PREFACE.

IN this Age of Theatric change, when TRAGEDIES have found themſelves to be COMEDIES, and CO⯑MEDIES have bordered upon PANTOMIME; nothing has changed ſo little as Pantomime itſelf. Harle⯑quin ſkips away his Paſſion;—Colombine foots it to the ſame Tune;—the choſen Lover ſlides acroſs the Stage, melancholy and gentlemanlike;—the Clown breaks his Head pleaſantly againſt the Scene, and the Father tumbles over him, in the ſame Way, and fortunately with the ſame Merriment, he has done any Time theſe Hundred Years.

Theſe Witticiſms are certainly good ones, for they are undoubtedly the oldeſt, and of the longeſt ſtanding of any in Chriſtendom.

But one Jeſt cannot unfortunately live for ever. In the Eaſt Indies, the ſame Joke laſts only a Twelvemonth, and is terminated by the Arrival of the next Ships.

For this Reaſon, the Author of the Pantomime, in which the following Songs bear a Part, has attempted to ſtray from the beaten Road; but it is requeſted the Audience will not be alarmed. The [iv] Hero of to Night is not about to be a Man of Sentiment; tho' Othello might be ſuch with a black Face, he had not the good, or the ill Fortune, to have a Party-colour'd Jacket, which cuts ſhort all Sen⯑timent at once.

The Novelty attempted to be dramatiſed To-night, takes its Riſe from the Writings of MISS AIKIN, and the HON. HORACE WALPOLE. The Caſtle of Otranto, and the Fragment of Sir Bertrand, form the Baſis of an Endeavour to bring upon the Stage ſomewhat of the Effects which may be pro⯑duced by Midnight Horror, and Agency ſuper⯑natural. What may be the Reſult of this Experi⯑ment, To-night muſt determine, for hitherto the Experiment has not been made.

The Ghoſt of Hamlet, and the Witches of Mac⯑beth do not militate againſt this Aſſertion. Their Appearance, tho' out of Nature, was ſimple and not combined. The Clank of Chains, the Whiſtling of hollow Winds, the Clapping of Doors, Gigantic Forms, and viſionary Gleams of Light, attended not their Effects upon the Stage. The firm Mind certainly may laugh at all this; but if ever, on a late Winter Evening, at a well-told Story of an Appari⯑tion, the Company have found themſelves unuſu⯑ally attentive, and ſometimes unwittingly look'd back;—if they have felt no Wiſh to part;—if imper⯑ceptibly they have ſat more cloſely together, and heard the Summons to Reſt and Separation,—the retiring to a lone Chamber with Reluctance, not [v] to ſay Diſquietude;—if all this has happen'd, then are we right in thinking there is ſomewhat of En⯑thuſiaſm, or Superſtition in theſe Matters, which Reaſon ſmiles at, but cannot prevail over.—

If this is a Weakneſs, the greateſt and the beſt of all Times have felt its Force;—Henry the Fourth, the great Duke of Marlborough,—and a Family of Rank in this Country, with whom the Author has had the Honor of being intimate, were remar⯑kable Inſtances of this Truth.

Mix'd up with lighter Things to counteract the Gloom, ſome Grains of this Species of Compoſition will form the Potion of the Pantomime in Queſtion; in other Matters the Author humbly hopes he ſhall not be more dull than his Neighbours have been before him: perhaps quite as nonſenſical, and ſometimes more abſurd.—He truſts, however, the Audience will not be diſpleaſed with him, for having ſubſtituted a talkative Attendant upon Har⯑lequin in the room of the uſual Dumb Grimace of the Clown, or having given them the youthful Accom⯑pliſhments of Miſs WILKINSON as a Colombine in the Place of a Figurante.