[100] They were at last carried to such a height of licentiousness, as to demand the interposition of the Legislature; and no reformation being wrought by lenient measures, Southwark Fair, and many others, were suppressed.

[101] A booth was built in Smithfield the year this print was published, for the use of T. Cibber, Bullock, and H. Hallam, at which the tragedy of Tamerlane, with the Fall of Bajazet, intermixed with the comedy of the Miser, was actually represented. The bill of fare with which these gentlemen tempted their customers may properly enough be called an olio; and the royal elephant sheet on which the titles of their plays are printed, throws the comparatively diminutive bills of a theatre-royal into the background.

In some of the provinces distant from the capital, their dramatic exhibitions are still given out in the quaint style which marked the productions of our ancestors. This sometimes excites the laughter of a scholar, but it whets the curiosity of the rustic; and whatever helps to fill a theatre or a barn, must be the best of all possible methods. From the recent modes of announcing new plays at the two Royal Theatres, there seems some reason to expect that the admirers of this kind of writing will soon be gratified by having it introduced in the London play-bills, or at least in the London papers, where hints of "the abundant entertainment which is to be expected sometimes make their appearance in the shape of 'a correspondent's opinion.'" But leaving them to their admirers, let us return to humbler scenes, and give one example out of the many which the provinces annually afford.

A play-bill, printed some years ago at Ludlow, in Shropshire, was nearly as large as their principal painted scene, and dignified with letters that were truly CAPITAL, for each of those which composed the name of a principal character were near a foot long. The play was for the benefit of a very eminent female performer, the bill was said to be written by herself, and thus was the evening's amusement announced:

"For the benefit of Mrs. ——. By particular desire of B—— G——, Esquire, and his most amiable lady: This present evening will be performed a deep tragedy, containing the doleful history of King Lear and his three daughters; with the merry conceits of his Majesty's fool, and the valorous exploits of General Edmund, the Duke of Glo'ster's bastard.—All written by one William Shakspeare, a mighty great poet, who was born in Warwickshire, and held horses for gentlemen at the sign of the Red Bull, in Saint John's Street, near West Smithfield; where was just such another playhouse as that to which we humbly invite you, and hope for the good company of all friends round the Wrekin.

[102] I have heard a person, who was ambitious of being thought able to detect the plagiarisms of painters, assert that the artist took this hint from Jupiter and Io. The Southwark Fair nymph does not, however, appear to be embracing a cloud.

[103] The Siege of Troy was a celebrated droll, in high estimation at fairs, printed in 1707. The author, Elkannah Settle,

[104] Had Hogarth read The Merchant of Venice? or did the poet and the painter see nature with the same eyes? The woman behind the post proves that they thought alike:

[105] In Mr. Horace Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting in the Reign of George II., he prefaces the account of William Hogarth in the following manner: "Having despatched the herd of our painters in oil, I reserved to a class by himself that great and original genius," etc. I thought the term very happily applied, and pointedly appropriate to most of the characters it enumerates; but I remember a second-rate artist being marvellously offended at the freedom of the appellation; and observing that the names of Canaletti, George Lambert, Francis Cotes, Frank Hayman, and Samuel Scott, deserved more respect than to be classed in a herd.

[106] Mr. Highmore was originally a man of considerable fortune, but White's gaming-house, and the Drury Lane patent, exhausted his finances. Having exhibited himself as an unsuccessful actor and an unfortunate manager, he in 1743 completed the climax by publishing a poem entitled Dettingen, which proves him a very indifferent writer. In 1744, he a second time appeared in the character of Lothario, for the benefit of Mr. Horton, but seems to have had no requisites for the stage. He was, however, a man of strict integrity and high honour, and frequently suffered heavy losses rather than violate any engagement, though it might be only verbal, which he had once made. Such a person was very unfit for a coadjutor with men who were so busied in qualifying themselves for personating the characters of others, that they had no leisure for any attention to their own.

[107] The general observation at the time was, "What business had a gentleman to make the purchase?"

[108] It seems that Harper was mentally and corporeally qualified for the character; for we are told that Mr. Highmore fixed upon Harper as the person to take up for a vagabond, because he was naturally a very great coward. One of the prints of the day, dated the 12th of November 1734, speaking of this transaction, concludes with the following remark: "Sir Thomas Clarges and other justices have committed Mr. Harper to Bridewell, in order to his being put to hard labour,—an employment which, by his enormous bulk, he seems as little fit for as he is for a vagrant; being a man so marvellously corpulent, that it is not possible for him either to labour or to wander a great deal." He was, however, a man of very fair character, and soon delivered from his confinement by an order from the Court of King's Bench.

