How little do we know of the tragic ending of these poor unhappy Pantomimists’ lives.  Their names even have not been handed down to us, and they, like probably many more with whose quips and quiddities we have laughed at with infinite zest, have long since gone “to that bourne from whence no traveller returns,” and perhaps, “unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.”

On February 12, 1739, Rich produced, at Covent Garden (opened in December 1732, with Congreve’s “Way of the World"), “Orpheus and Eurydice.”  On the mounting something like L2,000 were spent.

Rich devised the scenario and comic scenes.  Lewis Theobald wrote the libretto, and George Lambert—­founder of the Beefsteak Club—­painted the scenery.  Hippisley played Clown, Manager Rich was the Harlequin, and Signor Grimaldi, father of the celebrated Mime, to be noted further on, was the Pantaloon.  This is the first instance of a member of the Grimaldi family (says Mr. W.J.  Lawrence) appearing in English Pantomime.

The following was the argument and the curious arrangement of the scenes:—­Interlude I.—­Rhodope, Queen of Thrace, practising art magic, makes love to Orpheus.  He rejects her love.  She is enraged.  A serpent appears who receives Rhodope’s commands, and these ended, glides off the stage.  Here the comic part begins.  In the Opera (as practically it was) a scene takes place between Orpheus and Eurydice.  Eurydice’s heel is pierced by the serpent, behind the scenes.  She dies on the stage—­after which the comic part is continued.  Interlude II.  Scene:  Hell.  Pluto and Orpheus enter.  Orpheus prevails on Pluto to restore Eurydice to him.  Ascalox tells Orpheus that Eurydice shall follow him, but that if he should look back at her before they shall have passed the bounds of Hell, she will die again.  Orpheus turns back to look for Eurydice, Fiends carry her away.  After this the comic part is resumed.  Interlude III.—­Orpheus again rejects Rhodope’s solicitations.  Departs.  The scene draws, and discovers Orpheus slain.  Several Baccants enter in a triumphant manner.  They bring in the lyre and chaplet of Orpheus.  Rhodope stabs herself.  The piece concludes with the remainder of the comic part.

“‘The Scots Magazine’ for March, 1740, says:—­’Orpheus and Eurydice’ draws the whole town to Covent Garden, whether for the Opera itself (the words of which are miserable stuff) or for the Pantomimical Interlude, with which it is intermixed, I cannot determine.  The music is pretty good, and the tricks are not foolisher than usual, and some have said that they have more meaning than most that have preceded them.  The performance is grand as to the scenery.  What pleases everybody is a regular growth of trees, represented more like nature than what has yet been seen upon the stage, and the representation of a serpent so lively as to frighten half the ladies who see it.  It is, indeed, curious in its kind, being wholly a piece of machinery, that enters, performs its exercise of head, body,