Foote used to declare, jestingly, that he remembered Garrick living in Durham Yard (now the Adelphi), with three quarts of vinegar in the cellar, calling himself a wine-merchant. A memorandum has been seen, dated October, 1739, acknowledging the receipt from Mr. Robinson, in the Strand, of payment “for two dozen of red port, value thirty-six shillings), signed. For Self and Co—D. Garrick.” The firm did not long exist: Peter, the senior partner, was a steady, quiet, methodical man of business; David was impetuous, volatile, gay. Perhaps he perverted too much of the stock in trade to his own use. He kept the company of actors, was ever indulging his talent for mimicry, writing verses, plays, and publishing criticisms on the players. To put an end to endless altercations between the brothers, their friends interposed, and the partnership was eventually dissolved by mutual consent. David Garrick was soon on the stage, appearing at Ipswich, in 1741, in the part of Aboan, in the play of “Oroonoko;” he himself selected the character for his débût, because he hoped, under the disguise of a black face, to escape recognition should he fail to please his audience. But his success was undoubted, and he then undertook a variety of parts—Chamont, in the “Orphan,” Captain Brazen, in the “Recruiting Officer,” Sir Harry Wildair, &c.; he even danced and leapt as Harlequin. In the same year he startled London by acting Richard the Third, for the first time, at the theatre in Goodman’s Fields.
Meanwhile the author was toiling at his tragedy. He had not then the rapidity of composition which distinguished him later in life. His work was the result of slow and close study and application. He wrote and rewrote many parts of it, made many alterations and additions, kept copious notes of the speeches to be made, with a number of hints for illustration borrowed from Greek, Roman, and modern writers. He jotted down roughly in prose the matter which was to be subsequently polished into verse. Shortly before his death he gave to Mr. Langton a rough draft of the tragedy as it originally stood. This manuscript was presented to the King, and ultimately was lodged in the British Museum. “The hand-writing,” says Boswell, “is very difficult to be read, even by those who were best acquainted with Johnson’s mode of penmanship, which at all times was very particular.” A speech of Mahomet to Irene appears thus in prose in the draft:—
I have tried thee, and joy to find that thou deservest to be loved by Mahomet—with a mind great as his own. Sure thou art an error of nature, and an exception to the rest of thy sex, and art immortal; for sentiments like thine were never to sink into nothing. I thought all the thoughts of the fair had been to select the graces of the day, dispose the colours of the flaunting (flowing) robe, tune the voice and roll the eye, choose the dress and add new roses to the fading cheek,—but sparkling.
From this raw material the following manufactured article is produced:—
Illustrious maid, new wonders fix me thine;
Thy soul completes the triumphs of thy face;
I thought, forgive, my fair, the noblest aim,
The strongest effort of a female love
Was but to choose the graces of the day,
To tune the tongue, to teach the eyes to roll,
Dispose the colours of the flowing robe,
And add new roses to the fading cheek.
He read the completed tragedy over to Mr. Peter Garrick at the Fountain. Afterwards he solicited Mr. Fleetwood, the patentee of Drury Lane, to produce it; but the manager declined. It may be because the work was not patronised by any person of rank or influence. For ten years the play remained on his hands—the cause, one would imagine, of much mortification to him. Lord Macaulay has called attention to the fact that Johnson came to London at a particularly unfortunate time. There was a very limited public. “The condition of a man of letters was most miserable and degraded. It was a dark night between two sunny days. The age of patronage had passed away, the age of general curiosity and intelligence had not arrived.” But this, after all, has reference to Johnson’s general literature rather than to his one dramatic effort.
He was so poor that it was a serious object with him to receive money for his play. In 1741, Cave, the publisher, wrote:—“I have put Mr. Johnson’s play into Mr. Gray’s hands”—(a bookseller at the Cross Keys in the Poultry, who became a dissenting minister, and afterwards entered the Church)—“in order to sell it to him, if he is inclined to buy it; but I doubt whether he will or not. He would dispose of the copy and whatever advantages may be made by acting it. Would your society, or any gentleman or body of men that you know, take such a bargain? He and I are unfit to deal with theatrical persons,” This was addressed to Dr. Birch, a member of a “Society for the Encouragement of Learning,” the object of which was to assist authors in printing their books. It did not avail itself of Mr. Cave’s offer, and after an existence of ten years the society was bankrupt and dissolved. The result, all things considered, was perhaps not greatly to be marvelled at.
Johnson’s old pupil and companion, David Garrick, carried all before him. There was some opposition at first. “There are great divisions amongst the critics concerning Garrick’s acting,” wrote Mrs. Delany, in 1742; “I am glad I am not such a critic as to find any fault with him. I have seen him act once, and like him better than I did last year; but, as he is a year older, and the grace of novelty a little abated, he must, of course, have less merit with the generality of people.” There was early opposition to him of course; he upset all preconceived notions; he ran counter to stage traditions; he made war upon the old declamatory school of acting; he was all quickness, surprise, passion; he was emotional, rapid in action, vehement, yet natural. The conventional method had reached a climax of artificialness. Quin was the incarnation of this method of performance. Cumberland gives a good picture of him, as Horatio, in the “Fair Penitent”:—
Quin presented himself, upon the rising of the curtain, in a green velvet coat, embroidered down the
seams, an enormous full-bottomed periwig, rolled stockings, and high-heeled square-toed shoes. With very