been  often  told 
that  his  friends  never  spoke  kindly  of  me."  I  suppose  he 
could  not  forbear  this  little  hint  to  his  correspondent.  "  Had 
I  known  his  distress,"  he  went  on,  "  I  should  certainly  have 
relieved  it.  He  was  too  great  a  credit  to  our  profession  not  to 
have  done  all  in  my  power  to  have  made  him  easy,  if  not 
happy.  Let  me  once  again  thank  you  for  your  very  polite  and 
agreeable  manner  in  giving  me  this  intelligence  of  our  departed 
friend,  for  he  was  truly  mine,  in  those  moments  when  the  heart 
of  man  has  no  disguise."  Excellent,  unrivalled  Garrick  !  His 
placid  dignity  of  heart  was  never  to  desert  him ;  superior  to 
every  pettiness,  his  life  gives  to  all  in  authority  precious  les- 
sons of  a  charming  sweetness  and  temper,  and  a  wholesome 
restraint  upon  the  passions,  that  would  have  done  honour  to 
an  ascetic. 

But  now  comes  what  seems  another  grotesque  side  to  the 
affair.  From  his  death-bed  the  unhappy  actor  had  sent  him  a 
play  that  he  had  written,  imploring  of  him  to  ease  his  mind  by 
taking  it  for  the  benefit  of  his  creditors.  He  had  indeed  left 
no  money  behind,  beyond  the  few  halfpence  found  in  his 
pocket;  and  there  was  even  a  difficulty  as  to  avoiding  a 
pauper's  funeral.  Garrick  was  about  to  defray  the  charges  of 
a  decent  interment  (we  do  not  hear  that  Williams,  the  actor's 
champion,  moved  in  the  matter),  but  a  relation  came  forward 
at  the  last  moment.  Garrick  then  became  seriously  concerned 
about  carrying  out  the  poor  actor's  wishes.  The  worst  was,  he 
could  do  nothing.  The  play  was  like  "  The  Patron,"  without 
the  humour.  "  A  most  disagreeable  affair  has  happened,"  he 
wrote.  "  What  a  scrape ! "  It  is  plain,  from  this  tone,  that 
he  would  have  stretched  a  point  to  carry  out  poor  Mossop's  in- 
coherent wish.  The  whole  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the* 
almost  piteous  scenes  which  take  place  in  the  tinsel  world  that 
lies  beyond  the  green  curtain. 

The  most  ingenious,  as  well  as  the  most  ungracious,  mode  of 
getting  rid  of  the  burden  of  pecuniary  obligation  was  reserved 
for  Charles  Dibdin.     Others  were  eager,  either  to  deny  that 


408  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772— 

such  existed,  or  to  make  them  oat  smaller  than  they  felt  them 
to  be.  This  player  took  the  original  course  of  boldly  making 
the  obligation  itself  an  offence.  The  following  is,  I  suspect, 
unrivalled  in  the  bulky  records  of  ingratitude  and  effrontery : 
— "  As  to  ingratitude,  no  man  can  be  ungrateful  to  you ;  he 
can  have  no  obligation  to  you,  but  on  the  score  of  money,  and 
that  you  ever  take  sufficient  care  to  cancel  by  upbraiding  him 
of  it  The  world,  for  my  comfort,  is  kind  and  candid,  and  it 
shall  be  acquainted  with  every  circumstance  of  your  kindness, 
from  the  hamper  of  wine  to  the  present  transaction. — C.  Dib- 
din."*  After  this,  Balzac  might  indeed  have  written  a  "  Phy- 
siology" of  the  playwrights  and  the  actors. 

But  now  one  of  the  great  comedies  of  the  century  had  been 
brought  out,  reluctantly  by  Colman,  at  Covent  Garden — Gold- 
smith's "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer."  While  Garrick  could  thus 
accept  pieces  from  clergymen,  and  Indian  colonels,  "stay- 
makers,"  and  "rope-makers,"  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  he 
should  have  done  nothing  for  a  real  genius  of  his  time,  a 
single  scene  of  whose  plays  was  worth  whole  trunkfuls  of  such 
work.  The  names  of  Garrick  and  Goldsmith  should  have 
been  associated  in  the  history  of  the  stage,  and  his  two 
admirable  comedies  have  belonged  to  Drury  Lane.  Here 
again  we  come  on  ground  that  has  been  travelled  over  in  the 
most  captivating  of  modern  biographies,  but  something  may 
be  added  as  to  Garrick  s  share  in  the  matter. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Goldsmith  had  already  publicly 
assailed  the  manager,  on  this  very  score  of  his  treatment  of 
dramatic  authors.  Garrick  was  deeply  hurt,  and  had  declined  on 
this  account  to  assist  the  poet,  when  the  latter  waited  on  him 
in  person,  to  solicit  his  interest  for  a  vacant  office ;  and  finally, 
when  a  reconciliation  was  sought,  it  seemed  apparently  sought 
for  the  purpose  of  introducing  a  new  comedy.  In  a  negotiation 
so  commenced,  the  author  could  expect  nothing  from  favour. 
It  should  be  observed,  too,  that  this  was  his  first  attempt  in 
that  department. 

The  piece  was  written  in  what  might  be  called  a  new  style, 
treated  with  a  bold  and  unconventional  humour,  which  quite 
alarmed  Garrick.  He  required  alterations — a  privilege,  it 
must  be  remembered,  he  always  insisted  on  unsparingly. 
Goldsmith  proved  impracticable,  altercation  followed,  and 
finally  Garrick,  following  what  had  been  his  favourite  pre- 
cedent in  such  disputes,  offered  to  refer  the  matter  to  arbitra- 

*  Sept,  1775.    Bullock  MSS.    It  was  rightly  indorsed  by  Garrick, 
"Dibdui's  Consummate  Impudence,  Folly,  and  Ingratitude," 


1775.]  GOLDSMITH.  409 

tion.  This  was  ungraciously  declined,  and  a  fresh  quarrel  was 
the  result  At  their  last  meeting,  Goldsmith  went  so  far  as  to 
charge  Garrick  with  a  vindictive  recollection  of  a  former  quar- 
rel We  may  believe  Garrick  when  he  assured  the  author 
that  he  had  forgotten  that  attack ;  of  which  indeed  the  author 
had  evidence  in  a  small  loan  which  the  manager  had  advanced 
to  him.  Yet  Garrick's  judgment  was  not,  after  all,  far  astray. 
He  was  not  so  Quixotic  as  to  affront  the  taste  of  an  audience, 
however  he  might  disapprove  of  that  taste.  On  the  first  night 
the  play  had  nearly  been  shipwrecked,  and  the  broader  por- 
tions had  to  be  cut  out  in  future  representations.* 

In  1773,  when  the  new  piece  was  ready — the  fresh  and  ad- 
mirable "She  Stoops  to  Conquer" — and  when,  after  infinite 
pains  and  piteous  entreaties,  he  could  not  get  the  other  manager 
to  bring  it  out,  he  withdrew  it  hastily,  and  sent  it  to  Garrick. 
Almost  at  once,  he  recalled  it,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  en- 
titled to  rely  on  Colman's  positive  promise,  "  though  I  confess 
your  house,  in  every  respect,  is  more  to  my  wish."  Colman  was 
almost  forced  by  pressure  of  friends  to  keep  to  his  engagement. 
It  will  thus  be  seen  that  in  the  temper  of  the  town,  managers 
were  not  a  little  afraid  of  the  doctor's  piece,  which  was  in  ad- 
vance of  the  time.  He  himself  owns  in  his  preface  that  it  was 
"  dangerous."  A  kindly  prologue  was  supplied  by  Garrick. 
Such  was  poor  Goldsmith's  condition  at  this  stage,  his  miserable 
state  of  mind  and  circumstances,  that  we  may  be  convinced, 
had  he  appealed  to  Garrick  in  the  same  imploring  strain  that 
he  had  appealed  to  Colman,  the  comedy  would  have  appeared 
at  Drury  Lane.  But  due  allowance  should  be  made  for  those 
business  heads  and  practical  minds  with  which  sensitive  natures 
come  in  contact,  and  who,  with  every  wish  to  be  just,  have 
neither  time  nor  inclination  to  be  soothing  or  reasoning,  meet 
with  a  jealous  resistance,  and  having  done  what  they  think  is 
fair,  go  on  their  way. 

*  Victor  may  represent  the  judgment  of  the  profession.  "  The  low 
scenes  in  this  comedy,  though  naturally  (perhaps  too  naturally)  written, 
were  disliked  by  the  audience  the  first  night.  ....  With  ail  its  errors, 
it  appeared  to  be  written  by  a  man  of  genius,  not  sufficiently  practised  in 
dramatic  writing."  Whenever  the  writer  of  this  memoir  has  seen  these 
two  comedies,  it  was  invariably  the  case  that  the  "  low  scenes  "  produced 
little  effect.  For  this  reason:  Twitcker  and  Diggory  were  always  so 
outrageously  overdone,  as  to  become  vulgar  and  offensive.  Thifl  may  have 
been  the  case  in  Goldsmith's  day.  There  are  also  strange  dramatic  im- 
probabilities in  both  plays,  such  as  Lcontcs  bringing  home  a  girl  whom  he 
passes  off  as  his  sister ;  Sir  William  Honcytoooa\  a  man  of  mark  in  diplo- 
macy, yet  passing  undiscovered,  and  proving  he  was  Sir  William  by  merely 
"  showing  his  star ; "  and  Mrs.  HardoatUc's  not  recognising  her  own  garden 
and  grounds. 


410  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772 — 

To  this  little  aigre  tone  we  perhaps  owe  the  famous  "  Retalia- 
tion," and  the  portrait  of  Garrick,  which  has  been  justly  called 
"  quite  perfect  writing."  That  meeting  in  1773  at  St.  James's 
Coffee  House,  where  Goldsmith,  with  his  last  sickness  almost 
upon  him,  challenged  his  friend  to  write  an  epigram  against 
him  if  he  could,  has  been  often  described.  Garrick,  who  told 
the  story  afterwards,*  describes  himself  as  immediately  saying 
"  that  his  epitaph  was  finished,"  and  then  at  once  saluted  the 
confounded  poet  with — 

"  Here  lies  Nolly  Goldsmith,  for  shortness  called  Noll, 
Who  wrote  like  an  angel,  but  talked  like  poor  Poll" 

It  is  probable  that  the  "  point "  of  this  epitaph  was  in  Garrick's 
head  before.  Among  his  papers  I  find  this  very  couplet  care- 
fully  put  by,  and  introduced  with  a  little  preface,  an  expanded 
shape  of  which  was  afterwards  prefixed  to  "  Retaliation."  He 
evidently  thought  lightly  of  his  little  production.  "  The  fol- 
lowing," runs  the  introduction,  "  was  written  by  Mr.  Garrick, 
upon  a  challenge  by  Dr.  Goldsmith,  which  could  write  the  other's 
epitaph  the  soonest.^  This — a  little  different  from  the  version 
given  by  Mr.  Cunningham — makes  the  situation  more  charac- 
teristic still,  and  explains  the  sudden  discomfiture  of  the  poet, 
transfixed  by  these  two  smart  lines.  "  N.B."  goes  on  the  little 
scrap,  "  Goldsmith  could  not,  or  would  not,  write  upon  Mr. 
Garrick's  extempore ;  but  produced  some  time  after  his  epistle 
now  printed,  called  ( Retaliation/  and  in  which  occurs  the  cha- 
racter of  Garrick,  with  the  compliment,  '  An  abridgment  of  all 
that  was  pleasant  in  man.'"  Mr.  Forster  has  convincingly 
shown,  that  Garrick's  statement  in  the  preface,  that  Cumber- 
land's and  the  other  verses  were  written  to  provoke  the  doctor 
to  a  reply,  is  a  mistake.}  Finally  came  his  official  reply.  Not 
one  of  these  attempts  even  approaches  the  unsurpassed  touch 

*  In  a  little  preface  meant  to  have  been  prefixed  to  the  collection  of  re- 
plies to  "  Retaliation/'  and  given  in  Mr.  Cunningham's  "  Works  of  Gold* 
smith." 

t  Hill  MSS. 

%  And  this  view  seems  to  be  supported  by  the  various  scraps  and  notes 
to  be  found  amongst  Garrick's  papers — mostly  rude  drafts  and  experi- 
ments at  a  retort,  in  which  the  "  dishes  "  and  cookery  metaphors  are  worked 
very  diligently,  the  hint  of  which  he  must  have  got  from  "Retaliation."  It 
shoW3,  too,  how  he  chafed  under  the  smart  stroke  of  Goldsmith's  reply. 
M  Are  these  the  choice  dishes  the  doctor  has  sent  us, 
Is  this  the  great  poet  whose  works  so  content  us  ? "  &c. 

Or  again,  "  On  Dr.  Goldsmith's  Cookery  ■*— 

"  This  is  Goldsmith's  fine  feast,  who  has  written  fine  books : 
Heaven  sends  us  good  meat,  but  the  devil  sends  cooks." 


1775.]  GOLDSMITH.  411 

of  "  ^Retaliation,"  which  Goldsmith  had  indeed  "  wrote  like  an 
angel." 

"JUPITER  AND  MERCURY. 

"▲  FABLE. 

M  •  Here,  Hermes/  says  Jove,  who  with  nectar  waa  mellow, 
'  Go  fetch  me  some  clay  ;  I  will  make  an  odd  fellow. 
Right  and  wrong  shall  be  jumbled — some  gold  and  some  dross, 
Without  cause  be  he  pleased,  without  cause  be  he  cross. 
Be  sure  as  I  work,  to  throw  in  contradictions  ; 
A  great  love  of  truth — yet  a  mind  turned  to  fictions. 
Now  mix  these  ingredients,  which  warmed  in  its  baking, 
Turn  to  learning  and  gaming,  religion,  and  raking.  * 

With  the  love  of  a  wench,  let  his  writings  be  chaste  ; 
Dip  his  tongue  with  strange  matter,  his  pen  with  fine  taste. 
That  the  rake  and  the  poet  o'er  all  may  prevail, 
Set  fire  to  the  head,  and  set  fire  to  the  tail. 
For  the  joy  of  each  sex  on  the  world  I'll  bestow  it. 
This  scholar,  rake,  Christian,  dupe,  gamester,  and  poet, 
Tho*  a  mixture  so  odd,  he  shall  merit  great  fame, 
And  among  brother  mortals,  be  Goldsmith  his  name  ! 
When  on  earth  this  strange  mixture  no  more  shall  appear, 
Tou,  Hermes,  shall  fetch  him,  to  make  us  sport  here  1 ' " 

Again  we  may  heartily  wish  that  the  two  had  known  each 
other  better.  A  man  of  the  world  like  Garrick  could  not  help 
feeling  a  little  of  the  good-natured  contempt,  or  patronage 
rather,  which  so  many  of  the  poet's  friends  had  for  him.  Yet 
from  Goldsmith  was  to  come  the  actor's  finest  panegyric  Pre- 
sently, when  we  are  slimming  up  the  character  of  the  great 
actor,  that  exquisitely  finished  miniature  in  "Retaliation," 
familiar  as  it  is,  shall  be  before  us. 

It  must  have  been  the  morbid  fretfulness,  the  "  something 
on  his  mind,"  of  Goldsmith's  last  days,  so  pathetically  described 
by  Mr.  Forster,  that  made  him  speak  unkindly  of  Garrick  in 
company — saying  that  some  little  compliment  of  the  manager 
to  royalty  was  "  mean  and  gross  flattery."  He  thought  he  was 
hardly  treated  by  the  world,  and  by  that  friend.  Yet  we  have 
that  pleasant  little  scene  at  Beauclerck's  House,  a  few  doors 
from  Garrick'8,  where,  before  Lord  Edgecumbe,  and  Walpole, 
and  some  more,  the  table  cloth  was  put  over  Garrick,  and 
Goldsmith's  hands  held  out,  and  whilst  Garrick  declaimed  in 

Or  "another"— 

"  Reader,  here  lies  a  favourite  son  of  fame, 
By  a  few  outlines  you  will  guess  his  name. 
Full  of  ideas  was  his  head — so  full, 
Had  it  not  strength,  they  must  have  cracked  his  skull. 
When  his  mouth  opened  all  were  in  a  pother, 
Rushed  to  the  door,  and  tumbled  o'er  each  other. 
But  rallying  soon  with  all  their  force  again, 
In  bright  array  they  issued  from  his  pen." 


412  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772— 

his  finest  style  Hamlefs  speech  to  the  Ghost,  Goldsmith  made 
grotesque  gestures  at  the  wrong  moment  No  wonder  the 
audience  shrieked  with  laughter.  Garrick  had  gone  away,  to 
his  theatre,  for  a  new  play,  and  Walpole,  who  could  not  join 
in  the  laugh,  reports  that  he  never  saw  any  one  come  back  "so 
vain  or  so  fidgety."  Poor  Garrick !  the  play  was  by  a  friend 
who  had  hosts  of  enemies,  and  whose  name  was  concealed  on 
purpose.    No  wonder  he  was  fidgety. 

If  we  strike  the  balance,  Goldsmith's  conduct  was  certainly 
the  most  petulant :  the  imitating  Foote,  in  trying  to  injure  a 
new  play,  by  making  the  pit  laugh,  would  have  deeply  offended 
a  gentler  temper  than  Garrick's ;  and  the  making  it  a  ground 
of  quarrel  that  a  manager  should  object  to  portions  of  a  play, 
and  require  them  to  be  altered  before  he  would  accept  it,  seems 
ludicrous.  Still,  Garrick  later  was  ready  to  reproduce  the 
"  Good-natured  Man  "  at  his  own  house,  and  almost  willing  to 
break  through  his  stern  rule,  and  undertake  a  new  character 
which  Goldsmith  was  to  write  for  him,  instead  of  Lofty.  Gold- 
smith owed  him  £40,  and  on  the  poet's  piteous  request,  he  added 
£60  more.  He  talked  cheerily  of  a  new  comedy  from  Goldy's 
bright  pen.  "  May  God  preserve  my  honest  little  man,  for  he 
has  my  heart,"  wrote  the  poor  poet  in  a  tumult  of  gratitude.* 

This  same  year,  1773,  found  the  old  irrepressible  Macklin, 
who  has  appeared  so  often  during  this  narrative,  turning  up 
for  the  last  time  at  Covent  Garden.  This  veteran  had  a  new 
idea,  and  a  very  correct  one,  in  his  head ;  and  it  shows  what 
force  of  character  he  possessed,  when  sopassd  a,  player  could 
persuade  the  managers  to  adopt  it.  Long,  long  before,  he  had 
anticipated  his  enemy,  the  young  and  sprightly  Garrick,  in  the 
true  principle  of  giving  a  character  naturally  and  easily;  and 
had  played  his  Shylockbeiore  Mr.  Pope,  in  a  red  hat  and  gaber- 
dine. That  was  in  the  old  pleasant  Bedford  days,  when  Wof- 
fington  and  they  were  keeping  house  together,  when  the  world 
was  young.  Now  he  was  about  to  give  Macbeth  on  the  same 
rational  principle  as  to  costume ;  and  thus,  at  the  end,  was  to 
anticipate  Garrick  in  another  reform.  It  does  seem  strange 
how  Garrick  could  to  the  last  have  adhered  to  the  general 
officer's  scarlet  coat  and  cocked  hat.  Macklin  adopted  the 
tartan  and  kilts ;  and  though  some  irreverent  ones  among  the 
audience  fancied  they  saw  "  an  old  piper  stumping  down  "  the 
stage,  the  good  sense  of  others  acknowledged  his  taste  and 
judgment  f 

*  Garrick  endorsed  the  letter  "  Goldwiith's  Parlaver." 
t  Yet  it  is  said  that  the  kilt  and  tartan  are  as  much  an  anachronism  for 
Macbeth,  as  the  scarlet,  oi  Qeotga  ti&  Second. 


1775.]  HENDERSON.  413 

A  good  actor  and  a  great  actress,  who  came  out  just  as  lie 
was  retiring,  have  been  put  forward  as  special  instances  of  bis 
jealousy,  and  seemed  to  have  favoured  tbe  unworthy  impression 
that  he  wished  to  keep  back  their  talents.  The  actor  was 
Henderson,  the  actress  Mrs.  Siddons.  A  very  simple  state- 
ment will  show  the  untruth  of  this  charge. 

At  the  Bath  Theatre  was  this  rising  young  player,  whom  he 
had  much  encouraged.  He  gave  him  introductions  to  some 
of  the  most  influential  people  of  the  place.  The  young  man 
became  the  leading  actor  there,  was  taken  up  by  friends  and 
flatterers,  who  gave  him  the  name  of  "The  Bath  Boscius." 
In  voice  and  manner,  people  fancied  he  was  like  the  greater 
Boscius — so  like,  that  he  used  to  give  imitations  of  Mr.  Garrick 
everywhere.  He  was  soon  set  up,  according  to  the  usual 
tactics,  as  a  rival  to  Garrick,  equal  if  not  superior,  and  he 
presently  went  up  to  London,  in  the  hope  of  being  engaged. 
Giflard — the  old  Giflard  of  Goodman's  Fields — here  suddenly 
flashing  up  into  life,  sees  him  rehearse,  and  makes  an  old 
man's  prophecy  of  future  fame.  It  was  he  who  at  first  dis- 
cerned the  genius  of  the  great  Boscius,  and  this  fresh  praise 
quite  upset  the  youth.  Garrick  was  kind  and  indulgent,  made 
him  give  his  imitations,  as  he  had  made  Wilkinson  do,  in  the 
old,  old  days.  He  was  greatly  entertained  at  the  likeness  of 
Barry  and  Woodward,  and  then,  in  his  good-humour,  insisted 
that  he  should  give  him.  The  young  man  objected,  but  was 
persuaded  by  friends  to  give  Mr.  Garrick  in  Benedick.  They 
ivere  delighted.  There  followed  a  little  scene,  out  of  the 
pleasant  comedy  of  human  nature.  Mr.  Garrick  sat  in  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  then  walked  across,  saying  that :  "Egad ! 
if  that  was  his  voice,  he  had  never  known  it  himself ;  for  upon 
his  soul,  it  was  entirely  dissimilar  to  anything  he  conceived  his 
to  be — totally  unlike  any  sound  that  had  ever  struck  his  ear 
till  that  moment.1'  The  foolish  actor  found  plenty  to  laugh  at 
his  grotesque  portrait  of  the  real  Boscius.  Still  the  latter, 
said  Henderson's  friends,  "treated  him  with  apparent  good- 
nature" He  even  took  pains  in  instructing  him,  and  went  over 
scenes  with  him.  But  it  was  given  out  that  Garrick  was  deeply 
wounded,  and  Mr.  Henderson's  Bath  friends  insisted  that  he 
was,  besides,  consumed  with  a  mortal  jealousy. 

An  actor's  vade  mecum  might  be  made  out  of  the  acute  and 
wise  counsels  of  Garrick ;  and  this  admirable  letter  of  advice 
to  the  young  Henderson  should  be  laid  to  heart  by  every 
actor: — 

"  Hampton,  Jan.  5th,  1773. 

"  Sib — It  is  with  the  greatest  pleasure  I  hear  of  your  success : 


/ 

I 

I 


414  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772— 

the  continuance  of  it  will  in  great  measure  depend  upon  your- 
self. As  the  older  soldier,  I  will  venture  to  point  out  some 
rocks  which  former  young  men  of  merit  have  split  upon.  Too 
much  intoxicated  with  the  applause  they  had  received,  and 
more  inclined  to  be  flattered  by  their  inferiors  than  pursue  the 
means  to  increase  their  reputation,  they  have  neglected  study 
to  keep  indifferent  company;  by  which  behaviour  their  little 
stock  of  merit  has  been  soon  exhausted,  and  in  exchange  they 
have  got  the  habit  of  idling  and  drinking,  contenting  them- 
selves in  public  with  barely  getting  the  words  of  their  parts 
into  their  heads,  and  in  private  with  the  poor,  unedif  jing, 
common-place  gabble  of  every  ignorant  pretender  who  (to  the 
disgrace  of  it)  belongs  to  a  theatre.  You  must  not  imagine 
that  I  would  have  a  young  man  always  at  his  book ;  far  from 
it :  it  is  part  of  his  business  to  know  the  world ;  and  conversa- 
tion, provided  it  is  creditable,  will  be  of  the  utmost  service.  I 
would  have  you  endeavour  to  read  other  books  besides  those 
of  the  theatre.  Every  additional  knowledge  to  that  of  your 
profession  will  give  you  importance.  The  majority  of  actors 
content  themselves  (like  parrots)  with  delivering  words  they 
get  from  others;  repeat  them  again  and  again  without  the 
least  alteration ;  and  confine  their  notions,  talking,  and  acquire- 
ments to  the  theatre  only,  as  the  parrot  to  his  cage.  The  last 
and  chief  matter  is  your  preservation  of  that  character  which 
you  set  out  with,  of  being  an  honest  man :  let  no  inducements 
prevail  upon  you  to  break  your  engagements ;  steadiness  and 
perseverance  will,  though  slowly,  bring  you  surely  to  the  best 
end  of  all  our  actions ;  while  flights,  rambling,  and  what  some 
call  spirit,  will  mislead,  distract,  and  destroy  you. — So  much 
for  preaching. " 

The  jealous  man,  however,  was  now  willing  to  engage  him, 
though  the  "  friends  n  tried  to  force  him  on  Garrick  on  their 
own  terms.*  The  haughtiness  and  imperious  tone  in  which 
the  negotiation  was  conducted — the  all  but  open  insinuation 
that  Garrick  had  mean  motives  in  all  he  did,  whatever  that 
means — reads  amusingly.  Garrick's  terms  seemed  liberal.  It 
was  not  very  clear,  or  the  actor  did  not  wish  it  to  be  clear, 
whether  Henderson  was  free  to  engage  or  not  Garrick  did 
not  wish  to  have  the  air  of  being  too  eager,  and  required  at 
least  the  trifling  homage  of  an  application.  With  an  absurd 
coquetry  the  other  plotted  with  his  friends.  "  Garrick's  scheme 

*  Ireland,  Henderson's  friend  and  biographer,  wrote  without  having  seen 
the  latter's  grateful  letter  to  Garrick,  thanking  him  for  interfering  in  hw 
favour  in  a  quarrel  with  the  local  manager  at  Bath. 


1775.J  HENDERSON.  415 

appears  to  me  thus  :  Let  Henderson  be  tempted  by  his  friends 
and  his  own  ambition  to  come  to  London,  he  will  then  apply  to 
me,  and  I  can  make  my  own  conditions.  He  will  then  be  con- 
sidered as  one  whom  I  patronise  and  protect;  whereas,  if  I 
apply  to  him,  he  will  make  conditions  with  me,  and  from  my 
acknowledging  the  want  of  him,  I  cannot  have  him  at  my  beck" 
Surely  no  class  of  "  poor  humanity n  shows  us  such  strange 
things  as  the  fretful,  sensitive  world  of  players.  No  wonder 
Garrick  was  wearied ;  for  here,  nearly  at  the  end,  was  the  old 
Mossop  and  Sheridan  story  repeating  itself. 

At  last  a  proposal  was  made,  but  guarded,  and  in  the  most 
haughty  tone.  His  engagement  must  be  for  three  years  certain. 
He  wished  to  have  the  choice  of  his  own  plays,  and  parts :  as 
Garrick  said,  "  without  regard  to  public  approbation,  justice 
to  other  performers,  or  the  rights  of  a  manager.,,  Garrick  was 
willing,  indeed,  to  let  him  have  a  choice  for  the  first  appear- 
ance.* Naturally  such  a  negotiation  was  broken  off.f  But 
in  due  time  Garrick  forgot  all  these  passages,  and  warmly 
recommended  him  to  Sheridan  and  the  new  management. 

Now  for  the  other  "  stock  charge  "  of  his  being  jealous  of 
the  gifts  of  his  new  actress,  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  of  his 'keeping 
her  back.  It  must  be  recollected  that  he  was  in  no  want  of 
great  actresses,  when  she  was  engaged.  She  had  a  mere  pro- 
vincial reputation,  and  made  no  succes3  in  London.  She  ap- 
peared in  Portia,  but  was  merely  tolerated.  Not  until  seven 
years  had  passed  away,  did  she  show  herself  the  great  Mrs. 
Siddons.  Woodfall,  a  good  critic,  pronounced  her  acting 
merely  "sensible,"  but  unsuited  to  a  London  theatre.  She 
herself  speaks  of  him  in  a  sore  tone,  and  certainly  affects  to 
be  aggrieved  by  his  jealousy.  She  was  dissatisfied  at  his  low 
terms,  five  pounds  a  week.  She  believed  that  he  engaged  her 
merely  to  mortify  Miss  Younge  and  Mrs.  Yates;  yet  incon- 
sistently owns,  she  was  kept  out  of  the  great  parts,  in  defer- 
ence to  those  ladies.     "The  fulsome  adulation,"  she  said, 

*  Garrick's  proposal  seems  very  fair.  Henderson  was  to  begin  with  two 
parts  of  his  own  choice,  and  then  to  follow  with  others,  that  they  should 
•elect.  After  ten  or  twelve  nights,  his  salary  should  be  fixed  by  arbitra- 
tion, at  any  sum  between  five  and  ten  pounds  a  week.  "  After  his  salary 
is  fixed,  he  must  become,  like  the  other  performeri,  subject  to  my  management 
wholly."  Here  was  the  true  secret  of  the  success  of  Drury  Lane — the  tub- 
ordination  of  the  playert  to  the  theatre,  not  that  of  the  theatre  to  the 
players.    The  latter  was  the  first  symptom  of  the  decay  of  the  stage. 

t  It  shows  us  the  usual  treachery  of  Garrick's  friends.  Cumberland, 
under  deep  obligation  to  him,  told  Henderson  he  was  ashamed  of  the  part 
Mr.  Garrick  had  acted,  "and  that  he  would  undertake  to  get  whatever  term* 
I  pleased  at  Covent  Garden,  which  was  the.  house  I  most  thought  of  when  I 
came  to  London." 


