The awful Churchill's favourite seat was in the front row of the pit, next the orchestra.

"In this place he thought he could best discern the real workings of the passions in the actors, or what they substituted instead of them," says poor Tom Davies, whose dread of the critic was extreme.

"During the run of 'Cymbeline,'" he wrote apologetically to Garrick, his manager, "I had the misfortune to disconcert you in one scene, for which I did immediately beg your pardon; and did attribute it to my accidentally seeing Mr.Churchill in the pit; with great truth, it rendered me confused and unmindful of my business." Garrick had himself felt oppressed by the gloomy presence of Churchill, and learnt to read discontent in the critic's lowering brows.

"My love to Churchill," he writes to Colman; "his being sick of Richard was perceived about the house." That Churchill was a critic of formidable aspect, the portrait he limned of himself in his "Independence" amply demonstrates: Vast were his bones, his muscles twisted strong, His face was short, but broader than 'twas long; His features though by nature they were large, Contentment had contrived to overcharge And bury meaning, save that we might spy Sense low'ring on the pent-house of his eye; His arms were two twin oaks, his legs so stout That they might bear a mansion-house about; Nor were they--look but at his body there-- Designed by fate a much less weight to bear.
O'er a brown cassock which had once been black, Which hung in tatters on his brawny back, A sight most strange and awkward to behold, He threw a covering of blue and gold.

&c.