and tail in a most surprising manner, and makes behind the curtain with a velocity scarcely credible.  It is about a foot and a half in circumference of the thickest part, and far exceeds the former custom of stuffing a bag into such likeness.  It is believed to have cost more than L200; and when the multitude of wings, springs, etc., whereof it consists, are considered, the charge will not appear extravagant.  The whole Royal family have been to see this performance; and, from what can be judged, everybody else will see it before the end of the season, the house being every day full at 3 o’clock, though seldom empty till after eleven.”

Sam Hoole—­father of the translator of Tasso and Ariosto—­was Rich’s chief machinist at this period, and the inventor of this famous serpent.  He had, according to Cumberland, a shop where he sold mechanical toys.  Having a large stock of serpent toys left on his hands he became a ruined and bankrupt man.

“Orpheus and Eurydice” was revived by Rich in 1747, and again in 1755; when it ran 31 nights.  In 1768 it was reproduced by his successors at Covent Garden.  In October, 1787, it was again put in the bill, and this time by Royal Command, it was said.

Of the number of Pantomimes brought out by Rich I shall not dilate on, and those that I have referred to will, doubtless, show what all these “plays without words” were like.

During the summer season of 1761, at Drury Lane, Murphy and Foote endeavoured

    “From Pantomime to free the stage
    And combat all the ministers of the age,”

by ridiculing the popular amusement in having the character of Harlequin hung in full view of the audience in a play entitled “The Wishes.”  When the catastrophe was at hand Murphy whispered to Cumberland:  “If they don’t damn this, they deserve to be damned themselves!” No sooner were the words uttered than a turbulent mob in the pit broke out, and quickly put an end to the dire fatality with which Pantomime and its hero, Harlequin, were threatened.

Christopher Rich gave the first engagement to the afterwards celebrated actress, Mrs. Oldfield, and, previously, a similar kindness to Robert Wilks, about the year 1690, at the salary of fifteen shillings a week, with two shillings and sixpence deducted for teaching him to dance.  Another famous performer, Macklin, was also introduced to the stage by this family.

At the Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre, in 1721, there was a memorable riot, caused by some drunken aristocratic beaux, owing to an alleged insult, which one of their number was supposed to have received.  The beau referred to, a noble Earl, had crossed the stage whilst Macbeth and his lady were upon it, in order to speak to a companion who was lolling in the wings.  Rich told the noble Earl that for his indecorum he would not be allowed behind the scenes again, which so incensed the latter that he gave Manager Rich a smart slap on the face, which Rich returned.