David Garrick--His Residence in the Adelphi--Founds the Drury Lane
Fund--His Last Appearance on the Stage--Honoured by Parliament--The
Friendship of Mr and Mrs Garrick for Hannah More--Their
Correspondence--Garrick helps the Production of _Percy_--Presents his
Buckles to Hannah More--The Production of _Percy_--Garrick's Prologue
gives Offence--Garrick brings Hannah More's Dinner from the Adelphi to
the "Turk's Head"--The Literary Club--His Last Illness and Death.
THE shades of David Garrick and Dr Johnson must haunt the Adelphi.
Johnson was a constant visitor here. The Adelphi buildings are very
much as they were in his lifetime, whereas most of his Fleet Street
habitations are either swept away or sadly marred. But, although the
Embankment and the Gardens below Adelphi Terrace have taken the place
of the unsightly wharves and the muddy river of Johnson's day, the
house occupied by David Garrick for some six or seven years before
his death, and wherein he died, is still standing. The great actor
purchased the property, and, consequently, we may look in vain for
any mention of it in the _Particulars_ of _the Adelphi Lottery_, to
which I have already made reference. During these last few years of
his life, Garrick--who spent the summer at his country residence at
Hampton--busied himself in the foundation of a great charitable bequest
for his fellow-players. At his suggestion, and upon his advice, the
Drury Lane Fund was established, a special Act of Parliament, for which
he provided all the necessary expenses, being obtained for the sanction
and support of the institution, in January, 1776. He also gave to it
all the money which he received on the occasion of his taking leave
of the stage. "It is computed that by the product of his labours, in
acting annually capital parts, and by donations of one kind or another,
he bestowed for this beneficial institution a capital of near 4,500 L."
It was from his house in the Adelphi--No. 5, the centre house of the
Terrace--which, by the way, was then known as Royal Terrace--that the
great actor set out on the eventful 10th of June, 1776, for the stage
of Drury Lane Theatre, whereon he then made his last appearance. He
acted Don Felix, in Mrs Centlivre's comedy, _The Wonder, a Woman keeps
a Secret_. He had previously disposed of his interest in the patent,
for the sum of £35,000, to Richard Brinsley Sheridan and Richard Ford.
Before his actual farewell, he gave the public an opportunity of
seeing him in several of his other favourite characters, including
Hamlet, Richard III., and King Lear. He only acted Richard once during
his farewell season, and that was by command of George III. "His
Majesty," we are told, "was much surprised to see him, in an age so
advanced" (he was just then sixty years old) "run about the field of
battle with so much fire, force, and agility." On the conclusion of
his performance of Don Felix, Garrick approached the footlights, "with
much palpitation of mind, and visible emotion in his countenance. No
premeditation could prepare him for this affecting scene. He bowed--he
paused--the spectators were all attention. After a short struggle
of nature, he recovered from the shock," and thus addressed the
audience:--"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been customary with persons
under my circumstances to address you in a farewell epilogue. I had the
same intention, and turned my thoughts that way; but indeed I found
myself then as incapable of writing such an epilogue as I should be
now of speaking it. The jingle of rhyme and the language of fiction
would but ill suit my present feelings. This is to me a very awful
moment; it is no less than parting for ever with those from whom I have
received the greatest kindness and favours, and upon the spot where
that kindness and those favours were received." (Here he was unable to
proceed till he was relieved by a shower of tears.) "Whatever may be
the changes of my future life, the deepest impression of your kindness
will always remain here" (putting his hand on his breast), "fixed and
unalterable. I will very readily agree to my successors having more
skill and ability for their station than I have; but I defy them all to
take more sincere and more uninterrupted pains for your favour, or to
be more truly sensible of it than is your humble servant." The crowded
and brilliant audience rewarded the actor with renewed acclamations and
many tears; and, making a "profound obeisance," he left the stage.
