Garrick's Funeral from the Adelphi--Johnson's Opinion of Garrick:
"A Liberal Man"--His Death "Eclipsed the Gaiety of Nations"--Topham
Beauclerk and Johnson--Mrs Garrick's famous Dinner Party--Johnson
and other Celebrities Present--Described by Hannah More and
Boswell--Johnson's Morning Visit to Adelphi Terrace--Hannah More's
Life Here--Another Dinner Party--Death of Mrs Garrick--Shakespeare's
Gloves sent to Mrs Siddons from the Adelphi--Goldsmith writes from a
Sponging-House to Garrick in the Adelphi--Becket, the Bookseller.
THE funeral procession which wended its way from the Adelphi Terrace,
through Adam Street to the Strand and thence by way of Whitehall
to Westminster Abbey, on that winter's morning in February, 1779,
was a lengthy and imposing one, though nowadays we should consider
such pomp and circumstance very lugubrious. First of all, came four
porters on horseback, their staffs, or wands of office, covered
with black silk and scarves. Then came six other men, with mourning
cloaks, followed by another official bearing a heavily-draped pennon.
Then came other six men carrying a surcoat of arms, a helmet with
crest, wreath, and mantlet. A state lid of black ostrich feathers,
surrounded by escutcheons, immediately preceded the hearse, which was
'full-dressed'--that is to say, it bore at each corner and on the sides
waving black ostrich plumes. A state coach, empty, and with a page on
each side, was followed by a mourning coach containing the clergy from
St Martin's-in-the-Fields. Then came six more mourning coaches "with
the pall-bearers, two in each coach, six pages on each side. A ditto,
with the chief mourners, a page on each side. A ditto, with three
family ditto. A ditto, with three physicians. A ditto, with surgeon
and apothecaries, a page on each side. A ditto, with Messrs Sheridan
and Harris, a page on each side. Three ditto, with a deputation of
twelve gentlemen, performers from Drury-Lane theatre, three pages
on each side. Two men in mourning, on horseback, with cloaks, etc.
Three ditto, with a deputation of twelve gentlemen, performers from
Covent-garden theatre, three pages on each side. Two men in mourning,
on horseback, with cloaks, etc. Four mourning coaches, with the members
of the literary club, four pages on each side. Two men in mourning,
on horseback, with cloaks. Seven coaches with intimate friends of the
deceased, seven pages on each side. Mr Garrick's coach, empty. All the
gentlemen's family coaches, empty."[37] The body was received at the
great west door of the Abbey, about three o'clock, by the Bishop of
Rochester, Dean of Westminster, who, attended by the clergy and choir,
preceded the corpse up the centre aisle, during which time Purcell's
funeral music was played and sung.[38]
Among those who followed the mournful procession from the Adelphi
were Lord Camden, the Lord Chancellor; the Earl of Ossory; the
Duke of Devonshire; Earl Spencer; the Right Hon. Richard Rigby,
and Viscount Palmerston, who, with others, were the pall-bearers.
The mourning coaches also contained Dr Johnson; George Colman, the
elder, the dramatist; John Dunning, afterwards Baron Ashburton, whose
_Inquiry into the Doctrines lately promulgated concerning Juries,
Libels_, etc., was pronounced by Horace Walpole "the finest piece
... written for liberty since Lord Somers"; Edmund Burke; Colonel
Isaac Barré, the Irish soldier and politician; the Hon. Charles Fox;
Lord Charles Spencer; the deputy usher of the black rod; and many
other distinguished men. The committee from Drury Lane consisted of
Richard Yates, Tom King, Vernon, William Parsons, James Dodd--an actor
who, according to Charles Lamb, "was a man of reading, and left at
his death a choice collection of old English literature"--Aickin,
John Palmer--an incomparable Joseph Surface--W. Bensley--the great
Malvolio of his day--William Brereton, John Moody, and Robert Baddeley.
From Covent Garden, there came "Gentleman" Lewis, Lee Lewes, John
Quick--George III.'s favourite comedian--and some nine other players of
good repute. It was said at the time that a greater concourse of people
attended than was ever known on a similar occasion.
