“Players are said to be an impracticable people.  They are so; but I managed to steer clear of any disputes with them, and excepting one debate[87] with the elder Byrne about Miss Smith’s pas de—­(something—­I forget the technicals,)—­I do not remember any litigation of my own.  I used to protect Miss Smith, because she was like Lady Jane Harley in the face, and likenesses go a great way with me.  Indeed, in general, I left such things to my more bustling colleagues, who used to reprove me seriously for not being able to take such things in hand without buffooning with the histrions, or throwing things into confusion by treating light matters with levity.

“Then the Committee!—­then the Sub-Committee!—­we were but few, but never agreed.  There was Peter Moore who contradicted Kinnaird, and Kinnaird who contradicted every body:  then our two managers, Rae and Dibdin; and our secretary, Ward! and yet we were all very zealous and in earnest to do good and so forth. * * * * furnished us with prologues to our revived old English plays; but was not pleased with me for complimenting him as ‘the Upton’ of our theatre (Mr. Upton is or was the poet who writes the songs for Astley’s), and almost gave up prologuing in consequence.

“In the pantomime of 1815-16 there was a representation of the masquerade of 1814 given by ‘us youth’ of Watier’s Club to Wellington and Co.  Douglas Kinnaird and one or two others, with myself, put on masks, and went on the stage with the [Greek:  hoi polloi], to see the effect of a theatre from the stage:—­it is very grand.  Douglas danced among the figuranti too, and they were puzzled to find out who we were, as being more than their number.  It was odd enough that Douglas Kinnaird and I should have been both at the real masquerade, and afterwards in the mimic one of the same, on the stage of Drury Lane theatre.”

[Footnote 87:  A correspondent of one of the monthly Miscellanies gives the following account of this incident:—­

“During Lord Byron’s administration, a ballet was invented by the elder Byrne, in which Miss Smith (since Mrs. Oscar Byrne) had a pas seul.  This the lady wished to remove to a later period in the ballet.  The ballet-master refused, and the lady swore she would not dance it at all.  The music incidental to the dance began to play, and the lady walked off the stage.  Both parties flounced into the green-room to lay the case before Lord Byron, who happened to be the only person in that apartment.  The noble committee-man made an award in favour of Miss Smith, and both complainants rushed angrily out of the room at the instant of my entering it.  ‘If you had come a minute sooner,’ said Lord Byron, ’you would have heard a curious matter decided on by me:  a question of dancing!—­by me,’ added he, looking down at the lame limb, ’whom Nature from my birth has prohibited from taking a single step.’  His countenance fell after he had uttered this, as if he had said too much; and for a moment there was an embarrassing silence on both sides.”]