[109] Among the dead stock of a lately deceased antiquarian, there was found, carefully wrapped up in paper that had once been white, four moderate-sized panes of glass, cut lozenge fashion. On the paper, in a kind of law hand, was written what follows:—

"Theese curious peeces of antiquitie I did purchase from a glazyer at Windsor, who informed me that he had them from his father, who was in the same business, and lived for to be very old; and told unto him, that while he was yet but a little scrubbed boy, being apprenticed, his master did send him to put some newe paines of glasse in a cazement at the Olde Kinges Armes in that towne; the old glasse being rendered dimme and obscured, by wicked fellowes having at sundrie times scribbled naughty and unseemly words and verses thereon. Upon the enclosed paines were the fairest inscriptions; he therefore had kept them, and recommended unto his sonne to doe the like. For a small peece of gold they became mine, and I do beleeve were truelie written by the handes of those verie menne whose names are put under each verse, and that Falstaff his lines are meaned to convey a sort of sporting resentmente against his old companion, once Prince Henrie, surnamed of Monmouth, but nowe become kinge, for having banyshed him from his royal presence; though perhappes it may onlie meane to allude unto the signe of the taverne where they did holde their merrie meetinges."

The inscriptions were as follow:—

"Kingis Armes taverne atte Winsor, firste daie of Maye, A.D. 1414. Presente,—I John Falstaff, knight,—Mistris Dorothy,—Ned Poins,—and myne Ancient.

"Onne Mistris Dorothy.

"On the feathers which Mistriss Dorothy weareth in her hatte:

"On Dol Tearsheete her Garters; the mottoe 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' being worked with worsteades thereon:

—E.

These verses are copied verbatim et literatim from the brittle memorial on which they were found; but should any obstinate sceptic be hardy enough to doubt their antiquity, and, notwithstanding the internal evidence which beams through every line, suppose them the productions of modern days, let him read the numerous volumes of those gentlemen who debated so learnedly and so long about the workis of Maister Rowlie, the Bristowe poet, and the giftis of Maister Cannynge, the Bristowe patron; and if, after he has waded through these clear streams of ancient lore, a doubt remains in his mind—he must be an infidel.

[110] The licentiousness of the present age is a favourite topic with some of our popular writers; yet the drama is considered as the mirror of public manners; and the drama is rather more correct, and less indelicate, than it was in the year 1327, when, in a play of the Olde and Newe Testament, performed at Chester, the actors who played Adam and Eve, trying to represent these two characters to the life, came upon the stage quite naked! What modern manager could have dressed, or rather undressed, his performers with a stricter regard to propriety?

[111] That wild beasts were exhibited, is, however, certain from the following anecdote, which, not being noted by any of Dr. Johnson's biographers, may as well have a place here:—

When the Doctor first became acquainted with David Mallet, they once went with some other gentlemen to laugh away an hour at Southwark Fair. At one of the booths where wild beasts were exhibited to the wondering crowd, was a very large bear, which the showman assured them was "cotched in the undiscovered desarts of the remotest Russia." The bear was muzzled, and might therefore be approached with safety, but to all the company except Johnson was very surly and ill-tempered; of the philosopher he appeared extremely fond, rubbed against him, and displayed every mark of awkward partiality and subdued kindness. "How is it," said one of the company, "that this savage animal is so attached to Mr. Johnson?" "From a very natural cause," replied Mallet; "the bear is a Russian philosopher, and he knows that Linnæus would have placed him in the same class with the English moralist. They are two barbarous animals of one species."

The Doctor disliked Mallet for his tendency to infidelity, and this sarcasm turned that dislike into positive hatred. He never spoke to him afterwards, but has gibbeted him in his octavo Dictionary under the article alias.

[112] I cannot learn in what year the duration of this fair was shortened; but I should suppose from the following circumstance, very soon afterwards. This print was published in 1733, and on the 24th of June 1735 the Court of Aldermen came to a resolution touching Bartholomew Fair, "that the same shall not exceed Bartholomew eve, Bartholomew day, and the day after; and that during that time nothing but stalls and booths shall be erected for the sale of goods, wares, and merchandizes, and no acting be permitted."