Johnson, as all students of the stage are aware, had a sincere
admiration for Garrick, a fact that is proved by several references
in the pages of Boswell. A few months before the death of the player,
Johnson and Boswell dined with William Scott, in his chambers in
the Temple. The conversation turned upon fame, and Boswell "slily
introduced" the name of David Garrick, "and his assuming the airs of
a great man. _Johnson_: 'Sir, it is wonderful how _little_ Garrick
assumes. No, Sir, Garrick _fortunam reverenter habet_. Consider,
Sir,--celebrated men such as you have mentioned have had their applause
at a distance; but Garrick had it dashed in his face, sounded in his
ears, and went home every night with the plaudits of a thousand in
his cranium. Then, Sir, Garrick did not _find_, but _made_ his way
to the tables, the levees, and almost the bedchambers of the great.
Then, Sir, Garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from
fears of his power and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his
talents, were constantly submissive to him. And here is a man who has
advanced the dignity of his profession. Garrick has made a player a
higher character.' _Scott_: 'And he is a very sprightly writer too.'
_Johnson_: 'Yes, Sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own
acquisition. If all this had happened to me, I should have had a couple
of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down everybody
that stood in the way. Consider, if all this had happened to Cibber or
to Quin, they'd have jumped over the moon. Yet Garrick speaks to _us_'
(smiling). _Boswell_: 'And Garrick is a very good man, a charitable
man.' _Johnson_: 'Sir, a liberal man. He has given away more money than
any man in England. There may be a little vanity mixed; but he has
shown that money is not his first object.' _Boswell_: 'Yet Foote used
to say of him, that he walked out with the intention to do a generous
action, but turning the corner of a street, he met the ghost of a
halfpenny, which frightened him.' _Johnson_: 'Why, Sir, that is very
true, too; for I never knew a man of whom it could be said with less
certainty to-day what he will do to-morrow, than Garrick; it depends
so much on his humour at the time.' _Scott_: 'I am glad to hear of his
liberality. He has been represented as very saving.' _Johnson_: 'With
his domestic saving we have nothing to do. I remember drinking tea with
him long ago, when Peg Woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for
making it too strong. He had begun to feel money in his purse, and did
not know when he should have enough of it!'"
Shortly after Garrick's death, Johnson accorded the actor praise
that was even greater. The occasion was a dinner party, on April 24,
1779, at Topham Beauclerk's, at which Sir Joshua Reynolds, as well as
Johnson and Boswell, was present. Boswell mentioned that John Wilkes
had spoken of Garrick as a man who had no friend, a contention which
Johnson allowed to be right. "'He had friends, but no friend,' he said.
'Garrick was so diffused, he had no man to whom he wished to unbosom
himself. He found people always ready to applaud him, and that always
for the same thing; so he saw life with great uniformity.'" Whereupon,
Boswell, taking upon himself "for once, to fight with Goliath's
weapons, and play the sophist," said: "'Garrick did not need a friend,
as he got from everybody all that he wanted. What is a friend? One
who supports and comforts you, while others do not. Friendship, you
know, Sir, is the cordial drop "to make the nauseous draught of life
go down"; but if the draught be not nauseous, if it be all sweet,
there is no occasion for that drop.' _Johnson_: 'Many men would not
be content to live so. I hope I should not. They would wish to have
an intimate friend, with whom they might compare minds and cherish
private virtues.'" One of the company mentioned Lord Chesterfield as
a man who had no friend. "_Johnson_: 'There were more materials to
make friendship in Garrick, had he not been so diffused.' _Boswell_:
'Garrick was pure gold, but beat out to thin leaf. Lord Chesterfield
was tinsel.' _Johnson_: 'Garrick was a very good man, the most cheerful
man of his age; a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to
give indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely,
money acquired by himself. He began the world with a great hunger for
money; the son of a half-pay officer, bred in a family whose study was
to make fourpence do as much as others made fourpence halfpenny do. But
when he had got money he was very liberal.' I presumed to animadvert
on his eulogy on Garrick, in his _Lives of the Poets_. 'You say, Sir,
his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' _Johnson_: 'I could not have
said more or less. It is the truth: _eclipsed_, not _extinguished_;
and his death _did_ eclipse; it was like a storm.' _Boswell_: 'But why
nations? Did his gaiety extend farther than his own nation?' _Johnson_:
'Why, sir, some exaggeration must be allowed. Besides, nations may be
said--if we allow the Scotch to be a nation--to have gaiety--which
they have not. _You_ are an exception, though. Come, gentlemen,
let us candidly admit that there is one Scotchman who is cheerful.'
