two princesses," he
continues, "meet on the stage, with the frequent stage-crossings then
practised, it would now seem truly entertaining to behold a page
dangling at the tail of each heroine." The same writer, referring to
the wardrobe he possessed as manager of the York and Hull theatres,
describes the dresses as broadly seamed with gold and silver lace,
after a bygone fashion that earned for them the contempt of London
performers. "Yet," he proceeds, "those despicable clothes had, at
different periods of time, bedecked real lords and dukes," and were of
considerable value, if only to strip of their decorations and take to
pieces. He laments the general decline in splendour of dress, and
declares that thirty years before not a Templar, or decently-dressed
young man, but wore a rich gold-laced hat and scarlet waistcoat, with
a broad gold lace, also laced frocks for morning dress.

Monmouth Street, St. Giles's, is now known by another name; but for
many years its dealers in cast clothes rendered important aid to the
actors and managers. It was to Monmouth Street, as he confesses, that
Tate Wilkinson hastened, when permitted to undertake the part of the
Fine Gentleman in Garrick's farce of "Lethe," at Covent Garden. For
two guineas he obtained the loan, for one night only, of a heavy
embroidered velvet spangled suit of clothes, "fit," he says, "for the
king in 'Hamlet.'" Repeating the character, he was constrained to
depend upon the wardrobe of the theatre, and appeared in "a very short
old suit of clothes, with a black velvet ground and broad gold
flowers, as dingy as the twenty-four letters on a piece of gilded
gingerbread"--the dress, indeed, which Garrick had worn when playing
Lothario, in "The Fair Penitent," ten years before. And it was to
Monmouth Street that Austin repaired, when cast for a very inferior
part--a mere attendant--in the same tragedy, in order to equip himself
as like to Garrick as he could--for Garrick was to reappear as
Lothario in a new suit of clothes. "Where did you get that coat from,
Austin?" asked the great actor, surveying his subordinate. "Sir!"
replied Austin boldly, "it is part of my country wardrobe." The
manager paused, frowned, reflected. Soon he was satisfied that the
effect of Austin's dress would be injurious to his own, especially as
Austin was of superior physical proportions. "Austin," he said at
length, "why, perhaps you have some other engagement--besides, the
part is really