[113] A Mr. Banckes, who a few years afterwards published some rhymes on this print, asserts, "that the performance at the booth, on the sign of which is written, The Fall of Bajazet, is the droll of Fair Rosamond." From the dresses, etc., I should imagine this ingenious gentleman is wrong. He also observes, "that young Louis XV., King of France, his queen, children, prime minister, etc., were this year exhibited in Smithfield and the Borough at very reasonable prices, to spectators of all degrees." Our artist, however, had forgot himself in regard to the matter of which these great personages were made, the whole town having been informed by their master of the ceremonies that they were of a composition far exceeding wax. The same writer goes on to inform us:

From the above lines, I should suppose that the late Mr. Pinchbeck, with his wonderful and surprising piece of mechanism the Panopticon, was at this fair; though he frequently spoke of one of his brothers, "who," he said, "was a showman, and who once gave a very large sum for an elephant, and took a room at Southwark Fair, with an intention of exhibiting it; but the passage to this room," added he, "was so narrow, that though my poor brother 'got the beast into it, a'never could get un out on't; a' stuck in the middle on't and died!' So, sir, you sees my poor brother lost all his money. Ah! he was a most unfortunate dog in everything he took in hand! and so was I, God knows." Cætera desunt.

[114] The late Lord Sandwich, not very eminent for his reverence of the clerical habit, being once in a company where there were a number of clergymen, offered, in a whisper, to lay a considerable wager with the gentleman who sat next him, that among the ten parsons there was not one Prayer-book. The wager was accepted, and a mock dispute gave him occasion to ask for a Prayer-book to decide it. They had not one.—He soon after privately offered to lay another wager with the same gentleman, that among the ten parsons there was half a score corkscrews. This also was accepted; and the butler being previously instructed, coming into the room with a bottle of claret and a broken corkscrew, requested any gentleman to lend him one. Every priest who was present had a corkscrew in his pocket!

[115] Of Henley's absurdities we have heard much; but they had their source in an adoption of that manner which he knew would be agreeable to his auditors, rather than in ignorance. The following circumstance proves he was a man of some humour:—

"I never," says a person who knew little about the doctor, "saw Orator Henley but once, and that was at the Grecian Coffeehouse, where a gentleman he was acquainted with coming in, and seating himself in the same box, the following dialogue passed between them:—

Henley. "Pray what is become of our old friend Dick Smith? I have not seen him for several years."

Gentleman. "I really don't know. The last time I heard of him he was at Ceylon, or some of our settlements in the West Indies."

Henley (with some surprise). "At Ceylon, or some of our settlements in the West Indies! My good sir, in one sentence there are two mistakes. Ceylon is not one of our settlements, it belongs to the Dutch; and it is situated, not in the West, but in the East Indies."

Gentleman (with some heat). "That I deny!"

Henley. "More shame for you! I will engage to bring a boy of eight years of age who will confute you."

Gentleman (in a cooler tone of voice). "Well,—be it where it will, I thank God I know very little about these sort of things."

Henley. "What, you thank God for your ignorance, do you?"

Gentleman (in a violent rage). "I do, sir. What then?"

Henley. "Sir, you have a great deal to be thankful for."

[116] These lines are from Banckes' Poems, p. 87, in which a contracted copy of the print is placed as the headpiece of an epistle to the painter. This good gentleman, with true poetic vanity, pathetically exclaims,

Little did this rival of Stephen Duck imagine that the words "which alone can wit convey," would not have preserved his two volumes from the trunkmaker, to whom every verse had been long since consigned, had not this little print, and another copy from the same artist, sometimes induced a collector to purchase the volumes.

The concluding lines of his poem are not, however, so contemptible:

[117] I once heard a freemason observe, that this droning disciple of Morpheus, and the heavy politician on the opposite side, were the Jachin and Boaz of the lodge.

[118] On the top of a shop-bill, which contains a list of Doctor ——, I forget his name's, wonderful and surprising cures, performed by elixir of——, I don't know what, this descendant of Sangrado has inserted a wooden print, which displays a reduced copy of his sign. It exhibits a half-length of much such a person as our antiquated beau, with his hand in precisely the same situation. This our quack very emphatically denominates the sign of the headache.

[119] Those gentlemen who wish to enjoy

would find some use in adopting the old threadbare adage, "Not more than the Muses, nor fewer than the Graces." Poor Mortimer the painter, whose convivial talents were hardly to be paralleled, had such a dislike to large companies, that he used to say, "If he invited the twelve apostles to supper, he would certainly take two evenings to receive them, six being a sufficient number, be the society ever so good."

