University of Virginia Library

LETTER III.

My last communication mentioned my visit to
the theatre; the remarks it contained were chiefly
confined to the play and the actors; I shall now
extend them to the audience, who, I assure you,
furnish no inconsiderable part of the entertainment.

As I entered the house some time before the
curtain rose, I had sufficient leisure to make some
observations. I was much amused with the waggery
and humour of the gallery, which, by the way,
is kept in excellent order by the constables who are
stationed there. The noise in this part of the house
is somewhat similar to that which prevailed in
Noah's ark; for we have an imitation of the whistles
and yells of every kind of animal. This, in some
measure, compensates for the want of music, as
the gentlemen of our orchestra are very economic
of their favours. Somehow or another, the anger
of the gods seemed to be aroused all of a sudden,
and they commenced a discharge of apples, nuts,
and gingerbread, on the heads of the honest folks
in the pit, who had no possibility of retreating from

this new kind of thunderbolts. I can't say but I
was a little irritated at being saluted aside of my
head with a rotten pippin; and was going to shake
my cane at them, but was prevented by a decent
looking man behind me, who informed me that it
was useless to threaten or expostulate. They are
only amusing themselves a little at our expense,
said he; sit down quietly and bend your back to it.
My kind neighbour was interrupted by a hard green
apple that hit him between the shoulders—he made
a wry face, but knowing it was all a joke, bore the
blow like a philosopher. I soon saw the wisdom
of this determination; a stray thunderbolt happened
to light on the head of a little sharp faced
Frenchman, dressed in a white coat and small
cocked hat, who sat two or three benches ahead
of me, and seemed to be an irritable little animal.
Monsieur was terribly exasperated; he jumped
upon his seat, shook his fist at the gallery, and
swore violently in bad English. This was all nuts
to his merry persecutors; their attention was wholly
turned on him, and he formed their target for the
rest of the evening.

I found the ladies in the boxes, as usual, studious
to please; their charms were set off to the
greatest advantage; each box was a little battery
in itself, and they all seemed eager to outdo each

other in the havoc they spread around. An arch
glance in one box was rivalled by a smile in
another, that smile by a simper in a third, and in
a fourth a most bewitching languish carried all before
it.

I was surprised to see some persons reconnoitring
the company through spy-glasses; and was
in doubt whether these machines were used to
remedy deficiencies of vision, or whether this was
another of the eccentricities of fashion. Jack
Stylish has since informed me, that glasses were
lately all the go; though hang it, says Jack, it is
quite out at present; we used to mount our glasses
in great snuff, but since so many tough jockies
have followed the lead, the bucks have all cut the
custom. I give you, Mr. Editor, the account in
my dashing cousin's own language. It is from a
vocabulary I do not well understand.

I was considerably amused by the queries of
the countryman mentioned in my last, who was
now making his first visit to the theatre. He kept
constantly applying to me for information, and I
readily communicated, as far as my own ignorance
would permit.

As this honest man was casting his eye round
the house, his attention was suddenly arrested.
And pray, who are these? said he, pointing to a

cluster of young fellows. These, I suppose, are
the critics, of whom I have heard so much. They
have, no doubt, got together to communicate their
remarks, and compare notes; these are the persons
through whom the audience exercise their
judgments, and by whom they are told when they
are to applaud or to hiss. Critics! ha! ha! my
dear sir, they trouble themselves as little about the
elements of criticism, as they do about other
departments of science and belles-lettres. These
are the beaux of the present day, who meet here
to lounge away an idle hour, and play off their
little impertinencies for the entertainment of the
public. They no more regard the merits of the
play, nor of the actors, than my cane. They
even strive to appear inattentive; and I have seen
one of them perched on the front of the box with
his back to the stage, sucking the head of his
stick, and staring vacantly at the audience, insensible
to the most interesting specimens of
scenic representation, though the tear of sensibility
was trembling in every eye around him. I have
heard that some have even gone so far in search
of amusement, as to propose a game of cards in
the theatre, during the performance. The eyes of
my neighbour sparkled at this information—his
cane shook in his hand—the word puppies burst
from his lips. Nay, says I, I don't give this for
absolute fact: my cousin Jack was, I believe, quizzing
me (as he terms it) when he gave me the
information. But you seem quite indignant, said
I, to the decent looking man in my rear. It was
from him the exclamation came; the honest
countryman was gazing in gaping wonder on
some new attraction. Believe me, said I, if you
had them daily before your eyes, you would get
quite used to them. Used to them, replied he;
how is it possible for people of sense to relish
such conduct? Bless you, my friend, people of
sense have nothing to do with it; they merely endure
it in silence. These young gentlemen live
in an indulgent age. When I was a young man,
such tricks and follies were held in proper contempt.
Here I went a little too far; for, upon
better recollection, I must own that a lapse of
years has produced but little alteration in this department
of folly and impertinence. But do the
ladies admire these manners! Truly, I am not as
conversant in female circles as formerly; but I
should think it a poor compliment to my fair countrywomen,
to suppose them pleased with the stupid
stare and cant phrases with which these votaries
of fashion add affected to real ignorance.