_Beauclerk_: 'But he is a very unnatural Scotchman.' I, however,
continued to think the compliment to Garrick hyperbolically untrue.
His acting had ceased some time before his death; at any rate he had
acted in Ireland but a short time, at an early period of his life, and
never in Scotland. I objected also to what appears an anti-climax of
praise, when contrasted with the preceding panegyric, 'and diminished
the public stock of harmless pleasure!' 'Is not _harmless pleasure_
very tame?' _Johnson_: 'Nay, Sir, harmless pleasure is the highest
praise. Pleasure is a word of dubious import; pleasure is, in general,
dangerous, and pernicious to virtue; to be able, therefore, to furnish
pleasure that is harmless, pleasure pure and unalloyed, is as great a
power as man can possess.'"
[Illustration: YORK STAIRS AND WATER WORKS.]
Johnson was a frequent visitor to Adelphi Terrace, for not only was he
on intimate terms with Mr and Mrs Garrick, but another of his friends,
Topham Beauclerk, lived there at one time. From 1757 to 1780, there
are frequent and most kindly allusions to him in the pages of Boswell.
In the former year, he matriculated at Oxford. Here he met another of
Johnson's friends--"High, shy, and dry" Bennet Langton, the eminent
Greek scholar. Beauclerk was a man of culture and of great knowledge
of the world. And he had the good fortune to win the affectionate
regard of Dr Johnson. On March 10, 1768, Lady Diana Spencer, eldest
daughter of the second Duke of Marlborough, was divorced from her
husband, Lord St John and Bolingbroke, and, two days later, she was
married to Beauclerk, to whom "she made an excellent wife." Beauclerk
died, in Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, on March 11, 1780. His
extensive library, which was particularly rich in English plays,
history, travel, and science, was dispersed by auction in 1781.
On Friday, April 20, 1781, there was a memorable dinner party in
Adelphi Terrace, the first of the kind given by Mrs Garrick since the
death of her husband. "We begin now," records Hannah More, who was
staying with Mrs Garrick at the time, "to be a little cheerful at home,
and to have our small parties. One such we have just had, and the day
and evening turned out very pleasant. Johnson was in full song, and I
quarrelled with him sadly. I accused him of not having done justice
to the _Allegro_ and _Penseroso_. He spoke disparagingly of both. I
praised _Lycidas_, which he absolutely abused, adding, 'If Milton had
not written the _Paradise Lost_, he would have only ranked among the
minor poets: he was a Phidias that could cut a Colossus out of a rock,
but could not cut heads out of cherry-stones.
"Boswell brought to my mind the whole of a very mirthful conversation
at dear Mrs Garrick's, and my being made by Sir William Forbes the
umpire in a trial of skill between Garrick and Boswell, which could
most nearly imitate Dr Johnson's manner. I remember I gave it for
Boswell in familiar conversation, and for Garrick in reciting poetry.
Mrs Boscawen shone with her usual mild lustre."
Boswell, in recording this auspicious event in the history of the
Adelphi, says that it was "one of the happiest days that I remember to
have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. Mrs Garrick, whose grief
for the loss of her husband was, I believe, as sincere as wounded
affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the first
time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with her.
The company was, Miss Hannah More, who lived with her, and whom she
called her chaplain; Mrs Boscawen, Mrs Elizabeth Carter, Sir Joshua
Reynolds, Dr Burney, Dr Johnson, and myself. We found ourselves very
elegantly entertained at her house in the Adelphi, where I have passed
many a pleasing hour with him who gladdened life. She 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 very semblance of David
Garrick was cheering. Mr Beauclerk, with happy propriety, inscribed
under that fine portrait of him, which by Lady Diana's kindness is now
the property of my friend, Mr Langton, the following passage from his
beloved Shakespeare:--
'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.'
