conduct of the opposition were known to be there, one of whom called aloud for the song in praise of English roast beef, which was accordingly sung in the gallery by a person prepared for that purpose, and the whole house besides joining in the chorus, saluted the close with three huzzas! This, Justice Deveil was pleased to say, was a riot; upon which disputes commenced directly, which were carried on with some degree of decency on both sides. The justice at first informed us "that he was come there as a magistrate to maintain the King's authority; that Colonel Pulteney, with a full company of the Guards, were without to support him in the execution of his office; that it was the King's command the play should be acted, and that the obstructing it was opposing the King's authority, and if that was done he must read the proclamation, after which all offenders would be secured directly by the guards in waiting."

By this time the hour of six drew near, and the French and Spanish ambassadors, with their ladies, the late Lord and Lady Gage, and Sir Thomas Robinson, a commissioner of the Excise, all appeared in the stage-box together. At that instant the curtain drew up, and discovered the actors standing between two files of grenadiers, with their bayonets fixed, and resting on their firelocks. There was a sight-enough to animate the coldest Briton! At this the whole pit rose, and unanimously turned to the justices, who sat in the middle of it, to demand the reason of such arbitrary proceedings. The justices either knew nothing of the soldiers being placed there, or thought it safest to declare so. At this declaration, they demanded of Justice Deveil (who had owned himself the commanding officer in the affair) to order them off the stage. He did so immediately, and they disappeared. Then began the serenade-not only catcalls, but all the various portable instruments that could make a disagreeable noise were brought up on this occasion; speaking was ridiculous, the actors retired, and they opened with a grand dance of twelve men and twelve women; but even that was prepared for, and they were directly saluted with a bushel or two of peas, which made their capering very unsafe. After this they attempted to open the comedy, but had the actor possessed the voice of thunder, it would have been lost in the confused sounds from a

thousand various instruments. Here, at the waving of Deveil's hand, all was silent, and, standing up on his seat, he made a proposal to the house to this effect: "That if they persisted in the opposition, he must read the proclamation; that if they would permit the play to go on, and to be acted through that night, he would promise (on his honour) to lay their dislikes and resentment to the actors before the King, and he doubted not but a speedy end would be put to their acting." The answer to this proposal was very short and very expressive: "No treaties! No treaties!" At this the justice called for candles to read the proclamation, and ordered the guards to be in readiness; but a gentleman, seizing Mr. Deveil's hand, stretched out for the candle, begged of him to consider what he was going to do, for his own sake, for ours, for the King's. That he saw the unanimous resolution of the house; and that the appearance of soldiers in the pit would throw us all into a tumult, which must end with the lives of many. This earnest remonstrance made the justice turn pale and passive. At this pause the actors made a second attempt to go on, and the uproar revived, which continuing some time, the ambassadors and their ladies left their box, which occasioned a universal huzza from the whole house; and after calling out some time for the falling of the curtain, down it fell.

CHAPTER IX.

MACKLIN AND QUIN.

AT the period at which we have now arrived, we see actors engrossing even a more prominent share of attention than hitherto, with their factions and rivalries and intrigues. This interest became more developed owing to what might be called the coffee-house life then in fashion, when men of wit and parts frequented such places; and the many clubs that existed were of the pattern that still obtains in old-fashioned villages-an ordinary at the inn, the members seated round a table enjoying drinks and pipes. Round Covent Garden there was a large number of taverns, which were crowded both before and after the theatre, and here the slightest opportunities led to familiar acquaintance. Well-known and even famous personages were to be seen in their favourite seats. This mode of life and its perfect freedom of speech and criticism engendered remarkable shapes of character, and furnished a way to reputation to many who would otherwise have remained unknown. Old Macklin used long after to garrulously retail anecdotes of the state of manners and the tastes of the town in these days, which are highly curious and interesting. He would tell how he belonged to a club

which held a weekly dinner at St. Albans, much about this time, called "The Walking Society." It mostly consisted of the performers of both houses, who piqued themselves on their walking, and who obliged themselves never, on any account whatsoever, to ride, or go in a vehicle, but to walk the twenty miles backward and forward the same day. The manners of the town and country, he said, were very distinct at that period. A countryman in town was instantly known by his dress as well as manners. Few persons living sixty or

one hundred miles from town ever saw London.

"The City and west end of the town kept equal distances. No merchant scarcely lived out of the former; his residence was always attached to his counting-house. He remembered the first emigration of the merchants from the City, about fifty years ago, was to Hatton Garden, but none but men who had secured a large fortune, and whose credits were beyond the smallest censure, durst take this flight. Quin, Booth, and Wilks lived almost constantly in or about Bow Street, Covent Garden; Colley Cibber in Charles Street; Mrs. Pritchard in Craven Buildings, Drury Lane; Billy Havard in Henrietta Street. The inferior player lived or lodged in Little Russell Street, Vinegar Yard, and the little courts about the Garden, and I myself, sir (added the veteran), always about James Street, or under the Piazzas; so that (continued he) we could be all mustered by beat of drum, could attend rehearsals without any inconvenience, and save coach hire."

Here, at the Bedford, were seen such odd wild beings as Dr. Barrowby-half wit, half buffoon-with other eccentrics. To be a theatrical critic was in those days the top feather in the cap of gallantry and literature. It was sought after by most of the young men of fashion and polite literature. These critics were distinguished from the critics of the present day by not being so by profession, or rather by pecuniary engage

ment. They practised the art as amateurs; and, as they appeared more in their own characters than as anonymous writers, they required greater responsibility in point of learning, taste, and judgment. The coffee-house thus led to a curious system of coffee-house critics-an important section with actual power; that at the Bedford was "crowded every night (about 1754) with men of parts." Almost everyone you meet is a polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bon mots are echoed from box to box, and the merits of every production of the press or performance of the theatres weighed and determined." It might be matter of speculation what influence these irrepressible judges could have, or by what "sanction" they could enforce their decisions. This can be readily answered. They had the scurrilous pamphlet or more open attack at command.

Thus in January, 1742, appeared a letter from one of these, stating "he was secretary to a society of gentlemen who wished him to acquaint the town with the fact that they will not suffer our entertainments to be interrupted by a set of people who make it their practice every night to flutter and to grin and bow behind the scenes, with huge muffs and French airs, and tawdry outlandish dress. We intend to be at Covent Garden house on Tuesday, and endeavour to remove this nuisance, equally grievous to the audience, the actors, and Mr. Rich, for the beaux seldom pay."

In the year 1738, the managers found it necessary once more to protest against the intrusion behind the scenes, saying that the audiences having been lately much disgusted at the performers being interrupted by persons crowding on the stage, it is humbly hoped none will take it ill that they cannot be admitted behind the scenes in future.

About this time two remarkable actors found themselves at Drury Lane, under the new manager, and gave laws to