416  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1772— 

"  that  courted  Garrick  behind  the  scenes  cannot  be  imagined. 
His  smijes  were  the  object  of  all."  "  You  dare  not,"  she  said, 
"  cast  a  shadow  on  his  nose  without  offence."  And  yet  the 
way  in  which  his  smiles  were  lavished  on  her,  by  her  own  ac- 
count, was  remarkable.  She  was  a  young  girl — a  stranger- 
yet  before  the  haughty  and  hostile  ladies  of  the  green-room, 
he  would  lead  her  over  to  a  seat,  next  himself.  He  sent  a 
friend  to  watch  her  Portia  carefully  and  report,  and  this 
friend  could  vouch  to  Mr.  Boaden  that  Garrick  was  willing 
to  bring  her  forward.  But  there  were  great  difficulties.  She 
had  made  no  sucds  to  warrant  any  exceptional  promotion,  and 
as  he  told  her  fairly,  if  she  was  put  into  the  leading  business, 
Yates  and  Younge  "  would  poison  her."  He  chose  her  as  his 
Venus  in  the  Jubilee,  and  when  the  malicious  queens  of  the 
stage  artfully  got  before  her  in  the  procession,  he  purposely 
brought  her  down,  to  the  very  front  She  was,  indeed,  nick- 
named "  Garrick's  Venus."  So  too,  in  this  his  last  season,  the 
established  ladies  might  fairly  claim  the  honour  of  acting  with 
him  in  all  his  "  capital "  parts,  of  which  they  had  lawful  pos- 
session.* Yet  how  did  he  behave  to  her  ?  He  gave  her  the 
best  part  in  Mrs.  Cowley's  pleasant  comedy,  "  The  Runaway," 
while  Miss  Younge  had  the  inferior  one  of  Bella.  When  "The 
Suspicious  Husband  "  was  revived,  to  be  played  by  him  for 
his  last  appearances,  she  was  his  heroine,  and  her  name  was 
printed  in  "  enlarged  type,"  one  of  the  joys  of  the  histrionic 
heart ;  and  out  of  the  last  few  nights,  when  all  England  was 
rushing  to  see  and  hear  the  last  of  Garrick,  she  was  privileged 
to  play  with  him  in  three  characters :  though  she  was  pro- 
nounced "  a  lamentable  Lady  Anne,"  She  was,  in  fact,  more 
favoured  than  was  her  due.  When  he  retired,  he  promised  to 
get  her  a  good  engagement  with  the  new  management.  In 
this  he  failed.  Sheriaan,  with  characteristic  faithlessness,  told 
her  that  Garrick  "rather  depreciated  her  to  them."  But 
Sheridan's  loose  way  of  talking  was  proverbial.  He  may  have 
not  warmly  praised  talents,  which  she  had  not  as  yet  shown, 
but  he  was  incapable  of  secretly  depreciating  her.  They  did 
not  find  it  convenient  to  engage  her.  I  have  no  doubt  from 
what  we  know  of  the  "pleasant  Brinsley,"  that  this  was  one  of 
his  many  harmless  exaggerations,  devised  on  the  moment  to 
justify  himself  with  the  great  actress. 

It  was  indeed  time  to  retire.  The  business  and  vivacity 
seemed  to  be  passing  over  to  Covent  Garden,  where  there  was 

*  See  the  Author's  "Lives  of  the  Kembles"  (appendix)  for  a  curious 
account  of  Mrs.  Siddona'  engagement  I  have  given  a  still  fuller  account 
in  "The Theatre." 


1775.]  THE  LAST  SEASON.  417 

a  more  spirited  management,  a  fine  company,  and  witty  writers. 
For  the  management  was  in  the  hands  of  Colman,  who  had 
learned  to  be  abstinent  in  the  matter  of  his  own  writings ;  the 
company  included  Woodward,  Bensley,  Lee  Lewes,  Shuter, 
Quick,  Lewis,  the  two  Barrys,  Mrs.  Lessingham,  the  handsome 
Hartley,  and  Miss  Macklin ;  and  as  for  dramatists,  there  was 
the  witty  Sheridan,  now  fast  mounting  to  eminence,  with  the 
admirable  "  Rivals  "  and  his  "  Duenna."  Such  a  competition 
would  soon  have  become  dangerous.  Already  the  warning, 
lusisti  satis,  was  in  Garrick's  ears. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  LAST  SEASON. — 1775-76. 

We  are  now  arrived  at  the  commencement  of  the  last  season 
during  which  this  incomparable  actor  played.  It  was  to  be  the 
most  remarkable  in  the  annals  of  Drury  Lane.  Great  as  had 
been  the  enthusiasm  of  the  old  Goodman's  Fields  era,  it  was  to 
be  as  nothing  compared  with  the  approaching  excitement.  In 
comparison  with  it,  the  unmeaning  fureur,  which  it  has  been 
the  fashion  to  expend  on  the  retirement  of  later  actors  and 
actresses,  seems  feeble  indeed,  or  prompted  by  good-nature. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  whole  kingdom  prepared 
to  take  part  in  this  ceremonial ;  not  only  the  whole  kingdom, 
but  strangers  from  foreign  countries — at  a  period,  too,  when 
the  inconvenience  and  teaiousness  of  travel  quadrupled  the  im- 
portance of  the  compliment.  People  in  remote  corners  of  the 
country,  who  had  been  hearing  of  Garrick  all  their  lives,  now 
determined  to  go  up  to  town,  and  not  let  this  last  and  great 
chance  go  by.  It  was  discovered,  once  more,  that  he  was  the 
finest,  the  most  incomparable  of  actors.  No  one  had  ever  ap- 
proached him — his  like  would  never  be  seen  again.  The  wel- 
come name  of  Eoscius  was  again  heard ;  the  papers  took  up 
the  old  strain,  and  nothing  was  heard  of  but  the  approaching 
departure  of  Eoscius. 

Perhaps  to  do  honour  to  the  festival  that  was  approaching, 
before  the  new  season  begin,  he  made  some  very  important 
alterations  in  the  theatre.  These  were  so  extensive  and  serious, 
that  the  outlay  must  have  been  considerable,  and  it  was  a 
spirited  proceeding  on  Garrick's  part,  considering  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  retire. 

The  brothers  Adam,  now  architects  of  reputation,  furnished 
the  designs.     The  facade  was  fitted  with  pilasters,  pediment, 

1L^ 


418  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1775 — 

balcony,  and  colonnade,  and  crowned  at  the  top  with  the 
singular  device  of  a  military  trophy — a  helmet  and  a  coat  of 
mail.  At  one  corner  was  a  lion,  at  the  other  a  unicorn. 
Great  improvements  were  made  in  the  approaches  to  the 
boxes,  and  part  of  the  "  Eose  Tavern,"  in  Bridge  Street*  was 
taken  to  give  more  room.*  The  inside,  too,  was  all  remodelled. 
"  It  was  noble,"  he  said.  The  decorations  were  in  the  Italian 
style,  then  in  fashion,  overlaid  with  the  garlands  and  vases 
which  spread  over  the  Adelphi  houses,  and  even  over  the 
chimney-pieces  we  see  in  old  mansions  of  this  era.  The 
theatre  seems  to  have  been  wider  than  it  is  now,  and  more  in 
the  shape  of  a  square ;  and  the  seats  were  disposed  in  galleries, 
rather  than  boxes.  Every  one  could  see  and  hear  to  the  best 
advantage. 

He  might,  now,  begin  to  feel  a  little  nervous  as  to  the 
profits  from  the  theatre;  which,  most  likely  from  the  in- 
creased expenses  of  management,  and  not  from  decay  of  attrac- 
tion, were  falling  steadily  year  by  year.  I  find  from  a  paper 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Forster,  that  in  the  season  1769-70 
the  balance  available,  after  all  deductions,  amounted  to  the 
handsome  sum  of  £9,463.  This  left  the  partners  nearly  five 
thousand  pounds  each.  But  from  that  year  of  prosperity 
it  began  to  grow  less,  and  sank  steadily,  in  the  year  1776-7, 
to  £4,500.  t  By  a  little  account,  too,  for  the  season  1775-45, 
we  can  see  what  a  handsome  share  Garrick  had — £800  a  year 
for  acting,  and  £500  for  management.  Lacy  besides  owed 
him  a  large  sum,  for  which  Garrick  held  a  mortgage  on  his 

*  At  the  north  end  of  Cross  Court,  when  Charles  Lamb  was  taken  to  the 
play,  there  was  "  a  portal  of  some  architectural  pretensions,  though  re* 
duced  to  humble  use,  serving  at  present  as  an  entrance  to  a  printing  office. 
This  old  doorway,  if  you  are  young,  reader,  you  may  know  was  the  identi- 
cal entrance  to  old  Drury — Garrick's  Drury — all  of  it  that  is  left"  This 
was  written  about  1820.  It  is  now  (1889)  swept  away.  He  was  taken  to 
the  play  in  1781,  and  heard  the  women  in  the  pit  crying — "'Chase  some 
oranges — 'chase  some  numparels — 'chase  a  bill  of  the  play ! "  Among  Gar* 
rick's  papers,  was  put  away  the  following  compliment : — 

"On  thb  New  Fbont  of  Drury  Lank. 

"  Garrick,  ashamed  to  poke  his  nose 
So  sheepishly  beneath  the  rose, 
Resolves  this  year  to  put  a  front, 
And  set  a  better  face  upon  't. 
This  face  will  never  make  amends 
For  turning  tail  upon  his  friends, 
Who  own,  by  general  consent, 
His  face,  the  best  stage  ornament." 

Lloyd's  Evening  Pod. 
t  The  renters'  renewal  fines  seemed  to  be  equal  to  about  £200  a-yetr  ad- 
ditional 


1776.]  THE  LAST  SEASON.  419 

share  of  the  patent.  Thus  heavily  engaged,  he  knew  well  how 
precarious  was  theatrical  property,  and  rightly  suspecting 
that  the  establishment  would  presently  grow  beyond  the  con- 
trol of  his  sagacity,  which  was  his  real  security,  he  chose,  with 
wonderful  tact,  tne  right  moment  to  withdraw.  He  showed 
his  wisdom.  Within  an  incredibly  short  time  after  his  de- 
parture all  was  decay  and  ruin.  He  longed  for  an  interval 
before  the  great  curtain  fell,  which  he  might  devote  to  "  living 
as  a  gentleman."  Sixty  seemed  a  little  premature,  when  we 
think  of  the  many  artists,  singers  as  well  as  players,  who 
have  been  so  lost  to  their  own  dignity  and  self-respect  as  to 
linger  ingloriously  on  the  stage,  which  they  totter  across,  mere 
wrecks  and  shadows,  and  whom  audiences  pity  or  tolerate 
with  good-natured  contempt.  We  may  at  least  admire  the 
wise  self-restraint  of  Garrick,  who  determined  to  abstain  in 
time,  and  carry  away  with  him  respect  and  admiration. 

With  the  usual  eagerness  to  have  a  precise  cause  for  every- 
thing, the  gossiping  world  settled  that  he  had  been  driven 
from  the  stage  by  the  persecution  of  three  of  his  actresses. 
This  notion  was  ill-naturedly  relished,  and  epigrams  were  duly 
made  and  repeated.     One  ran : — 

"  Three  thousand  wives  kill'd  Orpheus  in  a  rage ; 
Three  actresses  drove  Garrick  from  the  stage." 

Another  ran : — 

"  •  I  have  no  nerves/  says  Y— e :  •  I  cannot  act' 

1  I've  lost  my  limbs,'  cries  A n  :  '  'tis  fact.' 

'  Y s  screams,  'I've  lost  my  voice,  my  throat's  so  sore ' — 

Garrick  declares  he'll  play  the  fool  no  more." 

The  ladies  alluded  to  were  the  vivacious  Abington,  Miss 
Younge,  and  Mrs.  Yates — admirable  actresses,  and  a  trio 
whom  it  would  be  vain  to  think  of  matching  at  any  theatre. 
Almost  in  the  year  of  his  departure  from  the  stage,  he  had 
disputes  with  these  petulant  ladies,  who  were  as  froward  as 
spoilt  children ;  but  more  than  two  years  before,  he  had  formed 
his  resolution,  and  was  setting  things  in  order  for  his  retreat 
It  was  not  a  sudden  resolve,  and  many  things  combined  to 
make  it  a  natural  one.  In  fact,  the  notion,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  occurred  to  him  often  during  his  career.  There  was  the 
weary  burden  of  the  theatre,  with  its  discussions  and  responsi- 
bility, and  his  querulous  partner.  Its  success  as  a  speculative 
undertaking  was  precarious,  and  in  a  great  measure  depended 
on  his  own  attraction ;  and  when  he  lectured  his  contumacious 
actresses,  he  was  quite  warranted  in  reminding  them  that,  with 
all  their  gifts,  they  were  not  sufficient  lodestars  to  attract  the 
town;   but  when  the  house  grew  thin,  his  appearance  wa& 


420  THE  LIFE  OP  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1775— 

necessary  to  fill  the  theatre.  This  was  the  simple  truth. 
Management,  therefore,  and  acting  formed  a  double  burden, 
and  one  too  much  for  him. 

There  were  many  symptoms  of  this  want  of  discipline  and 
growing  decay;  as  when  Weston  would  come  drunk  to 
rehearsal  some  morning,  and  be  scarcely  able  to  utter  a  word. 
Garrick  was  justly  displeased;  and  still  more  so,  when  an 
officious  amateur — Cradock — had  the  bad  taste  to  interfere  in 
favour  of  the  actor.  It  was  worse  when  the  eye  of  the 
manager  was  turned  away,  and  he  himself  was  absent  on  some 
of  his  many  visits.  A  friend  looked  in  at  the  theatre  to  see 
the  old  and  once  popular  "  Zara,"  and  told  him  very  plainly 
what  he  thought  of  the  way  the  play  was  brought  forward. 
He  could  not  find  words  for  the  "  incomparable  badness  of  the 
performance,1'  nor  could  he  decide  which  of  the  party  were  the 
most  contemptible.  "  Such  a  miserable  pack  of  strollers  "  he 
never  saw.  The  worst  was,  the  piece  was  cut  down,  and 
a  ballet  thrust  in  "head  and  shoulders,"  This  sketch  shows 
how  weary,  and  even  indifferent,  he  was  growing. 

Abington,  too,  harassing  him  with  attorney's  letters,  and 
altercations  about  her  benefit  night,  after  securing  his  promise 
that  he  would  play  for  her,  finally  announced  that  she  would 
retire  from  the  stage.    It  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world 
she  meant  to  do.    Her  waywardness  and  impracticability  were 
such  that  they  had  to  take  counsel's  opinion  as  to  how  they 
were  to  deal  with  her.     The  spite  in  this  intention  was  ap- 
parent, which  was  to  distract  the  attention  of  the  town  from 
•the  greater  retirement  now  at  hand.     How  bitterly  he  felt  her 
behaviour  may  be  conceived  from  his  marginal  remark :  "  The 
above  is  a  true  copy  of  the  letter  of  that  worst  of  bad  women, 
Mrs.  Abington,  about  her  leaving  the  stage."    There  must 
have  been  something  malignant  in  this  strange  creature's 
nature,  for  she  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  very  few  to 
whom  Garrick  appears  to  have  felt  a  settled  resentment    Her 
persistently  tedious  behaviour  seems  to  have  sunk  into  his 
mind.     "What  you  mean,"  he  said  to  a  friend,  "by  'that 
black,   but  fair,   defect,'  except  that  most  worthless  creature^ 
Abington,  I  do  not  know.     She  is  below  the  thought  of  any 
honest  man  or  woman :   she  is  as  silly  as  she  is  false  and 
treacherous."*   This  was  severe.    Yet  for  the  airs  and  caprices 

*  I  find  among  his  papers  a  little  scrap  of  rhyme : — 

"  Tell  me,  Dame  Abington,  how  much  you  gave 
To  that  same  dirty,  dedicating  knave  ? 
Alas  !  that  you  should  think  to  gather  fame, 
From  one  that's  only  Gentleman  by  name  !  " — HiU  MSS. 


1776.]  THE  LAST  SEASON.  421 

of  these  women  there  was  some  extenuation.  They  had  true 
genius;  "they  knew  their  business;"  they  had  fought  and 
won  their  way  up  the  ranks.  There  was  one  more  serious 
reason  also,  which  admonished  him  to  withdraw. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  the  rough,  outspoken  address  of 
Williams,  which  uttered  such  cruel  home  truths,  had  come  on 
him  with  a  shock.  It  must  have  been  a  blow  to  be  told  sud- 
denly, and  for  the  first  time,  "  You  are  getting  old  and  getting 
stiff.  It  is  a  ludicrous  exhibition  to  see  you  in  young  lovers' 
parts,  like  Banger  and  Archer,  where  the  spectacle  of  your 
trying  to  climb  into  balconies  by  rope  ladders,  and  mimicking 
the  agility  of  youth,  is  comic  and  humiliating.  Kouge  and 
powder  cannot  give  back  the  bloom  of  youth.  An  old  man, 
let  him  move  ever  so  briskly,  moves  in  straight  lines,  and 
turns  almost  at  right  angles.  There  was  no  softness  in  his 
eyes ;  they  had  grown  hard,  and  "  wanted  the  fine  bewitching 
liquid  which  passion  sends  to  the  eye  of  the  young."  "  Your 
voice  is  growing  hollow  and  hoarse ;  your  dimples  are  furrows," 
&c.  This  was  heartless.  When  a  wager,  not  in  the  very  best 
taste,  was  made  about  his  age  by  Governor  Penn  and  another 
gentleman,  and  the  point  discussed  in  the  papers  and  all  over 
the  town,  Garrick  wrote  to  answer  the  appeal  which  was  made 
to  him  in  rather  a  wounded  tone.  The  Governor  had  wagered 
he  was  sixty,  and  begged  he  would  decide  the  point  But  it 
is  evident  that  Garrick,  showing  that  he  was  four  years 
younger,  was  thinking  ruefully  of  the  plain  speaking  in  the 
pamphlet  "  His  Excellency  must  know,"  he  said,  "that  per- 
sons on  the  stage,  like  ladies  upon  the  town,  must  endeavour,- 
by  paint,  dress,  and  candlelight,  to  set  themselves  off  for  what 
they  are  not  My  age,  thanks  to  your  Excellency's  proclama- 
tion of  it,  has  been  published  with  a  proper  certificate  in  all 
the  papers,  so  that  I  am  obliged  to  resign  all  the  love-making 
and  ravishing  heroes.  The  ladies,  who  are  very  quick  in  these 
matters,  sit  now  very  quietly  in  the  boxes,  and  think  that  Mrs. 
Sullen  and  Mrs.  Strictland  are  in  no  great  danger  from  Archer 
and  Banger,  and  that  Jane  Shore  may  easily  escape  from  a  Lord 
Hastings  of  fifty-six."  This  was  all  the  more  trying,  as  such 
a  wager  could  not  have  been  laid  unless  it  had  been  seen  by 
his  looks  and  conversation  "  that  he  was  quite  grown  an  old 
man."  However,  it  was  a  warning,  "and  as  you  have  so 
kindly  pulled  off  my  mask,  it  is  time  for  me  to  make  my  exit" 
This  had  an  air  of  banter,  but  there  was  a  mortification  under 
the  banter.  It  was  a  second  hint,  as  rude  and  plain  as  the 
first. 

So  far  back  as  October,  1773,  he  had  given  a  formal  a&r 


«■ 


422  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1775— 

nouncement  to  Lady  Hertford  of  his  intention.  Always  a 
little  sensitive,  but  wearing  this  sensitiveness  on  his  sleeve,  he 
was  a  little  "  sore "  at  having  been  neglected  by  Lord  Hert- 
ford, the  Chamberlain,  and  told  her  that  he  supposed  his  "  re- 
treat was  too  insignificant  to  announce  to  his  lordship;"  he 
hoped  she  would  mention  "  this  very  trifling  circumstance  to  my 
Lord  Chamberlain."  This  little  coquetting  brought  a  charm- 
ing answer  from  the  lady,  to  the  effect  that  "  she  desired  to 
share  with  Mr.  Garrick  in  his  retirement  when  their  Lord 
Chamberlain  was  deposed.  But,  till  then,  she  thinks  she  can 
answer  for  it>  that  Lord  Hertford  will  take  every  opportunity 
in  his  power  to  give  Mr.  Garrick  pleasure,  and  never  agree  to 
anything  that  can  give  him  pain." 

Then,  early  in  January,  1774,  had  come  the  death  of  his  old 
friend  and  patron,  Lacy;  the  sharer  in  his  prosperity,  and  who 
hunted  with  his  Grace  of  Grafton  to  win  his  patent,  so  many 
years  before.  This  was  a  fresh  reason,  and  was  doubling  the 
burden  that  was  cast  on  him ;  for  young  Willoughby  Lacy, 
who  was  his  father's  heir,  seemed  to  inherit  his  father's  quarrel- 
someness. Almost  at  once,  he  raised  the  old  point  about 
jurisdiction,  and  after  discussing  his  claim  with  Garrick  in  a 
friendly  way,  went  and  took  counsel's  opinion,  which  was  in 
his  favour,  then  wrote  exultingly  to  Garrick  to  say  that  "  Mr. 
Mansfield  is  of  opinion  that  I  have  an  equal  right  with  you  in 
the  management  of  every  branch  of  the  business  relative  to 
the  theatre."  A  short  reply  of  Garrick  showed  his  admirable 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  at  once  lowered  the  tone  of  the 
young  man.  He  was  surprised,  he  said,  at  receiving  the  news 
that  he  had  consulted  counsel,  "  in  a  less  amicable  way  than  I 
proposed,"  "  You  do  me  justice  in  supposing  that  I  have  no 
wish  to  deprive  you  of  any  benefit  that  you  are  entitled  to.  I 
commend  your  prudence,  and  before  I  give  you  a  final  answer, 
I  shall  follow  your  example,  and  be  properly  advised"  The 
young  man  at  once  changed  his  tone,  begged  pardon  humbly, 
and  promised  to  make  some  proposals  which  would  be  accepted. 
All  was  then  arranged  smoothly.  But  Garrick  was  sagacious 
enough  to  see  that  this  trouble  would  break  out  again.  His 
health  was  bad.  His  painful  malady  was  growing  worse,  and 
distressing  him  a  good  deal.  Indeed,  it  was  now  his  constant 
trouble,  and  gave  him  much  distress  and  anxiety.  It  besides 
interfered  with  his  acting ;  and  violent  exertion,  such  as  fall- 
ing on  the  stage,  causing  him  great  anguish.  All  these  were 
reasons  enough,  without  having  to  place  it  to  the  account  of 
the  rebellious  behaviour  of  three  lively  actresses. 

Yet  he  hailed  the  approaching  emancipation  with  delight 


1776.]  THE  LAST  SEASON.  423 

Of  course  there  would  always  be  regret,  and  perhaps  a  fancy 
that  he  was  happier  when  in  harness.  "  I  shall  shake  off  my 
chains,"  he  wrote,  "  and  no  culprit  in  a  jail  delivery  will  be 
happier.  I  really  feel  the  joy  I  used  to  do  when  I  was  a  boy, 
at  a  breaking-up." 

A  little  before  Christmas  he  had  thought  of  Colman  as  a 
likely  purchaser,  and  privately  proposed  to  him  that  he  should 
take  his  share  at  £35,000.  But  Colman  declined,  on  the  ground 
that  he  would  not  be  free,  and  would  be  trammelled  by  a  part- 
ner. He  had  had  already  bitter  experience  of  the  jll-f  ortune 
resulting  from  such  interference.  He  was,  besides,  thinking  of 
the  little  theatre  in  the  Hay,  which  was  doing  well.  "  Believe 
me,  my  dear  Garrick,w  he  wrote,  declining  the  proposal,  "  I 
love  and  honour  you,  and  have  never,  in  my  most  petulant 
moments,  gone  beyond  the  amantium  irce.  Take  care  of  your- 
self ;  your  dear  woman  will,  I  know,  take  care  of  you."  As 
Lacy  declined  to  dispose  of  his  share,  it  was  impossible  to 
gratify  Colman,  and  the  negotiation  came  to  an  end.  Sheridan 
then  appeared,  and,  with  two  partners,  began  a  treaty.  The 
whole  property  was  valued  at  £70,000.  By  twenty-eight  years' 
good  management,  its  value  had  thus  been  nearly  quadrupled. 
Where  Sheridan  found  the  £15,000  he  was  to  furnish,  as  well 
as  other  sums  he  found  later,  has  never  been  sbown.  Linley 
and  Ford,  his  partners,  found  £10,000  each,  making  up  the  sum 
to  £35,000 ;  and  thus  the  matter  was  finally  concluded,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  new  year,  1776.* 

His  friends  were  not  sorry  to  think  of  this  approaching  re- 
lease. Letters  of  congratulation  poured  in  upon  him,  the  most 
characteristic  of  which  was  one  that  came  to  him  from  the 
spirited  lady  he  called  "my  Pivy."  This  lively  creature  was 
immensely  amused  at  the  jumble  of  purchasers  she  read  of  in 
the  papers.  "  I  thought  I  should  have  died  laughing  when  I 
saw  a  man-midwife  among  them."  Still  she  had  her  doubts 
about  his  being  able  to  shake  himself  wholly  free ;  and  if  he 
should  not  long  to  be  dipping  his  fingers  "  in  their  theatrical 
pudding  (now  without  plums),  you  will  be  no  Garrick  for  your 
J?ivy."  Her  sagacity  was  proved  to  be  right.  From  her,  too, 
he  received  a  testimonial  so  genuine  and  hearty,  that  it  must 
have  rejoiced  him.  Its  coming  from  one  who  was  always  at 
war  with  him,  made  it  of  double  value,  and  gives  a  picture  of 

*  We  find  him  writing  joyfully  that  "  I  have  at  last  slipt  my  theatrical 
shell,  and  shall  be  as  fine  and  free  a  gentleman  as  you  would  wish  to  see, 
upon  the  North  or  South  Parade,  at  Bath."  He  had  never  played  better 
in  his  life,  but  was  resolved  not  to  remain  on  the  stage,  to  be  pitied  instead 
of  applauded. — To  Clutterbuck,  Jan.,  1776. 


424  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1775 — 

the  true  state  of  things  behind  the  curtain.  "  In  the  height 
of  the  public  admiration  for  you,"  said  Clive,  "  when  you  were 
never  mentioned  but  as  the  Garrick,  the  charming  man,  the  fine 
fellow,  the  delightful  creature,  both  by  men  and  ladies ;  when 
they  were  admiring  everything  you  did,  and  everything  you 
scribbled,  at  this  very  time,  I,  the  Pivy,  was  a  living  witness 
that  they  did  not  know,  nor  could  they  be  sensible,  of  half  your 
perfections.  I  have  seen  you  with  your  magic  hammer  in  your 
hand,  endeavouring  to  beat  your  ideas  into  the  heads  of  crea- 
tures, who  had  none  of  their  own.  I  have  seen  you,  with  lamb- 
like patience,  endeavouring  to  make  them  comprehend  you ; 
and  I  have  seen  you,  when  that  could  not  be  done,  I  have  seen 
your  lamb  turned  into  a  lion ;  by  this  your  great  labour  and 
pains,  the  public  was  entertained ;  they  thought  they  all  acted 
very  fine ;  they  did  not  see  you  pull  the  wires. "  This  seems 
fine  and  exquisite  praise,  and  a  noble  testimony.  It  tells  us  of 
a  world  of  hitherto  unknown  trouble,  unwearied  care  and  labour 
in  the  service  of  the  public.  But  she  goes  on,  with  a  warmth 
and  generosity  that  does  her  infinite  credit.  She  really  sums 
up  his  stage  life : 

"  There  are  people  now  on  the  stage  to  whom  you  gave  their 
consequence ;  they  thought  themselves  very  great ;  now  let 
them  go  on  in  their  new  parts,  without  your  leading-strings, 
and  they  will  soon  convince  the  world  what  their  genius  is.  I 
have  always  said  this  to  everybody,  even  when  your  horses 
and  mine  were  in  their  highest  prancing.  While  I  was  under 
your  control,  I  did  not  say  half  the  fine  tilings  I  thought  of  you, 
because  it  looked  like  flattery;  and  you  know  your  Pivy  was 
always  proud ;  besides,  I  thought  you  did  not  like  me  then ; 
but  now  I  am  sure  you  do,  which  makes  me  send  you  this 
letter."  People  little  thought  that  the  patient  manager,  petted 
and  talked  of  everywhere,  was  all  the  while  labouring  so  con- 
scientiously with  his  corps.  "By  this  your  great  labour  and 
pains  the  public  were  entertained ;  they  thought  they  all  acted 
very  fine ;  they  did  not  see  you  pull  the  wires."  No  wonder 
Garrick  marked  this  kind  and  spirited  letter,  "My  Pivy — 
excellent."*     It  is  really  almost  his  finest  testimonial — so 

*  Garrick,  like  his  friend  Johnson,  was  fond  of  coining  these  pet  names. 
"Clivy-Pivy,"  "Haly-Paly,"  "Davy-Pavy."  The  airs  of  Clive  were  most 
amusing.  When  Garrick  heard  of  her  proposed  retirement,  he  sent  his 
prompter  to  ask  if  shewas  in  earnest.  To  such  a  messenger  she  disdained 
to  give  any  answer.  The  manager  then  sent  his  brother  :  and  him  she 
received  with  scant  civility,  saying,  if  his  brother  wished  to  know  her  mind, 
he  might  come  himself.  The  good-humoured  manager  came  at  once,  paid 
her  many  compliments,  and  asked  her  to  remain.  She  answered  with  a 
look  of  contempt.     The  rest  of  the  scene  Davies  reports.     "  He  asked  how 


1776.]  THE  LAST  SEASON.  425 

genuine,  acute,  and  nice  in  its  discrimination.  The  clever  and 
generous  creature  spoke  from  her  heart.  She  was  indeed  one 
of  the  pearls  of  the  stage;  and  it  may  be  worth  noting  how 
favourably  a  long  life  of  honourable  discipline  acted  then  on 
the  characters  of  the  players. 

Yet  he  was  not  to  abdicate  without  knowing  one  more  of  his 
old  theatrical  riots ;  and  it  was  certainly  a  little  perverse,  that 
after  a  long  period  of  repose,  and  the  perfect  harmony  that  had 
reigned  at  Drury  for  so  many  years,  a  most  disagreeable  Smeute 
should  have  signalized  the  last  few  months  of  his  reign.  It  was 
a  curious  and  dramatic  episode.  There  was  a  tall,  gigantic, 
"  bruising "  Parson  Bate,  who  could  fight  his  way  through  a 
"  row  "  at  Eanelagh  Gardens,  and  who  was  ready  to  "  go  out," 
and  get  satisfaction  with  the  pistol.  So  powerful  and  danger- 
ous a  character  was,  of  course,  likely  to  have  some  influence 
with  Garrick ;  and  his  Morning  Post  was  too  formidable  an 
engine  not  to  be  respected.  A  more  singular  character  than  its 
reverend  editor  could  not  be  conceived.  As  one  wrote  of  him, 
tenderly,  "  he  was  constituted,  both  in  mind  and  body,  for  the 
army  or  navy,  rather  than  for  the  Church."  And  the  same 
"  hand  "  also  said,  there  was  "  a  sportive  severity  "  in  his  writ- 
ing, which  did  not  spare  sex  or  condition,  and  brought  him  into 
unpleasant  conflicts  with  the  persons  thus  satirised.  "  But," 
added  his  friend,  "  he  always  manfully  supported  his  character, 
and  was  wholly  incapable  of  degrading  concessions."  And  in 
this  spirit,  with  Mr.  Dennis  O'Brien  for  his  second,  he  went 
"  out "  with  "  Joey  Kichardson  "  in  the  Park,  put  a  ball  through 
that  gentleman's  arm,  and  distinguished  himself  in  other  en- 
counters. Lord  Lyttleton  gave  him  a  fine  living,  a  good  deal 
owing  to  Garrick's  friendly  instances,  who  stood  to  his  friends 
loyally,  through  thick  and  thin,  as  the  phrase  is ;  and  there 
was  no  such  scrupulosity  then,  in  the  distribution  of  Church 
patronage,  to  make  Garrick  squeamish.* 

much  she  was  worth.  She  replied,  briskly,  •  As  much  as  yourself ! '  Upon 
his  smiling,  she  explained  herself,  by  saying  that  she  knew  when  she  had 
enough,  though  he  never  did.  Upon  repeating  his  regret  at  her  leaving, 
she  told  him  «he  hated  hypocrisy,  for  she  was  sure  he  would  light  up 
candles  for  joy,  but  that  it  would  be  attended  with  some  expense."  The 
reader,  who  ha3  seen  what  really  passed  between  the  two  great  artists,  will 
reject  the  latter  portion  of  this  amusing  scene,  as  the  vulgar  tattle  of 
Davies'  Shop. 

