And now the news spread all over the city that there was to be a riot. The warning out of large bodies of military, was alone sufficient to excite curiosity; and yet, in all this excitement and anticipation of outrage, the mayor issued no warning proclamation. There was no one to tell hot-headed and misguided men, that it would be at the peril of their lives, if they disturbed the peace. It is evident that they thought they had a right to prevent Macready from playing. They were doing no more by him than the English had done by Forrest, and they looked upon it as a piece of retributive justice.
It must not be forgotten, that New York, for many years, has been a very quiet city. For ten years, there had not been one serious riot. The principles of law and order are habitually acknowledged, and have seldom been violated. While Philadelphia has been, for years, the scene of the most disgraceful outrages, New York has not known a more serious disturbance than could be controlled by a few policemen. But in this case, every body rushed into a fatal riot, with a mad precipitation. The calling out of the military sent thousands to the scene of conflict, who would not otherwise have gone, swelled the crowd, encouraged the rioters, and contributed to the fatal result.
It is easy to say, people had no business there; they ought to have kept away. It would be hard to show that those who were outside the house had not as good a right to gratify their curiosity as those within. But, right or wrong, we know very well what people will do in such a case. Let it be given out that there is to be a disturbance at any place, and that the military have been called out to put it down, and the consequence will be a gathering crowd, and, if there is the slightest seeming cause, a formidable riot. It seems that all the means used on the tenth of May, to preserve the peace, only helped to bring about the terrible catastrophe.
Mr. Forrest has been charged with actively fomenting these disturbances. Such a charge was made in the Courier & Enquirer, but it was promptly retracted, under threat of prosecution for libel, from Mr. Sedgwick, Forrest’s legal counsel. It does not appear that he moved at all in the matter. He stood passive, and let the affair shape itself as it might, as there is reason to suppose Mr. Macready had done, in England. On the night of the riot, Forrest played to a full house at the Broadway Theatre.
It would seem, after the publication of the card, signed by Washington Irving, Charles King, and about fifty others, denouncing the outrages of Monday night, and pledging themselves to sustain Macready, that the contest took on a new character. Macready was a subordinate personage, and he was to be put down less on his own account, than to spite his aristocratic supporters. The question became not only a national, but a social one. It was the rich against the poor—the aristocracy against the people; and this hatred of wealth and privilege is increasing over the world, and ready to burst out whenever there is the slightest occasion. The rich and well-bred are too apt to despise the poor and ignorant, and they must not think it strange if they are hated in return.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
THE SCENES OF THE FATAL NIGHT.
As the hour for the opening of the Opera House approached, excited crowds began to gather from all parts of the city. Hundreds of men were seen walking rapidly up Broadway. There was a great rush for tickets, and at an early hour the house was declared full, and the sale of tickets suspended. Among the audience in the house were seven ladies. The police were at their stations, and the doors and windows were strongly barricaded.
It should here be stated that the Opera House is situated midway between Broadway and the Bowery, one side fronting on Eighth Street, the other on Astor-Place. The end toward Broadway is covered by buildings, but there is an open space to the Bowery.
While the crowd was gathering outside, and endeavoring to force an entrance, in which they were prevented by the police, the curtain rose, and the mock tragedy commenced. Mr. Clark, an American actor, was vociferously applauded in the part of Macduff. The entrance of Mr. Macready in the third scene was the signal for a storm of cheers, groans, hisses, and yells. The whole audience rose, and the greatest part, who were friendly to Macready, cheered and waved their hats and handkerchiefs; but when these cheers were spent, the noise had not subsided. A large body in the parquette, and another in the amphitheatre hissed and groaned, and the contest was kept up until a placard was displayed on the stage, on which was written—“The friends of order will remain quiet.” The friends of disorder, however, kept up their noise through the first act, when the recorder and chief of police decided to quell the tumult; and in a few moments the noisiest of the rioters were arrested, and conveyed to a room in the basement, and the play went on in comparative quietness.