the theatre, if the same were insured; and that
upon the supposition of insurance, at the former
prices of admission, the proprietors would, in
the judgment of the committee, annually
sustain a loss of three-quarters per cent per
annum on their capital. Upon this report
being made public, the question arose whether
the common interest of five per cent was or
was not included in the estimate of profits,
which called forth the further declaration, that,
after deducting the legal interest of five per
cent on the capital, no more than one three-
eighths per cent remained to the proprietors for
their whole profits.

The receipts of six years had amounted to
three hundred and sixty-five thousand nine
hundred and eighty-three pounds; the highest, the
Master Betty year (1804), being seventy thousand
seven hundred and twenty-seven pounds.
The average was three hundred pounds a night;
there being two hundred acting nights in the
year. The expenses in six years had been
three hundred and seven thousand nine hundred
and twelve pounds.

Notwithstanding, however, the commissioners
were men of business, used to accounts,
and hence not likely to be deceived themselves,
and of a respectability which seemed to
preclude the presumption of their deceiving others,
their report was very far from proving satisfactory
to the public. On re-opening the theatre
on the 10th of October, therefore, the same
discordant and hideous noises were resumed, with
cries of "Old prices." "Items." "Imposition."
"You don't hoax us." "No garbled extracts to
humbug John Bull." Placards were exhibited
inscribed with:

     Mr. Kemble, lower your prices; for no evasion
     Will suit John Bull on this occasion.

     John Kemble, let your monopoly cease,
     And then raise your prices as high as you please.

     No private boxes for intriguing.

     A long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull
altogether for old prices.

     John Bull, be very bold and resolute! Never
   depart from your resolution, but firmly keep your
   noisy station.

For the first two or three nights after the
reopening, these disturbances began at the
commencement of the play; but afterwards the
rioters, becoming tired of paying the full price,
and more wary, did not begin till the half price.
Each night of the riot appears to have had its
own distinguishing incident. On one occasion
a gentleman attracted much notice by appearing
in a great coat and a nightcap. On another,
a gemman in a box, having entered into an
altercation with a gentleman in the pit, expressed
a wish to speak. Silence having been restored,
be began by alluding to what had fallen "from
that there gentleman in that there hat." The
"wild waters " were still in a roar. The rioters
now began to clang dustmen's bells, blow coachmen's
horns, hiss, and clack watchmen's
rattles. The mob had grown stark staring mad
upon the O. P. question. All the herds of
Circe were let loose, and the mob ran riot
in their partisanship with the Whigs and
the Reformers. The O. P. rioters Iaughed,
sang, groaned, and wore the letters O. P. in their
hats and on their waistcoats. They formed
rings and got up mock fights in the pit, which
terminated in roars and shouts of laughter.
The special moment of the evening was when
a simultaneous rush was made from the back
of the pit down upon the orchestra. Pigeons
were let loose from the boxes to show that John
Bull was not to be "pigeoned." "Artillery
whistles " screeched in the air. The placards
and banners (a hint from pantomimes) broke
out again a hundred strong and turned the
boxes into booths. The inscriptions now were:

          Mountain and Dickons,
          No cat, no kittens.

     " Britons who have humbled a prince, will
   not be conquered by a manager."

The O. P. dance, the rioters' favourite nightly
diversion, was a performance as noisy and
almost as demoniacal as the Carmagnole of the
French revolutionists. It consisted of an
alternate stamping of the feet, accompanied with
the cry of "O. P." in regular and monotonous
cadence. It began calmly, and increased in
violence and rapidity till it ended in frenzied leaping,
maddened confusion, and Bedlam broke
loose.

The races up and down the pit benches were
also very popular, while ruffians with false
noses, or dressed as women, grimaced about the
house or insulted the ladies in the obnoxious
private boxes. Kemble and the managers at last
lost their temper at all this, and took a false step.
They got the Bow-street magistrates to lend
them old Townsend and a band of runners
armed with bludgeons. Mendoza, the prize-
fighter, gave orders to all who would help him
against the O. P. party, and beat them into
submission. Another pugilist led also into the arena a
threatening regiment of gallows' birds, broken-
nosed, bull-necked, and scarred rowdies, with
low bumpy foreheads and pig-like eyes; fellows
with arms like Hercules and backs like Atlas.
Lord Yarmouth, conspicuous by his flaming red
whiskers, and Berkeley Craven proved their
Norman descent by fighting side by side with
these greasy, large-nosed, black-haired bruisers.

The pit bore this and the constables' staves
pretty well till half-price time the second night,
when, with an Indian yell of rage, a hundred fists
were at once clenched, and the rioters fell
dauntlessly upon the hired legions, felling them
and drubbing them on every side. Eyes grew
black, mouths puffed, and noses bled.

Another flaunting banner informed the house
that the salaries of the Kembles and Madam
Catalani amounted for the season to twenty-five
thousand five hundred and seventy-five pounds.
The speakers called Kemble a "fellow" and a