[120] The preacher is said to be intended for a portrait of a Doctor Desaguliers.

[121] Our clerk carries every appearance of being the schoolmaster of the hamlet. He has much of that surly, tyrannic dignity which frequently accompanies the character. One of these gentlemen, in a village distant from the capital, having a disagreement with a neighbouring yeoman, the farmer, in his wrath, called him an overbearing Turk, and an insignificant beast. Our haughty Holofernes was irritated beyond description; his rage choked his utterance: he stalked home, and wrote a poetical epistle to the rustic, beginning with the lines which follow:—

[122] These moping birds, being the worshippers of darkness consecrated to dulness, closing their eyes against the light, and holding their silent, solitary reign in old buildings which are seldom trodden by human feet, are with great propriety placed in this church.

The cross on an escutcheon in one of the windows is there placed to the memory of the learned and Reverend Ebenezer Muzz; who, his epitaph declareth, after "painfullie labouring in this vineyard for one and fortie years, now sleepeth with his fathers."

[123] An hour-glass is still placed on some of the pulpits in the provinces. Daniel Burgess, of whimsical memory, never preached without one, and he frequently saw it out three times during one sermon. In a discourse which he once delivered at the conventicle in Russel Court, against drunkenness, some of his hearers began to yawn at the end of the second glass. But Daniel was not to be silenced by a yawn; he turned his timekeeper, and altering the tone of his voice, desired they would be patient a while longer, for he had much more to say upon the sin of drunkenness: "therefore," added he, "my friends and brethren, we will have another glass,—and then!"

[124] Doctor Arbuthnot, Mr. Pope, and the Dean, have united their talents to expose the anti-climax, and selected innumerable conceits from the ponderous works of Sir Richard Blackmore and others. They have unkindly neglected their friend Gay; and yet Blackmore's mowing the beard is not much worse than Gay's shaving the grass:

—Gay's Pastorals, p. 5, l. 39, etc.

[125] When I was very young, I once paid a morning visit to a poet. Upon his table was Byshe's Art of Poetry. I naturally observed, "Your manager of a puppet-show is more prudent than you are; he keeps his wires out of sight." So tremblingly alive are these valets to the Muses, that this good-natured hint, which had its source in a wish to serve him, was never forgiven.

[126] This excellent paper is now no more; but our modern poets and poetesses have a still more extended channel in which to pour out their warm effusions. Reams of good white paper are daily metamorphosed, and become magazines, newspapers, and, though last mentioned, not less in regard, auctioneer's catalogues. That the last named is as poetical as are the two former, many examples might be adduced to prove. One shall suffice, and that one is so bespangled with beauteous metaphors, that, though neither in rhyme nor blank verse, yet, from its brilliancy of colouring and splendour of diction, it must be classed amongst the most sublime compositions of our most sublime bards. Thus is a sale announced:—"Particulars and conditions of sale of that elegant freehold villa called Luxborough, which will be sold on the 26th of June 1765, together with the several farms that encompass the premises, containing in the whole near six hundred acres of rich arable meadow, pasture, and woodland, lying and being in an extensive vale, whose surrounding acclivities are nobly clothed, and, rising in magnifique form, exhibit luxuriant prospects of unequalled richness and beauty.

"The pleasure-ground is comprised in a space of eleven acres, encompassed with ha-ha! and grub walls. The elegant disposition of the ground is beautifully improved with vistas, groves, and plantations, through which walks wind in extensive circuit. Store-ponds and elevated basons occupy the areas, regale those fragrant coverts, and afford a constant and inexhaustible supply of water for the house, by means of lead pipes, aqueducts, etc.

"Nature, propitious, hath luxuriantly featured the circumadjacent grounds, and art hath been judiciously introduced to give richness and effect. The lawn swells with gentle rise and easy slopes; clumps of trees are placed in pleasing irregularity; a serpentine stream flows through the vale, heightening the verdure of the divided pasture; and the villages of Chigwell, Woodford, and Woodford Bridge, dawn through that mass of prolific richness which fills the wide expanse."

[127] Had the artist given this speaking countenance to the girl who is exhibited in the first print of the "Rake's Progress," how much more should we have been interested in her situation?

[128] When this was first published, the following quotation from Pope's Dunciad was inscribed under the print:—

All his books, amounting to only four, was, I suppose, the artist's reason for erasing the lines.

