of the foreign faculty. It wasted him to the last degree, and we can see the famous Roscius, effective even in his emaciation, described comically by himself: "I have lost legs, arms, belly, cheeks, &c., and have scarce anything left but bones, and a pair of dark lack-lustre eyes, that are retired an inch or two more. in their sockets, and wonderfully set off the parchment that covers the cheek-bones." The wonderful eyes, under such conditions, must have been like fiery coals. Yet his strong constitution helped him over such an attack; perhaps, too, his native good humour, cheerfulness and buoyancy. He did not love to whine over his sufferings. "You desired me to write," he says, "and invalids will prate of their ailments." His spirits sank very low, and he had a narrow escape, indeed. In this state he wrote some lines genuine in character, but very desponding in tone, and which may be taken to be a faithful picture of his past life. He called it "His own Epitaph:

"Though I in frailty's mould was cast,

By passions hurried on,

Though all my days in folly passed,
No crime has blackened one.

Some sins I had-for who is free?

Of pride, few mortals less;

Not those, I fear, who have, like me,
Small merit with success.

One pride that with myself shall end,

That pride the world shall know,
Much-honoured Camden was my friend,
And Kenrick was my foe."*

But there was a more significant warning in his having an attack of the malady, which was later to carry him off: the malady which came of "full port" and rich living, and which carried off so many men of

* Hill MSS.

letters and delightful social gifts. He was ordered the Spa waters-to "The Spaw," as it was calledthen, as now, one of the most delightful nooks of Europe; but the season was too far advanced.

friends dropped

whom he was

"The best of

During his illness, two of his best away, that Duke of Devonshire, to so sincerely attached, and Hogarth. women and wives," as he affectionately called Mrs. Garrick, strove hard to keep such distressing news from reaching his ears; but the news of the first had nearly "cracked" his nerves. He loved the painter "in the greatest confidence." Churchill, too, was dying at Boulogne. Voltaire, receiving all the travelling world at his little retreat at Ferney, had sent him, as we have seen, a complimentary message. Garrick, on his return, intended to turn aside, and pay his homage at the shrine, but the serious illness that seized him at Munich, had weakened him so much, that he dared not tarry on the road. Nancy he wrote his excuses to the "Roi Voltaire" -in scarcely one of his happiest letters. A friend, who later, was honoured with a seat beside "the King" at dinner, said that it would be the best news in the world for Mr. Garrick, to know that M. de Voltaire was in good health, and that he hoped he might write so. "No, no, sir," replied the host, "do not write an untruth, but tell him, je suis plein d'estime pour lui"*

From

* Round the poet were a whole circle of chattering nieces and nephews. Clairon had just left, and the night before they had played one of the host's own dramas at the private theatre. Every one was vociferating her praises, absolutely dinning the ears of the Englishman. Voltaire sat in the centre, placidly nodding now and again, and signifying his approval. The whole is one of many characteristic pictures to be found in the bulky Garrick correspondence.

He reached Paris again, about October, 1764in a very shattered condition. His pleasant French friends could hardly recognise him, until he spoke. But in the delightful Paris air, he began to mend at once, to fill in, and grow round, until, in about a fortnight, he could pass for a tolerable Frenchman. It was wonderful indeed, how he got through; for, as he said humorously, he had been under no less than eight physicians, two of whom had been Englishperhaps Dr. Gem, of Paris. Three German and three French doctors were indeed a variety of medical aid. The French prescribed l'exercise de cheval, beaucoup de dissipation, and the universal James's Powderwhich, curiously enough, was later to kill Sterne and Goldsmith. Not much had taken place in his absence. But there were letters waiting for him, with more news of Powell's success-scarcely a pleasant medicine.

แ

.

Powell had gone from one triumph to another. Philaster was his great part, after which came Posthumus in Cymbeline." He then applied himself to study hastily, and produce in succession, a whole round of characters of which he knew nothing. It made no difference -the crowds came-it was the fashion to go and hear Mr. Powell, and there were even plenty to say, that here was Mr. Garrick's successor, and that the loss of that great actor was more than repaired. There were plenty, too, to let him know of this good news. Now Lacy, with an almost spiteful congratulation, recorded as spitefully by Davies, bade him by no means abridge his tour, but enjoy himself as long as possible away, for the house was always crammed, and not even "Mr. Garrick's own most principal parts had brought more money."

This was enough to trouble any mind. What man of any profession, statesman, orator, lawyer, doctor, thus comforted, and assured that another, in his absence, had leaped up into his place, but would not be disquieted and alarmed? He could scarcely be expected to encourage enthusiastically, so dangerous a rival, whose success was not partnership, but sure dethronement. Powell had written to him, in the midst of all this triumph, an exceeding modest and temperate letter, in which he acknowledged his obligation to "his best friend. For you, sir, laid the foundation of all, by your kind care of me during the course of last summer, and have put within my view the prospect of future happiness for me, my wife, and little infants, who are daily taught to bless your name, as the best of friends." Garrick's answer was in the same excellent taste, and written in perfect sincerity. "The news of your great success," he wrote to him from Paris, "gave me a most sensible pleasure-the continuance of that success will be in your own power;" and then begs that he will give leave "to an older soldier" to hint a little advice, which he will answer for being sincere, at least-" which in a brother actor is no small merit." The gratitude of Powell for those small hints had attached Garrick to him. "I have not always met gratitude in a playhouse; "a truth of which he was to have yet more convincing experience, during the next few years. Then followed his excellent advice. He was afraid that Powell's good nature to his brother actors-thus delicately did he put it—had driven him into too many characters, a little precipitately. However, he had succeeded, and now was the time to make sure, by study, of the ground he had gained.

Should he have made

When the

your

He warned him against clubs and flatterers. ever sink by idleness, "those friends who you idle, will be the first to forsake you. public has marked you for a favourite (and their favour must be purchased with sweat and labour), you may choose what company you please, and none but the best can be of service to you.... But above all, never let Shakspere be out of your hands or your pocket; keep him about you, as a charm; the more you read him, the more you will like him, and the better you will act him. One thing more, and then I will finish my preaching. Guard against the splitting the ears of the groundlings, who are capable of nothing but dumb show and noise. Do not sacrifice your taste and feeling, to the applause of the multitude. A true genius will convert an audience to his manner, rather than be converted by them to what is false and unnatural." Advice of inestimable price, and more valuable than gold, to every player, who should study, and take it to heart. And this was all genuine and disinterested; for though he was also writing home, nervously perhaps, to know of Powell's progress, what he said was all to the same effect. am very angry with Powell, for playing that detestable part of Alexander; every genius must despise such fustian. If a man can act it well-I mean, to please the people he has something in him that a good actor should not have. He might have served Pritchard and himself too, in some good natural character. I hate your roarers. Damn the part. I fear it will hurt him." Colman was Powell's friend, and all this would of course be told to him. After Powell's letter had reached him, he still said: "Powell's playing himself to rags astonishes me. What can be the meaning of

"I