*  "  Did  you  read  my  foolish  religious  ode,"  writes  Mr.  Bate,  on  a  Christ- 
mas festival,  "  on  this  day,  to  take  the  unwary  in  ?  Who  cannot  fail  after 
this  to  set  me  down  among  the  long  list  of  the  truly  pious  professors  of  the 
Gospel  ?  When  you  sit  in  judgment  on  it,  remember  that  I  wrote  it  yes- 
terday, while  my  hair  was  dressing."  This  obstreperous  profanity  was  quite 
in  keeping. 


426  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

His  rude  personalities  in  his  paper  had  made  him  hosts  of 
enemies,  and  he  was  now  venturing  on  the  incautious  step  of 
bringing  out  a  play  at  Drury  Lane,  called  "  The  Blackamoor," 
which  caused  dreadful  scenes  of  confusion.  One  man  got  behind 
the  scenes,  with  an  open  knife  in  his  hand,  pursuing  one  of  the 
people  of  the  house,  and  threatened  to  "cut  his  liver  out!" 
Woodfall,  another  editor,  was  nearly  murdered. 

This  distressed  the  manager  not  a  little.  But  the  end  of  his 
troubles  was  fast  approaching,  and  he  was  looking  forward 
eagerly  to  the  day  that  was  to  bring  him  release.  He  was  full 
of  hope  and  spirits,  as  mercurial  as  ever.  "What  say  you," 
he  wrote  to  his  friend  Colman,  "  if  I  should  once  more  emerge 
from  stone  and  gravel,  and  many  other  human  infirmities  and 
curses,  and  spring  out  again  an  active  being,  and  exercise  with 
the  best  of  you.  Since  you  left  me,  I  have  been  upon  the 
rack,  and  almost  despaired  of  figluing  a  battle  or  committing  a 
murder  again."  The  reason  of  this  rebound  was  a  lucky  visit 
to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  where  he  fell  in  with  an  old  Italian 
friend,  who  recommended  a  nostrum.  Garrick  could  not  resist 
these  quack  medicines,  and  was  thought  by  his  physician  to  do 
himself  much  harm  by  such  experiments.  This  one  he  thought 
worked  wonders.  "  It  has  taken  away  half  the  evil  of  my  fife, 
and  at  this  moment — but  Lord  help  us  !  we  little  men  think 
nothing  of  swelling  ourselves  to  a  Hercules."  Such  was  his 
pleasant  temper  always. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  LAST  ACT. — 1776. 

Early  in  the  year  began  that  wonderful  scries  of  perform- 
ances, in  which  he  give  a  round  of  all  his  best  characters,  each 
for  the  last  time.  The  rush  and  excitement  for  places  during 
this  wonderful  season  has  never  been  equalled,  not  even 
during  the  early  Goodman's  Fields  era.  The  highest  persons 
in  the  land  were  begging  for  boxes  and  places,  and  were  dis- 
appointed. 

A  host  of  fine  people  came,  and  were  crushed,  and  went 
away  enchanted.  Lady  Colebrooke  offered  an  extra  sum  for 
places ;  for  she  was  desirous  that  her  young  children  should 
see  Mr.  Garrick,  and  be  able  to  talk  of  that  night  fifty  years 
after.  Wilkes,  a  faithful  admirer  and  actor,  was  coming  a  long 
journey  from  Dublin  to  see  his  idol ;  and  a  greater  compliment 
still,  the  charming  Madame  Necker — the  heroine  of  Gibbon's 


1776.]  THE  LAST  ACT.  427 

early  love — was  to  journey  over  from  Paris.  The  whole  king- 
dom was  in  a  ferment.  There  was  besides  an  additional 
attraction  of  seeing  him  in  a  round  of  his  great  plays,  long 
since  laid  aside.  He  could  not  oblige  half  his  friends,  and 
Dr.  Percy,*  of  whose  temper  Boswell  has  given  us  a  speci- 
men, chose  this  inappropriate  moment  for  an  irreconcilable 
quarrel  with  his  old  friend.  Another  intimate  friend,  Sir 
Grey  Cooper,  was  actually  offended  because  he  could  not  get 
into  the  theatre  so  often  as  he  wished.  He  said  he  had  moved 
the  Theatrical  Fund  Bill  in  the  House,  and  thought  Mr. 
Garrick  should  remember  that  obb'gation.  Yet  he  hears  that 
a  certain  "Mons.  Necker  and  a  Dean  of  Deny  have  boxes 
every  night."  Very  wittily  he  added,  there  was  "a  sort  of 
ministerial  promise"  given,  accompanied  by  a  "gentle  squeeze  of 
the  hand  and  a  measured  smile  of  consent " — a  very  happy  descrip- 
tion. But  Garrick  never  forgot  what  was  owing  to  his  dignity. 
"  When  have  I  been  inattentive  to  your  and  Lady  Cooper's 
commands  1  The  last  box  I  procured  for  you  has  caused  much 
mischief  to  your  humble  servant.  My  likings  and  attach- 
ments to  my  friends  will,  I  hope,  be  remembered  when  my 
fool's-cap  and  bells  will  be  forgotten."  The  other  wrote  to 
him  that  if,  in  the  eagerness  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Garrick,  anything  petulant  had  escaped  him,  he  begged  his 
pardon  most  sincerely.  This  shows  how  excited  the  world 
had  grown  about  this  festival.  There  was  this  remarkable 
feature  also.  Other  actors  retire  and  make  their  bow  in  one 
night :  Garrick's  retirement  filled  nearly  a  whole  season,  and 
morally  culminated  on  the  last  night 

"  Richard  "  was  kept  for  the  end.  "  I  gained  my  fame  in 
Richard"  he  said,  " and  I  mean  to  close  with  it."  It  was  a 
pity  he  did  not  adhere  to  that  resolution.  He  accordingly 
ordered  a  superb  new  dress.  When  this  came  home,  he,  with 
a  little  want  of  judgment,  said  he  would  play  Lear  in  his  "  new 
Richard  dress."  His  friends  remonstrated,  but  he  persisted. 
And  yet  from  Richard  he  almost  shrank.  "  I  dread  the  fight," 
he  said  to  his  friend  Cradock,  "  and  the  fall.  I  am  afterwards 
in  agonies."  He  was,  indeed,  now  suffering  acutely  from  a 
complication  of  maladies. 

One  of  the  earliest  of  these  farewell  performances  was  on  the 
11th  of  April,  when  the  world  saw  the  Abel  Drugger  f or  the  last 
time.     With  what  effect  he  gave  it,  and  what  feeling,  may  be 

*  It  was  Garrick's  rule  to  allow  no  letters  to  be  brought  to  him  behind 
the  scene?,  so  that  his  mind  should  not  be  distracted.  Percy  had  come  to 
the  stage -door,  and  had  sent  in  for  a  place,  on  one  of  these  last  nights,  an 
application  of  which  no  notice  could  be  taken.    He  never  forgave  Garrick. 


428  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

conceived  from  a  hurried  note  written  the  next  day.  "  Iiist 
night  I  played  Abel  Drugger  for  the  last  time.  I  thought  the 
audience  were  cracked,  and  they  almost  turned  my  brain."* 
During  the  next  two  months  the  others  followed  rapidly.  Yet 
at  such  a  time  Golman  would  worry  him.  Garrick  was  then 
bringing  out  his  plays,  which  had  failed,  and  had  written  affec- 
tionately to  offer  him  the  refusal  of  the  theatre.  "Pray  let  me 
know  what  I  must  do,"  wrote  the  sweet-tempered  Garrick, 
"  for  I  cannot  have  such  a  burden  upon  my  mind  at  this  very 
distressing  time,  when  my  theatrical  life  is  so  near  its  end.  If 
I  am  confused  or  unintelligible,  impute  it  to  c  Richard/  What 
an  operation!" 

On  June  the  5th,  "  Richard  "  was  given,  in  presence  of  the 
King  and  Queen.  The  end  was  fast  drawing  on,  and  only  a 
few  nights  more  were  left  On  that  night  it  was  seen,  with 
astonishment,  that  he  was  as  active,  as  graceful,  as  in  the  old 
Goodman's  Fields  days — now,  alas !  so  far,  far  off — when  he 
was  the  gay,  sprightly,  "  neatly-made  "  young  fellow,  in  the 
flush  of  youth  and  triumph.  With  him  played  on  that  great 
occasion,  Mrs.  Siddons,  who  was  scarcely  equal  to  the  part 

What  a  procession  of  characters ! — his  best  and  finest,  made 
yet  finer  by  the  special  character  of  the  occasion,  and  his  natu- 
ral determination  to  excel  himself.     Hamlet,  Lear,  Richard, 
Ltisignan,   and  Kitely  were  the  graver  characters  he  chose. 
Archer,  Abel  Drugger,  Sir  John  Brule,  Benedick,  Leon,  and  Den 
Felix  made  up  the  more  varied  round  selected  for  comedy.    It 
is,  indeed,  wonderful  to  see  from  this  list  how  his  real  strength 
had  gradually  developed.  Most  of  these  characters  were  played 
from  two  to  three  times  each ;  Archer  but  once,  on  May  7th ; 
Sir  John  Brute  four  times.     The  livelv  actresses  all  played  with 
him,  and  played  their  best     It  needed  all  this  excitement  to 
carry  him  through;   for  he  was  suffering  acutely.     "Gout* 
stone,  sore  throat,"  he  wrote,  "yet  I  am  in  spirits."    The 
excitement  of  these  nights  was  long  remembered.     Curwen, 
the  American  loyalist  clergyman,  then  in  England,  came  often 
to  Drury  Lane  door,  but  could  not  get  in.     Northcote,  long 
after,  used  to  tell  of  the  crushing  and  the  crowds.     Hannah 
More,  up  from  Bristol,  could  hardly  trust  herself  to  speak  of 
the  effect  produced  on  her.     "  I  pity  those  who  have  not  seen 
him.     Posterity  will  never  be  able  to  form  the  slightest  idea  of 
his  perfections.     The  more  I  see  him,  the  more  I  admire.    I 
have  seen  him  within  these  three  weeks  take  leave  of  Benedick, 
Sir  John  Brute,  Kitely,  Abel  Drugger,  Archer,  and  Leon.    It 

•  ForsterMSS. 


1776.]  THE  LAST  ACT.  429 

seems  to  me  as  if  I  was  assisting  at  the  obsequies  of  the  different 
poets.     I  feel  almost  as  much  pain  as  pleasure." 

There  was,  indeed,  a  pathos  about  the  whole.  He  seemed 
to  be  in  a  sort  of  whirl.  He  spoke  sadly  of  "the  present  situa- 
tion of  my  affairs,  of  the  last  hours  of  my  theatrical  life,  and  my 
preparing  for  another."  He  then  added,  "  Just  going  to  per- 
form Benedick  for  the  last  time"  which  was  on  May  the  9  th. 

Was  it  at  all  surprising  that  he  should  feel  quite  unnerved  on 
these  trying  occasions?  Friends  did  not  help  him  much. 
Steevens  pressed  him  hard  to  give  the  genuine  text  of  "  Lear  " 
as  a  novelty;  but  at  such  a  cnsis,  he  dare  not  trust  himself  to 
unlearn.  Even  in  the  morning,  when  going  over  some  slight 
alteration,  he  became  quite  distressed  and  confused.   After  the 

?lay  was  over,  a  little  scene  took  place  in  the  green-room.  Miss 
ounge,  whose  frowardness  had  given  him  much  trouble,  was 
the  Cordelia,  and  he  there  took  leave  of  her,  calling  her  "  his 
daughter/1  with  a  hearty  wish  that  all  blessings  he  had  invoked 
on  her  on  the  stage,  would  be  fulfilled  in  reality.  The  actress, 
affected  by  this  kindness,  said  to  him,  "  Sir,  if  you  would  indeed 
give  me  your  blessing,"  which  Garrick  did  in  a  very  solemn 
way. 

Old  and  dear  friends  were  crowding  up  and  rallying  about 
him.  Sir  George  Young  came  away  from  that  night — pray- 
ing, "  that  the  evening  of  your  day  may  be  sweet  and  com- 
posed, is  the  sincere  wish  of  your  old  and  affectionate  friend." 
For  Beard,  the  actor  chose  at  this  favourable  moment  to  make 
a  request  to  Sir  George  Hay.  "  You  are  grown  formal  in  your 
old  age,  my  dear  friend,"  replied  Sir  Ueoige.  "Kiss  the 
blooming  wrinkles  of  my  ancient  love  for  my  sake,  and  be- 
lieve me  always  yours  and  hers."  On  the  8th,  "  King  Lear  " 
was  given  once  more  ;*  and  then  came  round  the  fatal  closing 
10th  of  June,  which  was  to  be  the  last  night  for  Koscius.t 

Don  Felix  was  the  gay  character  selected ;  certainly  not  his 
best.     The  tremendous  crowd  that  filled  the  theatre  from  floor 

*  Sir  Joshua  declared  that  he  did  not  recover  from  King  Lear  for  three 
days. 

t  The  following  passages  from  the  diary  of  Curwen,  the  American  cler- 
gyman, help  to  show  us  how  great  the  excitement  was : — 

"Nov.  29th,  1775.— Saw  Mr.  Garrick  in  '  Hamlet '  atDrury  Lane  ;  in  my 
eye  more  perfect  in  the  expression  of  his  face  than  in  the  accent  and  pro- 
nunciation of  his  voice,  which,  however,  was  much  beyond  the  standard  of 
his  fellow- actors. 

"May  7  th,  1776.— Attempted  to  get  into  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  to  see  Mr. 
Garrick  in  the  character  of  Archer;  but  the  crowd  so  great,  that  after  suf- 
fering thumps,  squeezes,  and  almost  suffocation  for  two  hours,  I  was  obliged 
to  retire  without  effecting  it.    Went  to  Mr.  Silsbee's  lodgings  to  tea. 

"June  5th,  1776.—  Walked  to  Mr.  Green's  ;  Major  Brattle  entered^  a\i<L 


430  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

to  ceiling,  were  to  be  recreated  with  one  last  glimpse  of  true 
comedy,  the  like  of  which  it  may  be  suspected  no  one  has  seen 
since.  From  this  choice,  it  may  be  concluded  that  the  image 
of  himself  he  wished  to  linger  on  a  playgoer's  mind,  was  of 
that  tempered  gaiety  and  airy  sprightliness  where  so  much  of 
his  strength  lay. 

What  a  night  for  Drury  Lane  !  And  what  a  night  for  the 
great  actor — now  at  the  end  of  his  nearly  forty  years'  service. 
There  was  not  here  any  of  the  affectation  and  sham  sentiment, 
that  sometimes  obtains  at  such  leave-takings — too  long  delayed, 
perhaps,  and  too  often  to  prove  a  mere  rehearsal.  As  his 
grand  eyes  wandered  round  the  house — and  that  house  must 
have  seemed  to  him  a  sea  of  friends'  faces,  and  of  friends'  eyes 
— there  were  to  be  seen  strangers  and  even  foreigners,  who 
had  travelled  from  afar  from  distant  countries  ;*  there  was 
presented  that  dim,  but  grand  indistinctness  of  the  crowded 
house,  which  to  the  actor  can  never  lose  its  spell.  But  on 
such  a  night,  it  represented  a  boundless  amphitheatre  of  the 
most  friendly,  genial,  and  affectionate  sympathies,  and  exalted 
admiration. 

Frenchmen  present  were  struck  by  the  almost  mournful 
character  of  the  scene.  It  must  have  brought  to  the  actor's 
mind  the  early  days — the  old  triumph  of  the  little  theatre  at 
Goodman's  Fields,  t  He  himself  thought  that  he  played  with 
even  more  spirit  than  he  had  ever  done  before.  When  Mrs. 
Centlivre's  wit  was  done,  and  the  curtain  had  shut  out  ikat 
Don  Felix  for  ever,  there  came  a  moment  of  suspense,  and 

we  three  took  coach  to  Drury  Lane,  to  see  for  the  last  time  Garrick  in 
'  Richard  III./  by  command  of  their  Majesties  ;  but  were  too  late — house 
filled." 

*  Taylor. 

t  As  I  have  given  his  first  Goodman's  Fields  Bill,  the  reader  will  be  glad 
to  see  the  last  (at  Drury  Lane)  which  I  possess : — 

The  last  time  of  the  Company's  performing  this  Season. 
At  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Drury  Lane, 
This  day  (June  10th,  1776),  will  be  presented 

THE  WONDER. 

Don  Felix,  Mb.  Garrick. 

Colonel  Briton,  Mr.  Smith.        Don  Lopez,  Mr.  Baddeley. 

Don  Pedro,  Mr.  Parsons.        Lissardo,  Mr.  King. 

Frederick,  Mr.  Packer. 

Gibby,  Mr.  Moody. 

Isabella,  Miss  Hopkins.        Inis,  Mrs.  Bradshaw. 

Flora,  Mrs.  Wrighten. 

Violante,    Mrs.    Yates. 

"End  of  Act  1. — The  grand  Garland  Dance 

By  Sig.  GioT^lttx*,  ^uXXAtti^sA  ,ttx«  SA.\\x^by, 


1776.]  THE  LAST  ACT.  431 

even  awe.  The  great  stage  was  now  quite  empty,  and  then 
the  departing  actor  was  seen  to  come  forward,  very  slowly. 
Behind,  the  stage  filled  with  groups  of  the  players,  eager  not 
to  lose  a  point  of  this  almost  solemn  situation.  The  sides  be- 
came crowded  with  other  spectators.  Not  a  sound  was  heard. 
There  was  a  solemn  pause.  No  wonder,  he  said  afterwards, 
that  it  was  an  awful  moment,  and  that  he  seemed  to  have  lost 
not  merely  his  voice,  but  the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  that  he 
thought  his  heart  would  have  cracked.  His  face  was  seen  to 
work,  as  he  tried  to  speak,  and  with  an  effort  he  said — it  had 
been  the  custom  on  such  occasions  to  address  friends  in  a 
farewell  epilogue — he  had  intended  following  the  practice,  but 
when  he  came  to  attempt  it,  found  himself  quite  as  unequal  to 
the  writing  of  it,  as  he  would  now  be  to  its  delivery.  The  jingle 
of  rhyme — the  language  of  fiction — would  but  ill  suit  his  pre- 
sent feelings.  The  moment  was  a  terrible  one  for  him,  now 
parting  for  ever  from  those  who  had  lavished  on  him  such 
favours,  and  such  kindness ;  and  upon  the  very  spot  where  all 
these  favours  were  received,  he  was  now — here  he  was  utterly 
overcome,  and  could  not  go  on,  from  his  tears.  Recovering 
himself,  he  merely  added,  that  he  should  never  lorget  their 
goodness,  and  though  his  successors  might  have  more  ability, 
they  could  not  surpass  the  pains  he  had  taken  to  win  support, 
nor  the  deep  gratitude  he  felt.  On  this  he  retired  slowly — up 
— up  the  stage,  his  eyes  fixed  on  them  with  a  lingering  long- 
ing. Then  stopped.  The  shouts  of  applause  from  that  brfl- 
liant  amphitheatre  were  broken  by  sobs  and  tears.  To  his 
ears  were  borne  from  many  quarters  the  word  "  Farewell ! 
Farewell ! "  Mrs.  Garrick  was  in  her  box,  in  an  agony  of 
hysterical  tears.     The  wonderful  eyes,  still  brilliant,  were 

To  which  will  be  added  a  Musical  Entertainment,  called 

TEE    WATERMAN. 

The  principal  characters  by 
Mr.  Bannister, 
Mr.  Daviee,  Mr.  Codd,  Mrs.  Wrighten, 
and  Mrs.  Jewell. 
To  conclude  with  the  scene  of  the  Regatta. 
The  profits  of  this  night  being  appropriated  to  the  Benefit  of  the  Thea- 
trical Fund,  the  usual  address  upon  the  occasion  will  be  spoken  by  Mm 
Garrick  before  the  Play. 

Ladies  are  desired  to  send  their  servants  a  little  after  5  to  keep  places, 
to  prevent  confusion. 

No  admittance  behind  the  scenes,  nor  any  money  returned  after  the 
curtain  is  drawn  up. 
The  doors  will  be  opened  at  half  after  5. 
To  begin  exactly  at  half -past  6. 


432  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

turned  wistfully  again  and  again,  to  that  sea  of  sympathetic 
faces,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  audiences  perhaps  that  ever  sat 
in  Drury  Lane :  and  at  last,  with  an  effort,  he  tore  himself  from 
their  view.* 

Though  an  afterpiece  was  to  follow,  it  was  not  suffered  to 
be  played ;  nor  could  the  actors  find  spirit  to  perform  it>  after 
the  affecting  bit  of  tragedy  that  they  had  witnessed.  When 
the  curtain  descended  on  that  fatal  tenth  of  June,  it  indeed 
shut  out  the  greatest  of  English  actors,  whose  like  has  never 
been  seen  since. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  GARRICK  CIRCLE — CHARACTER. — 1776. 

Now  was  to  commence  for  him  a  new  shape  of  existence 
With  all  that  most  reasonable  excuse  of  weariness  and  ill- 
health,  he  must  have  been  looking  back  wistfully  to  the  old 
profession ;  after  all,  to  the  actor  en  retraite,  with  opulence  and 
ease  and  retirement  from  toil,  nothing  can  have  the  old  exqui- 
site charm  of  the  "  House/1  no  company  can  equal  the  brilliant 
company,  the  rows  above  rows  of  faces  in  the  boxes.  Nothing 
can  sparkle  like  the  footlights,  and  no  scent  surpass  the  old 
familar  playhouse  perfume. 

Now  we,  also,  may  take  the  opportunity  of  glancing  at  that 
domestic  circle  who  were  about  him,  and  of  whom  he  was  to 
see  much  more — those  relatives  who  were  so  dependent  on 
him,  and  for  whom  he  and  Mrs.  Garrick  had  done  so  much. 

It  always  seemed  a  pity  that  such  a  pair — so  affectionate  to 
all  the  world — had  no  children  of  their  own,  no  objects 
for  that  affection.  It  would  have  been  the  fitting  complement 
for  their  happy  existence,  and  would  have  smoothed  down 

*  In  a  letter  of  Chuies  Holland  to  Charles  Mathews,  this  scene  is  de- 
scribed : — "  On  the  night  Mr.  Garrick  quitted  the  stage,  after  the  perform* 
ance  of  Don  Fdix,  in  the  comedy  of  'The  Wonder,'  when  he  had  delivered 
his  Farewell  Address,  surrounded  by  all  the  performers  of  Drury  Lane 
Theatre,  the  green  curtain  then  closing  the  scene,  Mr.  Garrick  turned 
round,  and  taking  off  his  stage  sword  or  foil,  gave  the  same  to  his  friend 
Tom  King  (the  Lissardo  of  the  play),  saying, '  Here,  Tom,  I  shall  never 
more  have  occasion  for  this ;  to  you  I  bequeath  it,  as  a  memento  of  this 
night.'  ....  Upon  the  demise  of  Tom  King  this  foil  was  Bold  by  auction 
on  the  stage  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  at  the  rehearsal  for  the  benefit  of  the 
widow  of  T.  King  ;  Mr.  Mathews,  the  comedian,  was  the  auctioneer  ;  Mr. 
Holland,  the  actor,  was  the  purchaser."  Afterwards  Mr.  Holland  made 
Mr.  Mathews  a  present  of  the  sword  as  M  A  memento  of  the  Night,"  Hi* 
buckles  Garrick  gave  to  Miss  Hannah  More. 


1776.]  THE  GARRICK  CIRCLE.  433 

many  of  those  peculiarities  for  which  an  empty  household  is 
often  responsible.  Instead,  he  expended  that  affection  on 
nieces  and  nephews,  the  children  of  George. 

Peter  Garrick's  soul  never  travelled  above  the  Lichfield 
business,  the  wine  trade,  and  perhaps  fishing.  "  Garrick  and 
Bailey"  was  a  well-known  firm  in  Lichfield.  Still  he  was 
always  glad  that  his  London  brother  should  try  and  get  him 
something.  That  good  brother  tried  again  and  again,  but  it 
was  very  hard  to  find  what  would  suit  Peter.  When  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire  became  a  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  in  1756, 
he  invited  Garrick  to  breakfast  with  him,  and  the  actor  took 
advantage  of  the  friendly  intimacy  to  plead  for  his  brother 
Peter.  He  promised  to  do  something  "  to  draw  you,"  writes 
David  to  Peter,  "  out  of  your  melancholy,  disagreeable  situa- 
tion. Indeed  it  is  unworthy  of  you."*  His  old  townsfolk 
from  the  country  he  did  not  forget,  and  was  glad  to  see  and 
entertain  them  when  they  came  to  London.  "Last  night 
I  had  some  old  Lichfielders  to  sup — Levett,  the  two  Robin- 
sons, and  two  Garricks,  Dick  Bailye."t  Peter  never  married, 
but  lived  on  in  the  old  house,  and  survived  his  great  brother 
some  fifteen  years.  Their  sister  Merriall— the  only  one  that 
survived — had  married  Mr.  Thomas  Docksey,  a  Lichfield  gen- 
tleman of  fortune ;  and  that  family  might  reasonably  look  to 
the  bachelor  relative,  who  was  said  to  have  accumulated 
£30,000,  for  a  provision.  But  as  he  grew  old  he  became 
childish,  and  would  give  away  large  sums  of  money  to  any  one 
he  met,  and  at  last  fell  under  the  influence  of  a  designing 
apothecary,  named  Panting.  This  person,  with  the  assistance 
of  a  brother,  who  was  an  attorney,  concocted  a  will,  which 
they  produced  as  his.  It  was  contested  by  Mrs.  Docksey,  who 
had  been  named  Peter's  heir  in  a  previous  will.  The  case  was 
conducted  by  Erskine,  who,  in  one  of  his  finest  efforts,  ex- 
posed the  scheme  of  the  apothecary  and  the  lawyer,  with 
masterly  effect  and  success.!     The  will  was  set  aside. 

George  Garrick,  secretary,  deputy,  unofficial  agent,  and 
"  factotum  "  at  Drury  Lane,  was  as  familiar  to  the  profession 
as  the  manager  himself.  By  himself  he  never  could  have  been 
heard  of.  His  was  a  "  fussing,"  meddling,  whispering  nature, 
a  little  mysterious,  because  known  to  have  the  ear  of  the 
greater  David,  between  whom  and  troublesome  persons  he 
interposed  usefully.     In  many  instances  George  complicated 

*  Forster  MSS. 
t  Ibid. 

$  The  trial  took  place  in  St  Mary's  Church !    The  speech  is  in  Cole- 
ridge's Watchman. 


434  THK  LIFK  OF  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1776. 

things,  and  often  brought  trouble  to  the  manager.  There  tos 
another  brother,  "  Billy,"  a  captain  in  the  army,  who  was  never 
known  outside  his  profession,  and  died  obscurely  at  Minorca. 
Two  sisters,  Magdalen  and  Jane  ("  Lenny  and  Jenny  "),  were 
long  since  dead;  a  third,  as  mentioned,  had  married  Mr. 
Docksey,  or  Doxey,  a  man  of  good  fortune  in  Lichfield. 

George  Garrick  first  married  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Carrington, 
a  king's  messenger,  and  lived  with  him  in  Somerset  House. 
He  had  a  large  family,  for  all  of  whom  the  generous  actor  pro- 
vided, though  it  was  expected  that  Mr.  Carrington,  who  was 
well  off,  would  contribute.  To  the  end  he  was  extravagant, 
and  sometimes  dissipated.*  When  Garrick  was  abroad,  an 
anonymous  letter  reached  him,  warning  him  of  the  lavish  way 
in  which  his  brother  was  "keeping  women  about  him," a 
costly  table,  &c.  But  it  had  no  effect  on  David.  George  was 
solicitor  to  the  house — prepared  all  the  actors'  agreements,  and 
managed  the  legal  matters.  For  these  services  he  received 
£150  a-year  from  the  theatre.  Garrick  himself  added  another 
hundred  a  year,  and  he  had  besides  a  fortune  with  his  wife. 
On  such  an  income,  he  very  improvidently  sent  his  two  sons 
to  Eton,  at  a  cost  of  £170  a  year,  which  left  a  very  small 
balance.  He  often  asked  for  loans — even  for  two  hundred 
pounds,  which  was  sent  at  once.f  Money  seemed  to  be  the 
test  of  affection  invariably  required  from  David  Garrick.  It 
was  George's  duty  to  have  settled  matters  relating  to  the  Fer- 
mignac  affairs;  but  he  had  neglected  them  for  years,  and  let 

*  It  was  often  asked  in  the  green-room,  what  name  should  be  given  to 
the  salary  he  received  for  his  nondescript  services.  Bannister  said  "  hash 
money ; "  for  when  David  was  playing,  George  was  always  keeping  sOeooe 
at  the  wings — stepping  on  tiptoe,  and  calling  "  huah  !  "  Whenever  he 
joined  the  company,  he  was  always  asking,  "Had  David  wanted  him?" 
and  it  was  a  green-room  jest,  that  he  died  so  soon  after  his  brother,  "  be* 
cause  David  wanted  him." 

t  "  Garrick  Cor.,  voL  ii,  p.  198.  "  Dear  Brother,"  runs  his  grateful  answer, 
"  the  great  agitation  of  mind  I  have  been  in  will,  I  hope,  plead  my  excuse 
for  not  returning  you  sooner  my  most  affectionate  thanks  for  your  very  kind 
and  brotherly  answer  to  my  letter.  Indeed,  my  dear  brother,  you  have 
affected  me  much  with  your  great  kindness,  and  I  could  now  dash  out  my 
brains  that  I  should  have  either  neglected  or  offended  you ;  and  I  can  assure 
you  that  the  pangs  I  have  felt  from  your  withdrawing  your  love  and  affec- 
tion from  me,  had  at  times  deprived  me  not  only  of  my  senses,  but  almost 
ot  my  life.  For  indeed  it  has  been  the  cause  of  many  and  very  long,  at 
well  as  very  expensive  illnesses.  ....  This,  I  hope  "  (his  expenses  for  edu- 
cation, &c),  "  will  in  some  measure  account  for  my  application  to  you  ;  but 
you  will  wrong  me  much,  should  you  in  the  least  think  that  I  have  not  the 
warmest  sense  of  gratitude  and  affection  to  my  sister  and  you,  for  your  un- 
bounded goodness  to  my  children.  Give  me  leave  to  assure  you  both  that 
I  shall  ever  feel  it.  and  that  I  shall  never  forget  it." 


