d gradually, no doubt. All was not done in
a single night. Fashion makes first one convert, and then another, and
so on, until all are numbered among her followers and wear the livery
she has prescribed. Garrick's opinion of those playgoers of his time,
whom he at last banished from his stage, may be gathered from the
dialogue between AEsop and the Fine Gentleman, in his farce of "Lethe."
AEsop inquires: "How do you spend your evening, sir?" "I dress in the
evening," says the Fine Gentleman, "and go generally behind the
scenes of both playhouses; not, you may imagine, to be diverted with
the play, but to intrigue and show myself. I stand upon the stage,
talk loud, and stare about, which confounds the actors and disturbs
the audience. Upon which the galleries, who hate the appearance of one
of us, begin to hiss, and cry, 'Off, off!' while I, undaunted, stamp
my foot, so; loll with my shoulder, thus; take snuff with my right
hand, and smile scornfully, thus. This exasperates the savages, and
they attack us with volleys of sucked oranges and half-eaten pippins."
"And you retire?" "Without doubt, if I am sober; for orange will stain
silk, and an apple may disfigure a feature."

In the Italian opera-houses of London there have long prevailed
managerial ordinances touching the style of dress to be assumed by the
patrons of those establishments; the British playgoer, however,
attending histrionic performances in his native tongue has been left
to his own devices in that respect. 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