Garrick, despite his retirement from the theatre, still took great
interest in it. He read and approved the tragedy of _Percy_, which
had been written by Hannah More, the religious writer (1745-1833),
and was instrumental in its production, at Covent Garden, in 1777. He
also wrote the prologue and the epilogue to the play. He frequently
attended the debates in the House of Commons. In the spring of 1777,
he unwittingly provoked a marked compliment to his splendid position
in the great world of artistic and literary London. Happening to
be present in the Strangers' Gallery during a certain motion which
produced some bickering between two right honourable gentlemen,
"which proceeded to such a degree of warmth that the Speaker had
to interfere," an unhappy member for Shropshire, observing that
Garrick was seated in the Gallery, thereupon moved a resolution for
the clearing of the House. "Roscius," however, managed to withdraw
himself from further observation, and thus avoided the consequences
of the ungenerous suggestion. The same unfortunate member, on the
following day, essayed to address the House on the impropriety of
suffering players to hear the debates, whereupon no less a person than
Edmund Burke arose, and, appealing to the honourable assembly, asked
whether "it could possibly be consistent with the rules of decency and
liberality to exclude from the hearing of their debates a man to whom
they were all obliged, one who was the great master of eloquence, in
whose school they had all imbibed the art of speaking and been taught
the elements of rhetoric. For his part, he owned that he had been
greatly indebted to his instructions. Much more he said in commendation
of Mr Garrick, and was warmly seconded by Mr Fox and Mr T. Townshend,
who very copiously displayed the great merit of their old preceptor, as
they termed him; they reprobated the motion of the gentleman with great
warmth and indignation."[33] The House, with almost complete unanimity,
concurred in this eulogium, and the actor, returning to the Adelphi,
wrote the following lines on the subject:--
"Squire B----n rose with deep intent,
And notify'd to Parliament
That I, it was a shame and sin,
When others were shut out, got in;
Asserting in his wise oration,
I glory'd in my situation.
I own my features might betray
Peculiar joy I felt that day.
I glory when my mind is feasted
With dainties it has seldom tasted;
When reason chooses Fox's tongue,
To be more rapid, clear, and strong;
When from his classic urn Burke pours
A copious stream through banks of flowers;
When Barré stern, with accents deep,
Calls up Lord North, and murders sleep;
And if his Lordship rise to speak,
Then wit and argument awake:
When Rigby speaks, and all may hear him,
Who can withstand, _ridendo verum_?
When Thurlow's words attention bind,
The spell's of a superior mind.
Now, whether I were Whig or Tory,
This was a time for me to glory;
My glory farther still extends,
For most of these I call my friends:
But if, Squire B----n, you were hurt,
To see me, as you thought, so pert,
You might have punish'd my transgression,
And damp'd the ardour of expression.
A brute there is whose voice confounds,
And frights all others with strange sounds;
Had you, your matchless pow'rs displaying,
Like him, Squire B----n, set a-braying,
I should have lost all exultation,
Nor gloried in my situation."
[Illustration: THE FOX-UNDER-THE-HILL.]
The strong bond of friendship which existed between Hannah More and Mr
and Mrs Garrick is one of the most remarkable events in the history
of literature and the stage. On the one side, there was unbounded
admiration for the great actor; on the other, Garrick and his wife
evidently held the young writer in the highest esteem. The letters
written, and received by, Hannah More, from the time of her first
meeting with Garrick, until the death of his widow, form a charming
note in the lives of these three people. They bridge over the years
1776 to 1822. In the former year, it should be borne in mind, the
actor was nearly sixty years old, his wife a little younger, while
Hannah More was but thirty-one years of age. The affection of the
elderly couple for their young protégée is remarkable, and, curiously
enough, the career of the latter began with Garrick's leaving the
stage. On June 10, 1776, Hannah More writes to David Garrick: "I think,
by the time this reaches you, I may congratulate you on the end of
your labours and the completion of your fame--a fame which has had no
parallel, and will have no end. Yet whatever reputation the world may
ascribe to you, I, who have had the happy privilege of knowing you
intimately, shall always think you derived your greatest glory from the
temperance with which you enjoyed it and the true greatness of mind
with which you lay it down. Surely, to have suppressed your talents
in the moment of your highest capacity for exercising them, does as
much honour to your heart as the exertion itself did to your dramatic
character; but I cannot trust myself with this subject, because I am
writing to the man himself; yet I ought to be indulged, for is not
the recollection of my pleasures all that is left me of them? Have I
not seen in one season that man act seven-and-twenty times, and rise
each time in excellence, and shall I be silent? Have I not spent three
months under the roof of that man and his dear charming lady, and
received from them favours that would take me another three months to
tell over, and shall I be silent?
