Macklin was exceedingly quick at a reply, especially in a dispute. One
day Doctor Johnson was contending some dramatical question, and quoted a
passage from a Greek poet in support of his opinion. "I don't understand
Greek though, Doctor," said Macklin. "Sir," said Johnson, pompously, "a
man who undertakes to argue, should understand all languages." "Oh, very
well," returned Macklin; "how will you answer this argument?" and
immediately treated him to a long quotation in Irish.
One night, sitting at the back of the front boxes with a gentleman of his
acquaintance, one of the underbred box-lobby loungers of the day stood up
immediately before him, and being rather large in person, covered the
sight of the stage from him. Every body expected that Macklin would have
knocked the fellow down notwithstanding his size, but he managed the
matter in another temper. Patting him gently on the shoulder with his
cane, he respected of him with much apparent politeness, "that when he
saw or heard any thing _very_ entertaining on the stage, he would be
pleased to turn round and let him and the gentleman beside him know of
it; for you see, my dear sir," added the veteran, "that at present we
must totally depend upon you as a telegraph." This had the desired
effect, and the lounger walked off.
Talking of the caution necessary to be used in conversation amongst a
mixed company, Macklin observed, "Sir, I have experienced to my cost that
a man in any situation of life should never be off his guard. It is the
fault of the Irish that they are too ready to 'commit' themselves. Now,
this never happens with the Scotch:--a Scotchman is always on the
look-out; he never lives a moment _extempore_, and that is one great
reason why he is so successful in life as we see."
Macklin was very intimate with Frank Hayman (at that time one of our best
historical painters), and happening to call on him one morning soon after
the death of the painter's wife, with whom he (Frank) had lived but on
indifferent terms, he found him wrangling with the undertaker about his
high charge for the funeral expenses. Macklin listened to the altercation
for some time; at last, going up to Hayman--"Come, come, Frank," said he,
"this bill is to be sure a little extravagant, but you should pay it, if
it were only on account of the respect you owe your wife's memory; for I
am sure," he added with the greatest gravity, "she would have paid twice
as much for your burial with the greatest gladness, if she had had the
opportunity."
A notorious egotist one day in a large company, indirectly praising
himself for a number of good qualities which it was well known he did not
possess, asked Macklin the reason why he should have the singular
propensity of interfering in the concerns of others for their benefit,
when he so often met with unsuitable returns. "I could tell you, sir,"
said Macklin. "Ah! well do, then, my good fellow; you are a man of some
observation; and--I--a--should be glad of your--a--definition." "Why,
then, sir," replied Macklin, "the cause is _impudence_--nothing but stark
staring _impudence_!"
A gentleman at a public dinner asking him, rather inconsiderately,
whether he remembered Mrs Barry the celebrated Irish actress, who died
about the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, he stared him in the face
with considerable ferocity, and bawled out, "No, sir, nor Harry the
Eighth neither!"
An Irish dignitary of the church, not remarkable for his veracity,
complaining that a tradesman of his parish had called him a liar, Macklin
asked what reply he had made him. "I told him," said the bishop, "that a
lie was among those things that I _dared_ not commit." "And why, doctor,"
returned Macklin, with an indescribable sort of comic frown, "why did you
give the rascal _so erroneous a notion of your courage_?"
One of the band of the Covent-Garden theatre, who played the French horn,
was telling some anecdotes of Garrick's curiosity, and withal praising
the great actor incessantly. Macklin, who heard him from the lower end of
the table, and who always fired up like lighted straw at the praises of
Garrick, exclaimed aloud, "I believe, sir, you are a trumpeter." "Well,"
said the band-man, "and what if I am?" "Nothing more, sir," vociferated
Macklin, "than this, that, being a trumpeter, you are by profession a
dealer in _puffs_!"