years went on, to persist in attempting parts in genteel comedy, and even in tragedy, for which she was utterly unfitted both by person and mind. As Garrick was great in farce and comedy as well as tragedy, she seems to have thought her powers were no less varied. But the true appreciation of them was no doubt expressed by the critic just quoted when he said: 'Mrs. Clive, peculiarly happy in low humour, with a most disagreeable face and person, was always the joy of her audience when she kept clear of anything serious and genteel.' Except during a short visit to Dublin in 1741, she acted only in London. Like Mrs. Cibber, she was a favourite with Handel, and sang the music of Dalilah on the first production of his oratorio of 'Samson' (1742). In many of the ephemeral pieces in which she appeared songs were introduced for her, in which her fine voice and piquant delivery were turned to account. Her own taste, however, seems to have run towards music of a higher class. In her portrait, now in the Garrick Club, painted when she was clearly past middle age, she holds in her hand Handel's setting of Milton's 'Sweet bird, that shuns the noise of folly,' and Horace Walpole, writing to his friend George Montague (5 July 1761), speaks of Mrs. Clive's disappointment at Mr. Montague's not coming to Strawberry Hill, 'where she had proposed to play at quadrille with him from dinner till supper, and to sing old Purcell to him from supper to breakfast next morning.' When Garrick became lessee of Drury Lane Theatre in 1746, he enrolled her in his company, and with him she remained, except for a brief interval, until she retired from the stage on 24 April 1769, when he played Don Felix to her Violante in the comedy of the 'Wonder.' Each had the truest respect for the genius of the other. Mrs. Clive, according to Tate Wilkinson, who saw much of her behind the scenes at Drury Lane, 'was a mixture of combustibles; she was passionate, cross, and vulgar,' and this side of her character often fretted her manager, and put his temper to the severest trial. 'I am very glad you are come to your usual spirits,' he wrote in answer to a scolding letter from her on recovering from an illness. He had learned patience, for she was but one of many who strained his forbearance to the uttermost by evil temper, jealousy, and caprice, without any of her genius to qualify the trial. At heart Mrs. Clive was fond of Garrick, and thoroughly appreciated his merits both as man and actor. He, on the other hand, knew that on the stage in her special line of characters she was invaluable, and that under the blunt and rude manner in which she was apt to indulge there was a truly generous nature and a large vein of vigorous common sense. He was therefore very sorry to lose tier services, but, finding she was bent on retirement, he showed his good will by offering to play the leading part at her farewell benefit. 'How charming you can be when you are good!' she wrote in answer to his offer, adding that it convinced her he had 'a sort of a sneaking kindness for your "Pivy" [a pet name he had given her]. I suppose I shall have you tapping me on the shoulder (as you do to Violante) when I bid you farewell, and desiring one tender look before we part.' The friendship between them lasted to the end. An active correspondence passed between Drury Lane and Strawberry Hill, to which Mrs. Clive had retreated. A house there (Clive's-den he called it) had been given to her by her old friend Horace Walpole, who, petit maître as he was, obviously found in her rough, outspoken humour a delightful contrast to the insipidities of the fine ladies of his circle. When Mrs. Clive heard of her old manager's approaching retirement from the stage, and his intention to become churchwarden, justice of the peace, &c., down at his Twickenham villa, she wrote (31 Jan. 1773): 'I schream'd at your parish business. I think I see you in your churchwardenship, quareling for not making their brown loaves big enough; but for God's sake never think of being a justice of the peace, for the people will quarel on purpose to be brought before you to hear you talk, so that you may have as much business upon the lawn as you had upon the boards. If I should live to be thaw'd, I will come to town on purpose to kiss you; and in the summer, as you say, I hope we shall see each other ten times as often, when we will talk and dance and sing, and send our hearers laughing to their beds.' It is clear from Horace Walpole's correspondence that Mrs. Clive by the originality and shrewdness of her talk held her ground among his most distinguished visitors, male and female, at Strawberry Hill. How well able she was to do so may be argued from what Johnson said of her to Boswell: 'Clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always understands what you say. In the sprightliness of humour I have never seen her equalled.' And she, in no way awed by the great man, used to say of him, 'I love to sit by Dr. Johnson; he always entertains me.' Here is one of her sayings that would have delighted him. When asked why she did not visit certain people of noble rank whose character in private life was not unexceptionable, she replied, 'Why because, my dear, I choose my company as I do my fruit, there--
