Lords Chesterfield had stigmatised the measure both as an encroachment
on liberty and an attack on property. "Wit, my lords," he said, "is a
sort of property. It is the property of those that have it, and too
often the only property they have to depend on. It is, indeed; but a
precarious dependence. Thank God, we, my lords, have a dependence of
another kind. We have a much less precarious support, and, therefore,
cannot feel the inconveniences of the bill now before us; but it is
our duty to encourage and protect wit, whosoever's property it may be....
I must own I cannot easily agree to the laying of a tax upon wit;
but by this bill it is to be heavily taxed--it is to be excised; for
if this bill passes, it cannot be retailed in a proper way without a
permit; and the Lord Chamberlain is to have the honour of being chief
gauger, supervisor, commissioner, judge and jury." At this time,
however, it is to be noted that parliamentary reporting was forbidden
by both Houses. The general public, therefore, knew little of Lord
Chesterfield's eloquent defence of the liberty of the stage.

The Act was passed in June, when the patent theatres, according to
custom, were closed for the summer. Some two months after their
reopening in the autumn all dramatic representations were suspended
for six weeks, in consequence of the death of Queen Caroline. In
January was presented at Covent Garden "A Nest of Plays," as the
author, one Hildebrand Jacob, described his production: a combination
of three short plays, each consisting of one act only, entitled
respectively, "The Prodigal Reformed," "Happy Constancy," and "The
Trial of Conjugal Love." The performance met with a very unfavourable
reception. The author attributed the ill success of his work to its
being the first play licensed by the authority of the Lord Chamberlain
under the new bill, many spectators having predetermined to silence,
under any circumstances, "the first fruits of that Act of Parliament."
And this seems, indeed, to have been the case. The Abbe Le Blanc, who
was present on the occasion, writes: "The best play in the world would
not have succeeded that night. There was a disposition to damn
whatever might appear. The farce in question was damned, indeed,
without the least compassion. Nor was that all, for the actors were
driven off the stage, and happy was it for the author that he did not
fall into the hands of this furious assembly." And the Abbe proceeds
to explai