MR. GARRICK IN THE CHARACTER OF RICHARD III.
"Give me another horse,—bind up my wounds,—
Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft; I did but dream.—
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!—
The lights burn blue!—Is it not dead midnight?
Cold, fearful drops hang on my trembling flesh."
GARRICK AS RICHARD III.
Such is the exclamation of Richard, and such is the disposition of his mind at the moment of this delineation. In character and expression of countenance the artist has succeeded, but in resemblance—he has failed. The features have no likeness to the features of Mr. Garrick, and the figure gives an idea of a larger and more muscular man. The lamp, diffusing a dim religious light through the tent, the crucifix placed at his head, the crown and unsheathed sword at his hand, and the armour lying on the ground, are judicious and appropriate accompaniments. His helmet is crested with a boar passant, the armorial ensign of his family. Near it lies a piece of paper, on which is written,
"Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold."
This paper was put in the Duke of Norfolk's tent the night before the engagement; but not being brought to Richard until after the time represented in this scene, can only be admitted by that poetical licence which has been generally allowed to poets and painters.
The figures in the distance, two of whom,
"Like sacrifices by their fires of watch,
With patience sit, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger,"
are properly introduced, and highly descriptive.
The tents of Richmond are so near,
"That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch."
Considered as a whole, the composition is simple, and the figures well drawn. The drapery illustrates his own precepts in the Analysis, where he says: "The robes of state are always made large and full, because they give a grandeur of appearance suitable to offices of the greatest distinction. The judges' robes have an awful dignity given them by the quantity of their contents; and when the train is held up, there is a noble waving line descending from the shoulders of the judge to the hand of his train-bearer. So, when the train is gently thrown aside, it generally falls into a great variety of folds, which again employ the eye, and fix its attention.
"The grandeur of the Eastern dress, which so far surpasses the European, depends as much on quantity as costliness. In a word, it is quantity which adds greatness to grace."
There was some propriety in Hogarth choosing to paint Mr. Garrick in this character. It was the first he appeared in, on the 19th of October 1741, at Goodman's Fields, and his performance gave proof of talents which merited the celebrity he afterwards attained. At that time Quin was the popular player; but his laboured action, hollow tones, and the manner in which he heaved up his words, were not borne after Garrick's easy, familiar, and yet forcible style had been seen by the town. The surly actor's remark upon this heresy of the critics was, that "all this was a new religion; but though Whitfield was followed for a time, the people would soon return to the true church." Garrick's epigram, in reply, has some point:
"Poor Quin, who damns all churches but his own,
Complains that heresy corrupts the town:
'Schism,' he cries, 'has turned the nation's brain;
But eyes will open,—and to church again!'
Thou great infallible forbear to roar,
Thy bulls and errors are rever'd no more;
When doctrines meet with general approbation,
It is not heresy, but reformation."
His soliloquy, written in the character of Quin, on seeing Duke Humphrey at St. Albans, has humour:
"A plague on Egypt's arts, I say,
Embalm the dead!—on senseless clay
Rich wines and spices waste!
Like sturgeon, or like brawn, shall I
Drown'd in a precious pickle lie,
Which I can never taste!
"Let me embalm this flesh of mine
With turtle fat and Bourdeaux wine,
And spoil the Egyptian trade;
Than Humphrey's Duke, more happy I—
Embalm'd alive, old Quin shall die,
A mummy ready made."
By Lord Orrery's[154] persuasions, Mr. Pope went to Goodman's Fields and saw Garrick in the first dawn of his fame. This great poet, who had formed his taste upon the solemn and dignified elevation of voice which distinguished Betterton (to whom he was so partial, that he once painted his portrait, which, until it was burnt in the riots of 1780, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield);—this great poet was so struck with the natural elocution of Mr. Garrick, that he exclaimed, "The young man will be flattered, and ruined; for there will be no competitor that can excite his emulation." His prophecy was in part fulfilled; for though Garrick had many competitors, he had no equal. In the course of his theatrical career he had frequent attacks, but they were generally foiled. One great source of his success was, that Shakspeare's plays were at that time becoming much more popular than they had been at any preceding period. Let it be recorded to the honour of our fair countrywomen, that this was in some degree owing to several ladies of the first rank and most distinguished taste, who had some years before formed themselves into a society to support, by their presence and encouragement, all the best plays of Shakspeare. They were called the Shakspeare Club, and every week ordered some favourite play of our divine bard; but the feeble powers of the performers were not sufficient to support the reviving taste of the public. The best among them thought that the whole art of playing consisted in measured, pompous periods, and that an approach to nature was a departure from eloquence. The pellucid stream of Avon was congealed by the coldness of their declamation, and the beams of Shakspeare enveloped in the vapour of their mock-heroic recitative. Until the appearance of this our Newton of the theatre, the drama was under a dense cloud: "he came, and all was light."