"But highly as I enjoy your glory (for I do enjoy it most heartily,
and seem to partake it too, as I think a ray of it falls on all your
friends), yet I tremble for your health. It is impossible you can do
so much mischief to the nerves of other people without hurting your
own,--in _Richard_ especially, where your murders are by no means
confined to the Tower: but you assassinate your whole audience who have
hearts. I say, I tremble lest you should suffer for all this; but it is
now over, as I hope are the bad effects of it upon yourself. You may
break your wand at the end of your trial, when you lay down the office
of _haut intendant_ of the passions; but the enchantment it raised you
can never break, while the memories and feelings remain of those who
were ever admitted into the magic circle.
"This letter is already of a good impudent length, and to the person,
of all others, who has the least time to read nonsense. I will not
prolong my impertinence, but to beg and conjure that I may hear a
little bit about your finishing night. The least scrap--printed or
manuscript--paragraph or advertisement--merry or serious--verse or
prose, will be thankfully received, and hung up in the temple of
reliques.
"Pray tell my sweet Mrs Garrick I live on the hope of hearing from her.
And tell her further that she and you have performed a miracle, for you
have loaded one person with obligations, and have not made an ingrate."
A few months later Hannah More beseeches Garrick to write her a
prologue to _Percy_. Garrick received her letter just as he was
about to leave the Adelphi for a trip on the river. But he replied
immediately, in the following characteristic way: "Write you an
epilogue! Give you a pinch of snuff! By the greatest good luck in the
world, I received your letter when I was surrounded with ladies and
gentlemen, setting out upon a party to go up the Thames. Our expedition
will take us seven or eight days upon the most limited calculations.
They would hardly allow me a moment to write this scrawl: I snatched up
the first piece of paper (and a bad one it is) to tell you how unhappy
I am that I cannot confer upon you so small a favour directly. If you
will let me know immediately, by a line directed to me at the Adelphi,
for whom you intend the epilogue, and what are her or his strong marks
of character in the play (for my copy is in town, or with Miss Young),
I will do my best on my return. I must desire you not to rely upon me
this time, on account of my present situation; I could as soon sleep
in a whirlwind as write among these ladies, and I shall be so fatigued
with talking myself, and hearing them talk, or I could sit up all night
to obey your commands."
Garrick complied with the request, and Hannah More writes, on June
16, 1777, to thank him: "I beg to return you my hearty thanks for
your goodness in sending me your delightful prologue. That you should
think me not unworthy to possess so great a treasure flatters more
than my vanity. And that you should send it me so soon makes it doubly
gratifying. I have read and re-read it with all the malice of a friend,
and pronounce that I never read a sweeter or more beautiful thing....
Many thanks, dear sir, for your good and wholesome advice about my
play. I do nothing, except regret my own idleness. I tremble for my
fifth act; but I am afraid I shall never make others tremble at it. My
love and duty to my sweet Mrs Garrick, and my thankful compliments to
the young lady to whose transcription I am so much obliged; she is
astonishingly correct, not the smallest error."
Hannah More was then invited to visit the Garricks. "As soon as I got
to London," she writes to her sister, "I drove straight to the Adelphi,
where, to my astonishment, I found a coach waiting for me to carry me
to Hampton. Upon my arrival here, I was immediately put in possession
of my old chamber. Garrick is all good humour, vivacity, and wit.
While I think of it, I must treat you with a little distich which Mrs
Barbauld wrote extempore, on my showing my Felix Buckles (the elegant
buckles which Garrick wore the last time he ever acted, and with which
he presented me as a relic):
'Thy buckles, O Garrick, thy friend may now use,
But no mortal hereafter shall tread in thy shoes?'"
