activity-his brain teeming with dramatic images, plots, and characters of plays in grotesque. After two or three years the malady became fixed. His son, a gay, somewhat extravagant youth, little more than twenty years old, had to undertake the management of a London theatre, which he carried on with energy and success. His father was a man of good birth and high connections, being son of the English minister at Florence and also cousin to Lord Pulteney, of whose enormous fortune he had for many years reasonable expectations. In this he was disappointed, but received a moderate annuity.*

While Drury Lane was rebuilding, Mr. Harris was also seized with a desire for enlarging his theatre. 25,000l. were laid out in this extensive remodelling, also undertaken with a view to gain room. "An entirely new face," with a portico, was added. He made a small increase in the prices, but two of his reforms were ominous of discontent. He abolished the shilling gallery and fixed the pit ticket at three-and-sixpence. Riots were the consequence, continued for several nights, until a promise was given to restore the shilling gallery, which was done. There were other and more famous riots to follow.t

The sensation of the year 1796 was the singular Ireland forgery-the production of "Vortigern "—the forged Shakespearean play. On the delivery of the lines the imposture

* The slender personal memoirs left by George Colman the younger are the most interesting and vivacious of their kind-full of what approaches wit, and written in a vein of uncontrollable spirits. They, however, go no farther than the death of his father.

When

+ Disorders of this sort are almost a necessary incident to patents. Mr. Bancroft recently abolished the pit at the Haymarket, it was urged, and justly, that it was his own property, with which he could deal as he thought fit, and with which no one was entitled to interfere, save by not extending their support. But the patent theatre being a monopoly, excluding the public from resorting to another place, it incurs thus certain obligations to the public, which the latter reminds it of in this rough, rude way.

was at once detected. It is said that Sheridan was of this opinion all through, while Kemble was willing to produce it. In 1797, the retirement of Miss Farren and her brilliant marriage was the talk of the town. In 1798 occurred a very tragic business, which has become one of the legends of the stage. It has been often repeated, that, during a prosperous run of "The Stranger," an actor, John Palmer, after repeating "There is another and a better world," had suddenly fallen and expired. This has been found in many books, but the truth appears to be the following, said to have been furnished by Whitfield, who performed Baron Steinfort, and was with him on the stage when the event took place:

A few minutes before he was called to go on for the scene in which he died, I asked him how he was. He answered, "Very poorly." He was more collected and correct through the whole, in regard to the words and the business, but more energetic and loud in the description of his false friend than when he performed the part before. His voice seemed to crack, and at the end of the speech he struck his head with great force, then crossed me from my right hand to my left. The two short speeches he uttered after were given rather faintly, but not more so than appeared perfectly consonant to the situation of the character. After I put the question, "Why did you not keep your children with you? they would have amused you in many a dreary hour," he turned and tottered, dying in a few moments.*

This ghastly subject of deaths on the stage or of mortal illness has often exercised the labours of the dramatic historian. The list, as might be expected, is a full one. It includes Smith, in 1696, seized with apoplexy. Betterton, in 1710, who had driven in his gout to appear for his benefit, and died in three days. Bond, in 1735, died while blessing his children (theatrically). Cashel and Spiller were seized with apoplexy. In 1757, Peg Woffington was struck by paralysis. In 1759, Patterson, when performing the Duke in "Measure for Measure," and saying, "Reason thus with life," dropped into Moody's arms and expired. In 1776, an actress, Mrs. Jefferson, looking on at a rehearsal, fell into the same actor's arms and expired. In 1769, Holland received such a shock from finding he had spoken to one who had come from a small-pox patient and, it is added, from seeing a large rat run across the stage, that he died in a fortnight. Foote was seized with paralysis in 1777, while on the stage. In 1784, West VOL. II. 2 A

Some years earlier, and almost on the stage, occurred the death of a good old actor of Garrick's corps. This was Baddeley. A provision of his curious will, a childish attempt to preserve his memory, reminds us of him every Christmas, and his "Twelfth Cake" is regularly cut in Drury Lane greenroom. The purport of the document is as follows. It was dated November, 1794:

