s an extraordinary entertainment, which
evoked thunders of applause from the audience. The eccentric agility
of the combatants, the peculiarities of their method of engagement,
the stirring staccato music of the band, the clashing of the swords
and the shower of sparks thus occasioned, were found quite
irresistible by numberless playgoers. Mr. Crummles, it will be
remembered, had a very high opinion of this form of entertainment.

Of late, however, the broadsword combat has declined as a theatrical
attraction if it has not altogether expired. The art involved in its
presentment is less studied, or its professors are less capable than
was once the case. And perhaps burlesque has exposed too glaringly its
ridiculous or seamy side. It was not one of those things that could
long endure the assaults of travesty. The spell was potent enough in
its way, but it dissolved when once interruptive laughter became
generally audible. A creature of theatrical tradition, curiously
sophisticated and enveloped in absurdities, its long survival is
perhaps more surprising than the fact of its decease. Some attempt at
ridiculing it seems to have been made so far back as the seventeenth
century, in the Duke of Buckingham's "Rehearsal." Two characters
enter, each bearing a lute and a drawn sword, and alternately fight
and sing; "so that," as Bayes explains, "you have at once your ear
entertained with music and good language, and your eye satisfied with
the garb and accoutrements of war." In the same play, also, the actors
were wont to introduce hobby-horses, and fight a mimic battle of very
extravagant nature.

Ridicule of a stage army was one of the established points of humour
in the old burlesque of "Bombastes Furioso," and many a pantomime has
won applause by the comical character of the troops brought upon the
scene. It should be said, however, that of late years the more famous
battles of the theatre have been reproduced with remarkable liberality
and painstaking. In lieu of "four swords and bucklers," a very
numerous army of supernumeraries has marched to and fro upon the
boards. In the ornate revivals of Shakespeare, undertaken from time to
time by various managers, especial attention has been directed to the
effective presentment of the battle scenes. The "auxiliaries" have
frequently consisted of soldiers selected from the household troops.
They are reputed to be the best of "supers," imposing of aspect,
stalwart and straight-limb