1776.]  THE  GARRICK  CIRCLK.  435 

them  get  into  confusion.  The  only  way  his  good-tempered 
brother  showed  how  he  felt  such  treatment,  was  by  "a 
coldness;"  and  nothing  more  delicate,  more  significant  of 
wounded  affection,  more  humble  and  sincere  interest,  can  be 
imagined  than  an  appeal  of  David's,  written  after  an  insepa- 
rable intimacy  of  some  thirty  years.  George  Garrick  had  of 
a  sudden  set  up  horses,  carriages,  and  a  country  house,  with- 
out telling  his  brother — fearful,  perhaps,  of  his  just  reproof. 
The  latter  had  remarked  an  uneasiness,  and  an  anxiety  to 
make  excuses  of  business,  to  get  away  whenever  they  met  All 
this  hurt  him  much.  "  I  have  suffered  much  of  late,"  he 
wrote,  "  and  have  hid  my  uneasiness  as  well  as  I  could.  •  •  . 
Did  I  ever  keep  any  concern  of  any  kind  from  you  ?  Have  I 
not  always  opened  my  heart  and  designs  to  you  ?  Have  you 
not  had  permission  to  open  my  letters,  and  know  everything 
about  me  and  my  affairs  ?  What  is  this  mystery?  If  I  was 
not  kindly  admitted  into  that  secret,  surely  I  had  a  right  to  be 
a  partaker  of  it ;  but  let  that  be  passed."  All  thi§,  it  will  be 
seen,  was  not  in  the  spirit  of  reproach ;  for  George  had  done 
a  hundred  such  thin^  before;  but  his  wish  was  to  remind 
George — "  I  have  likewise  no  right — perhaps  I  have  not — to 
ask  how  your  circumstances  can  bear  this  load  of  expense, 
and  whether  it  is  not  strange  with  your  family,  and  complaints 
of  hard  times,  hard  relations,  and  that  you  have  voluntarily 
taken  a  load  upon  you,  which  I  fear  you  are  not  able  to 
bear."  He  then  protested,  but  gently,  against  some  loose 
business  doings  of  George's,  as  regards  his  affairs,  such  as 
sending  to  tenants  for  their  rent,  and  giving  Garrick's  re- 
ceipt— of  keeping  over  "legacy  money,"  witn  which  David 
had  intended  paying  all  the  debts  of  the  Stratford  Jubilee, 
"  and  rendering  no  account."  Confidence  he  had  in  him,  but 
how  little  he  met  with  in  return.  One  would  indeed  think  it 
was  the  expostulation  of  the  dependent  brother,  and  not  of 
the  rich  and  influential  manager,  without  whose  protection  the 
London  attorney  or  Lichfield  wine  merchant,  would  have  been 
helpless  indeed.  There  was  a  reconciliation  almost  at  once. 
George  seems  to  have  been  a  foolish  fellow,  and  an  absurd  at- 
tempt at  a  duel  with  Baddeley,  the  actor,  in  an  effort  to 
champion  the  actor's  own  wife,  must  have  been  a  fresh  annoy- 
ance to  his  brother.*  Yet  he  had  a  faithful  dog-like  attach- 
ment to  David,  and  his  own  death  followed  David's,  almost 
within  a  few  days. 

*  He  was  married  twice— a  second  time  to  the  sister  of  a  Colonel  of  the 
Indian  service. 

^^8  ^ 


436  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

Thus,  though  the  Garrick  family  had  looked  on  the  fatal  day 
that  brought  news  to  Lichfield  of  David's  going  on  the  stage, 
as  the  anniversary  of  degradation  and  ruin,  they  soon  found 
that  the  successful  actor  and  manager,  whose  reputation  had 
spread  over  Europe,  was  to  be  their  chief  credit  and  support 
George's  two  sons  were  taken  care  of  by  their  uncle ;  Carring- 
ton  was  sent  by  him  to  St  John's  College,  Cambridge,  and 
introduced  by  Mr.  Cradock.  He  was  intended  for  the  Church, 
and  his  uncle's  interest  made  promotion  certain.  When  only 
eighteen  he  was  about  the  tallest  youth  ever  seen  there,  and 
people  in  the  town  came  out  of  their  houses,  or  ran  to  their 
windows,  to  see  him  go  by  in  his  pensioner's  gown.  He  was 
much  liked  at  the  university,  probably  from  an  interest  in  his 
famous  relative.  He  did  not,  however,  turn  out  well,  though 
every  advantage  was  given  him.  A  living  was  purchased  for 
him — six  thousand  pounds — and  a  library  was  left  to  him.  In 
lieu  of  the  library  he  accepted  a  money  composition  from  Mrs. 
Garrick.  He  married  a  Miss  Battiscombe,  out  of  his  own 
parish,  and  died  only  thirty-four  years  old,  in  May,  1787,  "a 
martyr,"  says  his  friend,  Mr.  Cradock,  very  indulgently,  "to 
a  too  free  use  of  the  bottle."* 

Another  nephew,  David  Garrick,  was  put  into  the  army.  He 
was  wonderfully  like  his  great  uncle.     He  once  appeared  at 
some  private  theatricals,  "  got-up  "  at  Mrs.  Hanbury's,  down  at 
Kelmarsh,  in  Northamptonshire,  and  played  Priidi,  in  "  Venice 
Preserved"    A   fine  company  was  assembled — the  Duke  of 
Dorset,  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  many  more,  who  were  all 
struck  by  the  wonderful  likeness  of  the  nephew  to  the  greater 
uncle.     But  he  soon  gave  signs  of  unsteadiness.     Garrick  was 
to  have  provided  for  him  also,  but  his  grandfather  took  that 
task  on  himself.     One  of  the  uncle's  pleasantest  letters  is 
written  to  him,  when  on  garrison  duty,  on  a  march  through  the 
rain  : — "  I  thank  you,"  it  ran,  "  for  your  very  dear  and  agree- 
able letter.     Your  laurels  should  have  sheltered  you  from  the 
inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  the  acclamations  of  the  people 
should  have  been  the  cordials  to  keep  the  cold  from  your 
stomach.     As  you  have  so  nobly  defended  the  maids,  wives, 
and  widows,  I  hope  when  you  are  well  you  may  take  your 
choice,  and  return  to  your  quarters  with  a  well- jointured  widow 
or  some  rich  maid"    He  was  then  happy  to  tell  him  how  well 
he  stood  with  the  grandfather : — "  Your  letter  to  me  is  a  very 
good  one,  and  I  hope  he  got  the  fellow  to  it.     H  not,  write 

*  He  left  a  son,  Christopher  Philip,  three  years  old  at  the  date  of  his 
father's  death. 


1776.]  THE  GARRICK  CIRCLE.  437 

directly  to  him,  and  never  let  yourself  be  out  of  his  sight,  by 
letter  or  otherwise,  for  you  know  the  old  proverb,  &c."  A 
postscript  shows  his  thought  for  his  nephew's  credit  and  his 
actors'  interest.  "  Pray  take  all  your  corps  to  Moody's  benefit. 
I  will  treat  'em,  if  they  are  willing  to  accept  tickets,  and  honour 
me  by  going."* 

But  in  a  short  time,  either  to  avoid  being  ordered  abroad,  or 
from  fancied  delicacy,  he  left  his  regiment — the  Royals — then 
coolly  wrote  to  his  uncle  for  six  thousand  guineas,  to  be  laid 
out  on  a  purchase  for  him.  His  grandfather  seemed  to  support 
him  in  this  foolish  step.  Garrick  wrote  back  very  indignantly, 
that  he  had  not  such  a  sum ;  indeed,  it  was  madness  to  ask  it. 
His  grandfather,  who  countenanced  the  step,  should  provide  it. 
"  It  has  given  me  much  uneasiness  to  see  a  young  man,  who 
might  have  figured  in  his  profession,  lounging  about  the  town 
doing  nothing,  and  not  thinking  of  anything ;  and  to  see  two 
brothers  strutting  about  the  circle  of  non-existence  may  be 
very  convenient,  but  not  very  spirited.     I  have  it  not  in  my 

g>wer  or  inclination  to  serve  you  in  this  strange  business."! 
e  himself  had  never  strutted  about  the  circle  of  non-existence, 
and  was  entitled  to  give  this  sharp  rebuke.  He  was  justly  dis- 
pleased at  these  freaks.  The  young  man  presently  repented, 
and  wished  to  get  back  again  to  his  regiment,  and  his  uncle 
wearied  out  noble  friends  of  influence  with  applications.  It 
could  not  be  done ;  but  when  young  David  married  Miss  Hart, 
"a  young  lady,  extremely  agreeable,  and  with  a  temper  as 
sweet  as  her  voice,  and  she  sings  like  an  angel,"  the  kind  uncle 
forgave  all,  and  made  a  very  handsome  settlement.  On  this 
occasion  the  vivacious  Clive  starts  up  at  Twickenham,  and 
gives  generous  testimony  to  her  old  friend  once  more  : —  ... 
"  I  must  now  mention  the  noblest  action  of  your  life — your 
generosity  to  nephew  David.  All  the  world  is  repeating  your 
praises.  Those  people  who  always  envied  you,  and  wished  to 
detract  from  you,  declaring  you  loved  money  too  much  ever  to 
part  from  it,  now  they  will  feel  foolish,  and  look  contemptible.  - 
All  that  I  can  say  is,  I  wish  that  Heaven  had  made  me  such  an 
uncle."  How  insufferably  stupid  read  the  stories  of  petty  crea- 
tures like  Davies,  beside  these  records  of  a  generosity  they 
could  not  understand,  and  a  no  less  generous  appreciation,  like 
this  of  the  warm-hearted  Clive ! 

He  had  also  taken  the  charge  of  two  of  the  improvident 
George's  daughters,  Arabella  and  Catherine,  and  sent  them  to 
Paris  to  a  Madame  Descombe's  school.     This  adoption,  it  will 

*  Protheroe  MSS.  f  Ibid. 


438  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVED  GARRICK.  [1776. 

be  seen,  brought  trouble  and  responsibility.  There  are  some 
charming  letters  of  Mrs.  Garrick's  to  her  "  dear  Kitty,"  written 
at  this  time — full  of  grace,  and  of  good  sense  too.  Her  little 
advice  about  dress  is  admirable,  and  perhaps  a  little  new: — 
"Remember,"  she  says,  "that  the  dearest  silks  are  not 
always  the  prettiest,  and  never  think  they  will  wear  the  longer 
for  being  richer.  I  compare  them  to  an  old  woman,  who,  when 
she  has  lost  her  beauty,  will  not  be  admired  because  she  was 

once  handsome Remember,  likewise,  that  two  coats  are 

better  than  one ;  and  that  paying  for  the  turning  of  an  old 
sack,  costs  twice  for  the  making  one  new."  Rather  different 
advice  from  what  a  thrifty  English  housewife  would  give,  who 
would  get  everything  to  "  last  for  ever."  Nothing,  indeed,  is 
prettier,  or  more  affectionate,  than  the  letters  both  of  uncle 
and  aunt,  often  written  on  the  one  page.  Sometimes  he  wrote: 
and  she  puts  in  a  postscript — she  will  tell  them  that  he  hopes 
"  they  will  furnish  their  petite  cervelle,  and  read  some  history. 
Here  ends  my  first  sermon."*  "My  dear  sweet  girls,"  he 
would  write  to  them,  "  I  am  charmed  with  your  last  agreeable, 
sensible,  well-written  letter,  and  for  the  acdount  of  Henri  IV." 
— which  they  had  sent  to  show  they  were  studying  history. 
He  could  thank  them  for  it  with  a  thousand  kisses.  "  Always 
write  thus  with  simplicity;  whoever  aims  at  more  becomes 
foppish  and  ridiculous.  I  must  now  finish,  and  give  way  to 
my  betters.  God  bless  you.  D.  G."  Then  came  in  "  sweet " 
Mrs.  Garrick  with  advice  : — "  Take  care  you  make  yourselves 
warm  when  you  go  out  of  public  places ;  never  go  without 
your  clocks  " — cloaks — "  and  your  pattens.  My  dear  girls,  a 
happy  new  year  to  you,  and  that  may  be  always  as  agreeable, 
as  you  are  now  charming,  is  the  sincere  wish  of  your  loving 
aunt.  I  owe  you  many  letters,  but  must — as  long  as  your 
uncle  has  no  better  pens  than  those  with  which  I  scrawl  this 
letter."  They  should  look  about  for  a  clever  little  French 
maid,  to  dress  hair,  and  do  a  thousand  things,  "  as  you  might 
at  present  apprivoiser  her,  and  prepare  her  for  England.  If 
she  should  prove  to  be  a  Catholic,  you  may  assure  her  she  has 
nothing  to  fear  about  her  religion,  so  she  will  not  meddle 

*  She  once  attempted  a  little  rhyme  : — 

"  This  essence  of  roses, 
The  sweetest  of  posies, 
Was  given  by  dear  Hannah  More  ; 
Near  my  heart  I  will  wear  it, 
No  movement  shall  tear  it 
From  thence  with  the  weight  of  proud  ore. 

An  infant  muse. 

"  Maria  Garrick/*— Hill  MSS. 


1776.J  THE  GABRICK  CIRCLE.  439 

with  yours.  .  .  .  Your  brother,  the  clergyman,  is  aspoteU  as 
ever.  ...  He  has  not  been  at  our  house  these  twelve  months; 
there  is  no  reason  for  his  staying  away.  The  captain  has  served 
us  in  the  same  manner;  for  a  month  we  have  not  seen  his 
sweet  face.  Are  they  rwlpreily  yout/isf  Send  if  you  are  ill  for 
boctor  Gem."  Pretty  youths,  indeed ;  who  hardly  thought  it- 
worth  while  to  pay  the  ordinary  decent  civilities,  to  the  uncle 
on  whom  they  so  much  depended. 

Yet  Miss  Bell  Garrick  was,  all  this  while,  carrying  on  a  little 
adventure.  A  penniless  French  officer,  named  Moliere,  had 
met  the  young  English  girl,  and  bad  fallen  in  love,  or  had 
affected  to  fall  in  love,  with  her.  He  had  actually  taken  a 
garret  in  M.  Descombe's  house,  and  from  this  ambuscade  carried 
out  his  plans.  He  met  her  on  the  stairs,  wrote  letters  about  his 
grande  passion,  and  obtained  some  in  reply  from  the  foolish  girl, 
which,  with  the  true  chivalry  of  Frenchmen  whose  profession  is 
following  bonnes  fortunes,  he  exhibited  to  all  his  friends.  The 
matter  soon  transpired,  and  the  young  ladies  were  sent  home. 

Garrick  was  justly  displeased.  It  seemed  to  be  his  lot  to 
be  disappointed  in  nearly  every  one  on  whom  he  bad  placed 
his  affections.  He  could  make  allowance  for  a  schoolgirl's 
weakness,  but  he  felt  it  would  be  for  her  good  to  keep  up  a 
show  of  severity  and  sternness.  Nothing  can  be  more  admir- 
able than  his  letters — judicious,  severe,  and  yet  not  unkind — 
skilfully  addressed  to  her  pride — without  anything  artificial ; 
contemptuonsly  exposing  the  true  character  of  the  admirer, 
and  stripping  the  whole  of  its  romance.  He  was  for  some 
time  cold  and  stern;  but  on  her  justifying  herself  in  some 
very  "  proper  "  letters,  he  looked  over  the  past,  and  wrote  to 
her  again,  warmly  and  affectionately,  forgave  all,  and  she  was 
his  "dear  Bell  again."* 

But  whatever  may  have  been  their  behaviour,  all  the  nieces 
and  nephews  found  themselves  handsomely  and  affectionately 
remembered  in  their  uncle's  will,  who  lived  to  see  "  the  Cap- 
tain "  contracted  to  the  Middlesex  heiress.  On  this  occasion, 
as  we  have  seen,  he  did  his  part  magnificently,  and  made  a 
handsome  settlement  on  the  young  pair.  Charming  uncle, 
indeed !  gracious,  chivalrous,  firm  to  men,  gentle  to  women, 
ever  doing  "the  right  thing"  in  whatever  he  undertook — yet 
it  almost  seems  to  me,  now  drawing  to  the  close  of  his  history, 
that  no  sufficient  idea  has  been  given  of  this  unselfish  man,  and 
true  nature's  gentleman.! 

*  Fonter  HSS. 

t  The  reader  will  lee  by  the  Padigree  thtt  the  present  representative* 
of  the  family  descend  from  George  Garrick  and  his  two  trivet,  s.od  tttrai 


440  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776 

Indeed  this  may  be  the  fitting  place  to  make  that  estimate 
of  his  character,  and  that  weighing  in  the  balance,  which 
becomes  an  official  duty.  It  is  an  infinite  homage  to  Gold- 
smith's exquisite  observation  and  powers  of  discriminating 
character,  which  have  indeed  helped  to  place  him  in  the  firs^ 
rank  of  dramatists,  that  the  known  course  of  Garrick's  cha- 
racter, such  as  we  have  been  reading  it,  proves  to  be  merely  a 
commentary  on  the  famous  portrait  in  "  Retaliation : " 

11  Here  lies  David  Garrick  ;  describe  me  who  can, 
An  abridgment  of  all  that  was  pleasant  in  man ; 
As  an  actor,  confess'd  without  rival  to  shine, 
As  a  wit,  if  not  first,  in  the  very  first  line. 
Yet,  with  talents  like  these,  and  an  excellent  heart, 
This  man  had  his  failings — a  dupe  to  his  art 
Like  an  ill- judging  beauty,  his  colours  he  spread. 
And  beplastered  with  rouge  his  own  natural  red. 
On  the  stage  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting, 
'Twas  only  that  when  he  was  off  he  was  acting. 
With  no  reason  on  earth  to  go  out  of  his  way, 
He  turned  and  he  varied  full  ten  times  a  day. 
Though  secure  of  our  hearts,  yet  confoundedly  sick 
If  they  were  not  his  own  by  finessing  and  trick, 
He  cast  off  his  friends,  as  a  huntsman  his  pack, 
For  he  knew  when  he  pleased  he  could  whistle  them  back. 
Of  praise  a  mere  glutton,  he  swallowed  what  came, 
And  the  puff  of  a  dunce,  he  mistook  it  for  fame. 
Till  his  relish  grown  callous,  almost  to  disease, 
Who  peppered  the  highest  was  surest  to  please. 
But  let  us  be  candid,  and  speak  out  our  mind ; 
If  dunces  applauded,  he  paid  them  in  kind. 
Ye  Eenricks,  ye  Eellys,  ye  Wood  falls  so  grave, 
What  a  commerce  was  yours,  while  you  got  and  you  gave  1 
How  did  Grub  Street  re-echo  the  shouts  that  you  raised, 
While  he  was  be-Rosciused,  and  you  were  bo-praised  ? 
But  peace  to  his  spirit,  wherever  it  flies, 
To  act  as  an  angel,  and  mix  with  the  skies. 
Those  poets  who  owe  their  best  fame  to  his  skill 
Shall  still  be  his  flatterers,  go  where  he  will ; 
Old  Shakspeare  receive  him  with  praise  and  with  love, 

•  And  Beaumonts  and  Bens  be  his  Kelly s  above." 

Every  line  almost  of  this  character  might  be  illustrated. 
The  charm  found  in  Garrick's  company  could  be  described  by 

Merriall  Garrick,  Mrs.  Docksey.  From  Carrington,  George's  son  by  the 
first  wife,  descend  his  grandchildren,  Christopher,  Albinia,  Elizabeth ;  and 
by  the  second  wife,  George,  Sarah,  and  Elizabeth.  Miss  Bell  Garrick,  the 
heroine  of  the  French  adventure,  was  married  to  Captain  Frederick  Scbaw, 
and  died  in  March,  1819.  Young  David,  the  nephew  of  Roscias,  died  in 
1795,  and  his  widow  married  Mr.  Evan  Protheroe,  of  Wales,  and  their 
child,  Emma,  married  Garrick  Bridges  Schaw — I  suppose  her  cousin — who 
assumed  the  name  of  Protheroe.  Catherine,  the  other  sister,  married  Mr. 
Payne. 


1776.]  CHARACTER.  441 

no  other  term  so  happily,  as  by  "  pleasant;"  familiar  experience 
whispering  to  us,  how  much  more  welcome  is  the  society  of 
the  "  pleasant "  than  of  the  professional  wits.  "  Sir,"  we  hear 
Johnson  saying  again  and  again,  "Garrick  is  the  first  man 
in  the  world  for  sprightly  conversation."  Sheridan,  in  his 
monody,  spoke  of  his  "  cheerful  wit."  "  Pleasant "  was  indeed 
the  just  epithet  for  his  gifts.  Behind  the  scenes,  in  the  green- 
room, says  one  of  his  own  actors,  he  would,  "during  the 
intervals  of  business,  enliven  the  whole  theatre  by  his  sallies 
of  gaiety  and  mirth,  which  showed  themselves  in  a  thousand 
shapes;  in  the  jests,  bans  mots,  apt  stories,  and  vivacities, 
thrown  out  in  a  mariner  so  pleasing,  so  frolicsome  and  original, 
that  all  were  made  happy  by  his  cheerfulness  and  good-humour.11 
This  is  a  pretty  sketch  of  what  pleasantness  should  be,  and 
of  its  results  on  others. 

This,  too,  was  the  sense  in  which  Goldsmith  must  have 
spoken  of  him,  as  "  a  wit — if  not  first,  yet  in  the  first  line." 
If  he  had  gifts  which  made  every  one  happy,  and  delighted 
those  who  were  in  his  society,  they  might  be  very  fairly 
taken  for  "  wit."  But  a  wit  strictly  he  was  not — nor  in  the 
first  line.  His  verses  are  agreeable,  but  nearer  to  gaiety  than 
to  wit ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  would  show  better  the  difference 
between  wit  and  "cleverness"  then  the  little  skirmish  of 
"Retaliation."  Goldsmith  is  witty,  Garrick  smart,  and 
scarcely  up  to  his  own  level  of  smartness.  What  "an  ex- 
cellent heart "  his  was  may  have  been  gathered  from  the  story 
of  his  life  just  told.  In  a  moment  we  shall  see  instances  in 
detail  of  his  kindness  and  generosity.  Then  comes  the  praise 
of  his  playing — "natural,  simple,  affecting" — three  of  the 
most  judiciously  chosen  words  that  could  be  conceived.  The 
first  to  be  nicely  distinguished  from  the  second,  though  they 
seem  alike.  For  his  representation  of  complicated  passion, 
which  though  in  nature  might  seem  to  want  simplicity,  he 
made  simple,  and  at  the  same  time,  steered  clear  of  insipidity, 
touched  the  heart,  and  was  "affecting."  This  exhausted 
Goldsmith's  praise ;  and  out  of  thirty-two  lines,  twenty-two  are 
given  to  minute  analysis  of  petty  defects  lying  on  the  surface. 
After  all,  in  a  nature  that  was  confessed  to  have  excellent 
heart,  and  all  that  was  pleasant  in  man — with  wit  and  genius, 
faults  or  defects  must  have  been  only  "failings."  We  may 
accept  the  beplastering  with  rouge  "his  own  natural  red;" 
and  the  acting  only  off  the  stage ;  and  grant  that,  "  with  no 
reason  on  earth  to  go  out  of  his  way,  he  turned  and  he  varied 
full  ten  times  a  day."  Nothing  was  more  true  than  that  curious 
as  well  as  common  charge  of  "  finessing  and  trick ; "  but  in  && 


442  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

case  the  innocence  lay  in  its  perfect  openness,  and  its  being 
apparent  to  every  one.  His  little  devices  were  seen  by  all 
his  friends,  and  he  was  " secure  of  our  hearts"  Nothing  was 
more  true.  He  had  vanity,  but  it  was  vanity  in  his  profession. 
He  believed,  too,  he  had  infinite  powers  of  diplomacy,  and  knew 
human  nature ;  hence  his  pleasure  in  writing  "  clever  "  letters, 
and  carrying  on  those  protracted  arguments  on  paper  with 
Murphy  and  others — a  weakness,  certainly.  It  was  finessing 
and  trick,  that  never  getting  into  company  without  "  laying  a 
plot  to  get  out  of  it,"  as  Colman  said ;  with  histrionic  attempts 
at  being  called  out  at  a  judicious  moment,  or  getting  away, 
like  Tom  Moore,  at  an  effective  moment  after  the  good  story, 
or  taking  some  sly  and  furtive  glances  down  the  room,  at 
"a  duke's  table,"  to  see  how  his  joke  told  on  the  butler 
or  footmen.  But  how  different  this  from  the  "  trick  "  that  has 
no  good  heart  behind,  and  "  finessing  "  for  personal  advantage, 
to  level  others  and  raise  oneself.  As  for  that  "  casting  off  his 
friends  "  as  a  huntsman  would  do  his  pack,  it  was  true  in  the 
sense  of  the  "  pack  "  being  too  often  ready  to  cast  itself  off 
from  him ;  he  would  let  it  go  without  resentment ;  and,  when 
it  was  weary  and  distressed,  and  glad  to  find  help  and  com- 
fort, his  cheerful  "  whistle  "  was  ready.  A  long  list  of  the 
"  hounds  "  who  returned,  thus  cringing,  to  the  feet  of  the  man 
they  had  snarled  at,  and  even  bitten,  whether  players,  authors, 
or  friends,  could  be  made  out.  But  this  was  coldness,  it  will 
be  said,  and  a  selfishness,  a  view  to  his  own  interest.  Let  us 
hear  Davies  a  moment  on  this  point,  a  writer  who  has  other- 
wise dealt  hardly  with  him : — "  Mr.  Garrick,  as  manager 
of  a  theatre,  who  had  a  variety  of  commerce  with  authors, 
actors,  painters,  scenemen,  &c,  thought  himself  obliged  often 
to  be  on  his  guard  against  innumerable  requests,  questions, 
claims,  and  petitions  of  a  thousand  people.  The  quickness  of 
his  conception,  and  the  precipitance  of  his  temper,  obliged  him  to 
make  use  of  that  caution,  whieh  some  persons  think  degenerated  into  art, 
....  Had  he  embraced  a  more  decided  conduct,  he  would,  in 
all  probability,  have  had  fewer  hours  of  vexation."  The  same 
"friend"  very  happily  explains  another  motive  for  this 
"  acting."  "  He  was  apt  to  be  too  soon  struck  with  anything 
that  offered  to  his  mind;  and  he  would  in  the  ardour  of 
a  moment  promise,  what  his  cooler  reflection  told  him  he 
ought  not  to  perform.  This  failing  accompanied  him  through 
life,  and  brought  along  with  it  much  vexation."  It  brought 
along  with  it  the  embarrassment  he  had  with  Murphy,  ana  a 
hundred  others,  and  those  attempts  to  extricate  himself  from 
good-natured  promises,  which  could  not  be  carried  out,  with- 


1776.]  CHARACTER.  443 

out  giving  offence.  These  blemishes  are  what  are  in  most 
minds ;  but  firmness,  and  perhaps  a  little  hypocrisy,  hide  them. 
We  may  be  excused  for  dwelling  at  length  6n  his  character ; 
for  the  whole  may  be  even  found  interesting,  as  a  picture 
of  human  nature  in  the  general.  He  could  "whistle  his 
friends  back."  Yes;  "to  his  honour  it  must  be  owned," 
again  says  Davies,  "  he  was  free  from  implacability,  as  several 
could  testify  who  gave  him  great  and  unmerited  provocation." 
We  can  go  no  further :  there  is  not  a  single  instance  where  he 
refused  to  be  reconciled,  nay,  was  even  ready  to  make  the  first 
advance.  Of  his  "  gluttony  "  of  praise  I  have  spoken  before, 
and  shown,  I  think,  how  eager  was  he  for  it,  as  evidence  that 
he  had  his  hold  on  the  town.*  So  too  with  that  relish  of  the 
"  puffs  "  of  dunces.  Only  Goldsmith  made  a  little  mistake  in 
the  motive.  He  did  not  care  so  much  for  their  "pepper;" 
but  in  those  Grub  Street  days,  when  the  horizon  was  darkened 
with  "  hacks,"  even  the  praise  of  dunces  was  almost  as  profit- 
able as  that  of  the  discriminating.  The  true  explanation  is, 
that  he  did  not  so  much  court  their  approbation  as  dread  their 
savage  attacks.  And  this  sensitiveness  friends  did  not  care  to 
distinguish  from  "  gluttony."  Well  might  Goldsmith  appeal 
to  the  crew  of  Kenricks  and  Kellys  and  Woodfalls,  the  former 
of  whom  was  a  mere  bravo,  the  second  a  person  who  had  writ- 
ten bitter  rhymes  on  the  stage,  could  write  more,  and  the  last 
of  whom  was  an  agent  of  the  dreadful  Junius.  Handsomely, 
too,  were  their  services  rewarded,  either  by  loans  of  money,  or 
the  acceptance  of  poor  plays. 

As  for  the  "  stinginess,"  the  common  form  of  slander  against 
Garrick,  we  see  Goldsmith  made  no  allusion  to  that.  Gar- 
rick's  endorsement  was  still  on  his  note,  and  the  poet  must 
have  known  many  a  story  of  this  kindly  assistance ;  and  I 
think  a  short  catalogue  of  his  benefits  will  settle  for  ever  these 
charges  of  meanness  and  saving. 

The  charge  of  avariciousness  had  become  a  "  stock "  one 
long  before  he  died;  actors  and  authors  went  away  from 
Drury  Lane,  swelling  the  cry  that  "  Garrick  was  so  stingy, 
Garrick  was  so  mean."  No  wonder  he  was  rich,  they  said, 
and  no  one  was  in  such  agonies  when  it  came  to  parting  with 
his  money.  The  jesters  joined  in  the  cry,  and  innumerable 
were  the  pleasant  stories  they  told  to  illustrate  "  Garrick's 
stinginess."    With  all  this,  echoed  again  and  again  until  the 

*  Reynolds  gave  an  explanation  of  all  Garrick's  fatigues  and  troubles 
even  »f  ter  his  fortune  was  made  ;  that  he  wished  to  preserve  his  popularity 
and  influence  with  the  great,  who  forget  those  who  cease  to  be  the  town 
talk. 


