⚫ indication is given of the source from which | an engaging temper. Such learning as the the quotations are taken.

But enough of Mr. Fitzgerald and his shortcomings! More pleasant will it be to our readers and ourselves to turn from these to the great actor and amiable man whose story he has attempted not very happily to tell.

grammar-school of the town could give he obtained; and his training here, and at Edial some years afterwards under his townsman Samuel Johnson, produced more of the fruits of a liberal education than commonly results even from schooling of a more elaborate and costly kind. The occasional visits of a strolling troop of players gave the future Roscius his first taste of the fascinations of the drama. To see was to resolve to emulate, and before he was eleven years old he distinguished himself in the part of Serjeant Kite in a performance of Farquhar's Recruiting Officer,' organised for the amusement of their friends by his companions and himself.

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Meanwhile the cares of a numerous family were growing upon his parents. To meet its expenses, his father exchanged from the dragoons into a marching regi

David Garrick was born at the Angel Inn, Hereford, on the 19th February, 1716. He was French by descent. His paternal grandfather, David Garrie, or Garrique, a French Protestant of good family, had escaped to England after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, reaching London on the 5th of October, 1685. There he was joined in the following December by his wife, who had taken a month to make the passage from Bordeaux in a wretched bark of fourteen tons, with strong tempests, and at great peril of being lost.' Such was the inveteracy of their persecutors, that, in ef-ment, and went upon half-pay. Peter, the fecting their own escape, these poor people had to leave behind them their only child, a boy called Peter, who was out at nurse at Bastide, near Bordeaux. It was not till May, 1687, that little Peter was restored to them by his nurse, Mary Mougnier, who came over to London with him. By this time a daughter had been born, and other sons and daughters followed; but of a numerous family three alone survived-Peter, Jane, and David. David settled at Lisbon as a wine merchant, and Peter entered the army in 1706. His regiment was quartered at Lichfield; and some eighteen months after he received his commission he married Arabella, the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Clough, Vicar Choral of the cathedral there. There was no fortune on either side, but much affection. The usual result followed. Ten children were born in rapid succession, of whom seven survived. Of these the third was David, who made his appearance somewhat inopportunely, while his father, then a lieutenant of dragoons, was at Hereford on recruiting service.

Lichfield was the home of the family. There was good blood on both sides of it, and they were admitted into the best society of the place, and held in deserved respect. David was a clever, bright boy, of quick observation, apt at mimicry, and of *Not Montgorier, as printed by Mr. Fitzgerald.

eldest boy, had gone into the Navy; and upon the invitation of the uncle, whose name he bore, young David, then only eleven, was sent to Lisbon, apparently with the expectation that a provision for life would be made for him in his uncle's business. But either his uncle had no such intention, or the boy found the occupation distasteful, for his stay in Portugal did not extend over many months. Short as it was, he succeeded in making himself popular there by his vivacity and talents. After dinner he would be set upon the table to recite to the guests passages from the plays they were familiar with at home. A very pleasant inmate he must have been in the house of his well-to-do bachelor uncle. No doubt he was sent home with something handsome in his pocket; and when a few years afterwards the uncle came back to England to die, he left his nephew 10007., twice as much as he gave to any others of the family.

Garrick's father, who had for some years been making an ineffectual struggle to keep his head above water upon his half-pay, found he could do so no longer, and in 1731 he joined his regiment, which had been sent out to garrison Gibraltar, leaving behind him his wife, broken in health, to face single-handed the debts and duns, the worries and anxieties, of a large family.

In her

son David she found the best support. in these early days the dream of coping
His heart and head were ever at work to with these favourites of the town had taken
soften her trials, and his gay spirit doubt-possession of him. But he kept it to him-
less brightened with many a smile the sad self, well knowing the shock he would have
wistfulness of her anxious face. The fare inflicted on the kind hearts at home, had he
in her home was meagre, and the dresses of suggested to them the possibility of such a
its inmates scanty and well worn; still there career for himself.
were loving hearts in it which were drawn
closer together by their very privations.
But the poor lady's heart was away with

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Her husband had then been only two years gone. Three more weary years were to pass before she was to see him again. This was in 1736, and he returned, shattered in health and spirits, to die within little more than a year. One year more, and she, too, the sad faithful mother, whose dear life' was restored to her arms only to be taken from them by a sterner parting, was herself at rest.

