DEATH OF DAVID GARRICK

that they were physicians who sought to do him service, he shook his head, and repeated the following lines from Nicholas Rowe's Fair Penitent :— "Another, and another, still succeeds;

And the last fool is welcome as the former."

He died, with great composure, at eight o'clock on the morning of January 20, 1779. On Monday, February 1, the body was conveyed from the Adelphi to Westminster Abbey, and interred in Poet's Corner, a spot made still further memorable in the annals of the stage by the burial here—and close by the graves of David Garrick and Samuel Johnson-of the remains of Henry Irving.

Before describing the magnificent funeral procession of David Garrick from the Adelphi, let me glance for a moment at the widow of the great actor and her deportment on this sad occasion. Thanks to Hannah More-who had risen from a sick-bed, in Bristol, and had travelled post-haste to London, at the express desire of her friend-we get a most interesting account of Mrs Garrick at the time of her husband's death :

"She was prepared for meeting me; she ran into my arms, and we both remained silent for some minutes; at last she whispered-'I have this moment embraced his coffin, and you come next.' She soon recovered herself, and said with great composure, The goodness of God to me is inexpressible; I desired to die, but it is His will

6

that I should live, and He has convinced me He will not let my life be quite miserable, for He gives astonishing strength to my body and grace to my heart!-neither do I deserve; but I am thankful for both!' She thanked me a thousand times for such a real act of friendship, and bade me be comforted, for it was God's will. She told me they had just returned from Althorp, Lord Spencer's, where he had been reluctantly dragged, for he had felt unwell for some time; but during his visit he was often in such fine spirits that they could not believe he was ill. On his return home he appointed Dr Cadogan to meet him, who ordered him an emetic, the warm bath, and the usual remedies, but with very little effect. On the Sunday he was in good spirits and free from pain; but as the suppression still continued, Dr Cadogan became extremely alarmed, and sent for Pott, Heberden, and Schomberg, who gave him up the moment they saw him. Poor Garrick stared to see his room full of doctors, not being conscious of his real state. No change happened till the Tuesday evening, when the surgeon who was sent for to blister and bleed him made light of his illness, assuring Mrs Garrick that he would be well in a day or two, and insisted on her going to lie down. Towards morning she desired to be called if there was the least change. Every time that she administered the draughts to him in the night, he always squeezed her hand in a particular

HIS GENTLENESS AND PATIENCE

manner, and spoke to her with the greatest tenderness and affection. Immediately after he had taken his last medicine, he softly said, "Oh! dear," and yielded up his spirit without a groan, in his perfect senses. His behaviour during the night was all gentleness and patience, and he frequently made apologies to those about him for the trouble he gave them.

"I paid a melancholy visit to his coffin yesterday, where I found food for meditation, till the mind 'burst with thinking.' His new house is not so pleasant as Hampton, nor so splendid as the Adelphi, but it is commodious enough for all the wants of its inhabitant; and besides, it is so quiet that he will never be disturbed till the eternal morning, and never till then will a sweeter voice than his own be heard. May he then find mercy! They are preparing to hang the house with black, for he is to lie in state until Monday. I dislike this pageantry, and cannot help thinking that the disembodied spirit must look with contempt upon the farce that is played over its miserable relics. But a splendid funeral could not be avoided, as he is to be laid in the Abbey with such illustrious dust, and so many are desirous of testifying their respect by attending."

While the preparations were being made for the funeral, Mrs Garrick stayed at the house of a friend. But after the funeral she returned to the Adelphi.

Hannah More, who came back with her, writes: "On Wednesday night we came to the Adelphi— to this house! She bore it with great tranquillity; but what was my surprise to see her go alone into the chamber and bed in which he had died that day fortnight. She had a delight in it beyond expression. I asked her the next day how she went through it? She told me, Very well'; that she first prayed with great composure, then went and kissed the dear bed, and got into it with a sad pleasure." In reference to Garrick's death, the same writer also says: "I can never cease to remember with affection and gratitude, so warm, steady, and disinterested a friend; and I can most truly bear this testimony to his memory, that I never witnessed, in any family, more decorum, propriety, and regularity than in his: where I never saw a card, or even met (except in one instance) a person of his own profession at his table: of which Mrs Garrick, by her elegance of taste, her correctness of manners, and very original turn of humour, was the brightest ornament. All his pursuits

and tastes were so decidedly intellectual, that it made the society, and the conversation which was always to be found in his circle, interesting and delightful."

CHAPTER VII

Garrick's Funeral from the Adelphi -Johnson's Opinion of Garrick: "A Liberal Man"-His Death "Eclipsed the Gaiety of Nations"-Topham Beauclerk and Johnson-Mrs Garrick's famous Dinner Party-Johnson and other Celebrities Present-Described by Hannah More and BoswellJohnson's Morning Visit to Adelphi Terrace - Hannah More's Life Here-Another Dinner Party-Death of Mrs Garrick Shakespeare's Gloves sent to Mrs Siddons from the Adelphi-Goldsmith writes from a Sponging-House to Garrick in the Adelphi-Becket, the Bookseller.

THE funeral procession which wended its way from the Adelphi Terrace, through Adam Street to the Strand and thence by way of Whitehall to Westminster Abbey, on that winter's morning in February, 1779, was a lengthy and imposing one, though nowadays we should consider such pomp and circumstance very lugubrious. First of all, came four porters on horseback, their staffs, or wands of office, covered with black silk and scarves. Then came six other men, with mourning cloaks, followed by another official bearing a heavilydraped pennon. Then came other six men carrying a surcoat of arms, a helmet with crest, wreath, and