Mr. Garrick's profession was not adopted from necessity, but choice; and to him the profession is very materially obliged, for he has placed it in a much more respectable point of view than it ever had before.
His various powers as an actor, to those who have seen him, it is unnecessary to describe; to those who have not, it is impossible. His abilities as a writer were not of the first order, but they were by no means of the last. It has been remarked, that his prologues and epilogues had generally some allusion to eating: considered as local and temporary compositions, they have merit; and his epigrams, which usually turned upon some little circumstance of the day, have point. They sometimes drew forth additional flashes from his friends, and sometimes the retort of those at whom they were aimed; as in the following, addressed to the redoubted and eccentric Doctor Hill:—
"For physic and farces,
Thy equal there scarce is;
Thy farces are physic,
Thy physic a farce is."
The two next were afterwards inserted in the public prints, and said to be the productions of some of Mr. Garrick's friends:—
"Thou essence of dock, of valerian, and sage,
At once the disgrace and the pest of this age,
The worst that we wish thee for all thy d—-d crimes,
Is to take thy own physic, and read thy own rhymes.
—"The Junto."
Answer to the Junto.
"Their wish in form must be revers'd
To suit the doctor's crimes;
For he who takes his physic first,
Will never read his rhymes.
—"Another Junto."
This was too bad, and the Doctor sent the following answer to one of the papers:—
"Ye desperate Junto, ye great, or ye small,
Who combat dukes, doctors, the devil and all,
Whether gentlemen scribblers, or poets in jail,
Your impertinent curses shall never prevail:
I'll take neither sage, dock, nor balsam of honey:
Do you take the physic, and I'll take the money.
—"Anti-Junto."
Like his brethren of the sock and buskin, our English Roscius was honoured with much attention from the public prints. They gave us critical examinations of his powers, and critical disquisitions upon his defects; from an enumeration of which it was proved, clearly proved, that he would never be a good actor. The remarks of these ingenious gentlemen were soon forgotten: the testimony of an applauding public answered and refuted them. By way of antidote to these poisons, it must be acknowledged that Mr. Garrick's friends nearly surfeited the town with injudicious praise. Their flattery was gross enough to have disgusted any other man; but he had been so accustomed to strong doses of panegyric, that he could at last swallow them double distilled. I have said that he was an actor by choice; I might have added, that he was always an actor. Goldsmith's lines in retaliation are a true portrait:
"Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff of a dunce—he mistook it for fame;
Till his relish grown callous almost to disease,
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.
But let us be candid, and speak out our mind,
If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind:
Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, ye Woodfalls so grave,
What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave!
How did Grub Street re-echo the shouts that you rais'd,
While he was be-Roscius'd, and you were be-prais'd!
But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies,
To act as an angel, and mix with the skies," etc.
The ode to the memory of Shakspeare, which he wrote and spoke at Stratford, with many weak lines, has some that show strong marks of a fervid imagination and vigorous mind. To instance the following:
"When Philip's fam'd, all-conquering son,
Had every blood-stain'd laurel won,
He sigh'd that his creative word,
Like that which rules the skies,
Could not bid other nations rise,
To glut his yet unsated sword.
"But when our Shakspeare's matchless pen,
Like Alexander's sword, had done with men,
He heav'd no sigh, he made no moan;
Not limited to human kind,
He fir'd his wonder-teeming mind,
Rais'd other worlds and beings of his own."[155]
Many of his jeu d'esprits are related; the following I never saw recorded. When he and Quin strutted at the same theatre, and in the same play, the performance ending, and the night being rainy, each of them ordered a chair, and walked to the door of the playhouse. To the mortification of Quin, Garrick's chair came first: "Let me get into the chair," cried the surly veteran, "let me get into the chair, and put little Davy into the lantern." "By all means," replied Garrick, "I shall be happy to give Mr. Quin light in anything."
The little tribute which Doctor Johnson has paid to his memory is written from the heart: I cannot resist transcribing it:—
"At this man's (Mr. Walmsley's) table I enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours with companions such as are not often to be found; with one who has heightened, and who has gladdened life: with Dr. James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man! I am disappointed by that stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure."—Life of Edmund Smith.
Mr. Hogarth lived in habits of intimacy with David Garrick, who being President of the Shakspeare Club at the time of the Stratford Jubilee, our painter made him a drawing of a chair, which was afterwards wrought in mahogany. A medallion of Shakspeare, carved by Hogarth from a piece of the Stratford mulberry-tree, is suspended to the back of it.
The paintings of the "Harlot's Progress," and "Strolling Players," produced little more than a hundred guineas; but in such estimation are portraits, that the original picture from which this print was copied, in every point of view inferior, was purchased by the late Mr. Duncombe, of Duncombe Park, Yorkshire, at two hundred pounds! It still remains in his family. The print, by Mr. Hogarth's permission, was copied for a watch-paper.
