CHAPTER X.

MOSSOP'S END-GOLDSMITH-HENDERSON.

1772-1775.

In this episode Garrick was to appear in a character full of dignity and compassion, and in which, too, from one whose life had been spent in vilifying him, was to be wrung a death-bed amende and acknowledgment of repentance.

He had for some time lost sight of this tragedian, whose very name must have always brought back unpleasant associations to him. When Mossop quitted Drury Lane, we have seen that he went to Dublin, where the fatal craze for "managership" took possession of him; and the desperate and costly struggle between him on one side, and Barry and Woodward on the other, is one of the most exciting chapters in the history of the Irish Stage. We have seen, too, how Garrick helped him there. In the end, the fortunes of all were wrecked, and after a miserable contest of some years, the combatants had dispersed, overwhelmed with ruin; and Mossop found himself back in London, quite broken in spirits, health, and fortune.

He had some friends, who strongly pressed him to appeal once more to Garrick; but the tragedian had still his pride to support him, and disdained to make such an advance. He said that Garrick knew very well that he was in London. No man had less pride

of that sort than Garrick, but he knew what was due to his own dignity and interest. In this state of things, no application was made, no offer came, and the season went by.

A friend then proposed that he should go abroad with him, as a sort of companion, which he did, and he enjoyed the luxury of the Grand Tour. He returned in about a year's time, but, it was noticed, was now quite changed, having grown shattered — dilapidated, wasted, solitary and gloomy. The lustre of his eye, which had been so effective in tragedy, was dimmed. Again it was pressed on him, that he should make overtures to Garrick, but he once more declined to stoop to what he thought such a humiliation. We may have some sympathy for this dignity in the broken actor; for he had been born a gentleman, and educated as such, and something must be allowed for the stiff old "Irish pride." Among the friends who interested themselves for him was a certain young fellow "of parts," Welsh, later to be a dissenting minister, and who frequented the theatres. He was always with Mossop, hearing from him the story of his wrongs. He was known to Goldsmith, and others of that coterie; but most frequented the circle where the small snarlers and sneerers at Garrick's reputation were busy. It was said, indeed, that he had sent in a drama, on a Welsh subject, to the manager, whose rejectionand the rejection of a play seemed to be the grossest of ⚫ known human injuries-inflamed the author's enmity. He took up his friend's case, and in the most bitter and personal pamphlet, made a savage onslaught on Garrick. It was quite plain, that in the materials he was prompted by Mossop, as he himself was a mere

youth, and his memory could have furnished him with but few stage recollections. There was something violent and impetuous in his nature; and those who not so long ago could recollect the placid, unimpassioned face of the Unitarian minister—his tall figure in its deep purple velvet suit-would hardly suppose that he had figured in the fierce theatrical wrangles of a past generation.*

This production was entitled "A Letter to David Garrick, on his conduct as a principal manager and actor at Drury Lane Theatre (1772);" and there were portions of it so near the truth, or so near what the world thought to be the truth, as to give Garrick sore annoyance. It told him, how strange it seemed that every actor was "shot at" in the public papers from some corner, while Garrick always escaped. When, too, any article dealing severely with Garrick was offered for insertion, it was curious how it was always declined. He had discovered the secret. Mr. Garrick was the proprietor, or part proprietor, of most of the journals. There was a grain of truth in this. "Hence, I am afraid, the inimitable Mr. Garrick, the faultless actor," &c. But he forgot that enemies could indemnify themselves in pamphlets, as he was doing. Too many persons were inclined to attack Garrick's reputation. "Would to God I could defend you!" How unworthy were the arts, by which the manager and actor tried to crush every one with talent. First, he resorted to mimicry. It is well known that Quin was long the object of this ridicule; but he was too strong. Others of less power and ability were crushed and

* Taylor.

ruined. "You will recollect the cases of Ryan, Delane, Hallam, Bridgwater, Giffard, Sparks, Sheridan. If a brother in the profession is praised in company, either his face, figure, or virtues, you are stretched on the rack." Their private character was misrepresented by an adroit anecdote. In this way were treated Mrs. Yates, Woodward, Smith, Abington, all to please fops and persons of quality, "who admire everything from the mouth of that dear Garrick." His conduct as a manager was all to the same end-depreciating others. The best actors were huddled into processions, and raree shows. This was to feed his vanity, and avarice-though more his vanity, than his avarice. "I have laughed to hear you say, that you wished to retire at once, if any successor could be found, but there was no one else who could draw a house."* How unworthy was his depreciating the splendid abilities of the departed Cibber, "and the chorus of wits who listen, take up the cue, and say she whined and walked with her elbows stuck close to her sides. Why she was all nature and tenderness. You are mere stiff acting, and excite only admiration. I have seen you in 'Romeo and Juliet,' you all correctness and formality, she all melting tenderness; and yet they tell me, you talked in a room of acting your Romeo 'to a post.' Why is Barry thrust into parts wholly unsuited to him? Is it to exhibit him to contempt, as the ruins of a great actor? Why was Mossop excluded?"

Then it went off into a very plain and personal account of the great actor's defects, and peculiarities.

* It was true, nevertheless. If there was any falling-off in the houses, his name was sure to draw them again.

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This was done in a shockingly gross manner. dwelt on his manner of grasping his forehead, and on his "strange twitches." "You are perpetually in the extreme," always struggling to show the whole face and "glare of your eye your eye" to the audience. That face was now all wrinkled. The motive of this attack might seem apparent. It was popularly ascribed to zeal in the cause of his friend. But when Garrick's desk and pigeon holes gave up their stores, a paper was found among them, addressed to Garrick, just after its publication, which shows the treacherous and Condottieri spirit that was at the bottom of all party warfare of the time. It was written, as it were, in a sort of friendly tone, and had the air of friendly warning. It was anonymous, and spoke of the new pamphlet just published, and of the danger to be apprehended from it. For it was elegantly wrote," by a young man, who was "making himself a first-rate genius." then gives the grounds of his suspicion as to the author, "whose name is Williams." He had been in his company, and heard him say that " he intended to revise you in the winter; that he was sorry to think you a thorough bad man; and that he thought it the business of every one, to prevent you debauching the public taste and manners. This piece was elegantly wrote, and, to do you irreparable mischief, only wants to be generally known. I really think he intends to pursue his blow. You will fall into unmerciful hands; and I, who know your merits as well as your faults, would wish you would take some method to undeceive this young man." Mr. Garrick might suppose the adviser might have some interest in this caution, but "it was all from regard to the young man. He

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