the part of the old man, spent an hour in dressing himself, and that, with the assistance of several pencils, he disguised his face so nicely and painted so artificially a part of his eyebrows and eyelids, that, at the distance of six paces, it was impossible not to be deceived.  I was desirous to be a witness of this myself, but pride hindered me; so, knowing I must be ashamed, I was satisfied with a confirmation of it from other actors.  Mademoiselle Salle, among others, who then shone upon that stage, confessed to me that the first time she saw him perform she durst not go into a passage where he was, fearing lest she should throw him down should she happen to touch him in passing by.”  Assuredly a more successful make-up than this could not be desired.  In conclusion, Signor Riccoboni flatters himself that his reference to this matter may not be thought altogether useless; “it may let us know to what an exactness the English comedians carry the imitation of nature, and may serve for a proof of all that I have advanced of the actors of the English theatre.”

Dogget, the old comedian of Queen Anne’s time—­to whom we owe an annual boat-race upon the Thames for a “coat and badge,” and, inferentially, the popular burletta of “The Waterman”—­was remarkably skilful, according to Colley Cibber, “in dressing a character to the greatest exactness ... the least article of whatever habit he wore seemed to speak and mark the different humour he represented; a necessary care in a comedian, in which many have been too remiss or ignorant.”  This is confirmed by another critic, who states that Dogget “could with the greatest exactness paint his face so as to represent the ages of seventy, eighty, and ninety, distinctly, which occasioned Sir Godfrey Kneller to tell him one day at Button’s Coffee House, that ’he excelled him in painting, for that he could only paint from the originals before him, but that he (Dogget) could vary them at pleasure, and yet keep a close likeness.’” In the character of Moneytrap, the miser, in Vanbrugh’s comedy of “The Confederacy,” Dogget is described as wearing “an old threadbare black coat, to which he had put new cuffs, pocket-lids, and buttons, on purpose to make its rusticness more conspicuous.  The neck was stuffed so as to make him appear round-shouldered, and give his head the greater prominency; his square-toed shoes were large enough to buckle over those he wore in common, which made his legs appear much smaller than usual.”  Altogether, Mr. Dogget’s make-up appears to have been of a very thorough and artistic kind.

Garrick’s skill “in preparing his face” has been already referred to, upon the authority of Mr. Waldron.  From the numerous pictures of the great actor, and the accounts of his histrionic method furnished by his contemporaries, it would seem, however, as though he relied less upon the application of paint than upon his extraordinary command of facial expression.  At a moment’s notice he completely varied his