Tower, marched in procession with a brilliant G. R. on their inexplicable breasts.

In looking over the poetical addresses made to audiences in former days, our regret is that such abundant illustration, as they give, of life in and out of the theatre, is rendered unavailable by a licentiousness which runs through every line. It was only when the actors went to Oxford, that, in their prologues, they expressed profound respect for the audience, whose suffrage alone, it was said, made authentic wit. Oxford's a place where wit can never starve," says Dryden. Nevertheless, the London appetite for prologue and epilogue was for many years insatiable. The public, though often insulted in both, listened eagerly; and only with reluctance saw the time arrive when the play was considered safe enough to go on without the introduction. Even when old plays were revived, the audience expected the prologue to enjoy resuscitation also.

Thomson protested against the practice of epilogue writers who scoffed at the seriousness and moral of the play. In the epilogue to "Sophonisba," by a friend, and spoken by Mrs. Cibber, he is thus alluded to:

"Our squeamish author scruples this proceeding;

He says, it hurts sound morals and good breeding."

Thomson again protested, with good reason, and he was laughed at for it, in the epilogue to "Agamemnon," but the public sided with him, and the epilogue which ridiculed the protest and modesty of the author, was changed after the first night. The new epilogue retained his protest, and rendered him justice for recording it. And yet, in the epilogue to "Edward and Eleanora," the friend who wrote it, mocked him as a "simple soul." "Wise poets are such fools," he says! But modest Thomson would not yield to sarcasm, and in noble lines, spoken by Mrs. Cibber, as the Tragic Muse, in the epilogue to "Tancred and Sigismunda," in which she had played the heroine, he denounced the profane custom of mocking at morality, and urged the audience not to be inferior to the French in love of decency, and not to forget good impressions for some wretched jest. The old prologues and epilogues are worth reading only for their illustrations of life and manners, but, except a few by eminent poets, for no other reason. They are generally remarkable for indecency, while the dedications of dramas, by playwrights to their patrons, are as noteworthy for their fulsomeness, mendacity, and blasphemy.

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ORIGIN OF BENEFITS.

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Let me conclude this chapter with a word on actors' Benefits. These are of royal invention. The first was awarded by King James to Elizabeth Barry,—a tribute to her genius. The old fashion of announcing them was quaint enough. When George Powell, in April, 1712, was to play Falstaff, it was after this fashion that the Spectator did a good turn for its friend. "The haughty George Powell hopes all the good natured part of the town will favour him whom they applauded in Alexander, Timon, Lear, and Orestes, with their company this night, when he hazards all his heroic glory in the humbler condition of honest Jack Falstaff." I frequently meet with announcements of benefits "for some distressed actors, lately of this house;"—and, occasionally, if circumstances rendered the benefit less productive than was expected, a second is gratuitously given to make up for the deficit. Again, "For the benefit of a gentleman who has written for the stage," shows a delicate feeling for a modest, or a damned, And as author. for sufferers from fire," wards in Middlesex Hospital," or "for the building of churches and chapels," or for "Lying-in Hospitals," or for the redemption of Christian slaves in Algiers," the stage was never weary of lending itself to such good purposes of relief. In 1719, Spiller advertised a performance at Lincoln's Inn Fields, "for the benefit of himself and creditors!" Theophilus Cibber was often as candid. In April, 1746, we find him,—a comedian of the first rank, thus appealing to the consideration of the public,- -" As I have, in justice to my creditors, assigned over so much of my salary as reduces the remainder to a very small pittance, I very much depend on the indulgence and encouragement of the town at my benefit, whose favours shall be gratefully remembered, by their very humble servant,-Theophilus Cibber." Such an announcement was, perhaps, exceeded in singularity by Lillo's advertisement, of the performance, on the third, or author's night, of his "Elmeric," "for the benefit of my poor relations." The frankness of the avowal and the liberality suggested are social traits worth preserving.

