drama of this peculiar pattern, was the hapless George Soane, son of the well-known architect, and founder of the museum in Lincoln's Inn Fields. He was the author of two-act pieces like "The Falls of Clyde," and was one of those who hung loose on the drama. A more piteous story than his could not be conceived; it was a life spent in hapless penury and struggle and careless extravagance; at open war with his wealthy father, whom he denounced to the public in pamphlets, and who pitilessly cut him off. No story, save perhaps that of Savage, can be compared with his.

CHAPTER IV.

DECAY AND DISORDER.

WITH the beginning of the century affairs at Drury Lane Theatre began to take a very disastrous turn. The extravagance of the improvident manager and his family, and his neglect of the administration, began to tell on its fortunes in the most serious way. The treasury was drained to supply family expenses, and he was too lazy to think of supplying new pieces, wasting that mine of wealth which lay at his hand. It is matter of doubt, however, whether he would have been as successful in a second comedy of manners and society, and he would probably have gone over the same ground. Kemble, it will be remembered, was the stage-manager, and a few of his letters will give the best idea of the state things were in.

For a long time the embarrassments of the theatre were gathering fast and thick. Pieces in preparation stood still for actual cash necessary to supply the common articles or "properties" of the scene; the salaries of the two leading players -the mainstay of the house-were in arrear. It is unusual to find a stage-manager writing in this strain:

MY DEAR PEAKE,

Let me remind you, that you are to send me 50%. for Mrs. Siddons to-day, or we shall have no "King John " on Saturday. If you possibly can, send me a draft for the 50%.

(which you promised to have given me last Monday se'nnight) for the author of "Deaf and Dumb." They are standing still in Greenwood's room for want of a little canvas. Unless you help us there, we can have no "Cymbeline," nor any pantomime at Christmas. J. P. KEMBLE.

Yours,

And again:

MY DEAR PEAKE,

We are all at a stand for want of colours. Monday Morning.

And

Yours,

One more, and that's the last.-Othello.

MY DEAR PEAKE,

J. P. K.

Tuesday, Half-past Five.

It is now two days since my necessity made me send to you for 601. My request has been treated with a disregard that I am at a loss how to account for. I certainly shall go and act my part to-night; but, unless you send me 100l. before Thursday, I will not act on Thursday; and if you make me come a-begging again, it will be for 2007. before I set my foot in the theatre. Yours, J. P. K.

Mr. Boaden says that Sheridan often had to use all his persuasion to bring Mrs. Siddons down to the theatre to perform, offering the security of all he had left-his honour.

He was also very eager to get Mr. Kemble to join him. in the proprietorship, and set many tempting arguments before him. But he could not at the time persuade him, though he set before him this bait:

་

"I put this," adds the sanguine Sheridan, referring to the dividend, “in the very lowest speculation."

Kemble seems not to have wholly resigned the idea, but his friend Morris, a lawyer of eminence, on looking into the deeds, could not make out even a secure title, and he determined to purchase a share in the rival house, and retired in June, 1802.

The weekly pay-list during the last year of his management amounted to 4137. in salaries. He himself had 567. Bannister, King, Pope, C. Kemble, Barrymore, etc., from 177. to 107.; Grimaldi, 4l.; Mrs. Jordan about 317. (during the season she received 10817.); Mrs. Crouch, 147.; Mrs. Powell, 107.; the other ladies, from 51. to 31. There were twenty-five leading male actors, twenty-five inferior, and twenty female performers.

We now come to the fine display of courage on the part of King George the Third when fired at in May, 1800, from the pit, by the insane Hatfield. It is well worth recording :

The King, upon hearing the report of the pistol, stood firm, at about four paces in advance from the door of the box; but amid the alarm and horror, and the thousand voices that called to seize the assassin, with the self-possession that became a sovereign, perhaps expecting to have a second shot fired in the tumult from some other quarter, His Majesty calmly advanced to the very front of the box, where he remained, as such a man only could be, perfectly undismayed. Upon seeing the Queen enter, he at first with his hand waved her back, but upon her inquiring what was the matter, the King considerately replied: "Only a squib! they have been firing squibs." After the assassin, across the orchestra, had been taken out of the pit, the Queen, in great agitation, came forward and curtsied, and asked His Majesty "whether they should stay?" His answer was, "We will not stir.

stay the whole of the entertainment."*

* The ever-ready Sheridan, when "God save the King" instantly scribbled an à propos verse, which he put into the

We will

Among the many pleasing things associated with this excellent and truly unfortunate King none are so agreeable as his thorough and rational enjoyment of the stage. At Drury Lane, at Windsor, even at Weymouth, he extended his earnest patronage, and had his favourite pieces and actors, of which Quick was the "King's favourite actor," en tître. This player he was sure to recognise in the street or on the promenade by kindly nod or speech. When new talent was heard of, the performer was sent for. Lord Harcourt wrote to Elliston that he had mentioned him to their Majesties. "But Mr. Thornton's company at Windsor was only fit to exhibit in a barn." "Don Felix, Charles Surface, Young Wilding, and Vapour are characters," he adds, "which would please their Majesties, and represent you to advantage. Walter, one of your best performances, I do not mention, because I am sure the King will never again see 'The Children in the Wood."" At Weymouth, Elliston made a good impression while playing before His Majesty, who asked the actor: "Well, well, Elliston," said he, "where-where have you been acting lately?" "At Wells and Shepton Mallet, your Majesty, in which places I was manager. Manager -manager! that won't do that won't do, eh, Charlotte? Managers go to the wall-get the worst of it." "It didn't do, your Majesty. At Wells I was particularly unfortunate.' "At Wells-Wells!" replied the King, good-humouredly, "'mongst the bishops! Quite right-quite right! no business with the bishops, eh, Charlotte? Bishops don't go to playsno business at plays-you no business with them. Well, well, where next?" "I returned to Weymouth, where I have redeemed everything in the honour of serving your Majesty." "Eh, eh?" responded the King in the same affability of tone and manner-" what, kings better than bishops, eh ?-found it out-found it out, Elliston ? "