"We were all in fine spirits; and I whispered to Mrs Boscawen, 'I
believe this is as much as can be made of life.' In addition to a
splendid entertainment, we were regaled with Lichfield ale, which had
a peculiar appropriate value. Sir Joshua, and Dr Burney, and I, drank
cordially of it to Dr Johnson's health; and though he would not join
us, he as cordially answered, 'Gentlemen, I wish you all as well as you
do me.'
"The general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond
remembrance: but I do not find much conversation recorded. What I have
preserved shall be faithfully given.
"One of the company mentioned Mr Thomas Hollis, the strenuous Whig, who
used to send over Europe, presents of democratical books, with their
boards stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. Mrs Carter said, 'he
was a bad man: he used to talk uncharitably.' _Johnson_: 'Poh! poh!
Madam; who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? Besides, he
was a dull poor creature as ever lived: and I believe he would not have
done harm to a man whom he knew to be of very opposite principles to
his own. I remember once at the Society of Arts, when an advertisement
was to be drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it best.
This, you will observe, was kindness to me. I, however, slipped away,
and escaped it.'
"Mrs Carter having said of the same person, 'I doubt he was an
atheist.' _Johnson_: 'I don't know that. He might perhaps have become
one, if he had time to ripen (_smiling_). He might have _exuberated_
into an atheist.'
"Sir Joshua Reynolds praised _Mudge's Sermons_. _Johnson_: '_Mudge's
Sermons_ are good but not practical. He grasps more corn than he can
make into meal; he opens a wide prospect, but it is so distant, it is
indistinct. I love _Blair's Sermons_. Though the dog is a Scotchman,
and a Presbyterian, and everything he should not be, I was the first to
praise them. Such was my candour' (_smiling_). _Mrs Boscawen_: 'Such
his great merit, to get the better of all your prejudices.' _Johnson_:
'Why, Madam, let us compound the matter; let us ascribe it to my
candour and his merit.'
"In the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room; several
ladies, the Bishop of Killaloe, Dr Percy, Mr Chamberlayne of the
Treasury, &c., &c. Somebody said, the life of a mere literary man could
not be very entertaining. _Johnson_: 'But it certainly may. This is a
remark which has been made, and repeated without justice; why should
the life of a literary man be less entertaining than the life of any
other man? Are there not as interesting varieties in such a life? As
_a literary life_ it may be very entertaining.' _Boswell_: 'But it
must be better surely, when it is diversified with a little active
variety--such as his having gone to Jamaica; or--his having gone to the
Hebrides.' Johnson was not displeased at this.
"Talking of a very respectable author, he told us a curious
circumstance in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's
devil. _Reynolds_: 'A printer's devil, Sir! Why, I thought a printer's
devil was a creature with a black face and in rags.' _Johnson_: 'Yes,
Sir. But I suppose he had her face washed, and put clean clothes
on her. (Then looking very serious and very earnest.) And she did
not disgrace him;--the woman had a bottom of good sense.' The word
_bottom_, thus introduced, was so ludicrous, when contrasted with his
gravity, that most of us could not forbear tittering and laughing;
though I recollect that the Bishop of Killaloe kept his countenance
with perfect steadiness, while Miss Hannah More slily hid her face
behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee with her. His pride
could not bear that any expression of his should excite ridicule, when
he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to assume and exercise
despotic power, glanced sternly around, and called out, in a strong
tone, 'Where's the merriment?' Then collecting himself, and looking
awful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and as it
were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly
pronounced, 'I say the _woman_ was _fundamentally_ sensible'; as if he
had said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. We all sat composed as
at a funeral.
"He and I walked away together; we stopped a little while by the rails
of the Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and I said to him, with some
emotion, that I was now thinking of two friends we had lost, who once
lived in the buildings behind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. 'Ay, Sir,'
said he tenderly, 'and two such friends as cannot be supplied.'"