His house at Moulsey and his house at New Store Street, with his plate, furniture, etc. he gave to his faithful friend and companion, Mrs. Catherine Strickland, generally called and known by the name of Mrs. Baddeley, for her life. The house and premises at Moulsey to be used as an asylum for decayed actors and actresses, and when the net produce amounted to 350l. per annum, pensions were to be given. Especial care was to be taken to have the words "Baddeley's Asylum" in the front of the house. Garrick's head and his theatrical portraits, etc. were to be placed in the asylum. The pensioners to give small sums to the poor, "in order to constitute themselves respectable in the eyes of their neighbours." The pensioners also to spend 20s. on the 20th of April in every year, in honour of the birth of the founder. A regalia to be worn. One hundred pounds Three per

Digges was also thus seized, in Dublin, while rehearsing with Mrs. Siddons. In 1794, Baddeley, when dressed for Moses, was taken ill and shortly after died. In 1799, Chickingham burst a blood-vessel while performing Osman in "The Castle Spectre." In 1817, Canning, in playing " Jane Shore," at the words, " May such befall me at my latest hour," fell down and expired. In 1826, Fulham, in Dublin, after an encore of his song, was going to the green-room, when he fell dead. In 1833, Kean fell into his son's arms when playing Othello, saying, "I am dying." In 1850, Mrs. Glover took her last benefit, but was almost unconscious, and died three days later. In 1858, Harley, while playing Bottom, was seized by paralysis and died in a few hours, his last strange words being from his part, "I have an exposition of sleep come upon me." In 1861, James Bland died at the stage-door of the Strand Theatre. In 1863, the facetious James Rogers, after struggling through his part in a burlesque at the St. James's Theatre, died in an armchair, holding his wife's hand, and quoting a line of Mr. E. L. Blanchard, "The little raffle is over." In 1865, Miss Cotterell was seized with a fit at rehearsal and expired. In 1872, Henry Barrett, after playing in a farce, expired in a cab. Such are the touching incidents connected with this tragic subject. It will be seen that only three or four have actually died on the stage. I take these from Mr. Sanders's MS. penes me. Dr. Doran and Mr. Dutton Cook have also treated the same subject.

Cent. Consolidated Bank Annuities, which produce 3 per cent., is left to purchase a twelfth cake, with wine and punch, which the ladies and gentlemen of Drury Lane are requested to partake of every Twelfth Night in the great green-room. His executors to publish every year his letter, which appeared in "The General Advertiser," April 20th, 1790, respecting the disagreement with his unhappy wife, to prevent the world from looking on his conduct in the villainous point of view as set forth in certain books and pamphlets.

This fantastic bequest has inspired no respect for his memory, and the players who partake of his cake and wine look on the matter as an incident from an opera bouffe.*

* At the latest celebration, the manager overwhelmed the modest fare of the actor in champagne and a splendid supper, and thus received all the honours of the night.

CHAPTER III.

THE DRAMATISTS.

We must now turn to survey the interesting subject of the authorship that existed in these days, and which the monopoly of the two houses had the merit of developing. One of the most singular puzzles of stage management is to find persons of the calibre of John Kemble and his gifted sister cheerfully sanctioning the degradation of the theatre to base uses-opening the house to dogs and horses, and ranting melodramas! These things were certainly not known till he became stage-director at Drury Lane in the year 1788. At the beginning of the century it is well known how the taste of the town turned in the direction of the gloomy horrors of the German stage, a morbid influence which for many years infected even comedies. This was, in truth, but that taste of novelty which invariably affects the audiences grown tired of the old dishes, however good. At all times, however, there has been a decided taste for the sad and gloomy; and it is not improbable that in our day we shall see a revival of the drama of pathos and horror. This taste seized on the public mind, and was effectively ridiculed in Canning's burlesque of "The Rovers."

Another feature of the time was the rage for new pieces,