ne, there existed among many
intelligent persons the vague idea that one who trod the boards was
nothing more or less than a vagabond, and we are not surprised to
learn, therefore, that in a royal proclamation of the period, "players
and mountebanks" are mentioned in the same sentence, as though there
was little difference between them.

Perhaps, the "artists" to whom the title of vagabond might be applied
with a certain degree of justice were the strolling players, who seem
to have been much after the fashion of others of their ilk, before
and since. Good-natured, poverty-stricken barnstormers they doubtless
were, living from-hand-to-mouth, and quite willing to go through the
whole gamut of tragedy, from Shakespeare to Dryden, for the sake of
a good supper. Here is a graphic picture of such a band of dramatic
ne'er-do-wells, drawn by Dick Steele in the forty-eighth issue of the
_Spectator_:

"We have now at this place [this is a letter of an imaginary
correspondent to 'Mr. Spectator'] a company of strollers, who are very
far from offending in the impertinent splendor of the drama. They are
so far from falling into these false gallantries, that the stage is
here in his original situation of a cart. Alexander the Great was
acted by a fellow in a paper cravat. The next day, the Earl of Essex
seemd to have no distress but his poverty; and my Lord Foppington the
same morning wanted any better means to show himself a fop than by
wearing stockings of different colours.[A] In a word, though they have
had a full barn for many days together, our itinerants are still so
wretchedly poor, that without you can prevail to send us the furniture
you forbid at the playhouse, the heroes appear only like sturdy
beggars, and the heroines gypsies. We have had but one part which was
performed and dressed with propriety, and that was Justice Clodpate.
This was so well done, that it offended Mr. Justice Overdo, who, in
the midst of our whole audience, was (like Quixote in the puppet show)
so highly provoked, that he told them, if they would move compassion,
it should be in their own persons and not in the characters of
distressed princes and potentates. He told them, if they were so good
at finding the way to people's hearts, they should do it at the end of
bridges or church porches, in their proper vocation as beggars. This,
the justice says, they must expect, since they could not be contented
to act heathen warriors, and such fellows as Al