At these words Mr. Garrick seized the chair for support, and swung heavily into it. Whereat the young lords burst into such a tempest of laughter that I could not refrain from joining them. As for Mr. Garrick, he was so pleased to have escaped that he laughed too, though with a palpable nervousness.
[Note by the editor. It was not long after this that Mr. Garrick's
punishment came, and for the self-same offence.]
“By the bye, Garrick,” Carlisle remarked slyly, when he had recovered, “Mrs. Crewe was vastly taken with the last 'vers' you left on her dressing-table.”
“Was she, now, my Lord?” said the great actor, delighted, but scarce over his fright. “You must know that I have writ one to my Lady Carlisle, on the occasion of her dropping her fan in Piccadilly.” Whereupon he proceeded to recite it, and my Lord Carlisle, being something of a poet himself, pronounced it excellent.
Mr. Garrick asked me many questions concerning American life and manners, having a play in his repertory the scene of which was laid in New York. In the midst of this we were interrupted by a dirty fellow who ran in, crying excitedly:
“Sir, the Archbishop of York is getting drunk at the Bear, and swears he'll be d—d if he'll act to-night.”
“The archbishop may go to the devil!” snapped Mr. Garrick. “I do not know a greater rascal, except yourself.”
I was little short of thunderstruck. But presently Mr. Garrick added complainingly:
“I paid a guinea for the archbishop, but the fellow got me three murderers to-day and the best alderman I ever clapped eyes upon. So we are square.”
After the play we supped with him at his new house in Adelphi Terrace, next Topham Beauclerk's. 'Twas handsomely built in the Italian style, and newly furnished throughout, for Mr. Garrick travelled now with a coach and six and four menservants, forsooth. And amongst other things he took pride in showing us that night was a handsome snuffbox which the King of Denmark had given him the year before, his Majesty's portrait set in jewels thereon.