“Friday, November 24th. I have been to-day to lunch with Mrs. ——, a Catholic lady I had met in London, who gave a lunch to me to show she was on our side. There was a Father X. there, who is not in this diocese and is very much shocked at the action of the priests. One told his congregation on Sunday from the altar, it would be a mortal sin to come to the plays, and another, Father X. says, to his certain knowledge advised his people from the altar if they did come, to bring eggs to throw. Mr. Hackett was sitting behind a woman who said in Birthright ‘it’s a pity it ain’t Lady Gregory they are choking.’ Mr. Quinn heard I held a salon at the theatre and it is wonderful how many people turn up or come to express sympathy. I got a good rehearsal to-day of Mixed Marriage, which I think might take very well here.”
“26th. Plenty of booking for Playboy whether by friends or enemies. I went to lecture at Vassar yesterday. I had no idea the Hudson was so beautiful. The train was close to the brink all the way, and opposite are wooded cliffs and heights, and at night, coming back, the lighted towns on the other side gave a magic atmosphere. I find new scenery an extraordinary excitement and delight. I am going off just now to Oyster Bay for the night to visit the Roosevelts. I have been to church this morning and feel fresher.”
“Algonquin, Monday, 27th. When John Quinn came yesterday afternoon, he brought Gregg with him. Both had heard from different sources that The Playboy is to be attacked to-night. The last Gaelic American says, ‘The New York Irish will send the Anti-Irish Players back to Dublin like whipped curs with their tails between their legs.’ Quinn heard it from a man he knows well, who had called him up to say there is a party of rowdies coming to the theatre to-night to make their demonstration. They thought it possible this might be stopped by letting the enemy know we are prepared, but I thought it better to let them show themselves. They have been threatening us so long; we shall see who they are.
“This morning I saw Flynn and Gaston Mayer and told them the matter was out of my hands now, that we don’t want interviews or argument, and that it is a question between Liebler and the mob. Flynn went off to the police, and I have not heard anything since. I have not told the players.”
“Tuesday, November 28th. The papers give a fairly accurate account of what happened last night.[1] There was a large audience, The Gaol Gate was put on first, which, of course, has never offended anyone in Ireland, but there was a good deal of coughing going on and there was unrest in the gallery. But one man was heard saying to another, ‘This is all right. You needn’t interrupt this. Irishmen do die for their neighbours.’ Another said, ‘This is a part of The Playboy that is going on now, but they are giving it under another name.’ Very soon after the curtain went up on The Playboy the interruptions began. The managers had been taking much too confident a view, saying, ‘These things don’t happen in New York.’ When this did happen, there were plenty of police, but they wouldn’t arrest anyone because no one gave the order, and the disturbance was let go on nearly all through the first act. I went round, when the disturbance began, and knelt in the opening of the hearth, calling to every actor who came within earshot that they must not stop for a moment but must spare their voices, as they could not be heard, and we should do the whole act over again. At the end Tyler came round and I was delighted when he shouted that it should be played again. O’Donovan announced this and there were great cheers from the audience. And the whole play was given then in perfect peace and quiet. The editor of the Gaelic American and his bodyguard were in the stalls, two rows of them. They were pointed out to me when I came in. The disturbers were very well arranged; little groups here and there. In the box office this morning they have a collection of spoils left by the enemy (chiefly stink-pots and rosaries). A good many potatoes were thrown on the stage and an old watch, and a tin box with a cigar in it and a cigarette box. Our victory was complete in the end.
[1] See extract in [appendix.]
“Ten men were arrested. Two of them were bar-tenders; one a liquor dealer; two clerks; one a harness-maker; one an instructor; one a mason; one a compositor, and one an electrician.
“Some of the police who protected us were Irish. One of them said to our manager, Mr. Robinson: ‘There’s a Kerryman says he has you pictured and says he’ll have your life.’ Mr. Robinson had had some words with this Kerryman and had said: ‘We’ll give you a supper when you come to Dublin,’ and the Kerryman had answered, ‘We’ll give you a wake.’
“The disturbers were fined sums from three to ten dollars each.”
“28th. I was talking to Roosevelt about the opposition on Sunday and he said he could not get in to the plays: Mrs. Roosevelt not being well, he did not like to leave home. But when I said it would be a help to us, he said, ‘Then I will certainly come,’ and settled that to-night he will dine with me and come on.”