A Book of the Play | Page 7

The dangling knee-fringe and the bib-cravat.
While the fops were thus equipped, the ladies wore vizard-masks, and
upon the appearance of one of these in the pit--
Straight every man who thinks himself a wit, Perks up, and managing
his comb with grace, With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face.
For it was the fashion of the gentlemen to toy with their soaring,
large-curled periwigs, smoothing them with a comb. Between the fops
and the ladies goodwill did not always prevail. The former were, no
doubt, addicted to gross impertinence in their conversation.
Fop Corner now is free from civil war, White wig and vizard-mask no
longer jar, France and the fleet have swept the town so clear.
So Dryden "prologuised" in 1672, attributing the absence of "all our
braves and all our wits" to the war which England, in conjunction with

France, had undertaken against the Dutch.
Queen Anne, in 1704, expressly ordered that "no woman should be
allowed, or presume to wear, a vizard-mask in either of the theatres."
At the same time it was commanded that no person, of what quality
soever, should presume to go behind the scenes, or come upon the stage,
either before or during the acting of any play; and that no person should
come into either house without paying the price established for their
respective places. And the disobedient were publicly warned that they
would be proceeded against, as "contemners of our royal authority and
disturbers of the public peace."
These royal commands were not very implicitly obeyed. Vizard-masks
may have been discarded promptly, but there was much crowding,
behind the scenes and upon the stage, of persons of quality for many
years after. Garrick, in 1762, once and for ever, succeeded in clearing
the boards of the unruly mob of spectators, and secured room to move
upon the scene for himself and his company. But it was only by
enlarging his theatre, and in such wise increasing the number of seats
available for spectators in the auditory of the house, that he was
enabled to effect this reform. From that date the playgoers of the past
grew more and more like the playgoers of the present, until the flight of
time rendered distinction between them no longer possible, and merged
yesterday in to-day. There must have been a very important change in
the aspect of the house, however, when hair powder went out of fashion
in 1795; when swords ceased to be worn--for, of course, then there
could be no more rising of the pit to slash the curtain and scenery, to
prick the performers, and to lunge at the mirrors and decorations; when
gold and silver lace vanished from coats and waistcoats, silks and
velvets gave place to broadcloth and pantaloons; and when, afterwards,
trousers covered those nether limbs which had before, and for so long a
period, been exhibited in silk stockings. Yet these alterations were
accomplished gradually, no doubt. All was not done in a single night.
Fashion makes first one convert, and then another, and so on, until all
are numbered among her followers and wear the livery she has
prescribed. Garrick's opinion of those playgoers of his time, whom he
at last banished from his stage, may be gathered from the dialogue

between Æsop and the Fine Gentleman, in his farce of "Lethe." Æsop
inquires: "How do you spend your evening, sir?" "I dress in the
evening," says the Fine Gentleman, "and go generally behind the
scenes of both playhouses; not, you may imagine, to be diverted with
the play, but to intrigue and show myself. I stand upon the stage, talk
loud, and stare about, which confounds the actors and disturbs the
audience. Upon which the galleries, who hate the appearance of one of
us, begin to hiss, and cry, 'Off, off!' while I, undaunted, stamp my foot,
so; loll with my shoulder, thus; take snuff with my right hand, and
smile scornfully, thus. This exasperates the savages, and they attack us
with volleys of sucked oranges and half-eaten pippins." "And you
retire?" "Without doubt, if I am sober; for orange will stain silk, and an
apple may disfigure a feature."
In the Italian opera-houses of London there have long prevailed
managerial ordinances touching the style of dress to be assumed by the
patrons of those establishments; the British playgoer, however,
attending histrionic performances in his native tongue has been left to
his own devices in that respect. It cannot be said that much harm has
resulted from the full liberty permitted him, or that neglect on his part
has impaired the generally attractive aspect of our theatrical auditories.
Nevertheless, occasional eccentricity has been forthcoming, if only to
incur rebuke. We may cite an instance or two.
In December, 1738, the editor of The London