of gesture, with perhaps the occasional resort to a placard to supplement and interpret the "dumb motions" of the performers (a concession to, or an evasion of the old prohibition of speech in the "burletta houses "), vanished from the stage. The harlequinade characters ceased to take part in the opening, and that joy to youthful cunning of detecting the players of the later scenes in the disguises of their earlier presentment-harlequin, by the accidental revelation of parti-colour and spangles, and clown by the chance display of his motley trunks and hose-was gone for ever. Smart young ladies in the blonde wigs, the very curt tunics, the fleshings and the high heels of burlesque, appeared in lieu of these; and the spectacle of the characters in the opening loosening tapes and easing buttons in good time to obey the behest of the chief fairy, and transform themselves for harlequinade purposes, became an obsolete and withdrawn delight.

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Yet what were called speaking pantomimes," that is, pantomimes supplied to an unusual extent with spoken matter, were occasionally produced in times long past. Hazlitt mentions, only to condemn however, an entertainment answering to this description. It was called "Shakespeare versus Harlequin," and was played in 1820. It would scem to have been a revival of a production. of David Garrick's. "It is called a speak

we had

pan

ing pantomime," writes Hazlitt; rather it had said nothing. It is better to act folly than to talk it. The essence of tomine is practical absurdity keeping the wits in constant chase, coming upon one by surprise, and starting off again before you can arrest the fleeting 'phantom' the essence of this piece was prosing stupidity remaining like a mawkish picture on the stage, and overcoming your impatience by the force of ennui. A speaking pantomime such as this one is not unlike a flying waggon," &c. &c.

"Harlequin versus Shakespeare" was generally voted dreary and a failure. A Leigh Hunt mentions another "speaking pantomime," called Harlequin Pat and Harlequin Bat; or, The Giant's Causeway," produced at Covent Garden in 1830. "A speaking pantomime," Hunt objects, "is a contradiction in terms. It is a little too Irish. It is as much as to say, 'Here you have all dumb-show talking.' This, to be sure, is what made Grimaldi's talking so good. It was so rare and seasonable that it only proved the rule by the exception. The clowns of late speak too much. To keep on saying at every turn, 'Hallo!' or 'Don't!' or 'What do you mean?' only makes one think that the piece is partly written and not written well." We may note that Mr. Tyrone Power, the famous Irish comedian, appeared as harlequin in this pantomime, assisted by a skilled "double " to accomplish the indispensable

attitudinising, dancing, and jumping through holes in the wall. Power abandoned his share in the performance after a few nights, however, and the part was then undertaken by Mr. Keeley, and subsequently by Mr. F. Matthews.

Gradually, speaking was to be heard more and more in pantomimes; and some thirty years ago an attempt was made to invest this form of theatrical entertainment with peculiar literary distinction. The staff of Punch, at

that time very strong in talent, provided Covent Garden with a pantomime upon the subject of King John and Magna Charta. The result, however, disappointed public expectation. Punch was not seen to advantage in his endeavour to assume the guise of harlequin. At a later date, Mr. Keeley, at the Lyceum, produced a fairy extravaganza of the Planché pattern called "The Butterfly's Ball," and tacked on to it several "comic scenes for clown and pantaloon. The experiment was not wholly successful in the first instance; but by degrees the burlesque leaven affected the pantomimic constitution, and pantomimes came to be what we find them at present. The custom of interrupting the harlequinade by the exhibition of dioramic views, at one time contrived annually by Clarkson Stanfield, expired about twenty years ago; as a substitute for these came the gorgeous transformation scenes, traceable to the grand displays which were wont to conclude Mr. Planché extravaganzas at the Lyceum

Theatre, when under the management of Madame Vestris. Mr. Planché has himself described how the scene-painter came by degrees to take the dramatist's place in the theatre. "Year after year Mr. Beverley's powers were taxed to outdo his former outdoings. The last scene became the first in the estimation of the management. The most complicated machinery, the most costly materials were annually put into requisition, until their bacon was so buttered it was impossible to save it. As to me, I was positively painted out. Nothing was considered brilliant but the last scene. Dutch metal was in the ascendant."

This was fifteen years ago. But any change that may have occurred in the situation has hardly been for the better. The author ousted the mute; and now the author, in his turn, is overcome by the scene-painter, the machinist, and the upholsterer.

THE bird which saved the Capitol has ruined many a play. "Goose," "to be goosed," "to get the big-bird," signifies to be hissed, says the "Slang Dictionary." This theatrical cant term is of ancient date. In the introduction to Marston's comedy of "What You Will," 1607, it is asked if the poet's resolve shall be "struck through with the blirt of a goose breath?" Shakespeare makes no mention of goose in this sense, but he refers now and then to hissing as the playgoers' method of indicating disapproval. "Mistress Page, remember you your cue," says Ford's wife in "The Merry Wives of Windsor." "I warrant thee," replies Mistress Page, "if I do not act it, hiss me!" the Roman theatres it is well known that the spectators pronounced judgment upon the efforts of the gladiators and combatants of the arena by silently turning their thumbs up or down, decreeing death in the one case and life

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