protection of a British audience.”  The performance, which must certainly have been of a painful kind, attracted a very numerous audience:  and the fact may be regarded as proof that an appetite for what is now designated “the sensational” was not wholly unknown to the playgoers of the last century.  It does not appear that Dr. Clancy’s representation of the blind prophet was repeated, nor is it stated that as an histrionic effort it was particularly distinguished.  It was enough perhaps that the part was played by a man who was really blind, instead of by one merely simulating blindness.  Ultimately Dr. Clancy’s case moved the pity of George II., and he was awarded during his life a pension of L40 a year from the privy purse.

Other authors have from time to time appeared on the stage to speak prologues, or to sustain complete characters; for instance, Tom Durfey, Otway, Farquhar, Savage, Murphy, and, to jump to later days, Sheridan Knowles.  Their appearances, however, cannot be simply connected with benefits.  In many cases they, no doubt, contemplated the adoption of the stage as a profession, though, as a rule, it must be said success was denied them in such respect.  They played on their benefit-nights, of course, but their performances were not limited to those occasions.

It is not to be supposed that a benefit could be taken by an actor, or, at an earlier date, by an author, without his incurring much trouble in regard to preliminary arrangements.  The mere issue of a list of entertainments, however attractive, was by no means sufficient.  He was required to call at the houses of his patrons and friends, personally to solicit their support on the occasion, and to pay his respects to them.  Any failure of attention on his part in this matter he was bound to make the subject of public explanation and apology.  It must be remembered that the playgoers of a century ago were rather a family than a people.  They were limited in number, returned to the theatre night after night, naturally demanding that constant change of programme which so distinguished the old stage, and has been so completely omitted from modern theatrical arrangements, and were almost personally known to the actors.  This, of course, only refers to the visitors to the pit and boxes; the galleries were always presumed to be occupied by footmen and apprentices, and persons of no consideration whatever, while stalls were not yet in existence.  Strangers from the country were few—­those from foreign parts fewer still.  The theatre was regarded, as it were, from a household point of view; was in some sort supplementary to a man’s home, and he therefore considered himself entitled to be heard and to take a personal interest in regard to its concerns and proceedings.  Necessarily this feeling diminished as London grew in size and the audience increased in numbers, and finally became impossible.  An actor knew at last his admirers only in the mass; while they lost inevitably all individual and private