Hannah More spent many months with Mrs Garrick--the winter at Hampton,
the spring in the Adelphi--after the death of the celebrated player,
and from her letters written in the Adelphi, we obtain several passages
of note, apart from that of the famous dinner party of April 20, 1781.
Thus, early in 1779, soon after Garrick's decease, we find that the
widow and her friend were visited by various ladies: "Mrs Montague
and Mrs Vesey have spent one afternoon with us; and these with Ladies
Bathurst, Edgecombe, and Spencer, are all we have seen." She then goes
on to describe her way of life as being "very different" from what
it used to be in Garrick's time. "After breakfast, I go to my own
apartment for several hours, where I read, write, and work; very seldom
letting anybody in, though I have a room for separate visitors, but I
almost look on a morning visit as an immorality. At four we dine. We
have the same elegant table as usual, but I generally confine myself to
one single dish of meat. I have taken to drink half a glass of wine. At
six we have coffee; at eight tea, when we have, sometimes, a dowager or
two of quality. At ten we have sallad and fruits. Each has her book,
which we read without any restraint, as if we were alone, without
apologies or speech-making." During this visit, her play, _The Fatal
Falsehood_, was produced at Covent Garden, but, as already recorded,
was not a success. It lacked the guiding hand of her old friend. "We
have stolen away for a few days to town," she writes in 1781, "but I
am now so habituated to quiet, that I have scarcely the heart to go
out, though I am come here on purpose. As to poor Mrs Garrick, she
keeps herself as secret as a piece of smuggled goods, and neither stirs
out herself, or lets any body in. The calm of Hampton is such fixed
repose, that an old woman crying fish, or the postman ringing at the
door, is an event which excites attention."
[Illustration: PEPYS' LIBRARY, BUCKINGHAM STREET, ADELPHI.]
A little later on, Mrs Garrick and Hannah More were invited to an
assembly at Mrs Thrale's. "Just as my hair was dressed, came a servant
to forbid our coming, for that Mr Thrale was dead. A very few hours
later, and he would have died in this assembly. What an awful event.
He was in the prime of life, but had the misfortune to be too rich,
and to keep too sumptuous a table, at which he indulged too freely. He
was a sensible and respectable man. I am glad the poor lady has, in
her distress, such a friend as Dr Johnson; he will suggest the best
motives of consolation." A few days after this event, "we were a small
and very choice party at Bishop Shipley's. Lord and Lady Spencer, Lord
and Lady Althorpe, Sir Joshua, Langton, Boswell, Gibbon, and, to my
agreeable surprise, Dr Johnson, were there." This was the first meeting
between Johnson and Mrs Garrick since the latter's bereavement, and,
on the next morning, Johnson paid a lengthy visit to the ladies at No.
5 Adelphi Terrace. "On Mrs Garrick's telling him she was always more
at her ease with persons who had suffered the same loss with herself,
he said that was a comfort she could seldom have, considering the
superiority of his [Garrick's] merit, and cordiality of their union. He
bore his strong testimony to the liberality of Garrick. He reproved
me with pretended sharpness for reading _Les Pensées de Pascal_, or
any of the Port Royal authors; alleging that, as a good Protestant,
I ought to abstain from books written by Catholics. I was beginning
to stand upon my defence, when he took me with both hands, and with
a tear running down his cheeks, 'Child,' said he, with the most
affecting earnestness, 'I am heartily glad that you read pious books,
by whomsoever they may be written.'" Then came the famous dinner party
which Dr Johnson attended, and that was his last visit to the Adelphi,
for, during Hannah More's visits to town in the subsequent years,
prior to Johnson's death in 1784, the Doctor was ailing. So, with
this picture in the mind's eye of the worthy Doctor, in sentimental
mood, now lecturing Hannah More, anon entertaining Mrs Garrick and
her friends, and, finally, looking across the Adelphi railings at the
Thames, as he thought tenderly of his dead friends, we take leave of
Samuel Johnson.
