the author, as he sat in Garrick'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 manner. 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!
And cry 'Long live-our title to success!'"

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 considerable share in Garrick's history. He was an Irish gentleman of a cheerful character, who had been brought up in England 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 nicknamed the "pale-faced orator;" and was looked to as the champion of the rights of the audience in any theatrical dispute. 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 everywhere. He could turn an essay pleasantly, and write an agreeable 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 remembered 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."

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 have the distinction 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' " 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 grievances. Thus encouraged, Mossop sullenly persisted in his demands. 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. His 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 treatment, 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 hackwork), essays on gems and on medicine. Later he became the Holloway of his day; and in many an old newspaper the eye

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 extraordinary feature in his nature was his scurrilous courage-on paper and his no less abject pusillanimity when called to account 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 Ranelagh Gardens. He was exposed a hundred times, yet could not be put down. He tried to get into the Royal Society, and his qualifications were certainly equal to those of some of its members; 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 promenades, invariably in the front row at the theatres, exciting attention 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 collected at the Haymarket, and had played Ludovico with Foote. Every one could contribute some incident to his degrading biography, and he was ready to do battle with all-in printon 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, depreciated Garrick and exalted Barry. But perhaps what Garrick would have most resented was the friendly defence of

his short stature.* * Yet in Barry's instance, his disproportion to Mrs. Cibber was quite overlooked; and on the same principle 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 Alderman 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 "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, that 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 behaviour. Such was the Bedford coterie.

During the last two or three 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.

with a more extravagant fit than usual of enmity, and gratified 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 Garrick's Pantomime. This, however, was perhaps fairly incident to dramatic warfare. But less justifiable was his hiring a professional mimic to take off Garrick's peculiarities. He had lately degraded 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, monkeys, ostriches, "the Ornuto savage," with other such extravagances. In a new Féerie, therefore, when Woodward proposed ridiculing this barbarous show, but not Rich 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 significantly, "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 counteraffidavit before another magistrate, and Woodward was corroborated 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