with his lower
limbs swathed in flannels. He was, indeed, unable to walk, or even to
stand, and throughout the performance had to be wheeled on and off the
stage. Surely light comedy was never seen under such disadvantageous
conditions. He endeavoured to compensate for his want of locomotive
power by taking snuff with great frequency, and waving energetically
in the air a large and soiled pocket-handkerchief. This Pentland,
indeed, appears to have been a curious example of the strolling
manager of the old school. His company consisted but of some
half-dozen performers, including himself, his wife, and his daughter.
He journeyed from town to town on a donkey, the faithful companion of
all his wanderings, with his gouty legs resting upon the panniers,
into which were packed the wardrobe and scenic embellishments of his
theatre. On these occasions he always wore his best light-comedy suit
of brown and gold, his inevitable wig, and a little three-cornered hat
cocked on one side, "giving the septuagenarian an air of gaiety that
well accorded with his known attachment to the rakes and heroes of the
drama; one hand was knuckled in his side--his favourite position--and
the other raised a pinch of snuff to his nose; and as he passed along
he nodded and bowed to all about him, and seemed greatly pleased with
the attention he excited." His company followed the manager on foot.
Yet for many years Mr. Pentland was the sole purveyor of theatrical
entertainments to several English counties, and did not shrink from
presenting to his audiences the most important works in the dramatic
repertory.

When, in 1817, Edmund Kean played Eustache de Saint Pierre in the play
of "The Surrender of Calais," he designed to impress the town
powerfully by the help of a wig made after the pattern of Count
Ugolino's. "I'll frighten the audience with it," said he; but, as it
happened, the audience declined to be frightened. On the contrary,
when the actor appeared upon the scene he was only partially
recognised by the spectators. Some persons even inquired: "Who is that
fellow?" None cried: "God bless him!" The wig, in short, was not
appreciated, for all it was of elaborate construction, and stood up,
bristling with its gray hairs like a _chevaux de frise_. The tragedian
very soon gave up the part in disgust.

It is odd to find a stage wig invested with political significance,
viewed almost as a cabinet question, considered as a possible
provocation o