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When Yates took his benefit at Goodman's Fields, he advertised the impossibility of his calling personally on theatrical patrons in the neighbourhood, on the ground that he had got into such a strange part of the town, he could not find his way abont the streets! In the same year there was an ambitious young actor at Goodman's Fields, named Goodfellow, who played Hamlet and Fribble, two of Garrick's best characters, for his benefit; for taking which he gave the singular reason, that "my friends

having expressed a great dislike to my being on the stage, I have resolved upon taking this benefit to enable me to return to my former employment." The public accordingly patronised him in order to get rid of him, and the young fellow was so grateful that he remained on the stage! In May, 1766, the profession took its first step towards providing for its poorer members, and Garrick played Kitely for the "benefit of the fund to be raised for the relief of those who, from their infirmities shall be obliged to retire from the stage." Of some of those who flourished and withdrew before the coming of Edmund Kean, it remains that brief notice should now be taken.

Of the old actors who entered on the nineteenth century, King was the first to depart. He was the original representative of Sir Peter Teazle, Lord Ogleby, Puff, and Dr. Cantwell. He began his London career at the age of eighteeen, in 1748, at Drury Lane, as the Herald in "King Lear," and in the next year Whitehead selected him to play Valerius in his "Roman Father." By 1756 he was an established favourite, and he remained on the London stage, with hard summer work during the holidays, till the 24th of May, 1802, when he took his leave in Sir Peter, to the Lady Teazle of Mrs. Jordan. At the end of upwards of half a century he withdrew, to linger four years more, a man of straitened means, one whom fondness for "play" would not at first allow to grow rich; nor, after that was accomplished, to remain so. He had "strong sense, dry humour. wit, and comic ease," and was famous "In crusty, crabbed sires, and testy lords."

Suett was to "low," what King was to "genteel," comedy; and the stage on which he first appeared in 1780 lost Dicky in 1805. He was the successor, but not the equal, of Parsons. For a comic actor he had a very tragical method of life-indicated by a bottle of rum and another of brandy being among the furniture of his breakfast table. He killed his audiences with laughter, and then went home (the tavern intervening) to bed, where his sleep was merely a night of horror caused by hideous dreams, and mental and bodily agony. Suett was tall, thin, and ungainly; addicted to grimace and interpolations; given to practical jokes on his brother actors on the stage; and original in everything, even to encountering death with a pun excited by a sign of its dread approach. Suett was one of those perversely conscientious

actors, that when he had to represent a drunkard, he took care, as Tony Lumpkin says, to be in " a concatenation accordingly." In 1809 Lewis withdrew, in his sixty-third year. He was a Lancashire man, well descended, though a draper's son, and was educated at Armagh. He left linen-drapery for the stage, played with success in Dublin and Edinburgh, and came to Covent Garden in 1773, where, however, he did not displace Barry, as in Dublin he had vanquished Mossop. He remained till the 29th of May, 1809, when he took his farewell in the Copper Captain, the best of all his parts. In Morton and Reynold's comedies, his breathless and restless style told well; but Lewis's reputation is connected with the authors of an older period. Cooke recorded of him, that during the last thirty years of his life, he was "the unrivalled favourite of the comic muse, in all that was frolic, gay, humorous, whimsical, eccentric-and, at the same time, elegant." The same writer testifies that Lewis was a model for making every one do his duty, by kindness and good treatment."

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The greatest loss to the stage, in the early years of the present century, was in the person of Miss Pope, the real successor of Kitty Clive. She withdrew on the 26th of May, 1808, after playing Deborah Dowlas in the "Heir at Law," for the first and last time. She had played as a child when Garrick was in the fullest of his powers; won his regard, and the friendly counsel of Mrs. Clive; acted hoydens, chambermaids, and half-bred ladies, with a life, dash, and manner, free from all vulgarity; and laughed with free hilarity that begot hilarious laughing. She gave up young parts for old as age came on, and would have done it sooner, but that managers found her still attractive in the younger characters. In them she had been without a rival; and when she took to the Duennas and Mrs. Heidelbergs, she became equally without a rival. Miss Pope was as good a woman, and as well bred a lady, as she was a finished actress, and was none the less a friend of Garrick for having little theatrical controversies with him touching costume, salary, or other stage matters.

In 1761, she was Churchill's "lively Pope," a fairy of sixteen, bnt, in 1807, the fairy had expanded into "a bulky person, with a duplicity of chin." Out of life she faded gradually away; and one of the merriest and most vivacious actresses of her day lost, mutely, sense after sense ere she expired.

Bannister, Charles or John, father or son,-the name had a pleasant sound in our fathers' ears! The elder was a bass singer, with a voice that would crack a window pane. "A pewtiful foice!