came crowding forward in alarm, and asking by their scared looks what it
all meant.

Macready and Mrs. Pope, in full costume, were at this time standing apart,
talking together, evidently discussing the best course to be pursued. The
uproar seemed to grow louder, and prudence dictated a suspension of the
play; but Macready, after a moment's hesitation, determined to risk it,
and suddenly gave the signal to raise the curtain. The bell tinkled, and
the curtain slowly rose, revealing the gorgeous scene and the actors
standing in a blaze of light. Instantly the tumult ceased, and a deep
sudden hush succeeded. Those roughs were evidently taken aback by the
dazzling splendor that burst upon them. It was a new revelation to them,
and for the moment they seemed to forget the object of their coming, and
to be wholly absorbed in the vision before them.

The first scene passed off quietly, and the fears of a disturbance were
allayed. In the second, taking Duncan for Macbeth, the crowd began to
hiss, but soon finding their mistake ceased. It was evident that some one
better posted than the mass had control of this wild element, so eager to
be let loose. At length Macbeth came on, and was received with deafening
cheers by those in the boxes. As these died away, a hiss ran through the
amphitheatre and parquette, followed by cat-calls, cock-crowing, and
sounds of every imaginable description. Macready had hardly uttered a
single sentence, before his voice was totally drowned in the uproar.
Forced to stop; he quietly folded his arms and faced the storm, expecting
it would soon blow over. Finding himself mistaken--that if anything it
grew louder and fiercer, his disdain turned into foolish anger, and
advancing to the footlights, and throwing all the contempt and scorn into
his face that he was master of, he deliberately walked the entire breadth
of the stage, gazing haughtily as he did so, into the faces of the roughs