should see me again, or my coming to dinner; but insisted the coach should take me home.

I do not know rightly how to construe it all; whether it was meant to laugh at me or not. I wanted to come and make her a visit. Well! and I did make her a visit, and that was a good ridicule, and the Baron might have got scolded for having spoken to me of affairs in the morning. On the other hand, it might only be maintaining proper dignity. I rather think the latter, as she mentioned the Comte de Sarsfield's having been there twice some time ago, and her unfortunately being out. I had managed this, upon her dropping a hint that she should like to be acquainted with him; and I had before borrowed books of him for her, and, indeed, I have all along shewn her every little attention in my power, till we broke off. But when I went to consult the Comte about your affair, he said he would never go to her again. I must go to him, and beat him off that, if I can, and make him go again. We may then dine together there and please her, for that was what she wanted, after he had first made her a visit of form. However, I will get into the house as often as I can.

I have seen no mortal yet but those I have mentioned, but may be able to tell you more next post, if there is anything more to tell.

20

DAVID GARRICK.

THIS great actor, whose death is referred to by Dr. Warner in the next letter, in terms of deep and affectionate regret, expired at his house in the Adelphi Terrace, London, on the 20th of January, 1779. Dr. Johnson writes a few days afterwards to Mr. Boswell: -" Garrick's death is a striking event; not that we should be surprised with the death of any man who has lived sixty-two years; but because there was a vivacity in our late celebrated friend, which drove away the thoughts of death from any association with him. I am sure you will be tenderly affected with his departure; and I would wish to hear from you upon the subject. I was obliged to him in my days of effervescence in London, when poor Derrick was my governor; and since that time I received many civilities from him. Do you remember how pleasing it was, when I received a letter from him at Inverary, upon our first return to civilized living after our Hebridean journey? I shall always remember him with affection as well as admiration." And Johnson elsewhere observes of Garrick, "His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations."

In the correspondence of Hannah More, (who, immediately after the death of the great actor, had been summoned to London at the express desire of Mrs. Garrick, to administer comfort to her in

her affliction,) some very interesting particulars will be found connected with that melancholy event. "From Dr. Cadogan's," she writes to one of her sisters, "I intended to have gone to the Adelphi, but found that Mrs. Garrick was that moment quitting her house, while preparations were making for the last sad ceremony; she very wisely fixed on a private friend's house for this purpose, where she could be at her ease. I got there just before her; she was prepared for meeting me; she ran into my arms, and we both remained silent for some minutes: at last she whispered,

name.

* Eva Maria, the wife of David Garrick, and the celebrated Violette of the last century, was born at Vienna, February 29, 1725. The grace and elegance which she displayed as a dancer, and probably her other personal accomplishments, obtained for her the favour of the Empress-Queen Maria Theresa, by whose command she changed her name to that of Violette, being a translation of the German word vielge, the anagram of her She arrived in England in 1744, and shortly afterwards obtained an engagement at the Opera. In consequence of a recommendation which she brought from the Countess of Stahremberg to the Countess of Burlington, she was not only received by the latter with great kindness, but shortly afterwards became an inmate of Burlington House, and was ever regarded by Lady Burlington with maternal fondness and partiality. In June 1749, she gave her hand to David Garrick, on which occasion Lord Burlington presented her with a marriage portion of 6000%. After the death of her husband, she is said to have received several offers from persons of rank and fortune to re-enter the marriage state. However, she continued a widow, and died suddenly, in her chair, in her house on the Adelphi Terrace, on the 16th of October, 1822. She was buried in the same vault with her husband, near the cenotaph of Shakspeare, in Westminster Abbey.

'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 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 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 de

sired 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 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, and in his perfect senses.

"On opening him, a stone was found that measured five inches and a half round one way, and four and a half the other, yet this was not the immediate cause of his death; his kidneys were quite gone. I paid a melancholy visit to the coffin yesterday, where I found room 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 till 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."