I.
Torrents of rain without, and a great fashionable crowd within the Star Theatre, inaugurated Irving’s first appearance on the American stage.
The electric lights, away up among the wet clouds that emptied themselves over Union square, flashed coldly on untended roadways, which vehicles of all kinds churned into rivers of mud. The architectural surroundings of the place and the well-appointed carriages that dashed along to the Star Theatre and the opera were singularly out of keeping with the broken streets and the everlasting telegraph poles of the American continent.
It was a night on which London would have hesitated to turn out of its comfortable homes to greet even the most illustrious stranger; for the rain was tropical in its density. It splashed on the pavements in great drops, or, taken hold of by the wind, came at you in sheets of water. Carriage-horses were protected with “rubber cloths,” and the people who stepped out of the cars at the top of Broadway, or were driven to the door of the theatre in the public stages, were enveloped in “water-proofs.” Nevertheless, the moment they alighted they were mobbed by a band of ticket-speculators, who followed or preceded them into the broad vestibule of the theatre, hawking seats even under the box-office windows. In appearance these energetic dealers were the counterpart of the betting men you may see on any English race-course,—the same in manner, and almost in voice. They were warmly and well clad, had satchels strapped to their shoulders; but, instead of shouting, “Two to one, bar one!” “I’ll bet on the field!” and other similar invitations to do business, they announced, in hoarse tones, “I have seats in the front row!” “Orchestra seats, third row!” “I have the best seats in the orchestra!” These New York speculators held in one hand a thick bundle of notes, and a packet of tickets in the other. They had change ready for any note you might offer them, and their tickets were frequently what they represented them to be, “for the choicest locations.”
For some time a notable crowd of persons, distinguished in New York society, pushed their way to seats which they had already secured, many of them at a premium of one hundred per cent. beyond the box-office rates.[8] A large number of persons waited in the vestibule until the curtain should go up, in the hope that the speculators would, for a moderate consideration, relax their grip on “choice seats.” Many tickets were sold, however, in the street, and in the vestibule of the theatre, for sums varying from five to ten dollars. Later in the evening, during the first and second acts of the play, the speculators parted with the balance of their property at box-office rates, which they readily obtained.
The entire floor of an American theatre is devoted to stall seats. Ladies and gentlemen who occupied the back seats had to submit to constant arrivals all through the first and second acts. The doors at the Star Theatre open right upon the audience. They were swinging backwards and forwards during the first half hour of the piece. It is a universal habit in America not to be seated at the time announced for the curtain to go up. Add to this the obstruction of the ticket-speculators, and the premium they offer to late comers. Supplement these disturbing elements with a wet night, the natural annoyance of individuals who have paid large premiums for their seats, the prejudice against Irving which had been persistently promoted by his few but active enemies; and you will understand the severity of the ordeal of this first appearance in the United States.