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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 illhealth, 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 exquisite charm of the "House," 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 Charles Holland to Charles Mathews, this scene is described :-"On the night Mr. Garrick quitted the stage, after the performance of Don Felix, 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 sold 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 "A memento of the Night." His buckles Garrick gave to Miss Hannah More.

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 situation. 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 Robinsons, and two Garricks, Dick Bailye."+ 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 gentleman 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, exposed 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.

+ Ibid.

The trial took place in St. Mary's Church! The speech is in Coleridge's Watchman.

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things, and often brought trouble to the manager. There was 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 provided, 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.† 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 Fermignac 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 “hush money; "for when David was playing, George was always keeping silence at the wings-stepping on tiptoe, and calling "hush!" 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, “because David wanted him."

+ "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 of my life. For indeed it has been the cause of many and very long, as 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."

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them get into confusion. The only way his good-tempered brother showed how he felt such treatment, was by 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 inseparable intimacy of some thirty years. George Garrick had of a sudden set up horses, carriages, and a country house, without 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 this, it will be seen, was not in the spirit of reproach; for George had done a hundred such thing 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 receipt of keeping over "legacy money," with 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 attempt at a duel with Baddeley, the actor, in an effort to champion the actor's own wife, must have been a fresh annoyance to his brother.* Yet he had a faithful dog-like attachment 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.

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; Carrington 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 Priuli, 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 agreeable 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. If not, write

He left a son, Christopher Philip, three years old at the date of his father's death.

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