and composer to the King’s Theatre, and his wife, Madame Colbran Rossini, appeared as prima donna seria; Madame Pasta and Madame Catalani being also engaged for a limited number of nights.  He relates, as something remarkable, that at the fall of the curtain after the performance of Mayer’s “Il Fanatico per la Musica,” Madame Catalani “was called for, when she again presented herself, making her obeisance, amidst waving of handkerchiefs and tumultuous applause.”  Madame Pasta, after appearing as Desdemona, “also had a call when the curtain fell, and was brought back to receive the reward due to her distinguished talents.”  Two seasons later Mr. Parke says, in reference to Madame Pasta’s performance of Desdemona:  “At the end of the opera, by desire of the audience, she came forward once more to receive that reward which is becoming so common that it will shortly cease to be a mark of distinction.”  And, two seasons after that, of her appearance in “Tancredi,” he writes:  “She, as usual, delighted the audience; and was, as usual, enthusiastically applauded.  After the curtain fell she was called for, as usual, to go through the ceremony of being unmercifully applauded.”

In the non-operatic theatres it is probable that calls first came in vogue when epilogues went out.

The players are called simply to congratulate them on their success, and to express some sort of gratitude for their exertions.  There is nothing to be urged against this method of applauding the performers when kept within reasonable bounds.  Sometimes it is to be feared, however, the least discreet of the audience indulge in calls rather for their own gratification—­by way of pastime during the interval between one play and another—­than out of any strict consideration of the abilities of the players; and, having called on one or two deserving members of a company, proceed to require the presence before the curtain of others who have done little to merit the compliment.  Certain playgoers, indeed, appear to applaud no matter what, simply for the sake of applauding.  They regard the theatre as a place to be noisy in, and for the vehement expression of their own restless natures.  When they cannot greet a player with acclamations, they will clamorously deride a footman, or other servant of the theatre, who appears before the foot-lights with a broom, or a watering-pot, a carpet, or other necessary of representation; or they will issue boisterous commands to the gentlemen of the orchestra to “strike up” and afford an interlude of music.  To these of the audience it is almost painful that a theatre should be peaceful or a stage vacant; rather than this should happen they would prefer, if it could possibly be contrived, and they were acquainted with his name, that the call-boy or the prompter should be called for and congratulated upon the valuable aid he had furnished to the performance.