V 


444  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

character  of  "  stinginess  "  became  accepted,  there  was  an  im- 
pression abroad  that  Mr.  Garrick  could  at  times  be  a  little 
liberal.  There  were  a  few  instances  of  this  liberality  pretty 
well  known  during  his  lifetime,  which  seemed  inconsistent 
with  the  "  stingy "  character.  They  were  accounted  for  by 
other  motives  about  as  mean  as  the  stinginess.  "  Little  Davy" 
was  so  cunning  and  clever  in  all  things,  that  he  was  merely 
consulting  his  interest  We  have  seen  how  the  valet  mind  of 
Tate  Wilkinson  accounted  for  his  bounty  to  him.  It  will 
/EardlyT>e  credited  that  this  great  man — for  such  we  may  call 
(  him — was  about  the  most  benevolent  and  charitable  of  his 
]  time ;  not  in  that  pompous  shape  of  charity  which  sets  its 
name  down  ostentatiously,  for  great  sums  to  hospitals  and  in- 
stitutions, but  in  that  more  generous  and  laborious  charity 
which  helps  the  weak,  rescues  thh  struggling  friend  at  the 
critical  moment,  and  saves  credit  and  name  by  secret,  timely, 
and  judicious  aid  J  In  this  rare  exercise  of  Christian  virtue, 
the  great  actoT"was  conspicuous.     NeVer  was  a  man  so  ma- 

igned,  and,  worse  than  all,  maligned 

need  his  bounty.     He  was  the  most 

umane  of  men.     And  now  we  know 

ittle  carefulness  about  saving,  which 

wasteful  creatures  about  him  could  not  understand,  and  made 
merry  with,  was  all  to  the  one  end — of  laying  up  a  store  which 
he  could  dispense  magnificently;  or,  at  the  worst,  was  a 
"  peculiarity,    which  had  been  found  in  many  generous  men, 

oth  before  and  since. 

is  much  to  Tom  Davies'  credit,  who  had  his  own  grudges 
against  the  great  actor,  and  who  fancied  himself  aggrieved, 
that  when  he  comes  to  deal  with  this  matter — as  it  were,  over 
the  grave  of  his  friend — he  should  have  forgotten  all,  even  his 
own  rather  unfair  insinuations  in  other  portions  of  the  "  Life," 
and  given  way  to  a  warm  and  generous  burst  of  admiration. 
The  catalogue  of  Garrick's  good  deeds  would  be  a  long  one, 
indeed  as  long  as  his  own  life.  It  began  even  with  his  days 
of  early  success.  "  His  mind,"  says  Davies,  "  was  so  bountiful, 
that  he  scarcely  knew  what  it  was  to  deny.  No  man  seemed 
more  anxious  to  get  money,  none  more  willing  to  bestow  it 
generously.  To  those  who  knew  the  sums  he  constantly  gave 
away,  it  would  appear  that  his  sole  end  of  acquiring  wealth 
was  for  the  benefit  of  others.  I  shall  not  talk  of  his  public 
charities.  I  mean  such  actions  only  as  were  less  known  to  the 
world."  Here  is  a  fine  panegyric.  It  is  easy  to  give,  in  a 
mood  of  compassion.  But  Garrick  gave  on  principle,  and 
seemed  to  illustrate  Bishop  Butler's  fine  distinction  between 


>y  those  who  experi- 
pnerous,  kindly,  and 
it  all  his  thrift,  his 
ie  mean,  dissipated, 


1776.]  CHARACTER.  445 

the  merit  of  active  and  of  passive  charity.  "  His  bounty  was 
uniform,"  goes  on  Davies,  "  not  a  sudden  burst  of  humour." 
The  explanation  of  his  apparent  penuriousness,  was  the  natural 
one  of  recollection  of  the  early  miserable  struggles  at  Lich- 
field. It  was  noticed,  too,  that  even  when  he  had  begun  to 
be  a  little  prosperous,  his  generosity  then  began  also.  We  run 
hastily  over  the  instances  of  this  liberality,  to  which  the  allu- 
sions in  his  correspondence  help  us. 

His  offer  to  Clairon  has  been  mentioned.  Now  Burke  comes 
to  him  to  beg  a  loan  of  a  thousand  pounds,  which  is  cheerfully 
given,  though  it  may  perhaps  have  been  more  a  matter  of  con- 
venience to  the  great  orator  than  one  of  necessity.  Now  Baretti 
asks  for  fifty  guineas,  which  he  had  been  made  to  promise  he 
would  ask  for  if  in  want.  Now  an  obscure  player  begs  five 
guineas;  now  a  poor  fiddler  is  assisted  with  twenty-seven 
guineas,  is  given  a  place  in  the  Drury  Lane  orchestra,  and  then 
writes  impudent  and  ungrateful  letters  because  his  salary  is  not 
raised!     17 ow  Bickerstaff  writes  in  verse — 

"  Fifty  times,  as  1  suppose, 

I  have  troubled  you  in  prose." 
"Well,"  cry  you,  with  peevish  brow, 
"  What  the  plague's  the  matter  now  ? 

Teazed  and  worried  at  this  rate, 

.     .    .     Ay,  this  ever  is  his  way 

Every  now  and  then  to  send  me. 

To  these  Irishmen  commend  me : 

And  expect  me,  at  his  need — 

Fifty  pounds  !  not  I,  indeed." 

"  Sent  directly  "  is  Garrick's  prompt  endorsement  on  this 
appeal.  Capell,  the  Shakspearean,  was  also  lent  money;  so 
was  Dibdin ;  so  was  Wilkinson ;  so  was  Victor  £50,  generously 
made  a  present  of  to  the  debtor.  How  Foote,  Murphy,  Barry, 
and  Mossop  were  assisted  we  have  seen  in  the  course  of  this 
narrative. 

Did  his  friends  want  subscriptions  for  their  books,  he  was 
unwearied  in  soliciting  his  noble  friends,  and  thus  obtained 
large  sums  for  Lloyd,  Johnson,  Victor,  and  many  more.  A 
lady,  who  had  no  claim  on  him  but  having  known  him  and  his 
connections  at  Lichfield,  applied  to  him,  and  received  a  present 
of  a  hundred  pounds.  He  actually  kept  several  almoners,  to 
whom  he  gave  sums  to  be  distributed  at  their  discretion.  For 
the  hack-poet,  "  Kit  Smart,"  he  left  a  sum  of  money  in  Mr. 
Smith's  hands.  Sterne  also  was  helped.  For  one  of  his  own 
players,  Hardham,  he  went  security  for  a  hundred  pounds,  and 
by  a  kindly  extempore  puff  introduced  into  one  of  the  plays, 
sent  all  the  town  to  look  for  Hardham's  snuff  mixture.    When 


446  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

he  was  on  his  travels  he  met  Brompton,  the  painter,  who  was 
in  distress,  and  wanted  to  go  to  Rome  to  study.  Garrick  gave 
him  the  best  advice,  and  the  handsome  assistance  of  £150.*  To 
Simpson,  a  schoolfellow  in  difficulties,  he  gave  £1 00.  There 
was  even  a  grace  in  the  way  in  which  he  performed  these  good 
actions.  When  Mr.  Berenger,  Deputy-Master  of  the  Horse, 
was  obliged  to  confine  himself  in  sanctuary,  as  it  were,  at  the 
royal  stables,  his  friends,  who  loved  him,  took  up  the  matter, 
and  raised  money  to  defray  his  debts.  Garrick  sent  him  back 
his  bond  for  £250  10s.,  with  a  letter  in  which  he  hoped  that 
"  as  we  shall  have  a  bonfire  upon  the  occasion,  I  beg  that  you 
will  light  it  with  the  enclosed." 

"  Innumerable  instances  of  humanity, n  says  Davies,  "  could 
be  told  of  him,  enough  to  fill  a  volume."  There  was  a  surgeon 
of  reputation,  who  often  came  and  dined  and  supped  with 
them.  One  night  he  declared  that  without  a  thousand  pounds 
he  must  be  ruined.  Garrick  asked  what  security  he  had. 
"None  but  my  own,"  said  the  surgeon.  "Here's  a  pretty 
fellow,"  said  Garrick,  turning  to  Mrs.  Garrick,  "  who  wants  a 
thousand  pounds  on  his  own  security."  He  drew  a  cheque  for 
that  sum,  never  asked  for  it,  and  never  was  repaid.  Once  a 
friend  asked  him  for  a  trifle  for  a  poor  widow — say  two  guineas. 
"  I  can't  give  that,"  he  replied.  "  Well,  what  you  please."  He 
put  thirty  pounds  into  his  hand.  As  Davies  says,  "  of  this  I 
should  despise  the  mention,  if  it  were  a  matter  of  rarity  and 
wonder ; "  but  pages  could  be  filled  with  these  "  unofficial " 
acts  of  true  kindness.  It  was  discovered  after  his  death  that 
he  had  a  host  of  small  annuitants  depending  on  him.  At 
Hampton  every  inhabitant  of  the  place  could  tell  the  same  tale ; 
the  poor  of  that  place  lost  in  him  almost  an  affectionate  father. 
And  it  was  remarked  that  every  year  his  benefactions  and 
charities  were  steadily  increasing.  Very  kindly  and  pretty 
also  in  the  idea  was  his  little  festival  for  the  first  of  May,  when 
all  the  Hampton  poor  children  were  invited  to  his  garden,  and 
amused ;  presented  with  huge  cakes  by  his  own  hand,  and  a 
small  present  of  money.  When  Mr.  Christie,  head  of  the  well- 
known  auction  firm,  was  involved  in  a  difficulty  by  the  failure 
of  Mr.  Chase  Price,  one  of  his  patrons,  and  suffered  a  loss  of 
some  £5,000,  it  was  Mr.  Garrick  who  privately  offered  to  help 
him  through,  with  assistance  to  that  amount.  To  a  descendant 
of  Grotius  he  paid  a  small  annuity.  Thus  delicate,  gracious, 
kindly,  generous,  as  great  in  goodness  as  he  was  in  intel- 

*  Forster  MSS.  The  fellow's  head  was  soon  turned,  and  he  became  in- 
solent Garrick  wrote  to  him,  "  You'll  teach  me !  I  am  too  old  to  learn, 
and  you  are  too  young  to  teach  me." 


1776.]  CHARACTER.  447 

lectual  gifts,  he  remained  from  the  beginning  of  his  life  to  the 
end. 

But  the  reader  would  be  wearied  before  we  had  exhausted 
the  long  list  of  his  charities.  He  had  high  friends  and  connec- 
tions, and  these  he  made  use  of  to  help  friends.  For  a  naval 
officer  named  Thompson  he  obtained  repeated  promotion. 
This  gentleman  had  written  a  piece  for  the  stage,  which  was 
brought  out  not  very  long  before  Garrick's  death.  With  a 
disloyalty  not  usually  found  in  his  profession,  and  smarting 
under  the  sense  of  failure,  he  published  in  the  "  London 
Packet "  a  most  unmanly  attack  upon  Garrick,  under  the  title 
of  "  The  Elephant  of  Drury  Lane,"  in  which  he  charged  the 
actor  with  conspiring  to  destroy  his  play.  Bate  published  a 
reply,  in  which  he  told  the  town  very  plainly  the  navy  cap- 
tain's obligations  to  Mr.  Garrick.  This  letter  Thompson  chose 
to  fasten  on  Mr.  Garrick,  and  came  to  the  Adelphi,  with  his 
friend  Mr.  Crawford,  to  charge  him  with  the  authorship. 
Garrick  was  so  hurt  that  he  made  Bate,  the  editor,  swear  to 
an  affidavit  acknowledging  the  entire  authorship,  and  affirming 
that  he  had  never  seen,  or  inspired,  a  single  word  of  it.  The 
officer  apologised  abjectly.  "  To  the  last  period  in  my  life,  I 
will  own  my  gratitude  to  you."  But  in  a  case  like  this,  when 
he  had  been  cruelly  "  hurt,"  Garrick  never  gave  way,  and, 
deeply  wounded,  replied  in  these  words :  "As  I  never  satirised 
my  friends,  so  I  never  can  forget  any  unprovoked  satire  from 
one  I  once  called  my  friend.  It  is  impossible  that  Captain 
Thompson  and  I  can  ever  look  upon  each  other  but  with 
pain,  though  for  different  reasons.  Therefore,  the  less  we 
see  each  other  the  better.  Can  Mr.  Thompson  imagine,"  he 
goes  on,  "  that  the  man  he  has  known  and  tried  so  long,  could 
be  guilty  of  so  much  baseness  as  to  give  up  a  private  letter  for 
ridicule?  Be  assured,  sir,  that  I  have  as  totally  forgotten 
what  you  may  have  written  to  me  from  every  part  of  the 
world,  as  I  will  endeavour  to  forget  that  such  a  person  as  the 
writer,  and  his  unkindness,  ever  existed."  A  most  dignified, 
just,  and  manly  reproof. 

He  had  a  good-natured  way  of  performing  kind  offices.  Young 
Jephson,  one  of  his  clients,  was  always  behind  the  scenes, 
cheerful  and  jovial,  but  was  without  any  provision.  One 
night  the  manager  meets  a  nobleman  at  his  coulisses,  who  is 
going  as  Lord  Lieutenant  to  Ireland,  and  on  the  spot,  gets  him 
to  take  his  young  friend  in  his  retinue.  Jephson  afterwards 
became  Irish  Master  of  the  Horse,  sent  plays  over  to  Garrick, 
one  of  which,  "  Braganza,"  had  success,  and  was  in  due  time  as- 
sisted with  a  loan  of  no  small  amount.     Now  Richard  Burke 


448  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1776. 

wished  a  year's  longer  leave  of  absence  from  the  colonies,  and 
Garrick  obtains  it.  Now  Edmund  Burke  is  in  some  difficulty 
with  the  Commissioners  of  Customs:  he  sets  it  right  Now 
an  unfortunate  wretch,  lying  ordered  for  execution,  writes 
in  his  condemned  cell  the  most  piteous  appeal  to  him  from 
"  your  dying  and  ever  obliged  humble  servant,"  and  Garrick 
flies  to  fulfil  the  office,  works  night  and  day,  and  late  as  it  is, 
procures  a  respite.  Johnson,  too,  had  benefited  by  a  loan  of 
a  hundred  pounds.  But  we  could  go  on  for  pages,  swelling 
this  list.  His  life  was  one  round  of  kindly  duties  and  offices; 
and  much  as  we  may  admire  the  generosity  of  this  wonderful 
man,  we  can  no  less  admire  the  cheerfulness  and  dignity  with 
which  he  bore  slanders  of  those  who  actually  made  a  reputa- 
tion for  him  of  being  "mean  and  stingy." 

He  had  all  the  little  arts  of  kindness,  not  to  be  represented 
by  the  vulgar  measure  of  money,  yet  no  less  useful  to  friends. 
There  was  a  graciousness  about  him,  all  his  own.  He  goes  to 
Cumberland  on  the  morning  after  the  latter's  new  piece  had 
been  produced,  with  a  newspaper,  and  a  very  doleful  air  of 
comfort :  "  If  your  hide  be  as  thick  as  that  of  a  rhinoceros, 
this  will  cut  you  to  the  bone."  Then  he  would  read  a  sen- 
tence that  seemed  a  little  cold — then  would  read  on  to  himself, 
and  stop  to  moan  over  the  scurrility  of  the  papers :  "  I  dare  say 
this  is  Bickerstaff  again,  but  don't  you  mind  him.  No,  no.  I 
see — a  little  galled,  but  not  much  hurt.  You  must  stop  his 
mouth  with  a  golden  egg.  But  let  us  see  how  he  goes  on." 
Then  came  the  warmest*  most  liberal  panegyric,  all  written  by 
Garrick  himself,  actually  with  a  view  of  frustrating  the  attacks 
of  the  Press.  He  only  wished  by  this  little  bit  of  comedy  to 
add  to  his  friend's  enjoyment. 

But  the  little  Reynolds'  dialogue  I  have  before  spoken  of  is 
his  best  testimonial.  The  first,  where  Johnson  is  made  to 
attack  Garrick,  reads  artificially  and  like  Johnson ;  but  in  the 
second,  it  would  seem  that  the  image  of  his  departed  friend  rose 
up  before  the  kindly  artist,  and  hurried  his  pen  beyond  the 
lightness  of  a  mere  jevrd'esprit,  into  what  is  as  noble  a  pane- 
gyric, as  it  is  an  acute  outline  of  character.  No  one  had  heard 
so  much  of  the  common  stock-charges  against  his  friend ;  no 
one  so  effectually  not  merely  refuted,  but  explained  tchy  they 
had  been  made.  His  description  of  Garrick's  social  position  is 
an  epitaph.  Not  a  man,  he  says,  the  highest  in  rank  or  litera- 
ture, but  was  proud  to  know  Garrick,  and  glad  to  have  him  at 
his  table.  Foote,  indeed,  was  also  received,  but  it  was  merely 
as  "  a  jester  or  buffoon ; "  Garrick  was  invariably  received  as  fl 
gentleman.     The  reasons  for  this  treatment  should  be  recorded. 


1776.]  CHARACTER.  449 

It  was  simply  self-respect.  Foote  was  familiar  and  vulgar, 
and  heard  calling  peers  by  the  surname ;  but  Garrick  always 
showed  due  respect  for  rank.  His  reception  was  on  firm 
ground.  "  What  he  gave  was  returned,  and  what  was  returned  he 
kept  for  ever.  He  continued  advancing  till  the  last,  and  acquired 
every  advantage  of  high  birth,  except  precedence  of  going  into 
a  room ;  but  once  there,  was  treated  the  same  as  a  man  of  the  first 
distinction.  This  he  never  claimed,  but  was  voluntarily  allowed 
to  him."  As  we  have  seen  in  the  course  of  this  memoir,  the 
history  of  Garrick  furnishes  golden  rules,  and  teaches  how 
nearly  associated  with  the  virtues  and  morality  of  life,  is  the 
cultivation  of  the  little  decorous  arts,  which  seem  to  some  con- 
ventional. The  same  delicate  touching  shows  how  unsub- 
stantial was  Johnson's  charge  of  Garrick's  having  no  friend, 
but  friends ;  and  of  being  "  too  diffused."  "  Consider,"  says 
Reynolds,  "  a  man  whom  every  one  desired  to  know  I "  and  such  a 
one  could  not  receive,  or  cultivate  every  one  according  to  his 
deserts.  He  had  to  practise  a  sort  of  husbandry.  He  had  to 
divide  his  attention  among  many.  Others  thought  him  false, 
because  he  was  fond  of  qualifying  refusals  with  excuses,  and 
because  he  often  held  out  hopes.  The  truth  was,  he  did  not 
like  to  say  "  no,"  and  wished  to  oblige  where  he  could.  The 
wonder  is,  how  he  contrived  to  oblige  so  many.  The  same 
friend  bears  testimony  to  the  charm  of  his  company  at  the 
great  tables,  his  gaiety,  subdued  vivacity,  his  wit  on  light 
subjects,  and  his  acuteness  and  information  in  graver  matters. 
Charmingly  and  appropriately  did  one  of  his  friends  write 
under  his  portrait  the  melodious  line  of  Shakspeare : — 


"  A  merrier  man, 

Within  the  limit  of  becoming  mirth, 
I  never  spent  an  hour's  talk  withaL 
His  eye  begets  occasion  for  his  wit ; 
For  every  object  that  the  one  doth  catch 
The  other  turns  to  a  mirth- moving  jest ; 
Which  his  fair  tongue  (Conceit's  expositor) 
Delivers  in  -such  apt  and  gracious  words, 
That  aged  ears  play  truant  at  his  tales, 
And  younger  hearings  are  quite  ravished ; 
So  sweet  and  voluble  is  his  discourse." 

Measured  even  by  the  compliment  of  portrait  painting,  no 
man  ever  received  such  homage.  Part  of  this  was  no  doubt 
owing  to  his  wonderful  features,  and  expression;  but  even 
with  such  gifts,  no  man  has  ever  been  "  asked  to  sit,"  to  so 
extraordinary  a  degree.  Reynolds  begins  the  list,  having 
painted  him  four  times  over :  as  Kitely  ;  as  the  charming  Gar- 
rick himself,  with  his  thumbs  joined,  and  a  bright  intelligence 


450  THE  LITE  OF  DAVID  GAKRICK.  [1776. 

of  expectancy,  quite  delightful;  also  as  the  famous  figure, 
drawn  to  this  side  and  that,  by  the  rival  charms  of  the  comic 
and  the  tragic  Muse.  The  amused  indecision,  and  good- 
natured  perplexity  in  the  face,  is  admirable.  To  Gains- 
borough he  sat  at  least  five  times ;  and  one  of  Gainsborough's 
was  what  Mrs.  Garrick  considered  the  best  likeness  of  her 
husband  ever  made.  To  Wilson  he  sat  twice ;  to  Pine — for 
perhaps  the  most  striking  of  all  the  portraits — once.*  By  the 
firm  and  brilliant  Zoffany,  we  have  at  least  six  pictures,  thea- 
trical, and  in  private  life  ;  by  Pond,  two.  Hogarth,  Angelica 
Kauffman,  Dance,  Worlidge,  Hudson,  Cotes,  Hone,  Mortimer 
— all  good  artists — attempted  him ;  also  Carmontelle,  Hay- 
man,  Dawes,  De  Wilde,  Loughterburg,  Koberts,  Houston,  Par- 
kinson, and  Van  der  Gucht  We  might  certainly  wish  that 
Reynolds  had  carried  out  a  plan,  which  he  had  often  discussed 
with  his  friend — namely,  a  large  picture,  with  the  actor  in  the 
middle,  in  his  natural  air  and  dress,  but  surrounded  by  all  his 
great  characters.  Pine's  certainly  claims  to  have  been  done 
under  the  best  conditions,  at  a  time  when  he  was  not  too  far 
advanced  in  life,  as  were  many  of  the  others,  but  when  he  was 
in  the  prime  of  all  his  powers — his  charming  eyes  in  all  their 
brightness,  his  features  in  all  their  force.  The  list  of  these 
flattering  compliments — of  the  small  sketches  and  etchings- 
would  be  endless.  In  one  he  is  drawn  on  his  sofa,  in  a 
flowered  dressing-gown,  with  the  Muse  of  Shakspeare  address- 
ing him — 

"  Take,  0  take  me  to  your  arms  ! " 

In  others  he  is  crowned.  Well,  indeed,  might  his  walls  have 
been  crowded  with  these  offerings ;  but  the  truth  was,  com- 
paratively few  were  in  his  possession,  he  having  given  most  of 
them  away.  No  face  could  be  more  striking,  or  tempting  to 
the  painter.  Coming  on  his  portrait  in  a  portfolio  of  prints, 
we  should  say,  "  Here  is  a  Frenchman's."  The  brilliant  eyes, 
darting  fire,  rolling  from  side  to  side — the  rapid  change  of  ex- 
pression— the  marked  features — nay,  the  face  itself,  were 
entirely  French.  So  was  the  vivacity,  and  the  two  sides  to 
his  genius.  Indeed,  much  of  Garrick's  gifts  may  be  traced  to 
the  French  blood  in  his  veins.! 

*  Reynolds  also  did  a  sketch  of  him  in  the  green-room, 
t  Dr.  Buraey  collected  all  the  engraved  portraits  which  are  now  in  the 
British  Museum  Library. 


1778.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  451 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

ILLNESS  AND  DEATH. — 1778-79. 

After  this  glimpse  at  a  family  circle,  we  return  to  the 
centre  figure,  now  en  retraite,  and  fairly  entered  on  his  retire- 
ment. The  attentions  and  kindness  of  his  friends  now  re- 
doubled. Now  that  he  was  free,  they  competed  with  each 
other  for  his  society.  He  was  overwhelmed  with  invitations. 
Sir  Watkyn  Wynne  claimed  him  for  a  long-promised  visit 
to  Wynnestay.  Irish  friends — the  Caldwells  of  Castle  Cald- 
well, whom  he  had  met  abroad  at  Florence — pressed  him  to 
visit  them  in  Ireland,  a  country  which  he  had  not  seen  for 
some  thirty  years,  but  to  which  his  heart  had  often  turned. 
His  kind,  gracious,  and  most  grateful  letter  is  almost  extrava- 
gant in  its  acknowledgments.  He  most  sincerely  wished  that 
it  was  in  his  power,  as  it  was  in  his  heart,  to  show  his  grati- 
tude. It  had  long  been  his  wish  to  visit  a  kingdom  where  he 
had  been  honoured  with  every  mark  of  regard  and  kindness. 
He  did  not  quite  give  up  the  hope  of  getting  over  there,  but 
Mrs.  Garrick  was  so  distressed  by  sea  voyages ;  and  then  he 
makes  the  remarkable  declaration  that  he  had  not  been  away 
a  single  day  from  Mrs.  Garrick  during  the  twenty-eight  years 
of  their  marriage,  and,  therefore,  could  not  now  begin  to 
think  of  going  alone.  Lord  Pembroke,  too,  was  eager  to  secure 
him  for  Wilton. 

His  holiday  had  fairly  begun.  He  kept  Hampton  open,  and 
got  the  hearty  Rigby  to  come  for  a  pleasant  day.*    Mistley, 

*  His  invitation  to  his  friend  "  Haly  Paley "  is  so  characteristic  and 
spirited,  that  we  may  give  a  portion  of  it  here.  "  Most  unfortunately,  my 
dear  Haly  Paley,  the  Hamptonians  are  engaged.  ....  But  why  may  not 
that  other  party  take  place  at  our  return  I  .  .  .  .  and  if  you  can  take  any 
pleasure  in  a  roasted  doctor,  and  have  no  aversion  to  roasted  venison,  we 
wiU  treat  you  with  both.  Open  your  mind  to  me,  I  beseech  you,  my  dearest 
Haley,  in  all  naked  simplicity ;  hearken  with  joy  and  gladness  to  tidings  I 
shall  declare  unto  you.  On  or  about  the  7th  or  8th  of  the  next  month,  the 
Royalty  of  Mistley  will  honour  Hampton  with  his  presence ;  and  as  I 
would  choose  to  hive  him  in  all  his  glory  ....  let  the  ffalys,  the  Wrott- 
leys,  the  Mollys,  the  Dimples,  and  the  Cupids  be  kept  for  that  high  festival. 
To  which  let  the  Reynolds,  the  Chamier,  and  the  Adam,  the  first  of  men, 
be  called  by  sound  of  trumpet ;  and  let  the  Loves,  the  Graces,  with  the 

rest  attend Yours,  my  dearest  Paley,  in  all  truth,  naked  truth,  and 

most  affectionate  warmth  of  mysterious  conjunction,  Davt  Pavy.    Prayr 
if  possible,  an  explicit  answer  by  the  bearer." 


I  Sing  tantan 

|  He  seems  to  hare  paid  a  visi 

Wales;  and  though  it  may  be  c 
private  theatricals,  I  find  amoi 
prologue  to  be  spoken  on  that  < 

"  I  who  have  strutte< 
In  Royal  robes  and 
Now  though  I  haw 
And  should  be  wise 
*  *  * 

No  wonder  vanity  1 
That  now  I  feel  mj 

What  must  have  pleased  him 
was  the  scene  in  the  House  of 
altercation  between  two  memt 
Squire  Baldwin,  moved  that  tb 
contrived  to  remain,  no  doubt  1 
many  friends,  at  which  the  co 
nant,  and  on  the  following  day ; 
propriety  of  allowing  stage  pla 
Nothing  could  have  been  hap 
known  in  Garrick's  own  pro 
Burke,  in  a  splendid  panegyric, 
had  taught  them  all.  Fox  an 
same  strain,  and  talked  of  him 
House  unanimously  agreed  tha 
age  should  not  be  disturbed. 


{1779.  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  453 

He  had  found  a  new  friend  in  Miss  Hannah  More,  who  had 
been  one  of  the  most  enraptured  listeners  at  his  farewell  per- 
formances, and  he  had  good-naturedly  helped  forward  her 
rather  heavy  play.  "  She  was  sure,"  says  "  Kitty "  Clive, 
"  everything  you  touched  would  turn  into  gold ;  and  though 
she  had  great  merit  in  the  writing,  still  you  dandled  it,  and 
fondled  it,  and  then  carried  it  in  your  arms  to  town  to  nurse."* 
It  was  for  this  lady's  play  that  he  furnished  a  prologue,  in 
which  he  indiscreetly  alluded  to  the  doubtful  Chevalier  D'Eon. 
The  tone  of  the  lines  was  scarcely  in  good  taste,  especially  as 
he  had  the  lady  down  at  Hampton,  where,  for  her  amusement, 
he  had  given  an  imitation  of  how  a  Frenchman  and  English- 
man would  behave  in  the  same  situation.  He,  however,  made 
handsome  apologies. 

The  Garricks— husband  and  wife — regarded  her  with  extra- 
ordinary affection.  She  was  constantly  at  Hampton,  where 
the  host  read  for  his  guests,  and  indulged  in  his  most  sportive 
sallies.  A  most  noble  gathering  came  to  stay.  Koscius  was, 
as  usual,  the  life  and  soul  of  the  company,  "  and  always  says 
so  many  home  things,  pointed  at  the  vices  and  follies  of  those 

and  about  Bristol,  have  you  not  yet  heard  that  Mrs.  Chrriek  and  J  were 
separated  t  TeU  the  truth,  dear  Nine,  and  shame  you  know  whom.  To  our 
very  great  surprise,  a  great  friend  of  ours  came  from  London  ;  and  to  his 
greater  surprise,  found  us  laughing  over  our  tea,  under  our  walnut-tree. 
He  took  me  aside,  and  told  me  it  was  all  over  the  town,  from  Hyde  Park 
Corner  to  Whitechapel  dunghill,  that  I  had  parted  with  Mrs.  Garrick. 
Tou  may  easily  suppose  this  was  great  matter  of  mirth  to  us.  We 
imagined  somebody  had  had  a  mind  to  joke  with  our  friend,  but  upon 
inquiry  we  found  that  such  a  report  had  been  spread ;  but,  to  comfort 
your  heart,  be  assured  that  we  are  still  as  much  united  as  ever,  and  are 
both  so  well  that  there  is  a  prospect  of  dragging  on  our  clogs  for  some 
years  to  come. 

"  My  theatrical  curiosity  diminishes  daily,  and  my  vanity,  as  an  author, 
is  quite  extinct ;  though,  by  the  bye,  I  have  written  a  copy  of  verses  to 
Mr.  Baldwin,  the  member  of  Shropshire,  upon  his  attack  upon  me  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  He  complained  that  a  celebrated  gentleman  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  House  when  everybody  else  was  excluded,  and  that  I  gloried 
in  my  situation.  Upon  these  last  words  my  muse  has  taken  flight,  and 
with  success.  I  have  described  the  different  speakers,  and  it  is  said  well, 
and  strong,  and  true.  I  read  them  to  Lord  North,  Lord  Qower,  Lord 
Weymouth,  Mr.  Rigby,  &c,  and  they  were  all  pleased.  If  I  have  time 
before  I  am  obliged  to  send  away  this  long  letter,  you  shall  have  the  first 
copy,  though  you  must  take  care  not  to  suffer  them  to  go  from  your  own 
hands.  I  have,  upon  my  word,  given  them  to  nobody.  Burke  and  Mr. 
Townshend  behaved  nobly  upon  the  occasion.  The  whole  House  groaned 
at  poor  Baldwin,  who  is  reckoned,  par  excellence,  the  dullest  man  in  it ;  and 
a  question  was  going  to  be  put,  to  give  me  an  exclusive  privilege  to  go  in 
whenever  I  pleased.     In  short,  I  am  a  much  greater  man  than  1  thought." 

*  Clive  was  jealous  of  "  these  Moors,"  as  she  called  them.  I  have  col- 
lected all  her  characteristic  letters  in  a  little  "  Life,"  recently  published. 


454  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1778— 

with  whom  he  converses,  but  in  so  indirect,  well-bred,  and 
good-humoured  a  way,  that  every  one  must  love  him,  and 
none  but  fools  are  offended. "  At  a  party,  where  were  Wynd- 
ham,  Sheridan,  and  Lord  Palmerston,  he  literally  kept  the 
table  in  a  roar  for  four  hours.  He  told  his  famous  story  of 
"Jack  Pocklington"in  a  manner  so  entirely  new,  and  so  infinitely 
witty,  that  the  company  have  done  nothing  but  talk  of  it  ever 
since.  "  I  have  often  heard  of  this  story :  it  is  of  a  person  who 
came  to  offer  himself  for  the  stage,  with  an  impediment  in  his 
speech.  He  gives  the  character,  too,  in  as  strong  a  manner  as 
Fielding  could  have  done." 