A reduced copy, with some variations, is placed as the headpiece of an Epistle to Alexander Pope, Esq., by Mr. Banckes. One of the variations is, a cobweb over the grate. If this good gentleman had consulted his own headpiece, he would have recollected that, as even a poet must sometimes eat, and the poor bard had no other room, or grate, it was natural to think he must sometimes have a fire to dress his scanty meal. In almost every other respect he is indeed a much more unaccommodated man than was Stephen Duck when he was a thresher. Duck, having made some rhymes, which for a thresher were deemed extraordinary, was taken out of his barn, furnished with a stock in trade, and set up as a poet. After that time he never wrote a stanza; his Muse forsook him; he was haunted by the foul fiend, and hanged or drowned himself, because Queen Caroline, who had made him a parson, could not make him a bishop.

In one of the journals of the day, dated June 30, 1736, I find written as follows:—"A handsome entertainment was this day given at Charlton, in Wiltshire, to the threshers of that village, by the Lord Viscount Palmerston, who has given money to purchase a piece of land, the produce of which is to be laid out in an annual entertainment, on the 30th of June, for ever, in commemoration of Stephen Duck, who was a thresher at that place." Happy man! patronized by the Queen's Majesty, and

[129] This unfortunate creature, in the memory of many persons now living, used to parade the streets of the metropolis with a hautboy, which afforded him a precarious subsistence.

[130] He was brother to Festin who led the band at Ranelagh, and has been dead about thirty years.

[131] "What signifies," says some one to Dr. Johnson, "giving half-pence to common beggars? they only lay them out in gin or tobacco." "And why," replied the Doctor, "should they be denied such sweeteners of their existence? It is surely very savage to shut out from them every possible avenue to those pleasures reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. Life is a pill which none of us can swallow without gilding; yet for the poor we delight in stripping it still more bare, and are not ashamed to show even visible marks of displeasure, if ever the bitter taste is taken from their mouths."

[132] This is said to be a striking resemblance of that very great man. For many years he attended Covent Garden market every morning.

[133] It has been said that this incomparable figure was designed as the representative of either a particular friend or a relation. Individual satire may be very gratifying to the public, but is frequently fatal to the satirst. Churchill, by the lines,

lost a considerable legacy; and it is related that Hogarth, by the introduction of this withered votary of Diana into this print, induced her to alter a will which had been made considerably in his favour: she was at first well enough satisfied with her resemblance, but some designing people taught her to be angry.

[134] Of this there is an enlarged copy, which some of our collectors have ingeniously enough christened, The Half-Starved Boy. It bears the date of 1730, and is inscribed "W. H. pinx. F. Sykes sc." Sykes was the pupil of either Sir James Thornhill or Hogarth, and the 0 might be intended for an 8 or a 9; but the aquafortis failing, it appears to have an earlier date than the print from which it was copied. If the date is right, Sykes undoubtedly copied it from a sketch of his master's, which might then be unappropriated. In any case, it is too ridiculous to imagine for a moment that Hogarth was a plagiary; for supposing, what is not very probable, that his pupil was capable of delineating the figure, he would scarcely have made the sketch without some concomitant circumstances to explain its meaning.

[135] I speak of the large print; in the small copy, which is inserted in this work, they are properly placed.

[136] From what combination is this now made the sign for a colour shop?

[137] This boy is copied from a figure in a picture of The Rape of the Sabines, by N. Poussin, now in the collection of Sir R. Hoare, at Stourhead.

[138] At that period there was a windmill at the bottom of Rathbone Place.

[139] Mr. Nichols, in his Anecdotes.

[140] I have seen more than one modern impression with the hands and face tinged with red and blue. Those only are genuine which are printed in colours.

[141] To the memory of this great and public-spirited citizen I never saw any other memorial. Such a benefactor to the city ought to have had a statue of gold placed in the centre of the Royal Exchange.

He was a native of Denbigh, in North Wales, and a citizen and goldsmith of London. Though there were three Acts of Parliament empowering the freemen of London to cut through lands, and bring a river from any part of Middlesex or Hertfordshire, the project had always been considered as impracticable, till Sir Hugh Middleton undertook it. He made choice of two springs, one in the parish of Amwell, in Hertfordshire, the other near Ware, each of them about twenty miles from town. Having united their streams with immense labour and expense, he conveyed them to London. This most arduous and useful work was begun on the 20th of February 1608, and brought into the reservoir, at Islington, on Michaelmas day, 1613. Like many other projectors, he ruined his private fortune by his public spirit. King James I., however, created him a baronet; and his descendants, in lieu of a very considerable estate, had the honour of being called Sirs. For the benefit of the poor members of the Goldsmiths' Company, he left a share in his New River water; and his portrait is still preserved in their hall.