Where, I wonder, are those "Felix Buckles" now, with their double
association of David Garrick and Hannah More! During this visit to
the Garricks, the company who "did honour" to the actor and his wife
included Dr Burney, Sheridan, Lord Palmerston, and others of note.
"Roscius" was in the best of spirits and "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 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."
Hannah More was brought into very close relationship with the Garricks
in the autumn of 1777, through the play in which Garrick had interested
himself. On October 17, he sends a letter to her from the Adelphi:
"Shame! shame! shame! You may well say so, my dear madam; but indeed
I have been so disagreeably entertained with the gout running all
about me, from head to heel, that I have been unfit for the duties of
friendship; and very often for those which a good husband, and a good
friend, should never fail performing. I must gallop over this small
piece of paper; it was the first I snatched up, to tell you that my
wife has your letter, and thinks it a fine one and a sweet one.
"I was at court to-day, and such work they made with me, from the
Archbishop of Canterbury to the Page of the Back Stairs, that I have
been suffocated with compliments. We have wanted you at some of our
private hours. Where's the Nine? We want the Nine![34] Silent was every
muse!
"Cambridge said yesterday, in a large company at the Bishop of
Durham's, where I dined, that your ode to my house-dog was a very
witty production; and he thought there was nothing to be altered or
amended except in the last stanza, which he thought the only weak
one. I am afraid that you asked me to do something for you about the
parliament, which in my multitude of matters was overlooked; pray, if
it is of consequence, let me know it again, and you may be assured of
the intelligence you want.
"The last new tragedy, _Semiramis_,[35] has, though a bare translation,
met with great success. The prologue is a bad one, as you may read in
the papers, by the author: the epilogue is grave, but a sweet pretty
elegant morsel, by Mr Sheridan; it had deservedly great success. Mr
Mason's _Caractacus_[36] is not crowded, but the men of taste, and
classical men, admire it much. Mrs Garrick sends a large parcel of
love to you all. I send mine in the same bundle. Pray write soon, and
forgive me all my delinquencies." Writing to her sister in November,
on the eve of the production of _Percy_, Hannah More says: "It is
impossible to tell you of all the kindness and friendship of the
Garricks; he thinks of nothing, talks of nothing, writes of nothing
but _Percy_. He is too sanguine; it will have a fall, and so I tell
him. When Garrick had finished his prologue and epilogue (which are
excellent) he desired I would pay him. Dryden, he said, used to have
five guineas a piece, but as he was a richer man he would be content
if I would treat him with a handsome supper and a bottle of claret. We
haggled sadly about the price, I insisting that I could only afford to
give him a beefsteak and a pot of porter; and at about twelve we sat
down to some toast and honey, with which the temperate bard contented
himself. Several very great ones made interest to hear Garrick read the
play, which he peremptorily refused. I supped on Wednesday night at Sir
Joshua's, spent yesterday morning at the Chancellor's, and the evening
at Mrs Boscawen's, Lady Bathurst being of the party."
Then comes another note, from _Mr Garrick's study, Adelphi, ten at
night_: "He himself puts the pen into my hand, and bids me say that all
is just as it should be. Nothing was ever more warmly received. I went
with Mr and Mrs Garrick; sat in Mr Harris's box, in a snug dark corner,
and behaved very well, that is, very quietly. The prologue and epilogue
were received with bursts of applause; so indeed was the whole; as much
beyond my expectation as my deserts! Mr Garrick's kindness has been
unceasing."
[Illustration:
_Hollar._ 1630.
YORK HOUSE. YORK STAIRS. DURHAM HOUSE.]
_Percy_, it may be observed, was Hannah More's most important play. The
author had previously published a pastoral drama, _The Search after
Happiness_, for the edification of school children, and her tragedy,
_The Inflexible Captive_, was acted on one occasion in Bath. Her
fourth play, _The Fatal Falsehood_, failed, at Covent Garden, in 1779.
The success of _Percy_ was largely due to Garrick's friendly help.