During his father's absence Garrick had not been idle. His busy brain and restless fancy had been laying up stores of observation for future use. He was a general favourite in the Lichfield circle - amusing the old, and heading the sports of the young -winning the hearts of all. Gilbert Walmsley, Registrar of the Ecclesiastical Court, a good and wise friend, who had known and loved him from childhood, took him under his special care. On his suggestion, possibly by his help, David and his brother George were sent as pupils to Johnson's academy at Edial, to complete their studies in Latin and French. Garrick and Johnson had been friends before, and there was indeed but seven years' difference in their ages. But Johnson even then impressed his pupil with a sense of superiority, which never afterwards left him; while Garrick established an equally lasting hold upon the somewhat capricious heart of his ungainly master. From time to time he was taken by friends to London, where, in the theatres that were to be the scenes of his future triumphs, he had opportunities of studying some of the leading performers, whom he was afterwards to eclipse. Even


By the time his father returned from Gibraltar Garrick was nineteen. A profession must be chosen, and the law appears to have been thought the fittest for a youth of so much readiness and address, and with an obviously unusual faculty of speech. Some further preliminary studies were, however, indispensable. He could not afford to go to either university, and in this strait his friend Walmsley bethought him of a dear old friend' at Rochester, the Rev. Mr. Colson, afterwards Lucasian Professor at Cambridge, a man of eminence in science, as a person most likely to give young Garrick the instruction in mathematics, philosophy, and humane learning' which was deemed requisite to complete his education. To him, therefore, a letter was despatched, asking him to undertake the charge, from which we get an authentic and agreeable picture of the young fellow's character:

'He is a very sensible fellow, and a good scholar, nineteen, of sober and good dispositions, and is as ingenious and promising a young man as ever I knew in my life. Few instructions on your side will do, and in the intervals of study he will be an agreeable companion for you. This young gentleman has been much with me, ever since he was a child, and I have taken much pleasure in instructing him, and have a great

affection and esteem for him.'

Mr. Colson accepted the proposal; but by the time the terms had been arranged, another young native of Lichfield, in whom Walmsley felt no slight interest, had determined to move southward to try his fortunes, and was also to be brought under Mr. Colson's notice. This was Samuel Johnson, whose Edial Academy had by this time been starved out, but for whom London, the last hope of ambitious scholars, was still open. He had written his tragedy of Irene,' and it had found provincial admirers, Walmsley among the number, who thought a tragedy in verse the open sesame to fame and fortune. For London, therefore, Johnson and Garrick started together-Johnson, as he used afterwards to say, with two-pencehalfpenny in his pocket, and Garrick with three halfpence in his; a mocking exaggeration, not very wide, however, of the truth. Walmsley announced their departure to Mr. Colson on the 2nd March, 1737, in the often quoted words:

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'He (Garrick) and another neighbour of and Colson's daughter, Mrs. Newling, remine, one Mr. Johnson,*, set out this morning calling herself to Garrick's notice twenty for London together; Davy Garrick to be with years afterwards, speaks of the great pleasyou early next week; and Mr. Johnson to try ure with which she reflects upon the happy his fate with a tragedy, and to see to get himself minutes his vivacity caused' during his stay employed with some translation, either from the Latin or the French. Johnson is a very good

scholar and poet, and I have great hopes will

turn out a fine tragedy writer.'

with them.

field. By this time his brother Peter had Early in 1738 Garrick returned to Lich

great actor with three quarts of vinegar in the cellar, calling himself a wine merchant.'