The seventy-two shares into which this great liquid property was divided, originally sold for one hundred pounds each, and for thirty years afforded scarce any advantage to the proprietors. In the year 1780, shares were sold at nine and ten thousand pounds each; and their price is increasing in proportion to the increase of the dividends, by which their value is regulated.

[142] On the resignation of Mr. Horace Walpole, in February 1738, De Veil was appointed inspector-general of the imports and exports, and was so severe against the retailers of spirituous liquors, that one Allen headed a gang of rioters for the purpose of pulling down his house, and bringing to a summary punishment two informers who were there concealed. Allen was tried for this offence and acquitted upon the jury's verdict declaring him lunatic.

[143] On this spot once stood the cross erected by Edward I. as a memorial of affection for his beloved Queen Eleanor, whose remains were here rested on their way to the place of sepulture. It was formed from a design by Cavalini, and destroyed by the religious fury of the Reformers. In its place, in the year 1678, was erected the animated equestrian statue which now remains. It was cast in brass, in the year 1633, by Le Sœur; I think by order of that munificent encourager of the arts, Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel. The Parliament ordered it to be sold, and broken to pieces; but John River, the brazier who purchased it, having more taste than his employers, seeing, with the prophetic eye of good sense, that the powers which were would not remain rulers very long, dug a hole in his garden, in Holborn, and buried it unmutilated. To prove his obedience to their order, he produced to his masters several pieces of brass, which he told them were parts of the statue. M. de Archenholtz adds further, that the brazier, with the true spirit of trade, cast a great number of handles for knives and forks, and offered them for sale, as composed of the brass which had formed the statue. They were eagerly sought for, and purchased,—by the loyalists from affection to their murdered monarch, by the other party as trophies of the triumph of liberty over tyranny.

[144] Doctor Arne, in one instance, seemed to think that they should still continue so. Having composed a very dull opera, and the town disapproving and consigning it to a merited oblivion, the Doctor asked Foote what was his opinion of it; "for," added he, "I really think there is a great deal of good in it." "There is, my dear fellow," replied the wit; "there is a great deal too much good in it; but, setting aside its goodness and piety, there never was anything more justly damned since damning came into fashion."

[145] There may be those who will object to a banner flouting the sky in a barn; let such consider that the roof is not above half thatched, and their objections will vanish. These breaches in the roof will throw a new light upon the line.

[146] Let not this humble situation be considered with contempt. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the loyal inhabitants of Shrewsbury, expecting that her Majesty would pass through their town in one of her northern perambulations, prepared to entertain her with a play, which was to have been performed in a dry marl pit in the quarry; but the Queen's highness did not come.

[147] This gentlewoman has generally been considered as intended for the ghost: from her employment, I rather think she is the representative of tragedy:

The sage Melpomene herself could not go through the business with more philosophic indifference.

[148] By the halter near them, it may be conjectured that these balls were intended to represent bullets, and designed to hint that some one of this noble company might on a leisure evening, in humble imitation of the heroic Captain Machcath, endeavour to turn his lead to gold; and, like that very great man, be in consequent danger of making an exit with a rope round his neck.

[149] We are told by John Milton, that cannon were invented by the devil. We are told by Alexander Pope, that stage thunder was invented by that great critic John Dennis; and so jealous was Dennis of his bolt being wielded by an improper hand, that being once in the pit at Drury Lane Theatre, when the company were performing Macbeth, he, on hearing the bowls rattling over his head, started from his seat, grasped his oaken stick, and exclaimed, with an emphasis that drowned the voices of the players, "Eternal curses light on these scoundrels! they have stolen my thunder, and don't know how to roll it!"

[150] Our royal theatres have sometimes neglected and violated the costume. We have seen the head of Cato covered with a periwig that emulated Sir Cloudesley Shovel's; a Prince of Denmark decorated with the order of St. George; Othello habited as a captain of the foot guards; and Kent, the tough old Kent, as a Chelsea pensioner.

[151] In the second act of Oedipus is the following stage direction:—"The cloud draws that veiled the heads of the figures in the sky, and shows them crowned with the names of Oedipus and Jocasta written above, in great characters of gold."

[152] That these representatives of royalty sometimes meet with such accidents, appears by the following letter from a late lecturer upon heads, at a time when he belonged to a company of comedians at Yarmouth:—