Wroughton, "Gentleman" Lewis, and Mrs Crawford played the principal
parts. Garrick wrote the epilogue, as well as the prologue, and, by
the following lines from the latter, gave great offence to a French
lady, Mlle. D'Eon, a reputed natural daughter of Louis XV., who had a
"violent passion" for the military dress of an officer in preference to
the gown and petticoat of her own sex:
"To rule the man our sex dame Nature teaches;
Mount the high horse we can, and make long speeches;
Nay, and with dignity, some wear the breeches.
And why not wear them?--
Did not a lady-knight, late chevalier,
A brave smart soldier in your eyes appear?
Hey! presto? pass! His sword becomes a fan;
A comely woman rising from a man!
The French their Amazonian maid invite;
She goes--alike well skill'd to talk or write,
Dance, ride, negotiate, scold, coquet, or fight.
If she should set her heart upon a rover,
And he prove false, she'd kick her faithless lover."
In January, 1778, Hannah More, flushed with the success of her tragedy,
was paying a round of visits in London. On one night she dined with
Mrs Delany, Mrs Boscawen, and the Duchess of Portland: on the next,
"at the Garricks with the sour crout party"--a weekly dinner in the
Adelphi of learned men (sour crout being one of the dishes), to which
Hannah More was always invited. She was taken ill during this month,
and Mrs Garrick tried to induce her to stay with her, an invitation
which was not accepted. Mrs Garrick "would have gone herself to fetch
me a physician, and insisted upon sending me my dinner, which I
refused; but at six this evening, when Garrick came to the Turk's Head
to dine, there accompanied him, in the coach, a minced chicken in the
stew-pan, hot, a canister of her fine tea, and a pot of cream. Were
there ever such people! Tell it not in Epic, or in Lyric, that the
great Roscius rode with a stew-pan of minced meat with him in the coach
for my dinner." The Turk's Head, by the way, was "a noted rendezvous of
painters" and the home of the Artists' Club before, in the year 1764,
Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds founded the famous "Literary Club,"
the members of which met weekly for supper and conversation. Garrick
had been a member for three years when he brought the invalid's repast
from the Adelphi to the Turk's Head--which was in Gerrard Street, at
the corner of Greek Street and Compton Street. The actor was also kind
enough to invest the profit on _Percy_, on the best security and at
five per cent., so that it made a considerable addition to the income
of the young writer.
On a certain memorable Thursday, in 1778, Hannah More dined with the
Garricks in the Adelphi, and, in the evening, Garrick accompanied his
guest to a reception given by Sir Joshua Reynolds; the party included
Gibbon, Johnson, Hermes Harris, Burney, Chambers, Ramsey, the Bishop of
St Asaph, Boswell, and Langton; "and scarce an expletive man or woman
among them. Garrick put Johnson into such good spirits that I never
knew him so entertaining or more instructive. He was as brilliant as
himself, and as good-humoured as any one else."
The end of a great career was, unhappily, now approaching. Mr and
Mrs Garrick had been invited to spend the Christmas of 1778 at the
country seat of Earl Spencer, where they were honoured guests. In the
midst of the festivities, Garrick was seized with a return of an old
disorder--an affection of the kidneys. Early in January, however, he
had so far recovered that he was able to travel to London. He arrived
at his house in the Adelphi on January 15, and several physicians
were called in. One of them, seeing that the illness was serious, and
knowing that its course was certain, thought it necessary to tell the
actor that, if he had any worldly affairs to settle, "it would be
prudent to dispatch them as soon as possible." But Garrick made answer
that nothing of that sort lay on his mind, that he was not afraid to
die. About two days before his death, he was visited by an old friend,
who was persuaded to stay and dine with Mrs Garrick, who was greatly
fatigued by her long and constant attendance upon her husband, a duty
to which she invariably attended. While she was talking to the friend,
the dying actor came into the room; "but, oh! how changed! divested of
that vivacity and sprightliness which used to accompany everything he
said and everything he did! His countenance was sallow and wan, his
movements slow and solemn. He was wrapped in a rich night-gown, not
unlike that which he always wore in Lusignan, the venerable old king of
Jerusalem [in _Zara_]; he presented himself to the imagination of his
friend as if he was just ready to act that character. He sat down; and
during the space of an hour, the time he remained in the room, he did
not utter a word. He rose, and withdrew to his chamber. Mrs Garrick and
the Gentleman dined." What a sad dinner that must have been!
