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Updated: May 16, 2025
It was with some surprise that I noted the late owner's name and book-plate, which was that of "John Forster, Esq., Lincoln's Inn Fields." At the moment he had given me Garrick's original MS. correspondence, of which he had a score of volumes, and was helping me in many other ways. Now it was a curious coincidence that this one, of all existing copies, should come to me.
That he was a desperate character, without doubt in desperate straits over something, required no great acumen to deduce. Toward morning in a fleeting moment of lucidity, Warrington had mentioned Garrick's name in such a way that Dr. Mead had looked it up in the telephone directory and then at the earliest moment had called up. "Exactly the right thing," reassured Garrick.
In 1767 a comedy was in Garrick's hands, wherein, following the method of Farquhar, he attempted by the help of nature, humour, and character, to invoke the spirit of laughter, happy, unrestrained, and cordial.
This woman, who was twenty years older than himself, and to whose daughter he had been an unsuccessful suitor, brought him eight hundred pounds; but, according to Garrick's report of her, was neither amiable nor handsome, though that she was both in Johnson's estimation appears from the epithets "formosae, cultae, ingeniosae," which he inscribed on her tombstone.
Whatever Johnson's attitude was, the fact remains that Garrick's election was opposed for a considerable time, though when he was made a member he approved himself a welcome addition to the circle. Unconsciously amusing is the account Boswell gives of his own election. The Club had been in existence some nine years when the fatal night of the balloting arrived.
I suggested that we might have a real breakfast once more. I could tell, however, that Garrick's mind was far away from the thought of eating, and that he realised that a keen, perhaps the keenest, test of his ability lay ahead of him, if he was to come out successfully and protect Violet Winslow in the final battle with the scientific gunman. I did not interrupt him.
"Disgusting," ejaculated McBirney, who, whatever his own limitations might be, had a wholesome respect for Garrick's new methods. "Where did you leave the car?" asked Garrick of Warrington. "How did you lose it?" The young man seemed to hesitate. "I suppose," he said at length, with a sort of resigned smile, "I'll have to make a clean breast of it."
Coming to Garrick's ears, it was repeated by him whether seriously or in jest to Sterne, from whom it evoked a curious letter, which in Madame de Medalle's collection has been studiously hidden away amongst the correspondence of seven years later. "'Twas for all the world," he began, "like a cut across my finger with a sharp pen-knife.
He was crowding Warrington as much as he dared with safety to himself and not a light on his own car, too, remember." Garrick's face was puckered in thought. "And the most remarkable thing of all about it," added the doctor, rising and going over to a white enameled cabinet in the corner of his office, "was that wound from the pistol."
In 1758 Giuseppe made his first appearance on the stage of Drury Lane, under Garrick's management, in a new Pantomime dance, entitled, "The Millers." For some thirty years afterwards the Signor continued to be a member of the Drury Lane corps de ballet, and appearing as Clown, Harlequin, and Pantaloon.
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