in their business, when Peter arrived in town on a visit from Lichfield. He knew how shocked the decent brother would be, and the little coterie of canons, soldiers, doctors, who made up "genteel" society there, at such a piece of news. But he had made up his mind for good. It was perhaps the best course he could take; and as failure and bankruptcy were sure to come presently, from this state of indecision, it was wiser to make the experiment-to win or fail, and thus settle matters finally one way or the other. The necessity for concealment in presence of his solemn brother-the serious responsibility and struggle-threw him into the utmost dejection of spirits, and brought on a severe illness. Peter returned home to Lichfield without a suspicion of the cause. Thus time passed by. Suddenly on a certain morning in October, 1741, Mr. Peter Garrick received two letters-one from Dr. Swinfen, a family friend and physician, who knew and attended the Johnson and Garrick families, the other from his brother. Both were to the same effect; and both contained the fatal piece of news, broken to the shocked Peter, with every art of excuse and appeal to brotherly affection and personal interest. The step had been taken, "the Rubicon crossed:" on the night before, Mr. David Garrick had appeared before a London audience at Goodman's Fields Theatre with the most astounding success! CHAPTER III. FIRST APPEARANCE.-1741-1742. THE two letters must have spread dismay and grief through the Garrick household; as, indeed, every line of them seemed to anticipate. Mr. Swinfen wrote with the sense of age and experience, but evidently approached the subject with trepidation. "Many of his country friends, who have been most used to theatrical performances in Town Halls, &c., by strolers, will be apt to imagine the highest pitch a man can arrive at on the stage is about that exalted degree of heroism as the Herberts and the Hallams have formally made us laugh and cry with. There were many," he went on, "who because their fathers were called gentlemen, or perhaps themselves the first, will think it a disgrace and a scandal that a child of theirs should attempt to earn an honest livelihood, and not be content to live all his life in a scanty manner because his father was a gentleman." This was clearly the Lichfield theory. But he knew very well that his friend, "Mr. Peter Garwick -so he spells it will not be guided by these prejudices. "I think I know you well enough to be convinced that you have not the same sentiments, and I hope there are some others of his friends who will not alter their opinion or regard for him, till they find the stage corrupts his morals and make him less deserving, which I do not take by any means to be a necessary consequence, or likely to happen to my honest friend David." But as he does not doubt but that Mr. Peter would soon hear the news "that my good friend David Garwick performed last night at Goodman's Fields Theatre, for fear he should hear a false or malicious account, I will give you the truth, which much. pleased me. For I was there," goes on this good friend, “and was witness to the most general applause he gained in the character of King Richard y° Third. For I believe there was not one in the house that was not in raptures, and I heard several men of judgment declare it their opinion that nobody ever excelled him in the part; and that they were surprised that, with so peculiar a genius, how it was possible for him to keep off the stage so long." This was all friendly and rational; but to one that believed the step itself was degradation, the news at best was but that of success in that degradation. The same post brought David's letter; and it is now curious to look at the faded coffee-coloured writing, and think how the fingers that penned that writing were almost trembling with the excitement of the night before. "Dear Peter," it began; and with an affectation of carelessness, goes on to tell him "how the shirt came down safe." He has now to announce to him what, he supposes, he has already heard-though it is proper to preface some things which will make him appear less culpable in his brother's opinion. One was the state of their business, into which he had gone carefully, and discovered heavy and steady losses. Some way must be discovered to redeem them. "My mind (as you must know) has always been inclined to ye stage; nay, so strongly, that all my late illness and loss of spirits was owing to the struggle. Finding that both my inclination and my interest required some new way of life, I have chosen y one most agreeable to myself; and though I fear you will be much displeased at me, yet I hope when you find that I have y genius of an actor, without the vices, you will think less severe of me, and not be ashamed to own me for a brother." As for the wine business, he will send him his share in money, or settle it in any way that he likes. "Last night," he goes on, plunging desperately into the dreadful revelation, "I played King Richard the Third, to the surprise of everybody;" and, as an appeal to Peter's business views, "I shall make very nearly £300 per annum by it, and as it is what I doat upon, I am resolved to pursue it." Now, the news being out, he stops Peter's protest by business again. "I believe I shall have Bowers's money, and which shall go towards my part of the wine you have at Lichfield. Pray write me an answer immediately." In a sort of postscript, he goes back to the stage. "I have a farce (Y Lying Valet') coming out at Drury Lane." His mind was indeed in a whirl. The splendid success of the night-the blazing footlights were before his eyes-the roar of applause was in his ears. That first night was well remembered. There were many who, long after, told how they sat in the boxes or pit and had seen the "great Garrick" play his first play. Among these was Macklin, with whom had been debated the choice of a play for the début, and who had approved of the young player's motive for the selection of Richard-namely, its suiting his figure so much better than any other. Even this showed a prudence and care not to lose a single point; though on the next morning no one thought of his stature, and he was free to choose what part he would. In truth, he might have reflected that the opening was singularly