think we can see in it, a harmless delicacy—a wish not to disturb the more dignified image of his histrionic self, which he wished to rest in the mind of the friend he so respected that of Lear or Richard. Indeed, the presence of Johnson could have been no welcome addition behind the scenes. When every eye in front, is wet with tears at the sorrows of Lear, and even Clive, at the wing, is sobbing out, "d―n him, he can act a gridiron!" the great actor is disturbed by the loud voices of Murphy and Johnson, laughing and talking over something else. As he comes off, he remonstrates gently, and tells Johnson he distracts his feelings. "Pshaw! sir," says Johnson, coarsely, "Punch has no feelings!"*

This to the manager, before the other players, and from a friend, was unkind. The speech was recollected, repeated, and enjoyed. Wilkes, repeating the stupid slander of stinginess, said, in Johnson's presence, that Garrick "would play Scrub to the end of his life;" then, brought on a discussion, which extracted from Johnson an admission that Garrick

Johnson, though he had a contempt for players, did excellent justice to his acting. "Who can repeat Hamlet's soliloquy, 'To be, or not to be,' as Garrick does it?" said Boswell, foolishly, and with that wrongly placed praise which so nearly depreciates. "Anybody may," said Johnson. "Jemmy, there, 'a child,' will do it as well in a week. Garrick was no declaimer; yet he was the only actor I ever saw whom I could call a master both in tragedy and in comedy; though I believe him best in comedy. A true conception of character, and natural expression of it, were his distinguishing excellences." This was his real excellence, and not the poor recitation of "To be or not to be,"-perhaps his weakest part.

+ Garrick and his associations were always, by some fatality, unpleasant for Johnson. Thus, when Walmesley's old letters of introduction to Colson, now nearly forty years old, came to light, having been carefully treasured by Abraham Newling, Steevens wrote to Garrick, "If I had called, as I sometimes do, on Dr. Johnson, and showed him one of these, where he is mentioned as one Johnson, I should have risked, perhaps, the chance of one of his ghastly smiles."

gave away more money than any man in England. But others were then attacking, which was sufficient to make him anyone's champion. We can put no confidence in his acceptance of Boswell's excuse, of his allowing no one to abuse Garrick but himself, which could be refuted by many instances.* After a fine panegyric on Garrick's liberality, and his wonderful self-restraint under the tempest of praise "dashed in his face"-" Sir, a liberal man; a little vanity, indeed; but he has shown that money is not his first object," he might seem liberal. Yet, when Boswell quotes Foote's stupid jest about his going out with an intention to be generous, and its all vanishing in the street at the ghost of a halfpenny candle, Johnson agrees complacently, "That is very true, sir. No man ever so much depended on the humour of the moment." It would be far more true to say, that it was not on the humour of the moment that he was generous, that he reflected, and perhaps wrote a letter; and thus, his benevolence was measured, and infinitely superior to the mere charity of impulse. No "ghost of a halfpenny candle" had come between Foote and his kind assistance.t "The humour of the moment." No. It was a humour that lasted all his life-a humour not by any means of the moment: as most applications for money came to him by letter, he had time to deliberate. We can mark every year of his life by a series of generous actions and of thoughtful aid.

*The kindly Reynolds made this excuse for him, that Johnson considered Garrick as his property, and would allow no one to attack or praise him without contradiction. He wrote the two well-known dialogues in Johnson's manner to show this.

The reader will recall one instance at least where, too, Foote actually complained that the money was not given at once, so that Garrick had time to reflect.

From the same hostile quarter came the grudging testimony, that he was the first man in the world for sprightly conversation, though he thought that conversation light. Even after the actor's death, as will be seen, his encomiums were conventional and ill-applied. What were Garrick's real faults, escaped him, and it was reserved for Goldsmith's nicer observation to hit off those social histrionics, the blemish of Garrick's life. "He had friends, sir," Johnson said, after the actor had passed away, "but no friend. He was too much diffused. He found people always ready to applaud him, and for the same thing, and so saw life with great uniformity -a distinction not very intelligible. He ought, at least, to have found one friend in his own schoolfellow and companion-whose foolish plans-the school, and the play-he had helped, to the best of his power.

And yet, after all, it almost seems as if Garrick's regard and affection for him, are his best extenuation. We know what a struggle was always going on in that fine, strong, powerful nature-how Johnson prayed and wrestled with himself and the meaner passions, which so often overpowered him. Sometimes, therefore, in dealing with Garrick, the generous feeling prevailed, and he did him more than justice; but the next moment he was thinking of the success, and of Gar

* Even in trifles we see instances of Garrick's thoughtful kindness. Boswell and Johnson pay a visit down at Lichfield. Johnson was scarcely at home there; but a letter arrives to Peter Garrick, enjoining him to pay every attention to the visitors. Johnson's hostility was persistent. It turns up in every direction. When a great honor was paid to Garrick in being sent for to read for the King, Johnson chuckled over the coldness which the Royal host had shown at the entertainment. He dwelt on Garrick's mystification and disappointment-then went off in the old stock charge-avarice and love of praise.-D'Arblay's Diary.

rick's social artifices, which to him were contemptible;

and then the less worthy feeling seemed to prevail. After all, this may be the solution; and all hearty admirers would be delighted that such strange behaviour could be reconciled with Johnson's really fine temper.

At the end, when Garrick had passed away, some such better influence prevailed. "Garrick was a very good man," he said; "the cheerfullest man of his age -a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give indulgence to licentiousness." The cheerfullest man of his age! This is something pretty and appropriate in that epitaph, something so nicely describing Garrick, something so inviting, that we condone all, and fondly believe that Johnson, his old schoolfellow, then understood him-but, alas! too late.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ADELPHI.-COUNTY VISITS.

1770.

THE same old taste for high life, and this rather foolish ambition to do as those did who were above him in rank and wealth, made Mr. Garrick now prepare to leave his house in Southampton Street, where he had lived more than twenty years. They were but two,

their house was large and handsome enough; well situated, too, for one of his condition. But he was eager for something grander, and more "fashionable." Four brothers, of the name of Adam-two of whom were architects of repute, who have left some respectable works behind them-had entered upon what was then considered a colossal undertaking. They had bought the old Durham yard-where Garrick long before had his wine vaults-with the sheds and buildings about it, and conceived the daring scheme of throwing out a handsome terrace, raised on a series of arches, over the river side. In a spirit of nationality that seems ludicrous, they had brought all their masons and bricklayers from Scotland, and the work was stimulated by the monotonous drone of the bagpipe. The labourers, however, soon found that this cheerful music made. them, insensibly, give more work than was quite profitable and with a spirit, in its own way as national as