left the navy, and returned home. There For some reason not now known Garrick were five brothers and sisters to be provided did not go to Mr. Colson in a week. On for, so Peter and he clubbed their little forreaching town he lost no time in getting tunes, and set up in business as wine merhimself admitted to the Honourable Society chants in Lichfield and London. David, of Lincoln's Inn (19th March, 1737) by by this time tolerably familiar with the ways payment of the admission fee of 31. 38. 4d., of town, and not unknown at the coffeethe only act of membership which he ap- houses where his wines might be in demand, pears ever to have performed. He stayed took charge of the London business. in London with Johnson for some time, and Vaults were taken in Durham Yard, betheir finances fell so low that they had to tween the Strand and the river, where the borrow 51. on their joint note from one Wil- Adelphi Terrace now stands, and here cox, a bookseller and acquaintance of Gar- Foote, in his usual vein of grotesque exagrick's, who afterwards proved one of John-geration, used to say, he had known the son's best friends. Most probably Garrick's plans of study under Mr. Colson were disconcerted by the illness of his father, Of Garrick at this period we get a vivid who died within a month after Garrick had glimpse from Macklin, an established actor, started from Lichfield. Nor was it until who was then Garrick's inseparable friend, the death soon afterwards of the Lisbon but was afterwards to prove a constant uncle, and the opening to Garrick of his thorn in his side through life, and his most 10007. legacy, that he found himself in a malignant detractor after death. Garrick condition to incur that expense. Late in was then,' as Macklin told his own biogra1737 he went to Rochester, and remained pher Cooke, 'a very sprightly young man, with Mr. Colson for some months, but with neatly made, of an expressive countenance, what advantage can be only matter of con- and most agreeable manners.' Mr. Cooke jecture. Colson, like the Rev. Josiah Car-adds, upon the same authority :— gill, as described by Meg Dods, was ‘just dung donnart wi' learning, a man too much absorbed in abstruse scientific studies to be the fittest of tutors for a youth of the mercurial temperament and social habits of Garrick. But there was so much of honest ambition and natural goodness of disposition in his pupil, that it may safely be assumed he did not fail to profit by the learning of the man, of whose peculiarities he must have been quite aware before he placed himself under his charge. Whatever his progress in the literæ humaniores, Rochester was as good a field as any for such a student of character and manners. He certainly made himself liked in the family,

*In 1769, when Garrick was one of the most notable men in England, the letters of Walmsley to Colson were published by Mrs. Newling, Colson's daughter. She sent the originals at the same time to Garrick's friend, Mr. Sharp, to be forwarded to the great actor. In the very charming letter to Garrick which accompanied them, Mr. Sharp says, If I had called, as I sometimes do, on Dr. Johnson, as one Johnson, I should have risked perhaps the sneer of one of his ghastly smiles.'—(Garrick Correspondence, v. i. p 334.) This remark Mr. Fitz

and showed him one of them where he is mentioned

gerald, with characteristic inaccuracy, ascribes to G. Steevens.

The stage possessed him wholly; he could talk or think of nothing but the theatre; and as they often dined together in select parties, Garrick rendered himself the idol of the meeting by his mimicry, anecdotes, &c. With other funds of information, he possessed a number of good travelling stories' (with which his youthful which he narrated, Sir (added the veteran), in voyage to Lisbon had apparently supplied him), such a vein of pleasantry and rich humour, as I have seldom seen equalled.'— Cooke's Life of Macklin, p. 96.

There could be only one conclusion to such a state of things. The wine business languished-that it was not wholly ruined, and Garrick with it, shows that with all his love of society he was able to exercise great prudence and self-restraint. Though on pleasure bent, he had a frugal mind.' Early habits of self-denial, and the thought of the young brothers and sisters at Lichfield, were enough to check everything like extravagance, though they could not control the passion which was hourly feeding itself upon the study of plays and intercourse with players, and bearing him on

