by competent gentlemen to prove that the theatre was not a paying concern. The report appeared, proving that if any reduction were made in prices, the proprietors would lose three-fourths per cent. on their capital. This statement had no effect on the unreasoning mob. On the reopening of the house on the 4th October, the riot began more furiously than ever. Cooke, unfortunately, in a prologue alluded to the late "hostile rage." The expression was like throwing a match into gunpowder. The people lashed themselves into a frenzy; they assailed the boxes, and ran up and down the pit benches during the play. Then, too, was introduced, we are told, the famous O. P. war-dance in the pit, which seems to have resembled the French Carmagnole, "with its calm beginning, its swelling into noise and rapidity, and its finale of demoniacal uproar and confusion." Princes of the Blood visited the boxes, and having beheld the spectacle, and heard the Babel of roaring throats, laughed and went home! Afterwards the crowd marched to Kemble's house, 89 Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, and continued the riot there. At last arrests were made of the leaders, but they were acquitted, and Kemble consented to appear at the dinner given in their honour. This was a hauling down of the flag, but in reality the proprietors came off victors. The rate of admission to the pit was reduced by sixpence, but the half-price remained at two shillings. The private boxes were diminished, but the new price of admission was maintained. It must have been a bitter probation for proud tempers like the Kembles to go through.
"My appearance of illness was occasioned entirely," Mrs. Siddons writes about this time to a friend, "by an agitating visit that morning from poor Mr. John
