The ministry hurried on their Licensing Bill.  It was entitled “An Act to explain and amend so much of an Act made in the twelfth year of Queen Anne, entitled ’An Act for reducing the laws relating to rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and vagrants, into one Act of Parliament; and for a more effectual punishing such rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and vagrants, and sending them whither they ought to be sent,’ as relates to common players of interludes.”  But its chief object—­undisclosed by its title, was the enactment that, for the future, every dramatic piece, including prologues and epilogues, should, previous to performance, receive the license of the Lord Chamberlain, and that, without his permission, no London theatre, unprotected by a patent, should open its doors.  Read a first time on the 24th of May, 1737, the bill was passed through both Houses with such despatch that it received the royal assent on the 8th of June following.  It was opposed in the House of Commons by Mr. Pulteney, and in the House of Lords by the Earl of Chesterfield, whose impressive speech on the occasion is one of the few specimens that survive of the parliamentary eloquence of the period.  With the passing of the Licensing Act, Fielding’s career as manager and dramatist was brought to a close.  He was constrained to devote himself to the study of the law, and subsequently to the production of novels.  And with the passing of the Licensing Act terminated the existence of the Master of the Revels; the Act, indeed, made no mention of him, ignored him altogether.  He survived, however, under another name—­still as the Chamberlain’s subordinate and deputy.  Thence forward he was known as the Licenser of Playhouses and Examiner of Plays.

CHAPTER III.

THE LICENSER OF PLAYHOUSES.

The Act of 1737 for licensing plays, playhouses, and players, and legalising the power the Lord Chamberlain had long been accustomed to exercise, although readily passed by both Houses of Parliament, gave great offence to the public.  The Abbe Le Blanc, who was visiting England at this period, describes the new law as provoking a “universal murmur in the nation.”  It was openly complained of in the newspapers; at the coffee-houses it was denounced as unjust and “contrary to the liberties of the people of England.”  Fear prevailed that the freedom of the press would next be invaded.  In the House of Lords Chesterfield had stigmatised the measure both as an encroachment on liberty and an attack on property.  “Wit, my lords,” he said, “is a sort of property.  It is the property of those that have it, and too often the only property they have to depend on.  It is, indeed; but a precarious dependence.  Thank God, we, my lords, have a dependence of another kind.  We have a much less precarious support, and, therefore, cannot feel the inconveniences of the bill now before us; but it is our duty to encourage and protect wit,