Reader, it is impossible that you can form an idea of the smallness of
that theatre; unless you have by chance lived in a country town, when
the assembly-room of the head inn has been fitted up with the aid of
brown paper and ochre, for the exhibition of some heroes of the sock
and buskin, vulgarly called strollers. At the old Windsor Theatre, her
majesty's apothecary in the lower boxes might have almost felt her
pulse across the pit. My knowledge of the drama commenced at the early
age of seven years, amidst this royal fellowship in fun; and most
loyally did I laugh when his majesty, leaning back in his capacious
arm-chair in the stage-box, shook the house with his genuine peals of
hearty merriment. Well do I remember the whole course of these royal
play-goings. The theatre was of an inconvenient form, with very sharp
angles at the junctions of the centre with the sides. The stage-box,
and the whole of the left or O.P. side of the lower tier, were
appropriated to royalty. The house would fill at about half-past six.
At seven, precisely, Mr. Thornton, the manager, made his entrance
backwards, through a little door, into the stage-box, with a plated
candlestick in each hand, bowing with all the grace that his gout would
permit. The six fiddles struck up God save the King; the audience rose;
the king nodded round and took his seat next the stage; the queen
curtsied, and took her arm-chair also.
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