attached to Mr. Arnold, whose bond for 2007., in acknowledgment of his long and faithful service, he generously thrust into the breakfast-room fire before him, the morning after the burning down of the Lyceum Theatre (February 16th, 1830), saying, "You have lost all by fire; let this go too." He died a poor man. A singular circumstance (oddly adds Mr. Planché), considering that he had been for so many years treasurer of a theatre.

I

He was a dry fellow (goes on Mr. Planché) that Billy Dunn; a great character. During the many years he was treasurer of Drury Lane I don't suppose he once witnessed a performance; but regularly, after the curtain had fallen on a new piece, it mattered not of what description, he would let himself through with his pass-key from the front of the house, as if he had sat it out, and on being asked his opinion, invariably answer, after a long pause and a proportionate pinch of snuff, "Wants cutting." Nine times out of ten he was right. The trouble of extracting a direct reply from him, at any time or concerning anything, was remarkable. called one morning at the theatre, on my way to the City, to ask him a question about writing orders on some particular night. I was told he was in the treasury, and accordingly ran up to it. He was alone at his desk counting cheques. "Would there be any objection, Dunn, to my sending a friend or two to the boxes on such a night?" He looked at me, but made no answer. I waited perhaps five more minutes, and then, without repeating my inquiry, or speaking another word, walked quietly out of the room and went about my other business. Returning between two and three in the afternoon I ascertained from the hall-keeper that Mr. Dunn was still in the theatre. I mounted the stairs again, entered the treasury, and found him, as before, alone. I stood perfectly silent while he looked at me and took the customary pinch of snuff, after which he drawled out, "No, I should think not; " some four hours having elapsed since I asked him the question.

It may be mentioned in this place that there was a special box at Drury Lane known as the "Numberer's Box," and the office of numberer was long filled by Hardham, a snuffmaker

during the daytime. Garrick was good-natured enough to direct attention to a particular kind of snuff he sold by allusions from the stage, thus actually making "No. 37" celebrated. Another of his actors was a wine merchant, to whom he said one night on the boards, "If you could put a little of that excellent spirit which is in your wine into your acting"and with the same wholesome result.

A player who contributed much to the successful working of the theatre about this time was a hard-working, patient, dramatic hack, Thomas Dibdin by name, who, without genius, knew thoroughly what the French call "the science of the boards." No better specimen could be given of the painstaking drudge who could be depended on to supply what was wanted, in the best style and at the shortest notice. There is something almost pathetic in the incredible labour of this writer, who was a country actor, stage-manager at Drury Lane and the Haymarket, manager of theatres himself, translator, adapter, constructor of pantomimes, tragedies, burlettas, anything that was desired, yet all ending in ruin and bankruptcy. When he began life, earning a wretched crust in the country theatres, burdened with a family, he went through many hardships, even to "sharing," as it was called, the candle-ends, which was all that could be shared at the end of a performance. But he was ever cheerful and hopeful, and it is pleasant to read how the first break came which led him on to London and to prosperity. A successful farce attracted the notice of the managers. He hurried to London. Not only were his pieces taken, but he and his wife were engaged as performers. From that time he continued to supply pieces in the most extraordinary profusion, all for the most part fairly successful, to the number of two hundred! He wrote for every theatre and supplied every form of entertainment. There was this advantage in the great patent theatres,

that they furnished an opening for dramatic talent, new pieces being required almost every day. He says:

Of the above nearly two hundred theatrical productions, ten were failures, and not acted more than four or five times each on an average; sixteen were honoured with extraordinary success, and produced very great profits to Covent Garden, Drury Lane, the Haymarket, the English Opera, and three of the minor theatres; the remainder were all extremely well received, and answered my purpose and the expectations of those who employed me. Nearly fifty of the pieces are published, and books of the songs of thirty more. It was formerly the custom for authors to dedicate their works to patrons of rank for the avowed purpose of receiving a cadeau in return. With this view, I inscribed certain productions of mine to the Duke of Leeds, Mr. Harris, Sir Henry Hawley, Mr. George Ranking, Mr. Fladgate, etc.

As a specimen of what can be done by energy, he tells us the following:

I received a French piece on Tuesday night. My benefit was on the following Monday. Fitzwilliam advised I should play the piece for my benefit. I urged the impossibility. He urged the kind devotedness of the actors. But then, I had the piece to translate and adapt, and the songs to write, and there were three new scenes at least to be painted, cum multis aliis, such as dresses, properties, etc. to prepare. Notwithstanding, we concluded that an effort ought to be made, and then went to Drury Lane to see a ci-devant Surrey performer of the name of Weston make his début. I, who was still very unwell, translated the piece the next day in bed, read it on the Thursday, under the title of "The Invisible Witness; or, The Chapel in the Wood," and produced it on the Monday. After which, it was acted during the remainder of the season-i.e. about thirty nights.

The story of this hardworking man is worthy of study, though not encouraging. It may be said that there is no pro

fession which offers more examples of that patient, persevering labour which leads eventually to the highest success, and which is attested by the career of the brilliant actor who now holds the first place on the stage. But what came so suddenly fell away almost as fast. After years of drudgery came embarrassment, harsh treatment by managers, haughty claims and dismissal, attempts at management, bankruptcy, and finally ruin.

CHAPTER III.

RISE OF THE MINOR THEATRES.

DURING all the years of amateur management the theatre had been sunk in debt to the amount of 90,000l.! In their desperation they were inclined to impute their disasters to any cause but their own misgovernment. They now fancied that the minor theatres were interfering with their business, and determined to appeal for protection against them. The condition of these houses was curious and doubtful, but of late years they had been looked on indulgently and even encouraged. At the beginning of the century the patents were still sufficiently protected, and the only theatres which were tolerated (excluding, of course, the Haymarket, which ranked with the grand houses) were the Circus, Astley's Amphitheatre (now the Olympic), Sadler's Wells, and the Royalty, of which three certainly were rather devoted to shows and spectacles than to plays. There were, moreover, what are called summer theatres-their licences only allowing them to open at that time.

The eccentric Elliston was to do good service in fighting the battles of the minor theatres against the great patent houses. This contest he carried on during a course of years in his own peculiar style, during which time he laid his