favourable. The theatres were all in disorder. Quin and Delane were the only actors of note. Quin's stiff, drill-sergeant style of gesture and declamation had grown to be tedious. Macklin's Shylock had been but the sensation of a night. Quin's Richard, Lear, and Macbeth, were all inferior. If the new actor had "the stuff" in him, now the opportunity favoured him. The company with whom he was to play was unpretending. Miss Hippisley, "the leading lady," who sang fairly in little ballad operas; Peter Bardin, an Irish general "utility" actor; the two Giffards, and Blakes,* were the most conspicuous. It is evidence of the social state of the unhappy players, that they dared not call their house a theatre, but "the late theatre." Tickets were to be taken for this momentous night at "The Fleece," a tavern close by, and the best box places were three shillings. As the audience read the bills, they saw that the leading part was to be taken by "a gentleman who had never One of these Goodman's Fields actors who played with Garrick was called "Dagger Marr," whom Mr. Taylor had seen in his boyhood. He used to play murderer's parts, and long after forced the present of a turkey on Garrick, which the latter accepted, not to mortify him, though he had plenty of turkeys at Hampton. Marr was asked did Garrick take the present? "Take it!" said the actor, with characteristic meanness, "he would have taken it had it been a roll and treacle." appeared on any stage;"* and it is certain that the news of the coming début had been known at all the coffee-houses, and drew a strong muster of his private friends. Otherwise the house was not crowded. Indeed, there had been so many first appearances of incapable amateurs who had failed outrageously, that this announcement was more likely to repel than attract. The playhouse itself presented a handsome show. In an oval over the stage was a sort of apotheosis of the King, attended by Peace, Liberty, and Justice, and "trampling Oppression under foot-the popular attitude for "peaceful" monarchy. Round the ceiling were four medallions of Shakspeare, Dryden, Congreve, with Betterton, alone selected to be put in company with the famous dramatists. The "plafond" was gaily painted with scenes from famous plays-Cato, on the left, pointing to the body of his dead son, Marcius; in the centre, "Cæsar stabbed in the Senate-house." On the right was the parting of Mark Antony and Octavia; and on "the sounding board over the stage -a part of the decoration that comes on us with surprise was seen Apollo and the Nine Muses. Such was the interior of the theatre, which we are told was looked on as "a neat and elegant piece of workmanship;" "well-warmed,” and to this plafond must the fine eyes of Garrick have often wandered. On that Monday night the performance began at six o'clock, * A fiction allowed in his profession. No copy of this famous bill has been preserved. Fifty years ago it was reprinted; but it is not clear whether from a bill or the newspaper announcement. I possess a copy of this rare reprint: October 19, 1741. At the Theatre in Goodman's Fields, this day will be performed, A Concert of Vocal and Instrumental Music, divided into two parts. Tickets at three, two, and one shilling. Places for the Boxes to be taken at the Fleece Tavern, near the Theatre. N.B. Between the two Parts of the Concert will be presented an Historical Play called the LIFE AND DEATH OF KING RICHARD THE THIRD. Containing the distresses of K. Henry 6th. The artful acquisition of the Crown by King Richard. The Murder of Young King Edward 5th, and his Brother in the Tower. The landing of the Earl of Richmond. And the Death of King Richard in the memorable Battle of Bosworth Field, being the last that was fought between the Houses of York and Lancaster; with many other true Historical Passages. The Part of King Richard by a GENTLEMAN (who never appeared on any Stage). King Henry, by Mr. Giffard; Richmond, Mr. Marshall; Prince Edward, by Miss Hippisley; Duke of York, Miss Naylor; Duke of Buckingham, with a few pieces of music. Then the curtain rose on "The Life and Death of King Richard the Third;" and after the first scene, at that nervous moment, the new actor came from the wing.* Macklin always talked fondly of this glorious night-the delight he felt, the amazing surprise and wonder at the daring novelty of the whole, and yet, at the same time, the universal conviction of the audience that it was right. It was recollected, however, that when the new actor came upon the scene and saw the crowded house, he was disconcerted, and remained a few seconds without being able to go on. But he recovered himself. No wonder it surprised that audience. It was so new-and was all new. The surprising novelty was remarked, "that he seemed to identify himself with the part." They were amazed at his wonderful power of feature. The stupendous passions of Richard were seen in his face before he spoke, and outstripped his words. There was a perpetual change and vivacity. One effect at last overbore all hesitation, and the delighted audience found relief for their emotions in rapturous shouts of applause. It was when he flung away the Prayer Book, after dismissing the deputation-a simple and most natural action, yet marked with originality, and then the audience first seemed to discover this was true genius that was before them. Mr. Paterson; Duke of Norfolk, Mr. Blakes; Lord Stanley, Mr. Pagett; Oxford, Mr. Vaughan; Tressell, Mr. W. Giffard; Catesby, Mr. Marr; Ratcliff, Mrs. Crofts; Blount, Mr. Naylor; Tyrrel, Mr. Puttenham; Lord Mayor, Mr. Dunstall; the Queen, Mrs. Steel; Duchess of York, Mrs. Yates; and the part of Lady Anne, by Mrs. Giffard. WITH Entertainments of Dancing, By Mons. Fromet, Madame Duvalt, and the Two Masters and Miss Granier. To which will be added a Ballad Opera of One Act, called THE VIRGIN UN MASK' D. The Part of Lucy by Miss Hippisley. The Concert will commence exactly at six o'clock. In 1822, a Mr. Field possessed a large collection of checks and tickets of all the theatres. There were some even of the Theatre Royal, in 1671. Some of these were in shape of copper coins, and are engraved in the curious "Londonia Illustrata." The one of Goodman's Fields has a sketch of the theatre--church-like in shape-a central block, with a gable, and two wings. |