Roscius on the stage. It was assumed on purpose to annoy Garrick, who wanted Austin to increase the number of companions who should surround the gallant, gay Lothario; and Austin's method of obedience made Davy eager to excuse his humble friend's attendance. A better illustration of stage costume is afforded us in the story of (I think, Bensley). He had to play Henry VI. in 'Richard the Third.' After the monarch's death in the early part of the play he had to appear for a moment or two as his own ghost, in the fifth act. The spirits were at that time exhibited en buste, by a trap. Now our Henry was invited out to supper, and being anxious to get there early, and knowing that little more than his shoulders would be seen by the public, he retained his black velvet vest and bugles; but, discarding the lower part of his stage costume, he drew on a jaunty pair of new, tight, nankeen pantaloons, to be as far dressed for his supper company as he could. When he stood on the trap, he cautioned the men who turned the crank not to raise him as high as usual, and of course they promised to obey. But a wicked low comedian was at hand, whose love of mischief prevailed over his judgment, and he suddenly applied himself with such goodwill to the winch that he ran King Henry up right to a level with the stage; and moreover gave his majesty such a jerk, that he was forced to step from the trap on to the boards, to save himself from falling. The sight of the old Lancastrian monarch in a costume of two such different periods-mediæval above, all nankeen and novelty below-was destructive of all decorum both before the stage and upon it. The audience emphatically "split their sides;" and as for the tyrant in the tent, he sat bolt upright, and burst into such an insane roar, that the real Richard could not have looked more frantically hysterical had the deceased Henry actually so visited him in the nankeen spirit. Mrs. Barry is said to have been a very elegant dresser; but, like most of her contemporaries, she was not a very correct one. Thus, in the 'Unhappy Favourite,' she played Queen Elizabeth, and, in the scene of the crowning, she wore the coronation robes of James the Second's queen; and Ewell says that she gave the audience a strong idea of the first-named Queen. Anne of Modena, with the exception of some small details, was dressed as little like Elizabeth as Queen Victoria was dressed like Anne. Royal dresses in earlier days were not turned to such base uses. Wichtlaf, King of the Mercians, gave his purple coronation robes to the monks of courteous Croyland; and they wore the same, cut up into copes and chasubles, at the service of the altar. Goodman, the comedian, who left the stage towards the close of the seventeenth century, was originally a Cambridge student, celebrated for his extravagance in dress, and for his being expelled for cutting and defacing the picture of the Duke of Monmouth, Chancellor of the University. He took to the stage, and was successful; but his salary was not sufficient to enable him to dress as he liked, and consequently he was "compelled," as he himself said, "to take the air." The light comedian, when the play was over, mounted a horse, turned highwayman, and was brought thereby so near to the gallows, that it was only the sign manual of James II. that saved his neck. The famous Duchess of Cleveland, "my Duchess," as Goodman used to call her, ought not to have left her handsome favourite in such a mean condition. His condition was so mean, that he and a fellow comedian, named Griffin, lived in one room, shared the same bed, and had but one shirt between them. This they wore alternately. It happened that one of them had to pay a visit to a lady, and wished to wear the shirt out of his turn; and this wish so enraged the other, that a fierce battle ensued, which ended, like many other battles, in the destruction of the prize contended for, and the mutual damage of the combatants. Jevon was another of the actors of this period who was noted for his dress and easy manners. The latter were particularly easy. As an example of it, I may remark that one day, as he entered a "No, thank you, my lad," club room, he took a clean napkin from one of the tables, and wiped therewith his muddy shoes. The waiter begged him to wait till he fetched a coarser cloth. said Jevon, "this will serve me well enough. I'm neither proud nor particular." Wilks the actor was the great ruler in matters of dress about this time. He was exceedingly simple in his tastes off the stage, but he was the best-dressed man upon it; and what he adopted was universally followed. An eminent critic, writing of this actor in 1729, says: “Whatever he did on the stage, let it be ever so trifling-whether it consisted in putting on his gloves, or taking out his watch, lolling on his cane, or taking snuff-every movement was marked by such an ease of breeding and manner, everything told so strongly the involuntary motion of a gentleman, that it was impossible to consider the character he represented in any other light than that of reality; but what was still more surprising, that person who could thus delight an audience from the gaiety and sprightliness of his manner, I met the next day in the street hobbling to a hackney coach, seemingly so enfeebled by age and infirmities, that I could scarcely believe him to be the same man." This splendid dresser exercised charity in a questionably liberal manner. He was a father to orphans, and left his widow with scarcely enough to find herself in cotton gowns. Our provincial theatres exhibit some strange anomalies with regard to costume, and there the sons and daughters of to-day have middle-aged sires wearing the costume of the time of George I. But the most singular anomaly in dress ever encountered by my experience was at a small theatre in Ireland, not very far from Sligo. The entertainment consisted of 'Venice Preserved,' and the balcony scene from 'Romeo and Juliet.' The Venetian ladies and gentlemen were attired in every possible variety of costume; yet not one of them wore a dress that could have been distinguished at any period as being once worn by any people, civilized or savage. Jaffier and Pierre however presented the greatest singularity, for they were not only indescribably decked, but they had but one pair of the buskin boots between them; and accordingly, when it was necessary for both to be in presence of the audience, each stood at the side-scene with a single leg protruded into sight and duly booted! When a soliloquy was to be delivered, the actor came forward, as easy in his buskins as though they belonged to himself, and were not enjoyed by a partner, à la Box and Cox. Nor was this all. The appointments of the entire house were of the same character. The roof was of tiles, the seats in the pit were of potato-sacks and sacks of potatoes; and never did I laugh so much at a tragedy as when a torrent of rain fell upon audience and actors, and Juliet went through the balcony scene in a dirty bed-gown, and under a cotton umbrella. I may observe that this Juliet, though unmarried, was spoken of as "Mrs." and not "Miss," for the reason that she was old enough to be the former. This was invariably the rule on our own stage a century and a half ago; and Cibber, in the 'Lady's Last Stake,' calls two of his female characters Miss Notable and Mrs. Conquest, though both are unmarried; but the former is hardly old enough to be a bride, and the latter might have had daughters of her own. Another coincidence struck me in the Irish theatre. The performances were announced as for the benefit of a certain actor and his creditors. I should have set this down to Irish humour, had I not remembered having read that Spiller, in 1719, had made the same announcement at Lincoln's Inn Fields. But enough of these remnants. I leave them, to portray an illustrative drama, the chief character in which was enacted by one who was great in costume; and who may therefore claim to have his story, hitherto told but to the select few, placed upon our record. THREE ACTS AND AN EPILOGUE. แ My youth Pass'd through the tropics of each fortune, I THE HUNTINGDON DIVERTISEMENT, Аст І. “Balthazar,” said a fine-looking lad in the prison of Orléans, “you are a brute !” By way of reply to this testimonial to character, the goaler struck the boy with his heavy bunch of keys on the head. The blow sent young Edmond staggering against the wall. He recovered himself, however, and dauntlessly repeated "Balthazar, you are nothing better than a brute!" And Edmond Thierry was right. Balthazar was not only a brutal gaoler, but he took delight in his vocation. He had abandoned the honest calling of a "marbrier," to take upon him the duties of guarding the victims whom Republican suspicion had consigned to captivity, and whom it destined to death. There is no doubt but that Balthazar was a brute. But brute as he was, his prisoners despised him. They endured, but they defied him. His hand might smite, but his ferocity could not subdue them. They would be happy, and their determination only rendered him the more ferocious. From the old Breton gentleman, Pantin de la Guerre, to little Edmond Thierry, there was not one whom he would not daily cuff, and cuff all the harder |