To  the  same  lively  admirer  we  owe  an  account  of  his  read- 
ing before  the  Court.  He  prepared  his  own  farce  of  "  Lethe," 
where  he  recited  a  fable  called  the  "Blackbird  and  Royal 
Eagle  "  as  his  prologue.  Some  part  of  it  was  affecting,  where 
he  speaks  of  the  sprightly  blackbird,  who  was  famous  for 
his  imitative  powers,  and  could  exactly  mimic  the  tender 
notes  of  the  nightingale,  or  the  low  comic  noises  of  the  crow 
and  magpie.  "But  one  day,  happening  to  look  on  his  once  fine 
glossy  plumage,  he  found  that  his  feathers  began  to  turn  grey, 
his  eye  had  lost  its  lustre;  and  he  also  began  to  be  lame.  This 
determined  him  to  give  up  his  mimicry,  and  he  resolved  to  be 
silent,  and  not  hop  about  from  tree  to  tree,  but  confine  him- 
self to  one  snug  bush.  The  royal  eagle,  however,  hearing  of 
the  talents  of  the  lively  creature,  sent  for  him  to  Court,  and 
insisted  on  hearing  him  sing.  This  honour  overturned  all  his 
prudent  resolution;  he  found  his  feathers  were  restored  to 
their  native  black,  his  eye  resumed  its  fire,  and  he  was  himself 
again." 

This  graceful,  elegant  thought — worthy  of  the  man — did 
not,  however,  rouse  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Court  audience ;  the 
etiquette  being  not  to  applaud.  This  coldness  effectually 
checked  and  chilled  his  exertions.  "  It  was,"  he  complained, 
"  as  if  they  had  thrown  a  wet  blanket  over  me." 

The  pleasant  and  admired  Hannah,  who  at  this  time  was  the 
gayest  of  the  gay,  describes  another  pretty  scene,  and  describes 
it  prettily  too : — "  At  six  I  begged  leave  to  come  home,  as  I 
expected  my  petite  assembled  a  little  after  seven.  Mrs.  Garrick 
offered  me  all  her  fine  things ;  but,  as  I  hate  admixtures  of 
finery  and  meanness,  I  refused  everything  except  a  little 
cream,  and  a  few  sorts  of  cakes.  They  came  at  seven.  The 
dramatis  persona  were  Mrs.  Boscawen,  Mrs.  Garrick,  and  Miss 
Reynolds;  my  beaux  were  Dr.  Johnson,  Dean  Tucker,  and 
last,  but  not  least  in  our  love,  David  Garrick.  He  was  the 
very  soul  oi  tSia  com\&i^ttcA\  wsx<st  saw  Johnson  in  such 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  455 

perfect  good-humour.  Sally  knows  we  have  often  heard  that 
one  can  never  properly  enjoy  the  company  of  these  two  unless 
they  are  together.  There  is  great  truth  in  this  remark ;  for 
after  the  Dean  and  Mrs.  Boscawen  (who  were  the  only 
strangers)  were  withdrawn,  and  the  rest  stood  up  to  go,  John- 
son and  Gar-rick  began  a  close  encounter,  telling  old  stories, 
*  e'en  from  their  boyish  days,'  at  Lichfield.  We  all  stood  round 
them  above  an  hour,  laughing  in  defiance  of  every  rule  of 
decorum  and  Chesterfield.  I  believe  we  should  not  have 
thought  of  sitting  down  or  of  parting,  had  not  an  impertinent 
watchman  been  saucily  vociferous.  After  dinner  Garrick  took 
up  the  '  Monthly  Keview '  (civil  gentlemen,  by  the  bye,  these 
'Monthly  Reviewers'),  and  read  'Sir  Eldred'  with  all  his 
pathos  and  all  his  graces.  I  think  I  never  was  so  ashamed  in 
my  life ;  but  he  read  it  so  superlatively,  that  I  cried  like  a 
child.  Only  think,  what  a  scandalous  thing  to  cry  at  the 
reading  of  one's  own  poetry !  Mrs.  Garrick  twinkled  as  well 
as  I,  and  made  as  many  apologies  for  crying  at  her  husband's 
reading,  as  I  did  for  crying  at  my  own  verses.  She  got  out  of 
the  scrape  by  pretending  she  was  touched  at  the  story,  and  J, 
by  saying  the  same  thing  of  the  reading." 

He  still  took  a  great  interest  in  the  theatre  and  its  doings, 
and  seems  to  have  had  some  weight  in  the  recommendation  of 
plays,  &c.  And  this  voice  he  certainly  was  entitled  to,  as  he 
had  actually  a  heavier  stake  in  the  concern  than  any  one  of  the 
partners.  For  he  held  a  mortgage  on  Lacy's  share — secured, 
however,  on  the  whole  four  shares — for  the  large  sum  of  twenty- 
two  thousand  pounds.  This  was  a  serious  stake,  and  it  very 
soon  was  to  cause  him  much  uneasiness.  Retired,  as  he  thought 
he  was,  he  was  still  to  have  responsibility.  The  change  had 
come,  and  presently  he  saw  that  Sheridan's  carelessness  and 
laziness  were  imperilling  the  security  every  year.  Even  Mrs. 
Clive,  down  at  Twickenham,  found  everybody  raving  at  the 
supineness  of  Sheridan.  "  There  never  was  in  nature  such  a 
contrast  as  Garrick  and  Sheridan.  What  have  you  given  him," 
she  asked,  "  thai  he  creeps  so?"  Yet  Lacy,  who  seems  to  have 
inherited  his  father's  petulance,  could  scarcely  conduct  himself 
with  decent  forbearance  to  a  creditor  who  had  so  much  in  his 
power.  When  the  second  season  began,  the  profits  were  only 
just  enough  to  discharge  the  interest  money  on  the  debts ;  and 
the  first  season  only  brought  Lacy  five  hundred  pounds.  This 
did  not  look  hopeful  Yet  in  the  face  of  such  difficulties,  he 
could  write  to  Garrick  in  such  a  strain  as  this :  "  No  unkind 
treatment  shall  ruffle  my  temper,  or  make  me  decide  uncandidly 
on  the  proposals  I  now  wait  for.    On  the  other  hand,  no  dis- 


456  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK-  [1778— 

tress,  no  oppression  shaU  force  me  to  amsent  to  what  I  coidd  not  other- 
wise acquiesce  in"  Garrick  had  not  pressed  him,  but  thought 
that  he  had  proposed  to  pay  off  the  mortgage.  The  good-na- 
tured creditor  passed  over  this  behaviour  on  a  sort  of  excuse 
being  made,  and  was  forbearing.  The  only  result  of  this  in- 
dulgence was  a  notice  from  the  proprietors  within  a  few  weeks, 
declaring  their  inability  to  pay  any  interest  until  all  the  debts 
of  the  theatre  had  been  cleared  off  This  was  an  alarming  in- 
timation. Two  thousand  two  hundred  a-year  was  scarcely  a 
trifle.  Garrick's  answer  was  a  prompt  notice  of  foreclosure. 
The  proceedings  brought  out  a  piece  of  duplicity  on  the  part  of 
Lacy;  for  he  wrote  to  disclaim  all  share  in  the  notice  that  had 
been  sent,  and  to  protest  against  the  mortgage  being  paid  ott, 
declaring  that  the  interest  would  be  found,  all  in  due  course. 
Garrick  at  once  softened,  and  sent  him  a  message  that  he  might 
depend  he  should  not  be  distressed.  Yet  he  presently  dis- 
covered that,  before  this  transaction,  Lacy  had  bargained  to 
transfer  all  his  interest  to  Sheridan  for  a  large  price.  This 
quite  explained  his  disinclination  to  have  the  mortgage  paid  off 

Yet  this  was  not  all.  Linley,  another  of  the  proprietors, 
assumed  that  some  paragraph  reflecting  on  the  theatre,  that 
appeared  in  the  papers,  was  written  by  Garrick ;  and,  acting 
on  this  presumption,  chose  to  write  an  offensive  one  in  reply, 
in  which  much  ridicule  was  thrown  upon  the  late  manager.  For 
this,  he,  like  Lacy,  was  compelled  to  apologise.  Very  soon 
Mr.  Garrick  had  to  address  "  the  new  patentees  "  collectively 
in  plain  terms.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  wrote,  "  the  rudeness  of  your 
letters,  always  the  sign  of  a  bad  cause,  I  shall  pass  over  with 
contempt"  But  as  they  proposed  an  arbitration,  he  agreed  to 
refer  the  matter  to  their  respective  attorneys,  and  declined  to 
have  any  further  correspondence  with  them.  After  this  we  can 
appreciate  Garrick's  rare  discretion  as  a  manager,  beside  which 
we  may  put  this  exhibition  of  incompetence  and  stupidity.  For 
so  short  a  period  as  eighteen  months  they  could  not  conduct 
their  theatre. 

The  theatre  was  now  to  have  other  losses,  and  his  departure 
seemed  to  be  the  forerunner  of  a  general  decay.  For  within 
six  months,  Weston  and  Shuter,  a  pair  of  infinite  humour, 
Woodward,  the  comedian,  and  Barry,  the  very  essence  of  ten- 
derness, and  now  literally  worn  out  of  existence  by  the  never- 
ceasing  rackings  of  gout,  were  all  swept  away.  Almost  as  soon 
as  he  was  gone,  the  decay  set  in.  The  well-known  character  of 
Sheridan  was  no  guarantee  for  steadiness  or  efficiency.  The 
manager  would  come  into  the  green-room  to  hear  Cumberland's 
new  play  read,  yawn  through  a  couple  of  acts,  half  asleep,  and 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  457 

give  as  an  excuse  that  he  had  been  up  for  two  nights  before. 
It  is  very  characteristic  that  he  should  have  taken  Garrick's  per- 
formances very  easily,  partly  from  sheer  laziness.  He  once 
lamented,  at  a  supper,  that  he  had  not  seen  the  great  actor  as 
often  as  he  might  have  done.  The  reason  he  gave  is  equally 
characteristic  of  Thomas  Sheridan,  his  father ;  for  this  actor 
had  always  instilled  into  his  son  that  he  himself  was  the  first 
player  in  England ;  the  son,  therefore,  did  not  care  to  see  an 
inferior  player. 

The  sparkling  "  School  for  Scandal "  was  already  in  re- 
hearsal. It  had  been  read  by  Garrick,  who  was  infinitely  im- 
pressed with  its  wit  and  power.  Never  was  a  play  so  cast, 
and  though  it  has  been  acted  again  and  again  since,  with  great 
players  in  this  and  that  character,  every  filling  of  the  parts 
has  been  inferior.  He  had  been  also  greatly  pleased  with 
"  The  Duenna."  "  Amidst  the  mortifying  circumstances  at; 
tendant  upon  growing  old,"  says  Elia,  "  it  is  something  to  have 
seen  ( The  School  for  Scandal '  in  its  glory.  It  is  impossible 
that  it  should  be  played  now.  No  piece,"  he  goes  on,  "  was 
ever  so  completely  cast  in  all  its  parts  as  this  manager's  comedy." 
King  was  Sir  Peter;  Gentleman  Smith,  Charles  Surface;  "Jack" 
Palmer,  Joseph;  Yates,  Sir  Oliver;  Parsons,  Crabtree;  and 
Dodd,  Sir  Benjamin;  with  Abington,  and  "  charming,  natural 
Miss  Pope,  the  perfect  gentlewoman  as  distinguished  from  the 
fine  lady  of  comedy."  What  a  cast — what  a  comedy !  Sir 
George  Beaumont  met  Garrick  in  the  lobby  of  Drury  Lane  on 
its  first  night,*  just  after  the  play  was  over,  "  and  with  dart- 
ing eyes  I  remember  he  expressed  his  admiration  of  the  play, 
and  particularly  praised  the  fourth  act"t  The  lucky  Brinsley 
saw  his  own  piece  cast,  as  later  generations  may  never  hope  to 
see  it  cast  t  It  is  the  great  comedy  of  the  century.  Yet  this 
was  to  be  the  last  effort  of  Drury  Lane.  As  Garrick  had  made 
his  final  appearance,  so  comedy  and  good  acting  were  here  to 
make  their  bow. 

Before  four  months  had  gone  over,  Lacy  was  busy  with 
some  underhand  negotiations  for  disposing  of  his  share  to  Cap- 

#  May  8,  1777. 

t  Cradock.    Garrick  addressed  some  lines— 

TO  THB  AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  SCHOOL  FOB  SCANDAL." 

"  It  is  a  shame,  young  Sheridan,  and  ne'er  will  he  forgot — 
With  more  of  wit  than  falls  to  man,  with  character  and  plot — 
That  you  should  dare  to  mount  the  stage,  and  fascinate  the  town ; 
A  suckliug  poet  of  your  age  to  seize  the  laurel  crown  ! " — ffUl  MSS, 

t  I  may  refer  the  reader  to  "  The  Lives  of  the  Sheridans  "  for  a  full  ac- 
count of  Qarrick's  relations  with  Richard  Brinsley. 


458  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1778— 

tain  Thomson  and  Mr.  Langford ;  efforts  which  Sheridan,  who 
designed  eventually  to  have  the  whole  control  of  the  theatre 
himself,  took  extraordinary  steps  to  counteract.  The  negotia- 
tion had  been  all  but  completed,  when  Sheridan  suddenly 
absented  himself,  .and  sent  word  to  Lacy  to  look  after  the 
management.  To  the  two  intending  purchasers,  he  also  sent 
notice  that  he  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  manage- 
ment Sheridan  brought  over  all  the  performers  to  his  side. 
His  description  of  the  whole  is  admirable;  "indeed  there 
never  was  known  such  an  universally  epidemic  disorder  as  has 
raged  among  our  unfortunate  company;  it  differs  from  the 
plague  by  attacking  the  better  sort  first ;  the  manner,  too,  in 
which  they  are  seized,  I  am  told,  is  very  extraordinary;  many 
who  were  in  perfect  health  at  one  moment,  on  receiving 
a  billet  from  the  prompter  to  summon  them  to  their  banners, 
are  seized  with  sudden  qualms,  and  before  they  can  get 
through  their  contents,  are  absolutely  unfit  to  leave  their 
room."  This  was  the  first  stage  of  demoralization.  These 
tactics,  so  characteristic  of  Sheridan,  prevailed,  and  the  pur- 
chasers were  frightened  off.  In  1778  he  contrived  to  buy 
Lacey's  moiety  for  £45,000;  but  of  this  money  the  other 
partners  found  £10,000,  and  took  Sheridan's  original  share 
as  an  equivalent.  Instead  therefore  of  having  a  fourth  voice 
in  the  management,  his  single  interest  was  now  equal  to  that 
of  the  two  other  shares.  He  afterwards  purchased  Dr.  Ford's 
share,  and  thus  became  almost  uncontrolled  master.  Where 
all  this  money  was  found  was  a  mystery  to  his  friend  and  bio- 
grapher, as  indeed  it  must  have  been  to  all  who  knew  him.* 

Garrick  could  not  keep  away  from  the  old  scene.  But  his 
treatment  there  was  ungracious  enough.  It  was  rumoured  in 
the  Dublin  coffee-houses  that  Sheridan,  the  father,  had  behaved 
rudely  to  him  in  the  green-room.  "  Old  Bubble  and  Squeak,1' 
as  he  was  called,  who  nad  not  forgotten  the  old  rivalry  and  the 
old  quarrel,  seemed  to  resent  Garrick's  appearance  behind  the 
scenes.  When  young  Bannister  was  rehearsing  Zaphna,  he 
was  anxious  to  have  hints  from  Roscius,  of  whom  it  had  been 
a  great  part  Old  Sheridan  thought  this  an  interference,  and 
actually  sent  Garrick  a  rude  message  to  that  effect  by  Ban- 
nister. "  Pray  assure  your  father,"  wrote  Garrick,  much  hurt, 
to  the  manager,  "  that  I  meant  not  to  interfere  with  his  depart- 
ment. I  imagined  (foolishly  indeed)  my  attending  Bannister's 
rehearsal  of  the  part  I  had  once  played,  and  which  your  father 

*  In  the  "  Lives  of  the  Sheridans  "  will  be  found  an  explanation.    He 
gave  annuities  on  the  theatre  as  security ;  and  these  were  left  unpaid. 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  459 

never  saw,  might  have  assisted  the  cause,  without  giving  the 
least  offence.  I  love  my  ease  too  well  to  be  thought  an  inter- 
loper. However,  upon  no  consideration  will  I  ever  interfere 
again  in  this  business."  This  rebuff  was  humiliating;  but 
Garrick's  experience  should  at  least  have  taught  that  such  un- 
official relations,  after  retirement,  or  an  interference  which  is 
tolerated,  always  brings  an  awkwardness. 

Still  friends  induced  him  to  return.  When  Sheridan's 
"  Gamp  "  was  being  got  up,  Garrick  remained  one  night  after 
the  audience  had  gone,  to  see  the  effect  of  some  scenery,  and 
caught  a  severe  cold,  which  it  would  seem  he  never  was  quite 
able  to  shake  off.  News  of  this  attack  reached  Lord  Camden, 
who  wrote  to  learn  the  truth  with  an  eagerness  infinitely 
creditable  to  their  long  friendship.  He  had  learned  by  inquiry 
that  he  was  now  recovered;  but  this  did  not  quite  satisfy 
him.*  Garrick  soon  became  well  enough  to  go  down  to  Lord 
Palmerston's,  in  Hampshire,  and  was  at  the  review  at  Win- 
chester, where  it  was  remarked  that  he  was  looking  quite  well 
again.  It  was  at  Lord  Palmerston's,  in  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber, that  he  signed  his  will,  which  is  attested  by  that  noble- 
man, and  by  a  clergyman  and  his  wife.  It  was  on  the  Review 
ground  that  the  King  heard  him  calling  for  "a  horse!  a 
horse ! "  noticed  his  burlesque  attitude,  and  made  the  flatter- 
ing remark  that  it  could  only  be  the  great  actor  who  could 
speak  in  that  way. 

During  these  last  few  months — for  they  were  to  be  the  last 
of  his  good  and  admirable  life — all  his  friends  seemed  to  be 
nervously  anxious  to  show  •  how  much  they  regarded  him, 
and  were  persevering  in  their  affectionate  wishes,  attentions, 
and  compliments.  Hannah  More  told  him  how  "a  sweet  girl," 
at  that  review,  stood  near,  and  forgot  to  look  at  the  King  or 
at  his  troops.  The  receipt  of  his  letter,  announcing  that  he 
was  better,  made  her  more  joyful  than  ever  she  felt  in  her  life. 
"  Yet  it  was  not  a  very  mirthful  kind  of  joy,  for  I  shed  tears 
at  a  part  of  it,  which  is  not  to  be  answered,  nor  even  thought 
of ;  and  when  I  read  it  to  the  rest,  we  had  a  concert  of  crying." 
He  was,  as  he  expressed  it,  wandering  about  for  health — now 
at  this  noble  house,. now  at  that,  and  flying  from  one  medicine 

*  "  For  I  cannot  be  easy  till  I  receive  this  account  confirmed  by  your  own 
hand.  /  have  arrived  at  a  time  of  life  when  the  lota  of  an  old  friend  it  tr- 
reparable;  and  however  it  has  happened  that  we  have  not  lately  met  as 
often  as  formerly,  my  friendship  is  as  warm  as  ever,  and  I  am  sure  there  is 
not  one  among  your  large  catalogue  of  friends  who  is 

"  More  affectionately  yours,  than 

"Camdkt." 


.# .       t 


! 


tl 


visit  to  that  delightful  hoi 
dear  to  him.  Yet  he  was 
as  free  from  anxieties  as  h 
Lane  was  now  growing  sen 

The  decay  had  at  last  set 
junto  is  the  most  foolish  a 
that  Sheridan,  who  had  em 
neglect  their  duty,  when  it  i 
them  turning  the  same  arts 
to  learn  that  in  "  manageme 
profit  was  to  be  found  in  se 
cared  to  consult  Garrick's  1 
learned  the  lesson  far  more  c 
for  his  last  holiday  jaunt  to 
to  what  would  happen.     He 
to  him  accounts  of  what  the] 
off.     Under  the  inefficient  i 
do  as  they  pleased;  absentin 
began,  under  pretence  of  illn 
all.     The  despairing  prompt 
these  discreditable  proceedinj 
in  a  dreadful  situation." 

It  was  sad  that  his  lasl 
harassed  by  a  shape  of  anno 
terror.  A*  ruffian,  who  sigr 
wrote  in  the  papers  in  a  sty] 
began*  to  send  letters,  threa 


1»A« 


,1J      *' 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  461 

by  his  old  enemies,  gout  and  stone;  but  this  time  an  alarming 
eruption,  known  as  herpes,  came  with  it.  He  was  imprudent, 
and  thought  by  gaiety  and  motion,  to  forget  his  pains.  His 
friend  Becket,  with  an  instinctive  misgiving,  wished  he  was  at 
home  again,  and  at  rest  in  his  arm-chair,  for  he  was  afraid  they 
would  make  too  much  of  him,  and  make  him  ill.  Garrick 
rallied  vigorously,  but  was  still  pursued  by  plays  which  he 
was  asked  to  read,  and  by  copies  of  criticisms  on  Drury  Lane, 
reviews,  "  two  answers "  to  some  of  his  little  papers,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  own  critiques,  which  he  was  labouring  at,  and 
polishing.  Those  who  heaped  on  him  these  cares,  cautioned 
him  against  a  relapse.  He  was  to  take  care,  and  not  to  come 
out  too  soon.  "  What  a  hard  bout ! "  wrote  Becket  of  the 
struggle  his  friend  had  made.  The  country  doctor,  however, 
thought  lightly  of  the  attack. 

He  was  brought  up  to  London  by  easy  stages.  He  arrived 
at  the  Adelphi  on  the  evening  of  the  15th  of  January.  The 
next  day  he  sent  for  his  apothecary,  Laurence,  who  found  him 
up,  and  dressing,  and  apparently  better.  Young  O'Keefe,  then 
newly  come  to  London,  a  raw  Irish  lad,  recollected  seeing  him 
walking  briskly  up  and  down,  in  front  of  his  house  on  the 
Adelphi-terrace.  Thus  ill,  it  must  have  inflamed  his  sufferings 
yet  more  to  receive  a  reminder  from  the  ruffian  who  called  him- 
self "  Gurtius ;"  who,  with  affected  compassion,  promised  to 
suspend  his  attacks  until  "  Mr.  Garrick  was  in  a  state  of  body 
to  answer  any  public  charges.  He  hopes  to  be  the  explainer 
and  corrector  of  his  affectation  and  tyranny,  and  jealousy  and 
partiality  " — a  comforting  prospect  for  the  sick  man.  But  the 
end  was  at  hand.  There  were  some  alarming  symptoms,  which 
made  the  apothecary  advise  sending  for  Dr.  Gadogan ;  who, 
when  he  came,  pronounced  the  matter  so  uncertain  and  serious, 
that  he  recommended  the  sick  man  to  settle  his  affairs  at  once. 
Garrick  answered  him  calmly,  that  nothing  of  that  kind  re- 
mained to  be  done ;  and  that,  as  for  himself,  he  was  quite 
ready  to  die.  From  that  hour  his  malady  made  steady  way, 
bringing  on  a  sort  of  dullness  from  want  of  circulation,  which 
increased  into  stupor.  During  these  sad  days  there  was  one 
picture  which  must  have  long  haunted  his  wife.  Weary  with 
ceaseless  watching  and  attendance,  she  made  an  agreeable  friend 
stay  and  dine,  expecting  to  find  some  distraction  in  his  society. 
As  they  were  talking,  the  door  opened,  and  Garrick  came  in, 
in  a  dressing-gown,  but  fearfully  changed ;  his  face  yellow  and 
shrunk,  his  eyes  dim,  and  his  gait  slow  and  tottering.  He 
seemed  to  the  guest  like  Lusignan,  in  the  high-flown  "  Zara," 
one  of  his  favourite  characters  of  the  old,  old  years,  when  he 


462  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1778— 

wore  just  such  a  dress.  He  sat  down  on  the  sofa  wearily,  re- 
mained for  more  than  an  hour,  but  never  spoke  a  word.  He 
seemed  to  look  at  them  with  a  morbid  fretfulness.  He  then 
went  back  to  his  room,  which  he  never  left  again. 

The  great  physicians  were  now  called  in — Warren,  with 
Heberden,  Johnson's  friend.  Many  more  came  later — all 
friends — eager  to  give  their  aid  and  advice.  When  the  sick 
man  saw  the  face  of  Dr.  Schomberg,  he  put  out  his  hand,  and 
with  one  of  the  old,  sweet  smiles,  said,  "  Though  last,  not  least 
in  love ! "  It  was  now  known  that  there  could  be  no  hope. 
This  last  scene,  in  this  last  act,  was  to  be  as  gracious  and  becom- 
ing as  every  other  scene  in  his  life  he  had  played,  and  so  finely 
played.  Though  the  stupor  was  gaining  on  him,  he  could  at 
times  talk  calmly  and  cheerfully.  He  told  one  of  his  friends 
that  he  did  not  regret  his  not  having  children ;  for  had  they 
turned  out  unkind  or  disobedient,  he  could  not  have  sup- 
ported such  a  trial.  On  the  last  day  of  his  life,  a  letter  was 
brought  in — the  last  he  ever  received ;  and  it  ran  to  the  old, 
old  story — acknowledgment  of  his  kindness.  It  was  from  the 
young  Miss  Farren,  thanking  him  for  civilities,  kind  notice,  and 
encouragement. 

At  times  the  film  cleared  away  from  his  eyes,  and  he  saw  the 
room  filled  with  figures.  He  asked  who  all  those  people  were. 
When  he  was  told  they  were  physicians,  the  old  pleasant  sense 
of  the  grotesque  came  back  on  him,  and  he  shook  his  head, 
muttering,  from  "  The  Fair  Penitent" — 

"  Another  and  another  still  succeeds, 
And  the  last  fool  is  welcome  as  the  former." 

His  old  friend  Johnson  found  his  way  to  his  bedside ;  but,  it 
was  remarked,  could  not  be  persuaded  that  he  was  in  the  least 
danger.  To  one  with  so  morbid  a  terror  of  death,  it  was  too 
near  a  reminder.  For  there  was  the  "  Davy  "  of  the  Lichfield 
days — the  child  when  he  had  been  a  boy — passing  away  before 
him.  All  that  day  he  was  composed,  and  talked  at  intervals 
with  exceeding  tranquillity.  Early  the  next  morning,  January 
the  20th,  about  eight  o'clock,  the  scene  at  last  shifted,  and  he 
passed  gently  from  that  human  stage — where  he  had  played 
with  as  much  excellence  and  dignity  as  he  had  ever  done  on 
his  own — and  the  folds  of  that  greater  curtain  came  slowly 
down  before  the  eyes  of  the  dying  actor.* 

*  Miss  More's  account  of  Mrs.  Garrick's  grief  is  pathetic : — "  She  was 
prepared  for  meeting  me  ;  she  ran  into  my  arms,  and  we  both  remained 
silent  for  some  minutes  :  at  last  she  whispered,  *  I  have  this  moment  em- 
braced his  coffin,  and  you  come  next'  She  soon  recovered  herself,  and  siid 
with  great  composure, '  The  goodness  of  God  to  me  is  inexpressible ;  I  de- 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  463 

The  funeral  was  indeed  imposing.  The  greatest  of  English 
players  was  to  be  laid  in  Westminster  Abbey.  That  honour 
was  then  something  cheaper  than  it  has  since  become ;  but  the 
ceremonial  was  one  of  extraordinary  magnificence.  It  took 
place  on  the  1st  of  February.*  The  line  of  carriages  extended 
from  the  Strand  to  the  Abbey.  The  streets  were  crowded. 
His  pennon  was  carried  in  front.  Covent  Garden  was  repre- 
sented by  twelve  players,  and  Drury  Lane  by  the  same  num- 
ber. The  mourners  were  his  two  nephews ;  but  the  faithful 
brother  and  henchman,  George,  was  lying  in  his  last  sickness, 
and  died  only  two  days  later.  Four  mourning  coaches  and 
six  were  filled  with  the  members  of  the  Literary  Club — others 
with  intimate  friends.  At  three  o'clock  the  procession  entered 
the  great  west  door,  where  the  Bishop  of  Eochester  received  it. 
Then  began  a  yet  more  solemn  part  of  the  show.  The  train 
moved  up  the  aisle  to  Purcell's  fine  old  anthem ;  the  great 
aisles  were  crowded ;  and  on  each  side  of  this  player's  bier, 

sired  to  die,  but  it  is  His  will  that  I  should  live,  and  He  has  convinced  me 
He  will  not  let  my  life  be  quite  miserable,  for  He  gives  astonishing  strength 
to  my  body,  and  grace  to  my  heart ;  neither  do  I  deserve,  but  I  am  thank- 
ful for  both.'    She  told  me  they  had  just  returned  from  Althorpe,  Lord 
Spencer's,  where  he  had  been  reluctantly  dragged,  for  he  had  felt  unwell  for 
some  time  ;  but  during  his  visit  he  was  often  in  such  fine  spirits  that  they 
could  not  believe  he  was  ill.     On  his  return  home,  he  appointed  Cadogan 
to  meet  him,  who  ordered  him  an  emetic,  the  warm  bath,  and  the  usual 
remedies ;  but  with  very  little  effect    On  the  Sunday,  he  was  in  good 
spirits,  and  free  from  pain ;  but  as  the  suppression  still  continued,  Dr. 
Cadogan  became  extremely  alarmed,  and  sent  for  Pott,  Heberden,  and 
Schomberg,  who  gave  him  up  the  moment  they  saw  him.    Poor  Garrick 
stared  to  see  his  room  full  of  doctors,  not  being  conscious  of  his  real  state. 
No  change  happened  till  the  Tuesday  evening,  when  the  surgeon  who  was 
sent  for  to  blister  and  bleed  him  made  light  of  his  illness,  assuring  Mrs. 
Garrick  that  he  would  be  well  in  a  day  or  two,  and  insisted  on  her  going  to 
lie  down.     Towards  morning  she  desired  to  be  called  if  there  was  the  least 
change.    Every  time  that  she  administered  the  draughts  to  him  in  the 
night,  he  always  squeezed  her  hand  in  a  particular  manner,  and  spoke  to 
her  with  the  greatest  tenderness  and  affection.     Immediately  after  he  had 
taken  his  last  medicine,  he  softly  said, '  Oh  !  dear,1  and  yielded  up  his  spirit 
without  a  groan,  and  in  his  perfect  senses.     His  behaviour  during  the  night 
was  all  gentleness  and  patience,  and  he  frequently  made  apologies  to  those 
about  him  for  the  trouble  he  gave  them.     On  opening  him,  a  stone  was 
found  that  measured  five  inches  and  a-half  round  one  way,  and  four  and 
a-haif  the  other.    Tet  this  was  not  the  immediate  cause  of  his  death ;  his 
kidneys  were  quite  gone.    I  paid  a  melancholy  visit  to  the  coffin  yester- 
day." 

*  In  the  Garrick  Club  collection  is  one  of  the  cards  of  invitation  to  the 
funeral — an  elaborately  engraved  picture  of  weeping  nymphs,  a  pyramid, 
&c.  "  The  executors  of  David  Garrick,  Esq.,  request  the  honor  of  your 
company  on  Monday,  1st  February,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  theforenoon^athis 
late  house  in  the  Adelphi,  to  attend  the  funeral  to  Westminster  Abbey." — 
Nixon  Papers, 


464  THE  UFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK-  [1778— 

holding  the  pall,  walked  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  Lord  Cam- 
den, the  Earl  of  Ossory,  Earl  Spencer,  Lord  Palmerston,  Sir 
Watkyn  Wynne.  And  round  his  grave,  appropriately  opened 
under  Shakspeare's  monument,  crowded  Johnson,  Dunning, 
Edmund  Burke,  Charles  Fox,  Colonel  Barrfe,  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  gentlemen  of  distinction. 

