and announced Fielding’s “Miser” for his benefit—­“the part of Lovegold to be attempted by Mr. Yates after the manner of the late Mr. Griffin”—­apologises “for not waiting on ladies and gentlemen, as he is not acquainted with that part of the town.”  Whether this somewhat lofty plea of ignorance of their neighbourhood, however, affected unfavourably the actor’s claims upon the denizens of Goodman’s Fields, cannot now be ascertained.  In time notices of this kind disappeared altogether from the playbills.  At the present day an actor, of course, does his best to conciliate patronage, and in his own immediate circle of friends some little canvassing probably takes place to promote the sale of tickets; but these matters are arranged privately, and the general public is relieved from the calls of actors and their personal appeals for support.  Indeed, the old system is now in a great degree reversed, and the actor’s place of abode is often stated in his advertisements in order that the public may call upon him to obtain tickets for his benefit, if they prefer that course to purchasing them in the usual way at the box-office of the theatre.  In the case of actresses this plan has often been found efficacious in diminishing the exuberant ardour of certain youthful supporters of the stage, by enabling them to discover that the fair performer who had peculiarly stirred their dramatic sympathies, was hardly seen to such advantage by daylight, in the seclusion of her private dwelling, as when under the glare of gas, with distance lending enchantment to rouge and pearl-powder, and casting an accommodating veil over divers physical deficiencies and unavoidable deteriorations.

As benefits became common, and they were relegated to the close of the season, when the general appetite for theatrical entertainments may be presumed to be tolerably satiated, the actors found it very necessary to put forward performances of an unusual kind to attract patronage and stimulate the curiosity of the public.  It was understood that on these occasions criticism was suspended, and great licence was permissible.  A benefit came to be a kind of dramatic carnival.  Any and everything was held to be lawful, and efforts of an experimental kind were almost demanded—­certainly excused under the circumstances.  The player who usually appeared wearing the buskin now assumed the sock, and the established comedian ventured upon a flight into the regions of tragedy.  Novelty of some sort was indispensable, and the audience, if they might not wholly approve, were yet expected to forbear condemning.  The comic actors especially availed themselves of their privileges, and on the strength of their popularity—­the comedian always establishing more intimate and friendly relations between himself and his audience than are permitted to the tragedian—­indulged in very strange vagaries.  Mr. Spiller, on the occasion of his benefit at the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields in 1720, issued an advertisement:  “Whereas