Our conversation was here interrupted by the
ringing of a bell. Now for the play, said my companion.
No, said I, it is only for the musicians.
These worthy gentlemen then came crawling
out of their holes, and began, with very solemn
and important phizzes, strumming and tuning
their instruments in the usual style of discordance,
to the great entertainment of the audience.
What tune is that? asked my neighbour, covering
his ears. This, said I, is no tune; it is only
a pleasing symphony, with which we are regaled,
as a preparative. For my part, though I admire
the effect of contrast, I think they might as well
play it in their cavern under the stage. The bell
rung a second time—and then began the tune in
reality; but I could not help observing, that the
countryman was more diverted with the queer
grimaces and contortions of countenance exhibited
by the musicians, than their melody. What I
heard of the music, I liked very well; (though I
was told by one of my neighbours, that the same
pieces have been played every night for these
three years;) but it was often overpowered by the
gentry in the gallery, who vociferated loudly for
Moll in the Wad, Tally ho the Grinders, and
several other airs more suited to their tastes.

I observed that every part of the house has its
different department. The good folks of the gallery
have all the trouble of ordering the music;
(their directions, however, are not more frequently
followed than they deserve.) The mode by which
they issue their mandates is stamping, hissing,
roaring, whistling; and, when the musicians are
refractory, groaning in cadence. They also have
the privilege of demanding a bow from John, (by
which name they designate every servant at the
theatre, who enters to move a table or snuff a
candle;) and of detecting those cunning dogs
who peep from behind the curtain.

By the by, my honest friend was much puzzled
about the curtain itself. He wanted to know why
that carpet was hung up in the theatre? I assured
him it was no carpet, but a very fine curtain. And
what, pray, may be the meaning of that gold head,
with the nose cut off, that I see in front of it? The
meaning—why, really, I can't tell exactly—though
my cousin, Jack Stylish, says there is a great deal
of meaning in it. But surely you like the design
of the curtain? The design,—why really I can
see no design about it, unless it is to be brought
down about our ears by the weight of those gold
heads, and that heavy cornice with which it is

garnished. I began now to be uneasy for the
credit of our curtain, and was afraid he would
perceive the mistake of the painter, in putting a
harp in the middle of the curtain, and calling it a
mirror; but his attention was happily called
away by the candle-grease from the chandelier,
over the centre of the pit, dropping on his clothes.
This he loudly complained of, and declared his
coat was bran-new. How, my friend? said I; we
must put up with a few trifling inconveniences,
when in the pursuit of pleasure. True, said he;
but I think I pay pretty dear for it;—first to give
six shillings at the door, and then to have my head
battered with rotten apples, and my coat spoiled
by candle-grease; by and by I shall have my
other clothes dirtied by sitting down, as I perceive
every body mounted on the benches. I wonder
if they could not see as well if they were all to
stand upon the floor.

Here I could no longer defend our customs, for
I could scarcely breathe while thus surrounded
by a host of strapping fellows, standing with their
dirty boots on the seats of the benches. The little
Frenchman, who thus found a temporary shelter
from the missive compliments of his gallery
friend, was the only person benefitted. At last

the bell again rung, and the cry of down, down—
hats off, was the signal for the commencement of
the play.

If, Mr. Editor, the garrulity of an old fellow is
not tiresome, and you choose to give this view of
a New-York Theatre a place in your paper, you
may, perhaps, hear further from your friend,