It cannot be said that much harm
has resulted from the full liberty permitted him, or that neglect on
his part has impaired the generally attractive aspect of our
theatrical auditories. Nevertheless, occasional eccentricity has been
forthcoming, if only to incur rebuke. We may cite an instance or two.
In December, 1738, the editor of _The London Evening Post_ was thus
addressed by a correspondent assuming the character of Miss Townley:
"I am a young woman of fashion who love plays, and should be
glad to frequent them as an agreeable and instructive
entertainment, but am debarred that diversion by my relations
upon account of a sort of people who now fill or rather infest
the boxes. I went the other night to the play with an aunt of
mine, a well-bred woman of the last age, though a little formal.
When we sat down in the front boxes we found ourselves
surrounded by a parcel of the strangest fellows that ever I saw
in my life; some of them had those loose kind of great-coats on
which I have heard called _wrap-rascals_, with gold-laced hats,
slouched in humble imitation of _stage-coachmen_; others aspired
at being _grooms_, and had dirty boots and spurs, with black
caps on, and long whips in their hands; a third sort wore scanty
frocks, with little, shabby hats, put on one side, and clubs in
their hands.
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