Mrs Garrick, who was a Catholic, be it said, was by no means
prejudiced, and she gave way to Hannah More's religious scruples: "It
is very considerate in Mrs Garrick, to decline asking company on Sunday
on my account; so that I enjoy the whole day to myself. I swallow no
small portion of theology of different descriptions, as I always
read, when visiting, such books as I do not possess at home. After my
more select reading I have attacked South, Atterbury, and Warburton.
In these great geniuses, and original thinkers, I see many passages
of scripture presented in a striking and strong light. I think it
right to mix their learned labours with the devout effusions of more
spiritual writers, Baxter, Doddridge, Hall, Hopkins, Jeremy Taylor (the
Shakespeare of divinity), and the profound Barrow in turn. I devour
much, but, I fear, digest little. In the evening, I read a sermon and
prayers to the family, which Mrs G. much likes." She frequently went
from the Adelphi to the Church of St Clement Dane's, in the Strand.
It gave her "peculiar pleasure to think" that she "there partook of
the holy sacrament with Johnson the last time he ever received it in
public."
On a certain Wednesday in 1785, "we had a great dinner at home"--in the
Adelphi--"for the first time this year, Mrs Garrick disliking company
more and more. The party consisted of the Smelts, the Montagus, the
Boyles, the Walsinghams, Mrs Carter, Mr Walpole, and Miss Hamilton.
Though I like them every one separately, yet it was impossible to enjoy
them altogether; and I never desire to sit down with more than six, or
eight at the outside, to dinner." In 1786, she records, with a certain
amount of ingenuousness: "I am this day in the full enjoyment of a
most complete holiday--Mrs Garrick is gone to Hampton. I have refused
all invitations, and have ordered that nobody should be let in, that I
may have the luxury of one quiet uninterrupted day. I woke with great
delight in the very anticipation of it."
It is a long jump from 1786 to 1814, but Hannah More had many
occupations during this period, and, apparently, but little time for
writing to her old friend, for, in December of the latter year, Mrs
Garrick sends to her, begging for some news of the world. Her letter is
addressed to "My dearest friend," and runs thus: "If you could imagine
how much pleasure a letter from you gives me, you would oftener favour
me with one. As writing is no trouble to you, you might now and then
bestow a moment upon me, to tell me what passes in London; for I am
quite unacquainted with the world of folly. I almost thanked God for
my illness, during all the time that every person ran mad to see for
six weeks together the same thing. Now, if I could have seen the royal
strangers with ease, I should have been glad to have seen them; but as
that was out of my power (if I had been in health), as I have almost
out-lived my London friends, I have seen nothing, so I must trust to
what I am told.
"Indeed, my beloved friend, I have been very near parting for ever
from this world; but the great care taken of me set me up again
upon my feet, but not so high as my knees, for they are as yet very
_doddering_. But when you consider that I am six months past ninety,
you would say that I am a wonder still if you were to see me. I do not
often shew my teeth, as there is but one and a quarter left. God bless
you all! and love me, as I do you all, from my very soul." The death
of Mrs Garrick occurred on October 16, 1822--over forty-three years
after the death of her husband. She had been invited by Robert William
Elliston to a private view of Drury Lane Theatre, which he had just
redecorated, and, while preparing to leave her house in the Adelphi,
a servant handed her a cup of tea. She had hardly raised it to her
lips when she fell back in her chair, and passed away peacefully, in
her ninety-ninth year. She was interred in Westminster Abbey, close
by the remains of her husband, on October 25. The news of her death
reached Hannah More on October 20, and is thus alluded to by her: "I
was much affected yesterday with a report of the death of my ancient
and valued friend, Mrs Garrick. She was in her hundredth year! I spent
above twenty winters under her roof, and gratefully remember not only
their personal kindness, but my first introduction, through them, into
a society remarkable for rank, literature, and talents. Whatever was
most distinguished in either, was to be found at their table. He was
the very soul of conversation." David Garrick, it may be recorded, died
in the back-room of the first floor of his house, his widow in the
front drawing-room.
Mrs Garrick was a native of Vienna, where, in her youth, she acquired
much celebrity as a dancer. Her maiden name was Eva Maria Violetta.
