who fully shared the honours with him. Davies finely describes how the two played the murder

scene.

"The representation of this terrible part of the play by Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard can no more be described than I believe it can be equalled. I will not separate their performances, for the merits of both were transcendant. His distraction of mind and agonising horrors were finely contrasted by her seeming apathy, tranquillity, and confidence. The beginning of the scene after the murder, was conducted in terrifying whispers. Their looks and action supplied the place of words. You heard what they spoke, but you learned more from the agitation of mind displayed in their action and deportment. The poet here gives an outline of the consummate actor.-I have done the deed.-Didst thou not hear a noise ?-When ?-Did noise?-When?-Did you not speak?-The dark colouring, given by the actor to these abrupt speeches, makes the scene awful and tremendous to the auditors. The wonderful expression of heartfelt horror, which Garrick felt when he showed his bloody hands, can only be conceived and described by those who saw him."

CHAPTER II.

DAVID GARRICK (continued.)

His Marriage-A Romance-The Rival Romeos-Garrick's HomeLife-His King Lear-His Sir John Brute-Roses and Thorns -Declining Power of Attraction-His Visit to Paris-His "Rounds”—He Visits Rome, Naples, Parma-His Splendid Reception everywhere-"The Sick Monkey"-His Re-appearance in London-His Welcome-The Stratford Jubilee-Retiring-Farewell Performances-In the House of Commons -Anecdotes of Mrs. Garrick-Her Death-Garrick as an Author -As an Actor-A Sketch of his Character-His Eccentricities.

IT

T was in 1749 he married Mademoiselle Violette, the celebrated dancer. There was a considerable amount of mystery and romance about this lady. She was said to be the daughter of a citizen of Vienna, named Viegel-although once in conversation she declared herself to be of noble birth-probably illegitimately. When the children of Maria Theresa were learning dancing, she, then a little girl, was taken into the palace with some others to form a sort of class; the Empress took a fancy to her, and requested her to change her name from Viegel, which in a German patois means violet, to the prettier French form of the word. By and bye the Emperor, it would seem, cast his eyes upon

her, upon which Maria Theresa hurried her off to England, with recommendations to several influential persons to assist in procuring her an appearance upon the stage. She was then twentyone years old. She came over disguised as a boy, and was immediately taken under the protection of Lady Burlington, who was probably one of the persons to whom she had introductions, and was at once received in the best society. Horace Walpole, writing in 1746, says: "The fame of the Violette increases daily; the sister Countesses of Burlington and Talbot exert all their stores of sullen partiality in competition for her; the former visits her, and is having her picture, and carries her to Chiswick, and she sups at Lady Carlisle's," &c. She made her début at the Opera House, and

the King came to do it honour.

The daughters of

her aristocratic patroness used to stand at the wings at night with wraps to throw round her when she came off from her dance. A romantic story was invented that she was the daughter of the Earl, that he had discovered her while travelling abroad from her likeness to her mother, a lady to whom he had been devotedly attached. But Violette was not born until two years after his marriage, after which he resided for several consecutive years entirely in England, which fact would seem to dispose of that story. Seeing Garrick play one night, she fell desperately in love

with him. He was not the great man then he afterwards became, and Lady Burlington was violently opposed to the match. But they frequently met in society. "There was an admirable scene,' writes Walpole, (1749), "Lady Burlington brought the Violette, and the Richmonds had asked Garrick, who stood ogling and sighing the whole time, while my lady kept a most fierce look-out." They also met clandestinely. Once our hero disguised himself as a woman to hand her a letter as she passed by in her chair. The Countess privately remonstrated with him, and he promised to endeavour to cure Mademoiselle of her passion. The story of Robertson's "David Garrick," in which he assumes drunkenness for a similar purpose, is said to be founded upon a true incident of this loveaffair; but the real catastrophe was very different to the fictitious one; for the Countess, touched by the actor's generous self-sacrifice, gave her consent to the marriage. A dowry of £10,000 was settled upon the bride, £6,000 by the Burlingtons, £4,000 by Garrick. They took up their abode in Southampton Street, Strand, a not unfashionable neighbourhood then. The house is still standing, No. 27, and the little back room in which they used to breakfast is said to be little changed. It was characteristic of his love of making his most private affairs a town talk, that he played "Much Ado About Nothing" on the night after his wed

ding. The allusion to Benedick, the married man, amused the audience vastly. He also wrote and published verses upon the event.

1750-51 was the celebrated "Romeo and Juliet" season. This play had gone through several alterations since the Restoration; Otway had transformed the two lovers of Verona into classical Romans in his "Caius Marius," James Howard turned the play into a tragic-comedy, and left them living at the fall of the curtain. In Sir William Davenant's time it was played on alternate evenings as a comedy and a tragedy, to suit different tastes. Theophilus Cibber made a version of his own during his brief season at the Haymarket. This was played once at Drury Lane in 1748; but when Garrick revived it on this occasion he produced the play with those alterations still familiar to old play-goers, and still adhered to in country theatres, in which Romeo revives after Juliet's awakening. On the 28th of September, 1750, the tragedy was produced at both houses. Barry, jealous of Garrick, and Mrs. Cibber discontented with him, had gone over to Covent Garden; Woffington and Macklin followed their example. Barry, in a prologue, insinuated that he had been driven from Drury Lane by the manager's arrogance and selfishness-he might with greater justice have applied the terms to himself. At Covent Garden Barry was the Romeo, Macklin the Mercutio, Mrs.