Sheridan  mourned  him  in  "  a  monody,"  full  of  rather  thea- 
trical grief,  but  which  was  much  admired  at  the  time : — 

"  0  loveliest  mourner !  gentle  muse !  be  thine 

The  pleasing  woe  to  guard  the  laurell'd  shrine. 
***** 

Chilling  thy  tender  bosom,  clasp  his  urn  ; 
And  with  soft  tight  disperse  the  irreverent  dust, 
Which  time  may  strew  upon  his  sacred  bust." 

This  conceit  is  in  the  ajfettwso  key,  and  sounds  poorly  beside 
Goldsmith's  good  verse.  It  ran  through  many  editions.  A 
monument  was  soon  talked  of  in  the  Abbey,  and  Mr.  Wallis, 
his  friend,  took  on  himself  the  expense  and  duty  of  erecting  it 
Both  monument  and  inscription  were  pronounced  by  Elia  to  be 
in  questionable  taste.* 

A  far  finer  tribute  came  from  Johnson — some  of  that  noble 
English  which  dropped  from  his  pen  when  he  gave  full  liberty 
to  his  emotion.  In  one  of  his  "Lives"  he  recalled  his  friend 
Gilbert  Walmesley,  and  the  old  Lichfield  days;  with  these 
came  back  the  image  of  the  cheerful  "  Davy,"  and  he  broke 
out :  "  I  am  disappointed  by  that  stroke  of  death,  which  has 
eclipsed  the  gaiety  of  nations,  and  impoverished  the  public 
stock  of  harmless  pleasure."  And  though  there  were  some  to 
take  a  sort  of  demurrer  to  this  flight — for  there  was  only  one 

*  "  Taking  a  turn  the  other  day  in  the  Abbey,  I  was  struck  with  the 
affected  attitude  of  a  figure  which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  before, 
and  which  upon  examination  proved  to  be  a  whole  length  of  the  celebrated 
Mr.  Garrick.  Though  I  would  not  go  so  far  with  some  good  Catholics 
abroad,  as  to  shut  players  altogether  out  of  consecrated  ground,  yet  I  own 
I  was  not  a  little  scandalized  at  the  introduction  of  theatrical  airs  and 
gestures  into  a  place  set  apart  to  remind  us  of  the  saddest  realities.  Going 
nearer,  I  found  under  this  Harlequin  figure  the  following  lines  :— 

"  To  paint  fair  nature,  by  Divine  command, 
Her  magic  pencil  in  his  glowing  hand, 
A  Shakspeare  rose  ;  then,  to  expand  his  fame 
^-SVide  o'er  the  "  breathing  world,"  a  Garrick  came. 
Though  sunk  in  death,  the  forms  the  poet  drew, 
The  actor's  genius  bade  them  breathe  anew ; 
Though,  like  the  bard  himself,  in  night  they  lay, 
Immortal  Garrick  call'd  them  back  to-day,"  kc 

The  monument,  however,  though  quaint  and  fantastic,  arrests  attention  ; 
presenting  the  actor  in  the  act  of  emerging  from  behind  curtains. 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  465 

• 

nation  who  thus  suffered — there  is  little  extravagance  in  the 
eulogium.  His  profession  belongs  to  all  countries,  and  where 
one  portion  of  the  community  suffers  such  a  loss,  the  rest 
must  be  indirectly  affected.  No  happier  praise,  for  its  length, 
could  be  conceived,  even  to  the  nice  choice  of  words — "  harm- 
less pleasure" — in  an  age  when  there  was  so  much  pleasure 
that  was  not  harmless;  and,  with  infinite  good  taste,  Mrs. 
Garrick  had  the  words  engraved  on  his  monument  at  Lich- 
field.* 

Johnson  does  not  seem  to  have  been  as  deeply  affected  as 
we  might  have  supposed.  "  Futurity  is  uncertain,"  he  wrote ; 
"  poor  David  had  doubtless  many  futurities  in  his  head,  which 
death  has  intercepted :  a  death,  I  believe,  totally  unexpected. 
He  did  not  in  his  last  hour  seem  to  think  his  life  in  danger." 
Thus,  to  the  end  (unconsciously,  I  believe),  perverting  every 
act  of  his  friend.  It  was  Johnson  himself  who  would  not 
believe  in  the  danger.  Garrick,  as  we  have  seen,  knew  it,  and 
accepted  it  with  resignation.  But  in  the  matter  of  death,  John- 
son's morbid  mind  always  clung  to  any  straw  that  would  give 
him  superiority  over  another,  and  put  those  grim  terrors 
farther  away.  In  the  carriage,  as  the  funeral  moved  on  to 
Westminster,  he  talked  over  their  lost  friend.  A  few  days 
later,  he  called  at  the  Adelphi,  and  wrote  a  kind  message  of 
inquiry  after  Mrs.  Garrick.  t 

When  the  subject  of  collecting  Garrick's  verses  was  talked 
of,  and  suggested  to  him,  he  seemed  to  say,  rather  compla- 
cently, he  would  accept  the  duty  if  he  was  commissioned 
officially  by  Mrs.  Garrick.  She,  however,  took  no  notice  of 
the  hint.  The  "  Sage's  "  previous  treatment  of  her  husband  in 
print  did  not  encourage  the  selection  of  such  an  editor ;  and 

*  The  Cathedral  at  Hereford  had  a  fairer  claim  to  such  a  memorial. 
Murphy  repeats  an  insinuation  against  Mrs.  Garrick,  as  to  the  monument  in 
Westminster.  His  friend  "  waited  a  long  time,  with  an  idea  that,  for  the 
erection  of  a  monument,  orders  would  be  given  by  Mrs.  Garrick.  Finding, 
on  application  to  that  lady,  that  nothing  of  the  sort  was  to  be  intended, 
Mr.  Wallis,  in  the  most  liberal  manner,  resolved,"  &c  The  sculptor  whom 
he  employed  became  bankrupt.  "  Mr.  Wallis  was  not  deterred  by  that 
event ;  he  had  recourse  to  that  eminent  statuary,  Mr.  Webber,  who  finished 
the  business  in  an  elegant  style."  But  Mrs.  Garrick  had  her  own  plan  of 
a  monument  at  Lichfield.  There  were  many  who  thus  slandered  her. 
Davies,  after  writing  severely  of  her  husband,  sent  her  messages,  to  ask 
her  to  point  out  what  she  thought  was  disagreeable  ;  and  when  no  notice 
was  taken,  told  the  public  how  he  had  offended  her,  and  what  steps  he  had 
taken. 

t  This  card  is  in  existence : — (( Dr.  Johnson  presents  respectful  condo- 
lence to  Mrs.  Garrick,  and  wishes  that  any  endeavour  of  his  could  enable 
her  to  support  a  lo-s,  which  the  world  cannot  repair." 


466  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1778 — 

there  was  no  knowing  how  far  Johnson's  critical  severity  might 
lead  him,  if  so  tempting  an  opportunity  offered.* 

No  actor  had  ever  died  so  rich.  Roughly  estimating  the 
various  bequests  in  his  will,  we  might  value  his  estate  as  close 
upon  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  t  He  provided  handsomely 
for  all  his  relations.  To  Mrs.  Garrick  was  left  Hampton  and 
the  Adelphi  House,  with  the  plate,  linen,  wines,  pictures,  &c, 
six  thousand  pounds  in  money,  and  £1,500  a  year.  J  George 
Garrick  was  bequeathed  £10,000,  Peter  £3,000.  His  two 
nephews,  £6,000  and  £5,000;  his  two  nieces,  £6,000  each; 
his  sister,  Merrial  Docksey,  £3,000 ;  and  Mrs.  Garrick's  Ger- 
man niece,  £1,000.  These  legacies,  however,  were  subject  to 
Mrs.  Garrick's  annuity,  and  they  were  to  be  abated  if  the  per- 
sonalty fell  short  during  her  lifetime.  Strange  to  say,  that  to 
his  many  warm  personal  friends;  for  whom  he  must  have  cared 
more  than  for  some  of  his  relations,  he  left  no  memorials  of  any 
kind. 

I  have  merely  to  close  this  memoir  with  a  few  words  about 
the  woman  whom  Garrick  so  loved  and  valued.  She  was  to 
live  on,  to  the  surprising  age  of  ninety-eight  years.  Her  figure 
becomes  quite  familiar  as  we  look  back  to  the  pleasant  groups 
and  coteries,  the  households,  the  chatty  dinners  and  social 
evenings,  of  which  records  are  given  by  Boswell,  Burney,  Miss 
Berry,  and  many  more.  Bound  this  good  lady,  keeping  up 
her  two  houses,  at  the  Adelphi  and  at  Hampton,  cluster  her 
numerous  relations — "a  hundred  head  of  nieces,"  who  are 
found  there  one  day  by  Miss  Berry.  Her  sister,  Madame 
Fiirst,  who  had  come  to  England  just  before  Garrick's  death, 
had  gone  home  again.  There  was  that  half-sad,  half-pleasant 
party  at  the  Adelphi.  Hannah  More,  whom  she  called  her 
chaplain,  was  of  the  party — the  first  since  David's  death,  two 
years  before ;  Mrs.  Boscawen,  Mrs.  Carter,  Colman,  Johnson, 

*  Tears  after,  the  subject  of  the  funeral  was  talked  of  at  a  party 
in  Johnson's  presence,  and  was  said  to  have  been  extravagantly  expensive. 
He  did  not  relish  that  magnificence  in  the  obsequies  of  one  who,  when  alive, 
"  might  have  been  better  attacked  for  living  more  splendidly  than  became 
a  player."  Mrs.  Burney  asked  if  there  were  not  six  horses  to  each  coach. 
"  Madam,"  was  his  reply,  "  there  were  no  more  six  horses  than  six 
phoenixes."  Yet  the  mourning  coach  in  which  Johnson  himself  sat  had  six 
horses,  and  there  were  half  a  dozen  others  with  the  same  number.  This 
foolish  display  cost  nearly  £2,000 ;  and  Mrs.  Garrick  incurred  much 
odium  by  refusing  to  pay  the  undertaker. 

t  Garrick  had  lost  money  in  a  West  India  speculation.  A  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  would  seem  over  the  mark,  for  he  had  lived  almost  beyond  his 
means. 

t  It  was  subject  only  to  the  condition  of  her  residing  in  England.  If  she 
went  to  Ireland,  Scotland,  or  the  Continent,  it  was  to  be  reduced. 


1779.]  ILLNESS  AND  DEATH.  467 

Burney,  and  Boswell.  They  were  elegantly  entertained. 
Indeed,  Boswell  always  thought  and  spoke  gratefully  of  his 
departed  friend,  acknowledging  much  kindness.  The  hostess 
looked  well,  "talked  of  her  husband  with  complacency,  and 
while  she  cast  her  eyes  on  his  portrait,  which  hung  over  the 
chimney-piece,  said  '  that  death  was  now  the  most  agreeable 
object  to  her.' "  The  day  lingered  fondly  in  BoswelTs  recollec- 
tion ;  the  Lichfield  ale,  the  splendid  entertainment,  the  recol- 
lection of  "many  pleasing  hours  spent  with  him  who  glad- 
dened life."  In  the  evening  there  was  a  reception ;  and  on 
going  away,  Boswell  and  his  friend  Johnson  lingered  on  the 
terrace,  looking  down  on  the  Thames,  and  thought  of  the  two 
friends  who  had  lived  there,  and  who  were  gone — Garrick  and 
Beauclerk.  "Ay,  sir,"  said  Johnson,  tenderly  and  softly, 
"  and  two  such  friends  as  cannot  be  supplied." 

In  1807,  many  unfavourable  remarks  were  made  on  some 
law  proceedings  in  Chancery,  which  Mrs.  Garrick  was  advised 
to  institute,  in  reference  to  the  distribution  of  her  husband's 
estate.  By  a  residuary  clause  in  her  husband's  will,  what  re- 
mained over  was  to  be  divided  among  the  next  of  kin,  the  same 
as  if  he  had  died  intestate.  It  was  thought  a  little  "  greedy  " 
that  she  should  claim  to  be  included  under  the  denomina- 
tion, "  next  of  kin."  Her  counsel,  Eomilly,  urged  that  the 
words  were  meant  to  include  her ;  and,  looking  to  the  testa- 
tor's intentions,  should  be  liberally  construed.  The  Chancellor, 
however,  refused  the  appbcation,  acutely  saying,  that  in  such 
a  construction,  the  testator  would  have  defeated  his  own  inten- 
tions ;  as,  in  case  of  her  forfeiting  her  rights  (by  living  out  of 
the  country),  that  forfeiture  would  merely  have  gone  to  swell 
the  residue,  to  a  share  in  which  she  would  have  become  entitled. 

The  "  relations,"  indeed,  could  not  have  been  very  partial 
to  her,  especially  when  they  heard,  in  the  year  1815,  she  had 
distributed  among  her  German  relations  all  the  money  she  had 

Eut  by  during  the  thirty-six  years  that  had  elapsed  since  her 
usband's  death.  It  amounted  to  some  twelve  thousand  pounds. 
Her  husband,  therefore,  knew  where  her  inclination  led  her, 
when  he  inserted  the  condition  of  forfeiture,  if  she  should  go  and 
reside  out  of  England.  She  always  maintained  her  connection 
with  the  theatre,  and  had  her  box  at  Drury  Lane.  Many  a 
new  theatrical  candidate  was  brought  to  her  for  the  sanction 
of  her  opinion.  It  is  said  that  Kean  was  the  only  one  that 
she  could  admit  approached  her  David,  and  that  was  in  Richard* 

*  Her  happy  criticism  of  him  in  another  part  is  well  known  : — "  Dear 
Sir — You  cannot  act  Abel  Drugger. — Yours,  M.  Gareick."   The  answer  was, 


468  THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  GARRICK.  [1779. 

Mr.  Smith,  of  the  British  Museum,  had  a  pleasant  morning 
with  her  there,  in  the  Print  Koom,  turning  over  that  wonder- 
ful collection  of  theatrical  engravings  made  by  Dr.  Burney; 
and  where  her  husband  was  to  be  seen  in  every  character  and 
attitude.    She  wrote  her  name  without  spectacles,  though  she 
had  not  had  a  pen,  she  said,  in  her  hands  for  months ;  gossiped 
about  her  age*  and  her  marriage.    At  Hampton,  which  she 
allowed  to  get  into  sad  disrepair,  she  was  often  visited  by  Queen 
Charlotte,  who  found  her  once  peeling  onions,  and  herself  got 
a  knife,  and  began  to  peel  onions  also.    George  the  Fourth,  as 
well  as  his  brothers,  often  called  on  her.    She  was  always 
thought  of  with  honour  and  esteem.    The  strange  Monboddo 
persecuted  her  with  proposals.    At  last  it  came  to  the  16th 
October,  1822.    Elliston  had  been  redecorating  Drury  Lane, 
and  it  had  been  arranged  that  the  widow  of  its  former  great 
manager  should  come  that  night  for  a  private  view,  to  see  the 
effect.    The  old  lady  was  looking  forward  to  it     She  had  two 
or  three  dresses  laid  out  on  chairs,  to  see  the  effect,  her  two 
maids  standing  by.     In  the  evening,  when  she  was  sitting  in 
her  chair,  taking  tea,  one  of  the  maids  handed  her  over  a  cup, 
and  Mrs.  Garrick  chid  her  a  little  testily:  "  Put  it  down,  hussy; 
do  you  think  I  cannot  help  myself  ? "    That  little  excitement 
seemed  to  have  been  fatal,  for  she  took  the  cup  herself,  tasted 
the  tea,  and  in  a  few  seconds  expired  quietly  in  her  chair. 

Round  those  declining  days  must  have  fluttered  such  strange 
old  memories — Maria  Teresa  and  the  Emperor's  attentions — 
the  old  old  rebellion  of  '45,  when  she  came  to  town — the  heads 
on  Temple  Bar — David's  great  glories — recollections  of  nearly 
a  hundred  years !  t 

"  Madam,  I  know  it. — Yours,  E.  Kb  an."    There  were  many  little  stories 
about  her  odd  foreign  capriciouaness  ;  of  her  swearing  at  the  mason  who 
overcharged  her  :  "  Get  out,  you  d — -d  fellow  !  " 
*  "  My  coachman,"  she  said,  "insists  that  I  am  above  100." 
t  There  is  an  extraordinary  characteristic  sketch  of  her  by  R.  Cruikshank, 
"  taken  in  September,  1820,  when  she  was  97  years  of  age."    This,  as  may 
be  conceived,  is  rather  grotesque  than  pleasing.     It  is  extraordinarily  rare, 
and  the  only  copy  I  have  seen  is  in  Mr.  Nixon's  curious  collection  of  dra- 
matic bills  and  notes  belonging  to  the  Garrick  Club.     Mr.  Smith — "  Rainy 
Day  "  Smith — made  a  drawing  of  her  after  death.    The  coffin  was  covered 
with  the  sheets  which,  he  was  told,  were  the  wedding  sheets,  in  which  both 
husband  and  wife  wished  to  die.     Dean  Stanley,  in  his  "  Westminster 
Memorials,"  quotes  a  little  sketch  of  "  a  little  bowed  down  old  lady,  lean- 
ing on  a  gold-headed  stick,  and  always  talking  of  her  Davy."     The  late  Mr. 
J.  P.  Collier  recollected,  when  he  was  a  boy,  her  being  pointed  out  to  him 
on  the  Adelphi  Terrace. 


4G9 


APPENDIX. 


NUMBER  OF  NIGHTS  THAT  GARRICK  ACTED. 

Geneste,  with  unwearied  diligence,  seems  to  have  searched 
all  the  collections  of  bills,  as  well  as  the  notices  in  the  papers, 
and  noted  the  play  and  character  for  nearly  every  night.  But 
there  are  many  gaps.  I  have  added  up  the  various  lists,  and 
we  may  accept  the  following  table  as  a  fair  average  of  his  per- 
formances, allowing  a  small  margin  for  inaccuracies.  It  will 
be  remarked,  how  the  number  of  performances  gradually 
shorten : — 


1741—1742. 
1742—1743. 
1743_1744. 

1744_1745. 
1745—1746. 
1746—1747. 
1747—1748. 
1748—1749. 
1749—1750. 
1750—1751. 
1751—1752. 
1752—1753. 
1753—1754. 
1754—1755. 
1755—1756. 
1756—1757. 
1757—1758. 
1758—1759. 
1759—1760. 
1760—1761. 
1761—1762. 
1762—1763. 


Goodman's  Fields 


138  times.* 


Drury 

Lane 

(about' 

)      69      „ 

ii 

19 

•      (about 

>      70      „ 

n 

II 

(about 

)      72      „ 

Covent  Garden        . 

6      „ 

n 

II 

72      „ 

Drury  Lane 

>     106      „ 

» 

fl           « 

.     104      „ 

ii 

II           ' 

85      „ 

ii 

II            ' 

■       99      „ 

ii 

II 

83      „ 

n 

II 

,       93      „ 

ii 

II            ' 

■      97      „ 

ii 

II 

93      „ 

ii 

II 

,105      „ 

ii 

II            * 

86      „ 

ii 

II           < 

.    H3      „ 

ii 

II            ' 

.     102      „ 

ii 

II            • 

96      „ 

ii 

II            ■ 

87       „ 

n 

II            ' 

104      „ 

ii 

II 

100      „ 

*  He  acted  on  the  evening  of  Christmas  Day  ! 


i  j  1772—1773. 

1773—1774. 
1774_1775. 

1775 — 1776. 


If 


The  following  is  a  list  of  hi* 
which  has  been  carefully  collate 

Goodman's  Fields,  1741-2.— 
Makes  a  Man  ;  Chamont ; 
*Sharp,  in  Lying  Valet; 
Fondlewife;  Costar  Pearmai 
in  Oroonoko ;  Witwou'd ;  Bj 
boy ;  King  Lear ;  Lord  Foj 
Duretetc,  in  Inconstant ;  Pi 

Dublin,  in  the  summer  of  1742.- 

Drury  Lane,  1742-3. — Capte 
*Millamour,  in  Wedding  Da 
air ;  Abel  Drugger. 

1743-4.— Macbeth;  *Re^ 
Fatal  Marriage ;  *Zaphna,  i 

1744-5.— Sir  John  Brute 
*Tancred. 

Dublin,  1745-6. — Faulconbrid< 
played  Orestes  in  England.) 

Covent  Garden.  1746-7. — Ho 


APPENDIX.  471 

1751-2. — Kitcly;  *Mercour,  in  Eugenia. 

1752-3. — Loveless,  in  Love's  Last  Shift;  *Beverley,  in 
Gamester ;  *Demetrius,  in  Brothers. 

1753-4. — *Dumnoris,  in  Boadicea;  Faulconbridge,  in 
King  John;  *Virginius,  in  ditto;  Lusignan,  in  Zara;  *Aletes, 
in  Creusa. 

1754-5. — Don  John,  in  Chances;  *Achmet,  in  Barba- 
rossa ;  Don  Carlos,  in  Mistake. 

1755-6. — *Leontes,  in  Winter's  Tale  altered;  *Athelstan : 
Leon ;  *Lord  Chalkstone,  in  Lethe. 

1756-7.— Don  Felix. 

1757-8. — *  Wilding,  in  Gamester  altered;  *Lysander, 
in  Agis ;  King,  Henry  IV.,  Part  II. ;  *Pamphlet,  in  Up- 
holsterer. 

1758-9. — Marplot;  Antony,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra; 
*Heartly,  in  Guardian ;  Periander,  in  Eurydice ;  *Zamti, 
in  Orphan  of  China. 

1759-60. — *Oroonoko,  as  altered ;  *Lovemore,  in  Way 
to  Keep  Him ;  *Emilius,  in  Siege  of  Aquileia ;  Sir  Harry 
Gubbin,  in  Tender  Husband. 

1760-61. — *Oakley,  in  Jealous  Wife;  Mercutio. 

1761-2. — Posthumus ;  *Sir  John  Dorilant,  in  School  for 
Lovers ;  *Farmer,  in  Fanner's  Return. 

1762-3. — *Alonzo,  in  Elvira ;  *Sir  Anthony  Branville,  in 
Discovery;  Sciolto. 

In  every  department  of  his  life,  Garrick  was  industrious. 
He  was  thus  diligent  in  cultivating  every  accomplishment,  for 
the  one  great  aim  of  advancing  himself  and  his  profession. 
Management,  acting,  travelling,  and  social  life,  might  seem 
enough  to  absorb  all  his  time ;  yet  he  found  opportunity  to  be 
not  only  an  agreeable  and  sprightly,  but  a  very  diligent  writer. 
His  letters  alone  are  often  a  whole  essay  and  argument.  His 
plays  are  of  a  superior  order,  easy,  natural,  vivacious,  and  their 
author  deserves  a  good  place  among  the  dramatists  of  his  day. 
The  list  of  his  dramas  is  long,  and  includes : — The  Lying  Valet 
(1740);  Lethe  (1745);  Miss  in  her  Teens  (1747),  founded  on  La 
Parisienne,  of  D'Ancourt;  Lilliput  (1757);  The  Male  Coquet 
(1757) ;  The  Guardian,  founded  on  the  Pupille,  of  Fagan  (1759); 
The  Clandestine  Marriage  (1766);  Cymon  (1767);  A  Peep 
Behind  the  Curtain  (1767);  The  Jubilee  (1769);  The  Irish 
Widow  (1772) ;  A  Christmas  Tale  (1774) ;  A  Prelude  (1774) ; 
May  Day  (1775);  Theatrical  Candidates  (1775);  and  perhaps 
High  Life  Below  Stairs.     There  were  besides  many  alterations 

*  Originally. 


472  APPENDIX. 

of  plays ;  the  most  important  of  which  were  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  Katharine  and  Petruchio,  and  Ham- 
let. He  wrote  nearly  one  hundred  prologues ;  and  though  it 
was  absurd  to  name  them  with  those  of  Dryden,  they  have 
merit  of  their  own,  both  for  variety,  as  well  as  for  ease  and 
spirit.  This  is  one  incident  of  the  old  dramatic  days  which  has 
now  grown  obsolete.  No  new  play  was  then  complete  without 
this  introduction,  or  conclusion ;  and  very  often,  when  in  the 
hands  of  a  skilful  or  lively  actor,  prologue  or  epilogue  became 
even  a  greater  feature  of  the  night  than  the  play  itself.  Thus 
Johnson's  well-known  Drury  Lane  Prologue  had  "a run  "to  it- 
self, and  had  to  be  repeated  night  after  night.  The  custom 
shows  us  that  the  audience  came  to  enjoy  their  full  night's 
pleasure,  from  the  very  first  rising  of  the  curtain;  and  the 
present  languid,  fitful  way  of  taking  our  dramatic  pleasure, 
may  be  one  of  the  reasons  why  the  practice  has  passed  away. 
They  were  very  familiar  and  "  free  and  easy  "  in  their  tone. 

Yet  such  familiarity  had  its  benefit,  and  an  effect  on  the 
decency  and  order  of  the  stage.  For  the  prologue  and  epilogue, 
allowing  a  certain  licence,  became  a  sort  of  guarantee  that  the 
regular  business  of  the  stage  should  be  kept  sacred  from  all  such 
freedoms.  Thus  the  audience  could  enjoy  a  kind  of  privileged 
intercourse  with  their  favourite,  which  their  own  respect  re- 
fused to  tolerate  in  the  play.  Now,  as  this  safety-valve  is 
gone,  the  "  gagging "  has  forced  its  way  into  the  business  of 
the  play  itself.  It  has  been  mentioned  that  Garrick  was  col- 
lecting for  publication  all  his  fugitive  pieces,  but  his  death  put 
a  stop  to  this  plan.  Two  little  volumes  of  his  prologues  and 
verses  were  later  sent  out ;  but  the  collection  is  not  by  any 
means  complete.  His  plays  and  adaptations  have  been  also 
published  in  four  volumes.  Those  who  would  wish  to  see  yet 
more  of  what  this  agreeable  writer  has  left,  may  consult  the 
third  volume  of  "  Dodsley's  Collection,"  "  The  New  Foundling 
Hospital  for  Wit,"  "Notes  and  Queries,"  passim;  and  some 
dramatic  criticisms  in  the  St.  James's  Chronicle,  after  his  retire- 
ment from  Drury  Lane.  Garrick  had  a  very  choice  collection 
of  Italian  and  French  works,  purchased  abroad,  and  some  of 
these  have  kept  together.  Book-buyers  will  sometimes  have 
come  on  a  stray  volume  at  a  sale — his  book-plate  at  the  begin- 
ning with  Shakspeare's  bust,  and  a  shield  and  motto  from 
Menage,  a  little  French  hint  as  to  the  two  duties  of  the  book- 
borrower,  his  first  being,  to  read  it  with  all  diligence,  and  then 
return  it  as  speedily  as  possible. 


INDEX. 


Abington,  Mrs.,  her  dislike  to  Garrick,  367;  her  conduct  to  Garrick,  395, 

396,  420. 
Amateur  performance  of  "Othello"  at  Drury  Lane,  141. 
Apreece,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  held  up  to  ridicule  by  Foote,  174. 

Baddeley,  Mrs.,  her  strange  career,  380. 

Baretti,  220,  221,  n.,  292. 

Barrowby,  Dr.,  72. 

Barry,  acting  with  Garrick  in  Dublin,  88 ;  his  gratitude  to  Garrick,  96 ; 
his  dUbut  in  London,  104  ;  engaged  by  Garrick,  317;  his  grievances, 
131,  318  ;  deserts  to  the  other  house,  132 ;  Borneo  contest,  134  ;  his 
"  King  Lear "  rivalry  with  Garrick,  163 ;  his  decay,  364 ;  his  death, 
456. 

Bate,  Rev.  Mr.,  his  play  damned,  425,  426. 

Beaumarchais,  296. 

Bedford,  The,  and  its  coterie,  147. 

Beighton,  The  Rev.  Mr.,  portrait  of,  199. 

Bellamy,  Miss,  at  Sheridan's  house  at  Kingston,  81;  at  Dublin  with  Gar- 
rick, 91 ;  her  treatment  of  him,  92,  144. 

Bensley,  Elia's  sketch  of,  381. 

Bickerstaff,  his  fate,  362,  363. 

Boswell,  214  ;  at  the  Jubilee,  335  ;  his  absurd  behaviour,  336,  337  ;  467. 

Bower,  Dr.,  his  attack  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick,  235. 

Bracegirdle,  Mrs.,  Garrick's  opinion  of  her  playing,  249. 

Bride,  Miss,  in  "  The  Rosciad,"  232. 

Brown,  Dr.,  his  "  Barbarossa,"  155,  n.,  195. 

Camden,  Lord,  200,  207,  208,  459. 

Carlyle,  Dr.,  his  acquaintance  with  the  Violette,  99  ;  his  skill  at  golf,  199. 

Chatham,  Lord,  his  verses,  211. 

Churchill,  sketch  of  him  at  Vauxhall,  229,  n. ;  his  "  Rosciad,"  229  ;  sitting  in 

the  pit,  ibid.;  his  strange  letter  for  assistance,  234  ;  his  death,  ibid. 
Cibber,  Colley,  his  dislike  and  depreciation  of  the  new  actor,  51,  52,  53. 
Cibber,  Mrs.,  meets  Garrick  in  Dublin,  60,  61;  her  proposal  to  Garrick  to 

join  her  and  Quin  in  taking  Drury  Lane,  85, 86 ;  claims  to  play  Ettifania, 

159  ;  as  Constance,  225  ;  her  death,  305  ;  sketch  of  her,  373. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  neglect  of  Garrick  in  Dublin,  89. 
Chinese  Festival  Riot,  account  of,  161 — 163. 
Christie,  Mr.  (head  of  the  auction  firm),  assisted  by  Garrick,  446. 
Clairon,  sketch  of  her  acting,  285,  297;  her  battle  with  the  Government, 

299,  300. 
Clive,  her  retirement,  322  ;  her  pleasant  letter,  ibid.;  her  skirmishing  with 

Garrick,  393,  394,  400  ;  intercedes  for  Miss  Pope,  399 ;  her  generous 

testimony  to  Garrick's  merits,  423,  424,  425,  437. 
Clough,  Arabella,  David's  mother,  3 ;  her  children,  4 ;  touching  letter  to 

her  husband,  12  ;  her  death,  27. 
Cobham,  Lord,  opinion  of  Garrick  as  compared  with  Betterton,  49,  n. 
Colson,  drawn  as  Gelidus,  23,  n. 
Coventry,  Lady,  her  patronage  of  Crisp's  play,  153. 


474  INDEX. 

Crisp,  his  "Virginia,"  153. 

Cumberland's  recollections  of  Garrick,  106,  249,  281,  340,  341. 

Dance,  the  artist,  his  behaviour,  204. 

Davies,  Tom,  230,  382,  383,  n.,  388,  442—445. 

Delavals,  their  amateur  performance  at  Drury  Lane,  141. 

Denmark,  King  of,  visit  to  Drury  Lane,  319. 

Devonshire,  Duke  of,  lends  Garrick  £500,  168,  n. 

Dibdin,  "  his  consummate  impudence  and  ingratitude,"  407,  408. 

Dodd,  Dr.,  214. 

Dodd,  the  actor,  Elia's  sketch  of,  381,  382 ;  Hoadly's  ditto,  ibid.,  n. 

Docksey,  433. 

Dodsley,  account  of  his  "  Cleone,"  190. 