She was remarkably beautiful in her face and person, and it is said
that she retained, until the day of her death, that erect deportment
which she had acquired as a dancer. She was married to Garrick in June,
1749, first at a Protestant, then at a Roman Catholic Chapel. After
the testimony already given in these pages, it is almost superfluous
to say that the actor and his wife were a very happy couple. "It is
remarkable," said a public journal at the time of her death, "that
during the whole period of their marriage"--thirty years--"whatever
invitations they received, or excursions they took, they never once
slept asunder." On August 15, 1755, Walpole writes: "I dined to-day
at Garrick's; there were the Duke of Grafton, Lord and Lady Rochford,
Lady Holdernesse, the crooked Mostyn, and Dabreu, the Spanish minister;
two regents, of which one is Lord Chamberlain, the other Groom of the
Stole, and the wife of a Secretary of State. This being _sur un assez
bon ton_ for a player. Don't you want to ask me how I liked him? I
like _her_ exceedingly; her behaviour is all sense, and all sweetness,
too." In 1770, Mrs Delany, Queen Charlotte's friend, visited Garrick's
house at Hampton, and recorded her appreciation of its hostess: "As
to Mrs Garrick, the more one sees her, the better one must like her;
she seems _never_ to depart from a perfect propriety of behaviour,
accompanied with good sense and gentleness of manners." In her
widowhood, she twice refused the hand in marriage of Lord Monboddo, the
Scottish judge, and author of _The Origin of Language_. Dr Doran says
that Mrs Garrick held her own at the Bishop of London's table, "against
the clever men and women who held controversy under Porteus's roof."
This gentle lady, by a codicil to her will, dated August 15, in the
year of her death, made a most interesting bequest: "I give to Mrs
Siddons a pair of gloves which were Shakespeare's, and were presented
by one of his family to my late dear husband, during the jubilee at
Stratford-upon-Avon." Information of this bequest was conveyed to the
great actress, with this note from Mrs Garrick's executors:--
"5 Adelphi Terrace,
_Oct. 30, 1822_.
"Madam,--We beg leave to transmit to you the above extract from a
codicil to Mrs Garrick's will, and to acquaint you that we will have
the honour of waiting on you, for the purpose of delivering the relic
therein mentioned, whenever you may be so good as to inform us that it
may be convenient to you to receive our visit.--We remain, with much
respect, Madam, Your most obedient humble servants,
"Thos. Rackett, G.F. Belty,
Executors."
This connecting link between Shakespeare, Garrick, and Sarah Siddons is
one of the most interesting incidents in connection with the Adelphi.
Garrick is also responsible for a side-light on the life of Oliver
Goldsmith. Forster, in his _Life and Times of Goldsmith_, says that the
alteration of his first comedy for Garrick, even upon Garrick's own
conditions, seems to have suddenly occurred to the impecunious author
as a means of raising money. Goldsmith's two letters on the subject
by chance survived and were transcribed by Forster, who, in regard
to the first one, says that: "As well in the manner as in the matter
of it, the writer's distress is very painfully visible. It has every
appearance, even to the wafer hastily thrust into it, of having been
the sudden suggestion of necessity; it is addressed without date[39] or
place to the Adelphi; nor is it unlikely to have been delivered there
by the messenger of a sponging-house.
"'My Dear Sir,--Your saying you would play my _Good-Natured Man_ makes
me wish it. The money you advanced me upon Newbery's note I have the
mortification to find is not yet paid, but he says he will in two or
three days. What I mean by this letter is to lend me sixty pound,
for which I will give you Newbery's note, so that the whole of my
debt will be an hundred, for which you shall have Newbery's note as
a security. This may be paid either from my alteration if my benefit
should come to so much, but at any rate I will take care you shall not
be a loser. I will give you a new character in my comedy and knock out
Lofty, which does not do, and will make such other alterations as you
direct.--I am yours,
"'Oliver Goldsmith.
"'I beg an answer.'