wards to the inevitable goal. Their society,
and that of the wits and critics about town,
were the natural element for talents such as
his. He could even then turn an epigram
or copy of verses, for which his friend John-
son would secure a place in the Gentle-
man's Magazine.' Paragraphs of dramatic
criticism frequently exercised his pen. He
had a farce, Lethe,' accepted at Drury
Lane, and another, The Lying Valet,'
ready for the stage. Actors and managers
were among
his intimates. He had the en-
trée behind the scenes at the two great
houses, Drury Lane and Covent Garden,
and his histrionic powers were so well rec-
ognised, that one evening, in 1740, when
Woodward was too ill to go on as harle-
quin, at the little theatre in Goodman's
Fields, Garrick was allowed to take his
place for the early scenes, and got through
them so well that the substitution was not
surmised by the audience.

house was in an uproar of applause, and I was obliged to pause between the speeches, to give it vent so as to be heard.'

'No money, no title,' added the veteran as he recited his triumph, could purchase what I felt. And let no man tell me after this what fame will not inspire a man to do, and how far the attainment of it will not remunerate his greatest labours. By G-d, sir, though I was not worth fifty pounds in the world at this time, yet, let me tell you, I was Charles the Great for that night.'. Cooke's Life of Macklin, p. 93.

Macklin's powers were of an exceptional kind. He wanted variety and flexibility, and those graces of person and manner which are indispensable to a great actor. His success was, therefore, only momentary; and it was left to his young friend and companion to complete the reform, of which his own treatment of Shylock was the first indication.

Nor was that reform far distant. The very next summer was to decide Garrick's career. His broodings were now to take actual shape. But before hazarding an appearance in London he wisely resolved to test his powers in the country; and with this view he went down to Ipswich with the company of Giffard, the Manager of the Goodman's Fields' Theatre, and made his appearance under the name of Lyddal as Aboan in Southern's tragedy of Oroonoko.' This he followed up by several other characters, both tragic and comic, none of them of first importance, but sufficient to give him ease on the stage, and at the same time enable him to ascertain wherein his strength lay. His success was unquestionable, and decided him on appealing to a London audience.

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Nor had his been a mere lounger's delight in the pleasures of the theatre. The axiom that the stage is nought which does not hold the mirror up to nature,' had taken deep hold upon his mind. But from the actual stage he found that nature, especially in the poetical drama, had all but vanished, and in its place had come a purely conventional and monotonous style of declamation, with a stereotyped system of action no less formal and unreal. There was a noble opening. for any one who should have the courage and the gifts to return to nature and to truth, and Garrick felt that it was 'in him' to effect the desired revolution. That the public were prepared to welcome a reform had been demonstrated by the success, in February, 1741, of his friend Macklin at Drury Lane, in the part of Shylock, which the public had up to that time been accustomed to see treated on the stage as a comic part. Reading his Shakspeare by the light of his vigorous intellect, Macklin saw the immense scope the character afforded for the display of varied passion and emotion. Nature had given him the Shylock look, and in his heart he had the irrevocable hate and study of revenge,' of which the character is so grand an expression. In the early scenes he riveted the audience by the hard cutting force of his manner and melodious and full of tone, though far from utterance. The third act came, and here he says:

'I knew I should have the pull, and reserved myself accordingly. At this period I threw out all my fire; and, as the contrasted passions of joy for the merchant's losses, and grief for the elopement of Jessica, open a fine field for an actor's powers, I had the good fortune to please beyond my warmest expectations. The whole

The quality in which Garrick then and throughout his career surpassed all his contemporaries was the power of kindling with the exigencies of the scene. He lost himself in his part. It spoke through him; and the greater the play it demanded of emotion and passion, the more diversified the expression and action for which it gave scope, the more brilliantly did his genius assert itself. His face answered to his feelings, and its workings gave warning of his words before he uttered them; his voice,

strong, had the penetrating quality hard to define, but which is never wanting either in the great orator or the great actor; and his figure, light, graceful, and well balanced, though under the average size, was equal to every demand which his impulsive nature made upon it. We can see all this in the portraits of him even at this early period. Only in those of a later date do

