produced many of the plays. Acknowledged in his day for having done much to revive interest in Shakespeare onstage, he would be buried at the foot of Shakespeareâs statue in Westminster Abbey, the words on his tomb declaring that âShakespeare and Garrick like twin stars shall shineâ.
Garrick had even built a temple to Shakespeare on his estate in Hampton on the banks of the Thames. The treasures contained within the octagonal shrine drew admirers from Horace Walpole to the King of Denmark: Roubiliacâs statue of Shakespeare (now housed in the British Museum, and for which Garrick himself was almost certainly the model), various carvings from the famed mulberry tree, and even some of Shakespeareâs personal effects, including âan old leather glove, with pointed fingers and blackened metal embroideryâ, an old dagger and a âsignet ring with W.S. on itâ. For detractors like Samuel Foote the heresy was a bit much: Mr. Garrick had âdedicated a temple to a certain divinity ⦠before whose shrine frequent libations are made, and on whose altar the fat of venison, a viand grateful to the deity, is seen often to smokeâ. Others found nothing strange in this at all.
Even Garrick admitted that the rain-soaked Stratford Jubilee had been a âfollyâ. It set him back £ 2,000 and he never again set foot in Shakespeareâs native town. Locals were apparently confused by the Jubilee (including a labourer from Banbury hired to deliver a double-bass viol to the event, who reportedly thought that it was to be used at âthe resurrection of Shakespeareâ). Stratfordâs tourist industry as well as the proliferation of Shakespeare festivals around the world can trace their roots back to that extravaganza. The Jubilee, according to Christian Deelman, the best historian of the event, also âmarks the point atwhich Shakespeare stopped being regarded as an increasingly popular and admirable dramatist, and became a godâ.
By all accounts, its climax was Garrickâs recitation of an âOde to Shakespeareâ, a shameless appeal to Shakespeareâs divinity:
âTis he!â tis he â that demi-god!
Who Avonâs flowery margin trod.
In case anyone missed the point, Garrick was happy to repeat it: ââTis he! âTis he! / The god of our idolatry!â One gushing eyewitness wrote afterwards that the audience âwas in rapturesâ. Garrick avidly promoted mulberry relics, of which he owned a considerable supply, including the very goblet that reappeared as a prop in the Drury Lane celebration of 1794.
Garrick recouped his Stratford losses four times over by restaging a version of the events at Drury Lane, in a play simply called The Jubilee . It was a sensation and ran for a record ninety-two nights. His âOdeâ was not only published and circulated widely, but also recited on provincial stages from Canterbury to Birmingham. The Jubilee tapped into larger cultural currents, for no âother topic in the century inspired quite such a surge of stage plays and poemsâ. Word spread quickly beyond Englandâs shores, and two Jubilees were held in Germany, modelled on Garrickâs. After Garrickâs death, William Cowper celebrated him as âGreat Shakespeareâs priestâ, underscoring the ways in which the celebration of Shakespeare was now most fittingly described in religious terms:
For Garrick was a worshipper himself;
He drew the liturgy, and framed the rites
And solemn ceremonial of the day,
And called the world to worship on the banks
Of Avon famed in song.
Contemporary painters were quickly drawn to the idea of a divine Shakespeare, and did much to popularise this conceit. In 1777 Henry Fuseli sketched out plans, much talked of but neverrealised, for a Shakespeare ceiling modelled on that of the Sistine Chapel: even as Michelangelo portrayed the story of Creation, Fuseli would render