nd Venus," of which
Colley Cibber says: Was formed into something more than motion without
meaning into a connected presentation of dances in character, wherein
the passions were so happily expressed, and the whole story so
intelligibly told by a mute narration of gesture only, that even
thinking spectators allowed it to be both a pleasing and a rational
entertainment; though, at the same time, from our distrust of its
reception we durst not venture to decorate it with any extraordinary
expense of scenes or habits; but upon the success of this attempt it was
rightly concluded that if a visible expense in both were added to
something of the same nature, it could not fail of drawing the town
proportionately after it.

From this original hint there (but every way unequal to it) sprang forth
that succession of monstrous medlies, that have so long infested the
stage, and which arose upon one another alternately, at both houses,
outvying in expense, like contending bribes on both sides at an
election, to secure a majority of the multitude.

If I am asked (after condemning these fooleries myself) how I came to
assent or continue my share of expense to them? I have no better excuse
for my error, than confessing it. I did it against my conscience, and
had not virtue enough to starve by opposing a multitude that would have
been too hard for me.

("The Drama's laws the Drama's patrons give," has always been an axiom
of the stage; and worthy Colley Cibber, notwithstanding his antagonism,
and the rivalry of Rich, had too good a knowledge of this truism not to
do otherwise but follow the popular voice.)

Notwithstanding then (Cibber continues) this, our compliance with the
vulgar taste, we generally made use of these Pantomimes, but as crutches
to our weakest plays. Nor were we so lost to all sense of what was
valuable, as to dishonor our best authors in such bad company. We still
had a due respect to several select plays, that were able to be their
own support; and in which we found constant account, without painting
and patching them out.... It is a reproach to a sensible people to let
folly so quickly govern their pleasures.

Henry Fielding, the novelist, was one of Harlequin's assailants. "The
comic part of the English Pantomimes," he says, "being duller than
anything before shown on the stage could only be set off by the
superlative dulness of the serious portion, in which the gods and
goddesses were so insufferably tediou