 
It must not be supposed that this was the first manifestation of patriotic indignation on the part of the friends of Mr. Forrest, on account of his treatment in England. It was a deep and intense feeling, and was ready to burst out on any fitting occasion. It threatened Mr. Anderson, and in Philadelphia an effort was made to drive him from the stage; but a better feeling prevailed. Anderson was not charged with any ill-will to Mr. Forrest, and the opposition to him was abandoned: yet there were not wanting persons who contended that every English actor ought to be driven from the American stage, in revenge for the insult offered by England to this country, in the person of Edwin Forrest. But when Macready, who was charged by Forrest himself with being the head and front of this offending, came to the United States, the flame of hatred was ready to burst forth, and the only wonder is, that it remained pent up so long. On his return from the South, Messrs. Niblo and Hackett, who had taken the Opera House for that purpose, announced that Mr. Macready would open an engagement on Monday night, May 7th. Mr. Forrest was playing at the Broadway Theatre. Previous to the commencement of this engagement, Mr. Macready gave a reading of a play of Shakspeare before the teachers of the public schools of New York and Brooklyn. The announcement of this engagement was the signal for an outbreak of long-smothered indignation. It was determined that Mr. Forrest should be avenged, and that Macready should not be permitted to play before a New York audience. There was a combination of exciting causes—the feeling against England and Englishmen, handed down to us from the Revolution, and kept fresh by the insults and abuse of British writers on American manners—the injury committed against Forrest, with Macready as its presumed cause, and this was increased by the fact of Macready playing at the aristocratic, kidglove Opera House. Far be it from us to justify these feelings—it is our duty simply to state the fact of their existence. The public and magistrates have been accustomed to look upon theatrical disturbances, rows, and riots, as different in their character from all others. The stage is presumed to be a correction of the manners and morals of the public, and on the other hand the public has been left to correct, in its own energetic way, the manners and morals of the stage; and magistrates, looking upon it as a matter between the actors and the audience, have generally refused to interfere, unless there was a prospect of a violent breach of the peace, when they have usually ordered the house to be closed. In these theatrical disturbances, performances have been hissed, plays damned, and actors and actresses driven from the stage, with On the announcement of Mr. Macready’s engagement at the Opera House, it was determined that there should be a pretty forcible expression of opinion on the part of those who were indignant at the treatment of Mr. Forrest in England, and were willing, for any reason, to revenge it on Mr. Macready. There was, doubtless, some organization of forces, to bring about this result, and one person, the well-known Capt. Rynders, admits that he purchased and distributed among his friends fifty tickets, with the understanding that those who used them were to assist in hissing Macready from the stage. Other sums of money were given, and when the night arrived, it was estimated, by the Chief of Police, that not less than five hundred persons were engaged in the disturbance. The night came—the house was crowded, and there was an ominous looking gallery. The curtain rose, and some of the actors, who were popular favorites, were received with obstreperous applause; but when Macready appeared upon the stage, in the character of Macbeth, he was assailed by a storm of hisses, yells, and a clamor that defies description. He stood his ground firmly, and the play went on, but not a word could be heard by the audience. It was in dumb show. The clamor rose higher and higher, and as hisses and threats, cat-calls and yells, were not enough to drive the obnoxious actor from the stage, less legitimate means were resorted to. Rotten eggs were thrown, pennies, and other missiles; and soon, still more outrageous demonstrations were made, and chairs were thrown from the upper part of the house, so as to peril life. The Chief of Police was present, with a number of policemen; but the rioters boldly defied the authorities, and no arrests were attempted. It is said, in excuse, that the rioters were in overpowering numbers, that they were prepared to resist and rescue, and that they had even prepared papers of gunpowder to throw into the magnificent chandelier. A large portion of the audience consisted of ladies, whose lives might have been endangered, and there was nothing to do but to stop the performance. The curtain went down; cheers were given for Forrest, and groans for Macready, and the crowd dispersed. Mr. Macready supposed that his engagement was terminated. He had no idea of ever making a second appearance; but his friends and the enemies of Forrest insisted upon a different course. He was assured that the public would sustain him, and the managers did not wish to lose the profits of his engagement. Mr. Hackett is a personal enemy of Forrest, and he was determined to play Macready against him at all hazards. Finally, a number of influential citizens, men of wealth and standing, with Washington Irving at their head, wrote a formal request to Mr. Macready that he should play out his engagement, and pledging themselves that the public should sustain him; This announcement, as may be supposed, excited the indignation of those who had driven him from the stage. It was a combination of the aristocracy against the people, and in support of English arrogance, and it was determined that Macready should not play, and that he and his supporters should be put down at all hazards. The lessees of the Theatre were informed that the re-opening of the Theatre with Mr. Macready, would be the signal for riot; the magistrates of the city were informed of it, and were implored to avert the calamity by refusing to allow the house to be opened—for as the city authorities have the right to regulate Theatres, and to make them pay five hundred dollars a year for a license, it was presumed that they had also the right to close them. So thought the Mayor, and so he wished to act; but the lessees insisted upon their legal rights, and demanded the protection of the authorities, and the fatal decision was made which made New York, a few hours afterward, one wide scene of horror. |
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