That ancient puppet-show joke of Mr. Punch's horse picking the pocket of the chequered fool of the farce, is exhibited in a balcony, on one side of which is a bout at cudgels by puppets all alive!
Under a show-cloth, which announces "The Siege of Troy[103] is here," are a company rehearsing some part of the play. By a sun upon the breast of the figure in a mitre, we know him to be the high-priest of Apollo, the venerable Chryses. While one arm of this sage of many sorrows is twined round the pole which supports the wooden horse, the other is stretched out in moving supplication, entreating the hearers to
"Relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Chryseïs to his arms again."
Chryseïs, however, is perfectly satisfied with her situation. Seated in all the pride of conscious beauty close to the haughty Atrides, and glorying in his protection, she prefers the lover to the parent. The inexorable chief nods his plumed crest, grasps his truncheon, and "looks with threatening brow on all around."
"No tears subdue him, no entreaties move,
He dares avenging Phœbus, son of Jove."
A little fellow with long hair, playing upon the bagpipes,[104] is attended by a dancing dog, dressed en militaire, and with his foot dances his Fantoccini figures. His Madame Catharina does not excite the attention she merits: the woman with a dice-box has superior attractions; and a country fellow, in a coat which seems to have been the Sunday habiliment of his forefathers for many generations, is trying his fortune, though earnestly dissuaded by his more prudent son from putting his pence in so perilous a situation. The woman, with that energetic eloquence which marks the orators of Billingsgate, rates the boy for daring to doubt her honesty. On the other side, a Savoyard music-grinder, with her galante show, is attended by a dwarf drummer, and collecting pence from the little people who prefer a wonderful and surprising prospect of every court in Europe to a pennyworth of gingerbread. In the distance, a set of figures have been engaged at quarter-staff, then a favourite amusement; and the conqueror, waving his flag of victory, is hoisted upon the shoulders of another man; and thus triumphantly exalted, the air echoes with loud and reiterated acclamations in honour of his prowess.
Having despatched the herd[105] of characters who people the scene on earth, I reserved to a class by themselves those who are buoyant in the air. The figure vaulting on a rope was designed for Signora Violante, who signalized herself in the reign of George I. She was followed by some inferior performers; but the science of rope-dancing and riding has now arrived at its acme, and is rising into such estimation with the public, that Dr. Johnson's prophecy may, at a future day, be wholly fulfilled in our royal theatres. In part it has been already verified:
"Perhaps where Lear has rav'd and Hamlet died,