"This letter is indorsed in Garrick's handwriting as '_Goldsmith's
parlaver_.' But though it would thus appear to have inspired but little
sympathy or confidence, and the sacrifice of Lofty had come too late
and been too reluctant, Garrick's answer, begged so earnestly, was
not unfavourable. He evaded the altered comedy; spoke of the new one
already mentioned between them; and offered the money required on
Goldsmith's own acceptance.... The second note exhibits such manifest
improvement in the writing as a sudden removal of a sore anxiety
might occasion; but the writer's usual epistolary neatness is still
absent. It is hastily folded up in three-cornered shape, is also sealed
with wafer, and also indorsed by Garrick, '_Goldsmith's parlaver_.'
"'My Dear Friend, I thank you! I wish I could do something to serve
you. I shall have a comedy for you in a season or two at furthest,
that I believe will be worth your acceptance, for I fancy I will
make it a fine thing. You shall have the refusal. I wish you would
not take up Newbery's note, but let Waller' [probably a mistake for
Wallis, Garrick's solicitor] 'tease him, without, however, coming to
extremities; let him haggle after him and he will get it. He owes it
and will pay it. I'm sorry you are ill. I will draw upon you one month
after date for sixty pound, and your acceptance will be ready money,
part of which I want to go down to Barton with. May God preserve my
honest little man, for he has my heart.--Ever,
"'Oliver Goldsmith.'"
A final reminiscence of Garrick and this neighbourhood shows the
actor soliciting the Adam brothers on behalf of Andrew Becket, who,
when the Adelphi was being erected, had a bookseller's shop in the
Strand. He was the son of Thomas Becket, the Pall Mall bookseller,
whose establishment was frequented by Garrick. He must have been
a precocious youth, for, at the age of fourteen, he had written a
comedy founded on Rousseau's _Emile_, and a poem entitled _Theodosius
and Constantia_. Born in 1749, he died in 1843. He was a frequent
contributor to the chief magazines of his day. He had a great grievance
against Ralph Griffiths, the proprietor of the _Monthly Review_,
for having given him only forty-five pounds for nearly five years'
work--280 articles, the result of reading and condensing 590 volumes.
In _Shakespeare Himself Again_, Andrew Becket "released the original
text from much muddy nonsense of commentators."[40]
[Illustration: ST MARY ROUNCEVAL (THE ORIGINAL SITE OF NORTHUMBERLAND
HOUSE).]
Garrick besought the corner house of Adam Street for his friend, a
request that was granted. He asked for this "corner blessing," and
addressed the architects as his "dear Adelphi." The house was No. 73
Strand, at the north-east corner of Adam Street. It was destroyed by
fire on June 28, 1822, but rebuilt according to the original plan.
Garrick, in the course of his letter to the Adams, said: "Pray, my dear
and very good friends, think a little of this matter, and if you can
make us happy, by suiting all our conveniences, we shall make his shop,
as old Jacob Tonson's was formerly, the rendezvous of the first people
in England. I have a little selfishness in this request--I never go
to a coffee-house, seldom to taverns, and should constantly (if this
action takes place) be at Becket's at one at noon and six at night."
Garrick, no doubt, meant what he said, but there is no trace of his
having visited Andrew Becket in this "corner blessing." The shop is now
occupied by a firm of silversmiths.
Samuel Foote, who hated Garrick, is said to have related a story in
which I have little faith. But, as it concerns the great actor and the
Adelphi, I give it for what it is worth. "Garrick," said Foote, "lately
invited Hurd to dine with him in the Adelphi, and after dinner, the
evening being very warm, they walked up and down in front of the house.
As they passed and repassed the dining-room windows, Garrick was in a
perfect agony, for he saw that there was a thief in one of the candles
which was burning on one of the tables; and yet Hurd was a person of
such consequence that he could not run away from him to prevent the
waste of his tallow." This story was put into print by Samuel Rogers,
who was a boy of sixteen at the time of Garrick's death. Foote died in
1777, when Richard Hurd was Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 37: Davies's _Garrick_, vol. ii., p. 445.]
[Footnote 38: See also Hannah More's description of the funeral in the
Appendix.]
[Footnote 39: It was written in 1773, soon after Garrick had left
Southampton Street, Strand, for the Adelphi.]
[Footnote 40: _Haunted London_, p. 99.]