The restrictive policy adopted by the Patent theatres—­till the repeal of their patents (1843)—­towards the minor houses, which gave to the former the sole and only right of performing the “legitimate” was, by the minor theatres, infringed in many ways.  The means adopted was the employment of Pantomime in the depiction of plays adapted and considered suitable for the minor theatres.  These were entirely carried on by action, and when the actor could not express something that had to be explained, like the names of characters, a scroll, with the necessary details inscribed thereon, was unrolled in full view of the audience.  These entertainments were very popular at the close of the eighteenth century, and they were also the means of providing some first-class Pantomimists—­as, for instance, Bologna and D’Egville.

In a couple of volumes by Mr. J.C.  Cross, entitled, “Circusiana,” the author of many of these old “dumb shows,” the reader can see what they were like.  The scripts of these plays consisted, like our ancient “Platts” and the Italian Scenarios, of principally stage directions.

John Palmer, the actor who died on the stage of the Theatre Royal, Liverpool—­now used for the purpose of a cold storage—­after uttering, in the part of “The Stranger,” the words “There is another and a better world,” found that, after building his theatre, the Royalty, in Wellclose Square, that he was prohibited its use, used to give Pantomimic representations, and just in a similar way as what the minor theatres did, as mentioned above.

It is amusing to note how the titles of some of Shakespeare’s works—­which at one time the Patent theatres had the monopoly—­were got over; “Hamlet” has been known to have been played as “Methinks I see my Father;” “Othello,” as “Is He Jealous?;” “Romeo and Juliet,” as “How to Die for Love;” “The Merchant of Venice,” under “Diamond Cut Diamond,” and so on.  Music and dancing also were introduced ad lib into these performances.

The Pantomime of “Mother Goose,” produced at Covent Garden, December 29, 1806, which ran 92 nights, was preceded by “George Barnwell,” and brought some L20,000 into the theatre treasury.  Strangely enough, for about thirty years, it was the unvarying rule to play “George Barnwell” at this theatre on a Boxing Night, which, from all accounts, owing to the liveliness of the gods and goddesses assembled on these occasions—­the Tragedy was as much a Pantomime as the Pantomime proper that followed.  Of these “merry moments” Dibdin recalls that Tragedies, Comedies, and Operas were doomed to suffer all the complicated combinations of “Pray ask that gentleman to sit down,” “Take off your hat?” and the like.  “But the moment,” continues Dibdin, “the curtain goes up (on the Pantomime), if any unfortunate gentleman speaks a word they make no reply, but throw him over directly.”

Seemingly afterwards, at Pantomime time, “Barnwell” was discarded in favour of “Jane Shore,” as in “The Theatrical Magazine” we find a writer penning the following:—­