Possibly harlequin became a mute, in the first instance, to suit the limited capacity in the matter of elocution of some such performer as Rich; or the original dumbness of the harlequinade figures may be attributable to the strictness with which of old the theatres, unprotected by patents, were prohibited from giving spoken entertainments.  What were then called the “burletta houses” were permitted performances of dancing, singing, tumbling, juggling—­anything, indeed, but speech unaccompanied by music.  The popularity of these performances was beyond question, however, and, in time, the mute drove the speaking harlequin from the stage:  the great theatres probably copying the form of pantomimes of the minor houses, as they were by-and-by also induced to follow the smaller stages in the matter of their melodramas and burlettas.

The comic “openings” known to modern times had no place in Rich’s pantomimes.  These were divided into two parts, the first being devoted to scenic surprises and magical transformations of a serious nature, and the last to all kinds of comic antics, tumbling and dancing.  No allusions to passing events or the follies of the day were, however, introduced.

Harlequin lost his place as the chief member of the pantomime troop, when the part of clown was entrusted to the famous Grimaldi, “the Garrick of clowns,” as Theodore Hook called him.  This great comic artist devised the eccentric costume still worn by clowns—­the original whiteness of the Pierrot’s dress being used as a groundwork upon which to paint variegated spots, stars, and patches; and nearly all the “comic business” of modern harlequinades is of his invention.  The present dress of the harlequin dates from the beginning of the century only.  Until then the costume had been the loosely fitting parti-coloured jacket and trousers to be seen worn by the figures in Watteau’s masquerade subjects.  In the pantomime of “Harlequin Amulet; or, The Magic of Mona,” produced at Drury Lane in 1800, Mr. James Byrne, the ballet-master, the father of the late Mr. Oscar Byrne, appeared as harlequin in “a white silk shape, fitting without a wrinkle,” into which the coloured silk patches were woven, the whole being profusely covered with spangles, and presenting a very sparkling appearance.  The innovation was not resisted, but was greatly applauded, and Mr. Byrne’s improved attire is worn by all modern harlequins.

Some eighty years ago John Kemble, addressing his scene-painter in reference to a forthcoming pantomime, wrote:  “It must be very short, very laughable, and very cheap.”  If the great manager-actor’s requirements were fairly met, it is certain that the entertainment in question was of a kind very different to the pantomime of our day—­a production that is invariably very long, rarely laughable, and always of exceeding costliness.  Leigh Hunt complained in 1831 that pantomimes were not what they had been, and that the