him nothing. He could, without the least preparation,
transform himself into any character tragic or comic, and seize
instantaneously upon any passion of the human mind. He could make a
sudden transition from violent rage, and even madness, to the extremes
of levity and humor, and go through the whole circle of theatric
evolution with the most surprising velocity.
On the death of Mr. Lacy, joint patentee of Drury Lane with Mr.
Garrick, in 1773, the whole management of that theatre devolved on Mr.
Garrick. But in 1776, being about sixty years of age, he sold his
share of the patent, and formed a resolution of quitting the stage. He
was, however, determined, before he left the theatre, to give the
public proofs of his abilities to delight them as highly as he had
ever done in the flower and vigor of his life. To this end he
presented them with some of the most capital and trying characters of
Shakespeare; with Hamlet, Richard, and Lear, besides other parts which
were less fatiguing. Hamlet and Lear were repeated; Richard he acted
once only, and by the king's command. His Majesty was much surprised
to see him, at an age so advanced, run about the field of battle with
so much fire, force, and agility.
He finished his dramatic race with one of his favorite parts, with
Felix, in "The Wonder a Woman Keeps a Secret." When the play was
ended, Mr. Garrick advanced toward the audience, with much palpitation
of mind, and visible emotion in his countenance. No premeditation
whatever could prepare him for this affecting scene. He bowed--he
paused--the spectators were all attention. After a short struggle of
nature, he recovered from the shock he had felt, and addressed his
auditors in the following words:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: It has been customary with persons under my
circumstances to address you in a farewell epilogue. I had the same
intention, and turned my thoughts that way; but indeed, I found myself
then as incapable of writing such an epilogue, as I should be now of
speaking it.
"The jingle of rhyme and the language of fiction would but ill suit my
present feelings. This is to me a very awful moment; it is no less
than parting forever with those from whom I have received the greatest
kindness and favors, and upon the spot where that kindness and those
favors were enjoyed." [Here he was unable to proceed till he was
relieved by a shower of tears.]
"Whatever may be the changes of my future life, the deepest impressi
|