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tragedians of those days must have been marvellously like our own, but perfectly easy in its transitions, natural in its cadence, and beautiful in its elocution.'

we get some idea of the commanding power The Daily Post' announced his reception of his eyes, which not only held his audi- next day, in terms which, however little ence like a spell, but controlled, with a they would be worthy of belief in any jourpower almost beyond endurance, his fellow-nal of the present day, at that time were performers in the scene. But from the first enough to arrest attention, as the most the power must have been there. He had extraordinary and great that was noted well all that was good in the profes-known on such an occasion' as a first apsors of the art he was destined to revolution-pearance. Another critic in The Chamise; and he had learned, as men of ability pion,' who obviously was equal to his work, do learn, even from their very defects, in a phenomenon at no time common in newswhat direction true excellence was to be paper critics of the stage, called attention sought for. Long afterwards he used to to his nice proportions, his clear and penesay that his own chief successes in Richard trating voice, sweet and harmonious, withthe Third' were due to what he had learned out monotony, drawling, or affectation; through watching Ryan, a very indifferent neither whining, bellowing, or grumbling,' actor, in the same part. Richard was the character he chose for his first London trial; a choice made with a wise estimate of his own powers, for the display of which it was eminently fitted. At this time the He is not less happy in his mien and gait, in part was in the possession of Quin, whose which he is neither strutting nor mincing, neithmanner of heaving up his words, and la- er stiff nor slouching. When three or four are boured action,' as described by Davies, on the stage with him he is attentive to whatever were the best of foils to the fiery energy and is spoke, and never drops his character when he subtle varieties of expression with which has finished a speech, by either looking conGarrick was soon to make the public famil- temptuously on an inferior performer, unneces iar. He appeared, by the usual venial fic-sary spitting, or suffering his eyes to wander tion on similar occasions, as a gentleman through the whole circle of spectators. His acwho never appeared on any stage.' The tion is never superfluous, awkward, or too frehouse was not a great one; still the audi- quently repeated, but graceful, decent, and becoming.' ence was numerous enough to make the actor feel his triumph, and to spread the report of it widely. They were taken by surprise at first by a style at once so new and so consonant to nature.


To the just modulation of the words,' says Davies, and concurring expression of the features, from the genuine workings of nature, they had been strangers, at least for some time. But, after Mr. Garrick had gone through a variety of scenes, in which he gave evident proofs of consummate art, and perfect knowledge of character, their doubts were turned into surprise and astonishment, from which they relieved themselves in loud and reiterated applause.'

Macklin, of course, was there, and often spoke of the pleasure that night's performance gave him.

'It was amazing how, without any example, but, on the contrary, with great prejudices against him, he could throw such spirit and novelty into the part, as to convince every impartial person, on the very first impression, that he was right. In short, Sir, he at once decided the public taste; and though the players formed a cabal against him, with Quin at their head, it was a puff to thunder; the east and west end of the town made head against them; and the little fellow, in this and about half a dozen other characters, secured his own immortality.'-Cooke's Life of Macklin, p. 99.

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This is invaluable, both as showing what Garrick was, and what the actors of that time-in this also, unhappily, too like the actors of our own-were not.


He was

terribly in earnest.' He did not play with his work. He had transported himself into the ideal Richard, and his strong conception spoke in every flash of his eyes, every change of his features, every motion of his body. It is characteristic of the fervour with which he threw himself into the part, that before the fourth act was over he had all but run out of voice, and was indebted to the seasonable relief of a Seville orange from a chance loiterer behind the scenes for getting articulately to the end of the play. This failure of the voice often happened to him afterwards, and from the same cause. It is one of the characteristics of a sensitive organisation, and did not arise in him from any undue vehemence, but evidently from the intensity which he threw into his delivery.

A power like this was sure of rapid recognition in those days, when theatres


formed a sort of fourth estate.
first appearance was on the 19th of October,
1741. He repeated the character the two
following nights, then changed it for
Aboan, his first part of the Ipswich Se-
ries. The audiences were still moderate,

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