curtain, the play would be suddenly altered, and Mrs. Woffington, in some of her dashing parts, substituted. To this she submitted for a time, but warned them, if it was repeated, she would not be thus played upon. It happened again, and she refused to go on. The public unjustly made her a victim,-flung orange-peel, and bade her ask pardon, which she proudly and disdainfully refused to do.* The scene was indeed a picture. She stood there, as Lady Jane Grey, "looking more beautiful than ever; her anger gave a glow to her complexion, and even added lustre to her charming eyes." She treated them with sovereign scorn, and when they would not hear her, walked away. Then they roared for her, and she came backtold them bluntly she would play or not, just as they pleased,- -it was a matter of perfect indifference to her. They might say on, or off, as they liked. There was a shout of "On!" During this very season this honest actress actually painted her handsome face with wrinkles and crows' feet, to give effect to a play of Shakspeare's. Under such conditions even SO strong" a company could not play well together. The plays, too, were absurdly cast. Before long

แ

*She was never thought to play more finely, than when she thus defied the angry pit, treating their rudeness with contempt.

We have a graphic portrait, which may do as pendant for the one given before by Cumberland. Quin, past sixty, old, "battered," and uncouth, was playing Young Chamont in a long, grisly, half-powdered old periwig, hanging low down on each side of the breast, and down the back; a heavy scarlet coat and waistcoat, trimmed with broad gold lace; black velvet breeches, a black silk neckcloth, black stockings, a pair of square-toed shoes, with an oldfashioned pair of stone buckles. He had stiff, high-topped white gloves, and a broad, old, scolloped laced hat; he was, besides, very corpulent, and much out of shape. Ryan, another old veteran, was the strong and lusty Polydore, "with a red face, and voice truly horrible." He was not nearly so well dressed as Quin, though in the same fantastic style. Beside these two, stood Barry, in all his elegance, youth, and beauty, "in a neat bag-wig" of the

came the usual symptoms of disorganisation-appeals to the public in the papers. By-and-by Quin was "much hissed," in King Richard. The two leading actresses, Woffington and Cibber, still showed their dislike and jealousy, exhibited under the restraints of contemptuous looks and speeches to the enjoyment of the manager, who called them his Sarah Malcolm and his Catherine Hayes, two infamous women who had been hanged; and in this disorder the theatre was not prospering.

Garrick always had really good pieces in reserve, and could vary his carte with one of Cibber's capital comedies, "Love's Last Shift," produced nearly sixty years before, a revival the author actually lived to see, which had true stuff in it, if not wit, the likeness of wit, and became a stock-piece. A strange apathy seemed to come over manager Rich, and he did not even have recourse to the unfailing attraction, in which he was believed to be unapproached. Yet even in this department his supremacy was now to be attacked, in a way he little dreamed of.

prevailing cut and fashion; and the charming Cibber, all elegance and refinement. This extraordinary contrast of the old and new school must have been highly diverting; and it is most graphically described by Wilkinson, who was looking on. Justice has scarcely been done to Ryan's merit. Garrick once going with Woodward to see his Richard, with a view of being amused, owned that he was astonished at the genius and power he saw struggling to make itself felt through the burden of ill-training, uncouth gestures, and an ungraceful and slovenly figure. He was generous enough to own, that all the merit there was in his own playing of Richard, he had drawn from studying this less fortunate player. Mrs. Bellamy and Wilkinson both mention this acknowledgment, to detract from Garrick's merit; but forget that, in another direction, they are adding to it.

CHAPTER IV.

PANTOMIME.-FOREIGN TRAVEL.-MOSSOP.

1750-1752.

THE name of Rich should be dear to all pantomimegoers; and the rows of little ones, that line the front seats at Christmas, taught who their benefactor was. There were pantomimes indeed before his day,-so early as the year 1700; but it was Rich, both as player and writer, who made that sort of piece respectable. It was in 1717 that we find his name conspicuously associated with a Féerie, called "Harlequin Executed!" He was a strange being, and curious manager, but, beyond question, the most original and vivacious of Harlequins.

A harlequinade then consisted of two portions—one serious and the other comic; the serious portion being a story selected from, perhaps, Ovid's "Metamorphoses," and set off with all magnificence of scenery, rich dresses, pretty music, and grand dances. At intervals, during the progress of the fable, Harlequin and his company came on, and with diverting tricks and changes, varied the story; carrying on, in short, a sort of underplot. The whole then was more symmetrical than the modern, and rather disjointed plan, of tacking the harlequinade to an opening spectacle. Rich, from some affectation, would not appear under his own name, but was always set down in the bills

as "Mr. Lun." He was not a little eccentric, and had a dialect of his own, with an odd, blunt, "Abernethy" manner.*

The tone of these pieces was then purely rustic. The characters were farmers and village maidens; the scenes and changes were all taken from the country and farm-yard. There were louts and countrymen. Harlequin, in all sorts of disguises, "courting Columbine," was always pursued by the "village constables," whom he eluded with all manner of tricks and devices so that the introduction of modern policemen is founded on strict tradition. A most effective scene was that of building a house, with the scaffolding set, the bricklayers busy, the hodmen ascending ladders; when suddenly Harlequin appears among them, with a touch pulls scaffolding, bricklayers, all down, and is discovered to have escaped in the confusion. One of the prettiest of modern pantomime effects, that of a house being slowly built before our eyes, is not therefore wholly new. Another "trick," that "made the whole house ring with applause," was Harlequin's coming on disguised as an ostrich, pecking at every one, biting the servants slyly, "kissing Columbine," and then finally "morricing off" the stage. The changes and transformations, too, were all after

One of his own actors takes off his oddities for us excellently, and most dramatically. Rich had a kind of provincial dialect, and twisted names into special shape for himself. Wilkinson asked him to give a part to Ned Shuter. In reply, the manager took snuff, stroked his cat. "If I give it to Muster Shuttleworth, he will not let me teach him; but I will larn you, Muster Williamskin." Suddenly Younger, the prompter, entered hastily, and interrupted them. The manager turned on him in a rage,—“ Get away, Muster Youngmore; I am teaching Muster Whittington." Then, trying to get the actor to sign articles, he warned him against Barry, whom he called Muster Barleymore, and told him he had no chance from Muster Griskin, which was his name for Garrick.

the modern pattern; and, at a touch of the wand, palaces changed into huts. But more remarkable metamorphoses were the sudden change of men and women into "stools and wheelbarrows," of long colonnades into beds of tulips, and of shops into serpents. This might be worthy the notice of modern managers, though we may indeed suspect that at this stage of the carpenter's art, the change was effected clumsily enough, and with more than the customary flapping and hitching. Sometimes Harlequin would ride in on a broom, and a magic transformation take place, which now appears of a very humble order-the garden wall changing into a wall covered with prints, ballads, broadsides, &c., and Harlequin disguised as an old woman, selling them; not to mention the "delightful perspective of a farmhouse, where you hear the coots in the water, as at a distance." There were yet more adventures of the same sort, and finally a sort of "transformation scene scene" was discovered;

a glittering perspective of pillars and temples. At the end, however, a strange retribution was made to overtake Harlequin, who was carried off like Don Giovanni, upwards, to the infernal regions, surrounded with fire and demons.

Ladies and gentlemen were allowed to crowd behind the scenes on benefit nights; but on pantomime nights this privilege was suspended, as might be seen from a notice at the bottom of the bill: "As any obstruction in the movements of the machinery will greatly prejudice the performance of the entertainment, it is hoped that no gentleman will take it amiss the being refused admittance behind the scenes. Ladies are requested to send their servants by three