the guise of Mrs. Malaprop.  The Kembles have sought to make their solemn airs and sepulchral tones available in the reckless scenes and hilarious utterances of farce—­and exuberant comedians of the Keeley and Liston pattern have ventured to tincture with whimsicality the woes of tragedy.  To draw a crowded house and bring money to the treasury was the only aim.  Benefits, in fact, followed the argument of the old drinking song—­merriment at all costs to-night, and sobriety, somehow, on the morrow—­until the benefit season came round again, and then—­da capo!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THUNDERS OF APPLAUSE.

Addison devotes a number of “The Spectator” to a description of “The Trunkmaker in the Upper Gallery”—­a certain person so called, who had been observed to frequent, during some years, that portion of the theatre, and to express his approval of the transactions of the stage by loud knocks upon the benches or the wainscot, audible over the whole house.  It was doubtful how he came to be called the Trunkmaker; whether from his blows, resembling those often given with a hammer in the shops of such artisans, or from a belief that he was a genuine trunkmaker, who, upon the conclusion of his day’s work, repaired to unbend and refresh his mind at the theatre, carrying in his hand one of the implements of his craft.  Some, it is alleged, were foolish enough to imagine him a perturbed spirit haunting the upper gallery, and noted that he made more noise than ordinary whenever the Ghost in “Hamlet” appeared upon the scene; some reported that the trunkmaker was, in truth, dumb, and had chosen this method of expressing his content with all he saw or heard; while others maintained him to be “the playhouse thunderer,” voluntarily employing himself in the gallery when not required to discharge the duties of his office upon the roof of the building.  The “Spectator,” holding that public shows and diversions lie well within his province, and that it is particularly incumbent upon him to notice everything remarkable touching the elegant entertainments of the theatre, makes it his business to obtain the best information he can in regard to this trunkmaker, and finds him to be “a large black man whom nobody knows;” who “generally leans forward on a huge oaken plant,” attending closely to all that is occurring upon the stage; who is never seen to smile, but who, upon hearing anything that pleases him, takes up his staff with both hands, and lays it upon the next piece of timber that stands in his way, with exceeding vehemence; after which, he composes himself to his former posture, till such time as something new sets him again at work.  Further, it was observed of him, that his blows were so well timed as to satisfy the most judicious critics.  Upon the expression of any shining thought of the poet, or the exhibition of any uncommon grace by the actor, the trunkmaker’s blow falls upon bench or wainscot.  If the audience fail to concur with him, he smites a second time, when, if the audience still remain unroused, he looks round him with great wrath and administers a third blow, which never fails to produce the desired effect.  Occasionally, however, he is said to permit the audience to begin the applause of their own motion, and at the conclusion of the proceeding ratifies their conduct by a single thwack.