Just before his death, Garrick confided to a friend that he did
not regret being childless, for he knew that the quickness of his
feelings was so great that, in case it had been his misfortune to have
disobedient children, he could not have borne such an affliction.
On seeing a number of gentlemen in his apartment a few hours before
the end, he enquired who they were, and, on being told that they
were physicians who sought to do him service, he shook his head, and
repeated the following lines from Nicholas Rowe's _Fair Penitent_:--
"Another, and another, still succeeds;
And the last fool is welcome as the former."
He died, with great composure, at eight o'clock on the morning of
January 20, 1779. On Monday, February 1, the body was conveyed from the
Adelphi to Westminster Abbey, and interred in Poet's Corner, a spot
made still further memorable in the annals of the stage by the burial
here--and close by the graves of David Garrick and Samuel Johnson--of
the remains of Henry Irving.
Before describing the magnificent funeral procession of David Garrick
from the Adelphi, let me glance for a moment at the widow of the
great actor and her deportment on this sad occasion. Thanks to Hannah
More--who had risen from a sick-bed, in Bristol, and had travelled
post-haste to London, at the express desire of her friend--we get a
most interesting account of Mrs Garrick at the time of her husband's
death:--
"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 embraced his coffin, and you come next.' She soon recovered
herself, and said with great composure, 'The goodness of God to
me is inexpressible; I desired 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 thankful for both!' She
thanked me a thousand times for such a real act of friendship, and
bade me be comforted, for it was God's will. She told me they had just
returned from Althorp, 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 Dr 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," and yielded up his spirit without
a groan, 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.
"I paid a melancholy visit to his coffin yesterday, where I found food
for meditation, till the mind 'burst with thinking.' His new house is
not so pleasant as Hampton, nor so splendid as the Adelphi, but it is
commodious enough for all the wants of its inhabitant; and besides, it
is so quiet that he will never be disturbed till the eternal morning,
and never till then will a sweeter voice than his own be heard. May
he then find mercy! They are preparing to hang the house with black,
for he is to lie in state until Monday. I dislike this pageantry,
and cannot help thinking that the disembodied spirit must look with
contempt upon the farce that is played over its miserable relics. But a
splendid funeral could not be avoided, as he is to be laid in the Abbey
with such illustrious dust, and so many are desirous of testifying
their respect by attending."
While the preparations were being made for the funeral, Mrs Garrick
stayed at the house of a friend. But after the funeral she returned
to the Adelphi. Hannah More, who came back with her, writes: "On
Wednesday night we came to the Adelphi--to this house! She bore it
with great tranquillity; but what was my surprise to see her go alone
into the chamber and bed in which he had died that day fortnight. She
had a delight in it beyond expression. I asked her the next day how
she went through it? She told me, 'Very well'; that she first prayed
with great composure, then went and kissed the dear bed, and got into
it with a sad pleasure." In reference to Garrick's death, the same
writer also says: "I can never cease to remember with affection and
gratitude, so warm, steady, and disinterested a friend; and I can
most truly bear this testimony to his memory, that I never witnessed,
in any family, more decorum, propriety, and regularity than in his:
where I never saw a card, or even met (except in one instance) a
person of his own profession at his table: of which Mrs Garrick, by
her elegance of taste, her correctness of manners, and very original
turn of humour, was the brightest ornament. All his pursuits and tastes
were so decidedly intellectual, that it made the society, and the
conversation which was always to be found in his circle, interesting
and delightful."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 33: Davies' _Memoirs of the Life of David Garrick_, 1784,
vol. ii., p. 356.]
[Footnote 34: "The Nine," Garrick's favourite way of addressing Hannah
More.]
[Footnote 35: Voltaire's tragedy, produced at Drury Lane.]
[Footnote 36: A "dramatic poem," on the model of Greek tragedy.]