On a certain Wednesday in 1785, "we had a great dinner at home"—in the Adelphi—"for the first time this year, Mrs Garrick disliking company more and more. The party consisted of the Smelts, the Montagus, the Boyles, the Walsinghams, Mrs Carter, Mr Walpole, and Miss Hamilton. Though I like them every one separately, yet it was impossible to enjoy them altogether; and I never desire to sit down with more than six, or eight at the outside, to dinner." In 1786, she records, with a certain amount of ingenuousness: "I am this day in the full enjoyment of a most complete holiday—Mrs Garrick is gone to Hampton. I have refused all invitations, and have ordered that nobody should be let in, that I may have the luxury of one quiet uninterrupted day. I woke with great delight in the very anticipation of it."
It is a long jump from 1786 to 1814, but Hannah More had many occupations during this period, and, apparently, but little time for writing to her old friend, for, in December of the latter year, Mrs Garrick sends to her, begging for some news of the world. Her letter is addressed to "My dearest friend," and runs thus: "If you could imagine how much pleasure a letter from you gives me, you would oftener favour me with one. As writing is no trouble to you, you might now and then bestow a moment upon me, to tell me what passes in London; for I am quite unacquainted with the world of folly. I almost thanked God for my illness, during all the time that every person ran mad to see for six weeks together the same thing. Now, if I could have seen the royal strangers with ease, I should have been glad to have seen them; but as that was out of my power (if I had been in health), as I have almost out-lived my London friends, I have seen nothing, so I must trust to what I am told.
"Indeed, my beloved friend, I have been very near parting for ever from this world; but the great care taken of me set me up again upon my feet, but not so high as my knees, for they are as yet very doddering. But when you consider that I am six months past ninety, you would say that I am a wonder still if you were to see me. I do not often shew my teeth, as there is but one and a quarter left. God bless you all! and love me, as I do you all, from my very soul." The death of Mrs Garrick occurred on October 16, 1822—over forty-three years after the death of her husband. She had been invited by Robert William Elliston to a private view of Drury Lane Theatre, which he had just redecorated, and, while preparing to leave her house in the Adelphi, a servant handed her a cup of tea. She had hardly raised it to her lips when she fell back in her chair, and passed away peacefully, in her ninety-ninth year. She was interred in Westminster Abbey, close by the remains of her husband, on October 25. The news of her death reached Hannah More on October 20, and is thus alluded to by her: "I was much affected yesterday with a report of the death of my ancient and valued friend, Mrs Garrick. She was in her hundredth year! I spent above twenty winters under her roof, and gratefully remember not only their personal kindness, but my first introduction, through them, into a society remarkable for rank, literature, and talents. Whatever was most distinguished in either, was to be found at their table. He was the very soul of conversation." David Garrick, it may be recorded, died in the back-room of the first floor of his house, his widow in the front drawing-room.
Mrs Garrick was a native of Vienna, where, in her youth, she acquired much celebrity as a dancer. Her maiden name was Eva Maria Violetta. She was remarkably beautiful in her face and person, and it is said that she retained, until the day of her death, that erect deportment which she had acquired as a dancer. She was married to Garrick in June, 1749, first at a Protestant, then at a Roman Catholic Chapel. After the testimony already given in these pages, it is almost superfluous to say that the actor and his wife were a very happy couple. "It is remarkable," said a public journal at the time of her death, "that during the whole period of their marriage"—thirty years—"whatever invitations they received, or excursions they took, they never once slept asunder." On August 15, 1755, Walpole writes: "I dined to-day at Garrick's; there were the Duke of Grafton, Lord and Lady Rochford, Lady Holdernesse, the crooked Mostyn, and Dabreu, the Spanish minister; two regents, of which one is Lord Chamberlain, the other Groom of the Stole, and the wife of a Secretary of State. This being sur un assez bon ton for a player. Don't you want to ask me how I liked him? I like her exceedingly; her behaviour is all sense, and all sweetness, too." In 1770, Mrs Delany, Queen Charlotte's friend, visited Garrick's house at Hampton, and recorded her appreciation of its hostess: "As to Mrs Garrick, the more one sees her, the better one must like her; she seems never to depart from a perfect propriety of behaviour, accompanied with good sense and gentleness of manners." In her widowhood, she twice refused the hand in marriage of Lord Monboddo, the Scottish judge, and author of The Origin of Language. Dr Doran says that Mrs Garrick held her own at the Bishop of London's table, "against the clever men and women who held controversy under Porteus's roof."
This gentle lady, by a codicil to her will, dated August 15, in the year of her death, made a most interesting bequest: "I give to Mrs Siddons a pair of gloves which were Shakespeare's, and were presented by one of his family to my late dear husband, during the jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon." Information of this bequest was conveyed to the great actress, with this note from Mrs Garrick's executors:—
"5 Adelphi Terrace,
Oct. 30, 1822.
"Madam,—We beg leave to transmit to you the above extract from a codicil to Mrs Garrick's will, and to acquaint you that we will have the honour of waiting on you, for the purpose of delivering the relic therein mentioned, whenever you may be so good as to inform us that it may be convenient to you to receive our visit.—We remain, with much respect, Madam, Your most obedient humble servants,
"Thos. Rackett, G.F. Belty,
Executors."
This connecting link between Shakespeare, Garrick, and Sarah Siddons is one of the most interesting incidents in connection with the Adelphi. Garrick is also responsible for a side-light on the life of Oliver Goldsmith. Forster, in his Life and Times of Goldsmith, says that the alteration of his first comedy for Garrick, even upon Garrick's own conditions, seems to have suddenly occurred to the impecunious author as a means of raising money. Goldsmith's two letters on the subject by chance survived and were transcribed by Forster, who, in regard to the first one, says that: "As well in the manner as in the matter of it, the writer's distress is very painfully visible. It has every appearance, even to the wafer hastily thrust into it, of having been the sudden suggestion of necessity; it is addressed without date[39] or place to the Adelphi; nor is it unlikely to have been delivered there by the messenger of a sponging-house.