lished his memoirs in Dublin in 1750. Dr.
Clancy was blind, and the playbill was headed with the line from
Milton, "The day returns, but not to me returns." The play was
"Oedipus," and the part of Tiresias, the blind prophet, was undertaken
by Dr. Clancy. The advertisements expressed a hope that "as this will
be the first instance of any person labouring under so heavy a
deprivation performing on the stage, the novelty as well as the
unhappiness of his case will engage the favour and protection of a
British audience." The performance, which must certainly have been of
a painful kind, attracted a very numerous audience: and the fact may
be regarded as proof that an appetite for what is now designated "the
sensational" was not wholly unknown to the playgoers of the last
century. It does not appear that Dr. Clancy's representation of the
blind prophet was repeated, nor is it stated that as an histrionic
effort it was particularly distinguished. It was enough perhaps that
the part was played by a man who was really blind, instead of by one
merely simulating blindness. Ultimately Dr. Clancy's case moved the
pity of George II., and he was awarded during his life a pension of
L40 a year from the privy purse.

Other authors have from time to time appeared on the stage to speak
prologues, or to sustain complete characters; for instance, Tom
Durfey, Otway, Farquhar, Savage, Murphy, and, to jump to later days,
Sheridan Knowles. Their appearances, however, cannot be simply
connected with benefits. In many cases they, no doubt, contemplated
the adoption of the stage as a profession, though, as a rule, it must
be said success was denied them in such respect. They played on their
benefit-nights, of course, but their performances were not limited to
those occasions.

It is not to be supposed that a benefit could be taken by an actor,
or, at an earlier date, by an author, without his incurring much
trouble in regard to preliminary arrangements. The mere issue of a
list of entertainments, however attractive, was by no means
sufficient. He was required to call at the houses of his patrons and
friends, personally to solicit their support on the occasion, and to
pay his respects to them. Any failure of attention on his part in this
matter he was bound to make the subject of public explanation and
apology. It must be remembered that the playgoers of a century ago
were rather a family than a people. They were limited in number,
returned to