Drury  Lane,  its  patents,  80,  n.  ;  charges  on,  112 ;  as  laid  out  by  Wren, 

113  ;  remodelled,  238  ;  various  reforms  and  improvements,  239 — 242 ; 

pay  list,  244,  n. 
Dublin,  account  of,  in  1742,  59. 

Essex,  Earl  of,  206,  207. 

Farquhar,  his  daughter  alive  in  1752, 140. 

Farington,  his  impression  of  Garrick's  Hamlet,  278,  n. 

Fielding,  Henry,  his  "Pasquin,"  33. 

Fitzpatrick,  "Thady,"  account  of,  147;  his  quarrel  with  Woodward,  151; 
his  attack  on  Garrick,  242 ;  organizes  a  riot  against  Garrick,  243 ; 
portrait  of  him  in  "  The  Rosciad,"  231. 

Fleetwood,  account  of,  65  ;  his  embarrassments,  ibid.;  revolt  against,  69  ; 
tricks  his  creditors,  79. 

Foote,  Samuel,  his  appearance  at  Drury  Lane,  75  ;  his  critique  on  the 
"Suspicious  Husband,"  110;  about  to  satirize  Garrick  and  Lacy  in 
his  "Tea,"  118  ;  quarrel  with  Woodward,  129  ;  his  uniform  conduct 
to  Garrick,  129, 130  ;  his  plan  for  ridiculing  Woffington  stopped,  176  ; 
his  conduct  to  Garrick,  175,  178  ;  his  quarrel  with  Wilkinson,  179 ; 
his  ridicule  of  Delane,  Ryan,  and  Woodward,  269,  n. ;  his  quarrel  with 
Hiffernan,  148  ;  at  the  Jubilee,  330—335,  338  ;  his  dreadful  accident, 
839  ;  contrast  between  Foote  and  Garrick,  340,  341  ;  his  witty  and 
cynical  stories  of  the  Jubilee,  342 ;  his  ingratitude  to  Garrick,  343, 344 ; 
opens  the  Hay  market,  Feb.,  1770,  345;  great  excitement  on  the  open- 
ing night  to  witness  the  "  Handsome  Housemaid ;  or,  Piety  in  Pat- 
tens," ibid.;  his  grotesque  appearance  having  his  false  leg  fitted  on 
before  facing  the  audience,  346;  "takes  off"  Mrs.  Yates,  Steevens, 
Dr.  Arne,  Kelly,  Cumberland,  Cradock,  and  Garrick,  ibid.;  terrible 
charge  against,  348  ;  death  at  Dover,  ibicL 

Forster,  Mrs.,  granddaughter  of  Milton,  131. 

Fox's  critique  on  Garrick'B  acting,  281. 

French,  the,  stage,  account  of,  297 — 301. 

"  Fribbleriad,"  the,  243. 

Gainsborough,  his  "  swearing  letters,"  320. 

Garrick,  David  : — 

Born  at  Hereford,  1 ;  his  baptism,  4,  n. ;  his  brothers  and  sisters,  ibid.,  n. ; 
patronage  by  Walmesley,  ibid.;  put  to  Lichfield  school,  5  ;  his  master, 
ibid.;  boyish  theatricals,  7;  sent  out  to  Portugal,  8  ;  life  there,  and 
return  home,  ibid.;  letters  to  his  father,  10—16  ;  life  at  Lichfield,  12 ; 
visit  to  London,  16;  sent  to  Edial,  17;  sets  out  for  London,  20; 
enters  at  Lincoln'*  Imi,  vbid.;  Vt^&o?  from  his  uncle,  22;   life  at 


INDEX.  475 

Rochester,  23 ;  starts  as  a  wine  merchant  with  his  brother,  24  ;  his 
life,  26  ;  plays  for  Gave,  28  ;  and  with  Hogarth  and  Hoadly,  ibid. ;  his 
critiques,  ibid. ;  his  farce,  29  ;  his  verses  to  Woffington,  30 ;  acquaint- 
ance with  Woffington,  ibid. ;  Hanbury  Williams,  his  rival,  31 ;  his 
letters  to  Lichfield,  announcing  his  first  appearance  at  Goodman's 
Fields,  37;  account  of  his  debut,  38  ;  bill,  40  ;  praised  by  Pope,  43  ; 
letters  of  excuse  to  relatives,  44,  45  ;  his  new  farce, "  The  Lying  Valet," 
47  ;  encouraged  and  patronized  by  Mr.  Pitt,  Glover,  Murray,  and 
others,  50  ;  scene  with  Speaker  On3low,  ibid.,  n. ;  his  retort  on  Quin, 
53  ;  plays  Bayes,  ibid.;  his  "taking  off'  the  old  actors,  54  ;  quarrel 
with  Giffard,  ibid.:  atteTinr-  ^'•y  frfflri  f?  j  provides  for  his  brother, 
57;  resume  of  his  ISbours  during  the  season,  ibid.;  plays  at  Drury 
Lane,  58  ;  sets  off  for  Dublin  with  Woffington,  59  ;  his  success,  61;_— 
there  given  the  name  of  Roscius,  §3j  engages  at  Drury  Lane  with 
Fleetwood,  64  ;  keeps  house  with  Macldin  and  Woffington,  66  ;  refuses 
to  act,  and  organizes  a  revolt  against  Fleetwood,  68  ;  his  quarrel  with 
Macklin,  70  ;  storm  on  his  re-appearance,  72 ;  his  reply  to  Macklin's 
"  Case,"  73  ;  attempts  Othello,  78  ;  coolness  with  Sheridan,  ibid.;  ill- 
ness, 79  ;  his  fitful  intimacy  with  Woffington,  80  ;  promises  to  marry 
her,  81  ;  his  final  rupture  with  her,  83  ;  his  farewell  verses,  ibid.; 
second  visit  to  Dublin,  86  ;  his  good  humour  to  Bellamy,  92,  93  ;  re- 
turns to  town  and  plays  before  the  Prince  of  Hesse,  98  ;  goes  to  Chel- 
tenham, ibid.;  his  rivalry  with  Quin  at  the  same  theatre,  105;  his 
Fribble,  107;  his  illness,  108  ;  plays  Ranger,  109  ;  joins  with  Lacy  in 
taking  Drury  Lane  under  a  new  patent,  112 ;  terms  of  their  agree- 
ment, ibid.;  Drury  Lane  remodelled,  113 ;  his  life  at  Tunbridge 
Wells,  114  ;  his  engagement  of  Pritchard  and  Macklin,  115  ;  opens 
the  theatre,  ibid.;  his  reforms,  116  ;  "restores"  "Macbeth,"  117;  ex- 
planation of  Iih  "fitful  intimacy"  with  Foote,  118;  his  "Romeo" 
adaptation,  119;  brings  out  "Irene,"  121;  plays  in  "Merope"  "like 
an  angel,"  122 ;  stories  connected  with  his  courtship  of  the  Violette, 
123  ;  his  marriage,  126  ;  his  house  in  Southampton  Street,  127  ; 
attacks  on  him  in  pamphlets,  128  ;  his  re-appearance,  129  ;  dispute 
with  Foote,  ibid.;  friendship  with  Hogarth,  130  ;  Romeo  contest  with 
Barry,  134  ;  disorder  at  Covent  Garden,  136-7 ;  introduces  pantomimes, 
140  ;  his  first  trip  to  Paris,  141;  his  adventure  there,  142  ;  presented 
to  the  King  of  France,  ibid. ;  produces  "  Kvery  Man  in  his  Humour," 
144,  and  "Gamester,"  146  ;  revives  "The  Chances,"  154  ;  brings  out 
" Barbarossa "  155;  said  to  "mammock"  Shakspeare's  plays  into 
operas,  156;  brings  out  his  Chinese  Festival,  161;  his  resolute  be- 
haviour,  163  ;  his  rivalry  with  Barry  jnZeor,  ibid.;  plays  with  the 
.debutante,  Miss  Pritchard,  164  ;  plays  Von  Pelix,  ibid.;  his  Dramatic 
School  for  Children,  165  ;  his  quarrel  with  Dr.  Hill,  168  ;  tries 
Antony,  ibid. ;  patronage  of  Tate  Wilkinson,  170;  pleasant  picture  of  him 
on  an  excursion,  171-74 ;  scene  at  rehearsal  at  Drury  Lane,  175 ;  hinders 
Foote  from  '  taking  off"  Woffington,  176  ;  behaviour  of  Wilkinson, 
177;  story  of  his  so-called  "stinginess,"  179,  n. ;  dispute  with  Murphy 
about  the  "  Orphan  of  China,  181;  produces  it,  184  ;  obtains  a  pension 
for  Ralph,  185  ;  quarrel  with  Smollett,  186  ;  declines  "  Douglas,"  188  ; 
his  letter  to  Dodsley,  191;  purchases  a  villa  at  Hampton,  his  life 
there,  197;  the  Shakspeare  Temple,  ibid.;  Hogarth's  "Election  "  pic- 
tures purchased  by,  202  ;  Hogarth's  portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick 
(frontispiece),  ibid. ;  life  at  Althorpe,  205  ;  his  verses  on  Lord  Warwick, 
206;  friendship  with  Lord  Camden,  207;  with  Pelham,  208  ;  with  War- 
burton,  209;  with  Sterne,  ibid.;  with  Lyt  tie  ton,  210  ;  with  Lord  Chat- 
ham, ibid.;  with  Burke,  211  ;  with  the  Duke  oi  R^KGa&x\.^<EVl\  nts&ql 


476  INDEX. 

Bute,  ibid.;  acquaintance  with  Walpole,  tote!. ;  with  Dr.  Dodd,  214 ;  with 
Boswell,  ibid.;  with  Steevens,  ibid.;  anecdotes  of,  215 — 220  ;  scene  at 
Baretti's  trial,  220,  n. ;  his  dog  Dragon,  221 ;  author  of  "  High  Life 
Below  Stairs,"  223 ;  "  King  John  "  rivalry  with  Sheridan,  225 ;  friend- 
ship  with  Colman,  227;  praised  in  "The  Rosciad,"  232  ;  provokes  the 
author,  233  ;  his  "soreness,"  ibid.;  appeal  for  Hogarth  to  Churchill, 
234  ;  his  kindness  to  Rich,  235  ;  attacked  by  Bower,  ibid.;  dissuaded 
from  bringing  him  on  the  stage,  237;  declines  in  popular  favour,  ibid.; 
clears  the  stage  of  loungers,  reforms  the  scenery,  &c,  237 — 241  ;  his 
transformation  scene,  240,  n. ;  quarrel  with  Fitzpatrick,  242 ;  attack 
on  him  by  Fitzpatrick,  and  riots  at  Drury  Lace,  243-5  ;  his  ode  on 
Fitzpatrick,  246  ;  his  one  bad  house,  247;  visits  Chatsworth  to  meet 
Quin,  ibid.;  description  of  his  physical  advantages  for  acting,  249  ;  de- 
tailed account  of  his  Richard,  250  ;  oHiif  /Tir?  f  fAn0*1 — 254  ;  of  his 
Hamlet,  254 — 258  ;  his  Macbeth,  25&—2(>2;  discussion  as  to  his  height, 
'  262;  the  King  in  "Henry  IV.,"  263;  his  King  John  and  Pavlcon- 
bridge,  ibid.;  his  Jaffier,  264  ;  his  Chatnont,  265  ;  his  Borneo,  ibid,; 
Otiicllo,  ibid.;  the  Ghost  in  "  Hamlet,"  266  ;  Lvsignan,  ibid.;  Arbaces, 
267;  Bayes,  268—270  ;  Sir  John  Brute,  270  ;  Abd  Drugger,  271;  Lord 
Townly,  272  ;  Benedick,  273  ;  Don  Felix,  ibid.;  Lord  Chedkstone,  ibid; 
Leon,  274 ;  Archer,  275 ;  Afarplot,276  ;  Sir  Anthony  BranviUe,  246, 277; 
Virginius,  277;  his  "stage  business,"  ibid.;  Hastings,  279;  his  Pal' 
staff,  281 ;  sets  off  on  the  Grand  Tour,  282  ;  his  journey  to  Paris,  283 ; 
his  Journal,  ibid.;  the  state  in  which  he  found  French  society,  284  ; 
and  the  French  stage,  ibid.;  his  intimacy  with  Clairon,  285  ;  visit  to 
the  theatre,  ibid.;  the  French  "Tancred,"  ibid.;  the  "dagger  scene" 
at  Mr.  Neville's,  286  ;  sets  off  for  Italy,  287;  receives  an  invitation 
from  Voltaire,  ibid.;  meets  Algarotti  at  Florence,  288  ;  visits  Rome, 
ibid.;  and  Naples,  289  ;  treated  with  distinction  by  the  King,  ibid.; 
his  little  vanity,  ibid. ;  received  by  the  Duke  of  Parma,  290  ;  goes  on  to 
Venice,  291 ;  his  unea&iness  ati  r^TfU'fl  ""fifif00,  ibid.;  seized  with  fever 
at  Munich,  292  ;  writes  his  own  epitaph,  293  ;  returns  to  Paris,  294  ; 
"Mr.  Garrick's  successor,"  ibid.;  his  generous  advice  to  Powell,  ibid.; 
his  life  and  amusements  in  Paris,  296 — 298 ;  his  sympathy  for 
Clairon,  and  generous  offer,  299,  300 ;  his  epitaph  on  Hogarth,  301; 
his  return  to  England,  302 ;  undecided  whether  he  will  re-appear, 
ibid.;  but  persuaded  by  the  King,  ibid.;  his  re-appearance  and  ad- 
dress, 303  ;  the  Theatrical  Fund.  304  ;  dispute  with  Colman  as  to  the 
"  Clandestine  Marriage,"  306  ;  their  shares  in  its  authorship  discussed, 
307;  their  reconciliation , 308,  309  ;  fretted  by  Lacy,  312  ;  plays  before 
Rousseau,  314 ;  plays  before  the  King  of  Denmark,  319 ;  reconciled  to 
Murphy,  320;  revives  "The  Nonjuror,"  321;  frequents  clubs,  323; 
his  social  arts,  324-5  ;  little  scene  exhibiting  his  uneasiness  at  praise  of 
another,  325,  n. ;  his  vers  de  sociiU,  325—328  ;  "gets  up"  the  Strat- 
ford Jubilee,  328  ;  account  of  it,  329—336  ;  gets  up  a  pageant  at  his 
theatre,  337;  account  of  Foote's  behaviour  to  him,  346  ;  "For  you 
know  Foote  hates  me,"  347;  his  generous  exertions  to  save  Foote, 
348  ;  Johnson's  uniformly  unkind  conduct,  349 — 357;  moves  to  the 
Adelphi,  357;  account  of  his  house,  358  ;  riot  on  the  production  of 
Kelly '8  new  comedy,  359;  goes  on  visits,  ibid.;  warned  by  Junius, 
360 ;  his  alarm,  361 ;  Kenrick's  libel,  362  ;  BickeratafFa  piteous  appeal 
to  him,  363.  n. ;  new  dispute  with  Murphy,  365 ;  alters  "  Hamlet,"  368— 
370  ;  encouraged  by  scholars,  369  ;  produces  it,  ibid.;  his  dreamy  idea 
of  an  edition  of  Shakspgaxg,  370,  n. ;  description  of  the  great  actors 
who  appeared  at  Tirur^  Lane,  3Jl-*-385 ;  his  humorous  letters  to 
Stone,  the  "super,0  ^A,^&,n.\  %o*»\»  <ssv«^386  ;  a^counjujf  his 


INDEX.  477 

preparations  for  acting,  ibid.;  once  intoxicated,  ibid.;  his  discipline, 
ibid.;  his  behaviour  to  his  actors,  387;  anecdote  of,  in  the  green-room, 
389,  n. ;  scene  with  Frodsham,  ibid.;  his  disputes  with  King,  391 ; 
with  Smith,  392,  393,  n. ;  with  Clive,  393,  394  ;  with  Abington,  395  ; 
with  Mrs.  Yates,  396,  397;  with  Miss  Younge,  397;  with  Miss  Pope, 
398,  399  ;  attacked  by  David  Williams,  402—405  ;  his  generous  letter 
as  to  Mossop,  404  ;  writes  an  epitaph  on  Goldsmith,  410,  411 ;  their 
intimacy  and  misunderstandings,  411,  412  ;  his  behaviour  to  Hender- 
son, 413,  415 ;  to  Mrs.  Siddons,  415,  416 ;  hiB  last  season,  417;  re* 
models  Drury  Lane,  ibid.;  finds  the  receipts  falling  off,  418  ;  prepares 
to  retire,  419  ;  supposed  motives  for  this  retirement,  ibid.;  discussion 
as  to  his  age,  421 ;  proposes  to  Colman  to  buy  his  share,  423  ;  con- 
cludes with  Sheridan  and  others,  ibid.;  grateful  testimony  of  Clive  to 
his  merits,  423 — 425  ;  a  last  riot,  425  ;  the  last  Act,  426  ;  the  excite- 
ment, ibid.;  his  last  performances,  427 — 429;  the  last  night,  "The 
Wonder,"  429—432 ;  his  kind  behaviour  to  his  relations,  432—439  ; 
account  of  his  character,  440 — 450  ;  instances  of  his  liberality,  443 — 
448 ;  his  portraits  and  painters,  449,  450 ;  complimented  by  the  House 
of  Commons,  452 ;  letter  to  Miss  Hannah  More,  452,  n. ;  offends  the 
Chevalier  D'£on,  453  ;  anxious  about  the  theatre,  455  ;  goes  on  visit*, 
and  is  seen  at  a  review,  459  ;  decay  at  Drury  Lane,  460  ;  last  visit  to 
Althorpe,  ibid.;  threatened  by  "  Curtius,"  ibid.;  seized  with  illness  at 
Althorpe,  461;  account  of  his  last  sickness,  461,  462  ;  his  funeral,  463 ; 
his  monument,  464  ;  his  wealth,  and  his  will,  466. 

Garrick,  David,  the  Huguenot,  flies  from  France  to  London,  2 ;  his  journal, 
ibid.;  his  children,  ibid. 

,  Captain  Peter,  quartered  at  Lichfield,  3 ;  his  marriage,  ibid.;  his  pro- 
motion, ibid.;  sent  to  Hereford,  4  ;  goes  out  to  Gibraltar,  9  ;  returns 
home,  21;  his  will,  ibid.;  his  death,  22. 

,  Mrs.,  on  an  excursion,  172  ;  at  Hampton,  197 — 199  ;  restored  by  the 

mud  baths  of  Albano,  292 ;  admiration  of  the  French  for  her,  296 ; 
her  last  years,  466 — 468.    (See  Violktte.) 

,  David,  the  actor's  uncle,  sent  to  Portugal,  3 ;  his  death,  circa  1737,  32. 

,  Peter,  (David's  brother),  born,  3  ;  joins  David  in  the  wine  trade,  24 ; 

his  character,  ibid.;  his  declining  years,  433. 

,  George,  434,  435. 

,  Carrington,  436. 

,  David,  the  actor's  nephew,  436,  437. 

,  Arabella  and  Catherine,  the  actor's  nieces,  437 — 439. 

Gibbon's  opinion  of  Garrick's  Richard,  281. 

Giffard,  Henry,  account  of,  32,  54,  55,  n. 

Glover,  50 ;  his  "  Boadicea,"  152. 

Gliick,  101. 

Goldsmith,  his  relation  to  Garrick,  317,  318  ;  production  of  "  She  Stoops 
to  Conquer,"  408,  409 ;  his  famous  portrait  of  Garrick,  "  Retaliation," 
440. 

Goodman's  Fields  Theatre,  account  of  it,  32,  33 ;  description  of  the  in- 
terior, 40. 

Graham,  Mr.,  his  play,  192. 

Griffith,  Mrs.,  193. 

Grimm's  opinion  of  Garrick's  acting,  274 — 276. 

Hampton,  Garrick's  villa  at,  196—198  ;  a  day  at,  198,  199. 

Hartley,  Mrs.,  380. 

Havard,  323,  384,  385. 

,  Churchill's  sketch  of,  229. 


478  INDEX. 

Hawkesworth,  Dr.,  196. 
Hawkins,  his  "Alfred,"  194. 

,  Sir  John,  his  prejudices  against  the  stage,  33,  111,  197,  n.,  198,  319,  n. 

Henderson,  his  amusing  sketch  of  Garrick's  depreciation  of  Moasop,  325,  n. ; 

his  relations  to  Qarrick,  413 — 415. 
Hiffernan,  Paul,  148  ;  frightens  Foote,  ibid.;  191,  192. 
Hill,  Dr.,  account  of,  74,  148,  149,  168. 
Hoadly,  Dr.  Benjamin,  28  ;  his  "Suspicious  Husband,"  109;  his  sketch  of 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dodd,  382,  n. 
Hogarth,  plays  "Julius  Caesar,"  with  Hoadly  and  Garrick,  28 ;  his  death,  293. 
Holland,  230,  432,  n. 

Home,  account  of  his  "Douglas,"  188,  189. 
Hunter,  Qarrick's  and  Johnson's  schoolmaster,  5. 

Irish  Btage,  its  great  players,  59,  60. 

James,  Dr.,  4. 

Jephson,  193,  447. 

Johnson,  Dr.,  at  Lichfield,  scene  at  the  strolling  performance,  6,  7;  sets 
up  a  school  at  Edial,  17;  supplies  Prologue  for  Drury  Lane,  115, 116  ; 
his  discontent  at  the  manner  "  Irene  "  was  brought  out,  121,  122  ;  at 
Hampton,  200;  his  constant  unkindness  to  Garrick,  343 — 357;  at 
Qarrick's  funeral,  464  ;  his  tribute  to  Garrick's  genius,  ibkL 

Johnson,  Michael,  4. 

Kelly,  Hugb,  his  comedy,  318,  319. 
Kenrick,  his  libel  on  Garrick,  345,  362—364. 

King,  Tom,  his  Lord  Ogltby,  310  ;  Elia's  sketch  of,  885 ;  his  conduct  to 
Garrick,  391,  392. 

Lacy,  manager  of  Drury  Lane,  79  ;  account  of,  111. 

Lewis,  381. 

Lichfield  grocer,  the,  his  description  of  Garrick's  Abel  Drugger,  272,  n. 

Lichtenberg's  study  of  Garrick's  acting,  257,  258,  275,  276. 

"Macbeth,"  Davenant's  version,  117. 

Mackenzie,  "  The  Man  of  Feeling,"  195. 

Macklin,  Charles,  his  early  friendship  with  Garrick,  26  ;  the  first  to  intro- 
duce the  natural  school  of  acting,  ibid.,  32  ;  his  friendship  with  Fleet- 
wood, 65 ;  his  intimacy  with  Garrick,  66 — 74  ;  gross  description  of 
Garrick's  playing,  278,  279  ;  his  closing  days,  376  ;  his  malignant 
analysis  of  Garrick's  character,  376 — 378,  n.;  412. 

Mallet,  his  "  Alfred,"  141. 

Marmontel,  his  admiration  of  Garrick's  genius,  286,  287,  296. 

Marr,  39,  n.;  384. 

Monsey,  Dr ,  216,  217. 

Moody,  required  by  the  audience  to  go  down  upon  his  knees,  245 ;  his 
bold  behaviour  to  Fitzpatrick,  ibid. 

Moore,  Edward,  his  "Foundling,"  117;  his  "Gil  Bias,"  141;  his  "Games- 
ter," 146. 

More,  Hannah,  her  ode  to  Dragon,  221,  222,  n. ;  her  account  of  Garrick's 
readings,  452 — 455  ;  described  Garrick  and  Dr.  Johnson  telling  stories 
of  their  boyiah  days,  454,  455  ;  her  account  of  Mrs.  Garrick's  grief 
after  her  husband's  death,  462,  n. 

Moasop,  Henry,  143  ;  his  jealousy,  148  ;  leaves  Drury  Lane  in  disgust, 
158  ;  his  elocution,  4QV,  Yds  fete,  402—406. 


INDEX.  479 

Mtidge,  Dr.,  his  impressions  of  Garrick's  acting,  278. 

Murphy,  Arthur,  180—184;  account  of  the  "Orphan  of  China/'  181— 
184  ;  his  opinion  of  Garrick,  184,  n. ;  Churchill's  sketch  of,  231;  ac- 
count of  his  later  career,  320,  321,  365,  368—370. 

Newton,  Bishop,  his  encouragement  of  Garrick,  48. 

Palmer,  J.,  his  death,  320  ;  Elia's  sketch  of,  ibid. 

Pantomime,  account  of,  138,  139. 

Partridge  ("Tom  Jones")  on  Garrick's  Hamlet,  282. 

Pitt,  211. 

Place,  De  la,  296,  370. 

Pope,  Miss,  165  ;  criticised?  by  Churchill  and  Leigh  Hunt,  375,  398,  399. 

Porter,  Mrs.,  her  praise  of  Garrick,  48,  49. 

Powell,  drawn  by  Garrick  from  a  *'  spouting  "  club    n  Wood  Street,  282  i 

his  success,  291,  292,  294,  295  ;  his  death,  318. 
Preville,  sketch  of,  284,  285,  301. 

Pritchard,  Mrs.,  her  death,  320  ;  her  Lady  Macbeth,  ibid.,  373. 
Pulteney,  Mr.  (later  Lord  Bath),  49. 

Quin,  his  three  dethronements,  52,  53  ;  calls  Garrick  "  the  Whitfield  of 
the  stage,"  53  ;  at  Covent  Garden,  64,  65  ;  his  conception  of  Mac- 
beth, 75  ;  his  jest  on  Garrick's  Othello,  78  ;  his  rivalry  with  Garrick  at 
the  same  theatre,  105 — 108  ;  pendant  to  Cumberland's  picture  of  him 
and  Garrick,  137,  ru;  Churchill's  sketch  of,  231;  his  death,  305. 

Ralph,  his  "Astrologer,"  185. 

Reed,  his  "  Dido,"  193,194. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  his  nephew's  play  declined  by  Garrick,  193  ;  his 

character  of  Garrick,  324,  344,  448,  449. 
Rich,  his  agreement  with  Garrick,  109.  n.  ;   as  Harlequin,  138,  139  ;   his 

oddities,  138,  139,  n.;  his  death,  235. 
"  Rosciad,"  The,  its  effect,  229—233,  246. 
Ross,  230  ;  sketch  of,  381. 
Rousseau  in  London,  his  vanity,  314. 

Sheridan,  Thomas,  the  actor,  his  proposals  to  Garrick,  75,  76  ;  his  growing 
jealousy,  78,  93  ;  at  Dublin  with  Garrick,  86 — 95  ;  engaged  at  Covent 
Garden,  154  ;  rivalry  in  "King  John,"  225  fTTescribed  by  Churchill, 
231;  sketch  of,  377 — 379  ;  his  rudeness  to  Garrick,  458. 

,  Mrs.  F.,  her  comedy,  246,  277. 

,  R.  B.,  his  management,  455  ;  his  "School  for  Scandal,"  457;  almost 

sole  owner  of  Drury  Lane,  458. 

Shirley,  Mr.,  his  "  Black  Prince,"  194  ;  his  behaviour  to  Garrick,  195. 

Shuter,  381. 

Siddons,  Mrs.,  her  admiration  of  Garrick's  RieJtard,  251,  415,  416. 

Smith,  "the  genteel,"  230,  381;  his  behaviour,  392,  393,  n. 

Smock  Alley  Theatre,  60. 

Smollett,  his  behaviour  to  Garrick,  186  ;  his  amende,  187. 

Spencer,  Lord  and  Lady,  Garrick's  intimacy  with,  205. 

Steevens,  his  behaviour,  215. 

Sterne,  209,  210,  n. 

Stockdale,  Percival,  219,  276,  n. 

Stage,  the,  in  1738-40,  27,  23;  theatres  in  London  about  1738,32,  33; 
persecution  of  the  players,  33,  34 ;  Licensing  Act,  ibid. ;  opposed  by 
Lord  Chesterfield,  ibid. 


480  INDEX. 

Swinfen,  Mr.,  his  letter  announcing  David's  first  appearance,  37. 

"Tetty"  (Mrs.  Johnson)  described,  17. 

Thomson,  his  "Tancred,"  78  ;  "Tig  and  Tiry"  school,  ibid. 

Townshend,  Charles,  213. 

Violette,  the  (Mrs.  Garrick),  comes  to  England,  98  ;  dances  before  the 
Prince  of  Hesse,  ibid.;  account  of  her,  100 ;  patronized  by  the  Bur- 
lingtons,  ibid.;  her  success,  101;  riot  at  Drury  Lane  on  account  of 
her  omitting  a  dance,  1 02 ;  pays  a  visit  to  the  Tower,  ibid, ;  question 
as  to  her  parentage,  ibid.,  n. ;  her  little  poem,  438,  n. ;  her  great  age, 
closing  incidents  of  her  life,  and  death,  466 — 468. 

Warburton  compliments  Garrick,  156  ;  191,  209,  243. 

Warwick,  Earl  of,  206. 

Weston,  221,  322. 

Wilkes,  his  falsity,  212,  361. 

Wilkinson,  Tate,  introduction  to  Garrick,  and  characteristics,  169 — 174; 
scene  at  a  country  theatre,  173;  morning  rehearsal  at  Drury  Lane 
described  by,  175;  "takes  off"  Garrick,  178;  Ijis  quarrel  with  Foote, 
179;  his  advice  to  comic  actors,  387,  n. ;  his  quaint  picture  of  Kitty 
Olive's  diverting  conduct  in  the  green-room,  400,  n. 

Williams,  David,  opinion  of  Garrick's  playing,  281 ;  his  advocacy  of  Mos- 
sop,  402—407,  421. 

Williams,  Hanbury,  admirer  of  Woffington,  and  his  verses  to  her,  31, 81, 82. 

Woffington,  Margaret,  account  of,  29,  30 ;  her  inconstancy,  80 ;  breaks  off 
with  Garrick,  83 ;  account  of  her  quarrel  with  Garrick,  82 — 85 ;  her 
gallant  behaviour  to  the  audience,  136,  137;  description  of  her  at 
Dublin,  154;  scene  on  her  sudden  illness,  and  retirement,  165; 
character  of,  ibid. ;  a  "  convert,"  166,  n. 

Woffington,  Miss  Polly,  her  marriage  with  Mr.  Cholmondely,  81,  n. 

Woodward,  deserts  Garrick,  167;  his  Copper  Captain,  274,  275. 

Walpole  depreciates  Garrick,  51;  his  relations  with  Garrick,  212,  213;  low 
opinion  of  his  acting,  281. 

Wallis,  Mr.,  his  monument  to  Garrick,  464. 

Walmesley,  Gilbert,  his  character,  4,  5 ;  Mb  marriage,  19 ;  letter  of  recom- 
mendation to  Colson,  ibid. 

Yates,  35,  36,  230 ;  at  Bartholomew  Fair,  375. 

Yates,  Mrs.,  and  Mrs.  Barry  playing  in  their  old  age,  374,  396,  397. 

York,  the  Duke  of,  on  his  tour,  290. 

Yorke,  Charles,  213. 

Young,  Dr.,  his  opinion  of  Betterton  and  Garrick,  49,  n. ;  "  The  Brothers," 

146. 
Younge,  Miss,  316,  375,  397,  398. 

Zofifany,  his  portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrick,  and  other  theatrical  pictures, 
101,  n.,  270,  271,  371. 


THE   END.