So the audience paid the increased price or stayed away from the theatre—­for staying away from the theatre could now be calmly viewed as a reasonable alternative.  “The play” was no more what once it had been, a sort of necessary of life.  The example of the Opera manager was presently followed by all other theatrical establishments, and high-priced stalls became the rule everywhere.  The pit lost its old influence—­was, so to say, disfranchised.  It was as one of the old Cinque Ports which the departing sea and the ever indrifting sand have left high and dry, unapproachable by water, a port only in name.  It was divided and conquered.  The most applauded toast at the public banquet of the O.P. rioters—­“The ancient and indisputable rights of the pit”—­will never more be proposed.

CHAPTER IX.

THE FOOTMEN’S GALLERY.

Of old the proprietors of theatres acted towards their patrons upon the principle of “first come, first served.”  If you desired a good place at the playhouse it was indispensably necessary to go early and to be in time:  to secure your seat by bodily occupation of it.  Box-offices, at which places might be engaged a fortnight in advance of the performance, were as yet unknown.  The only way, therefore, by which people of quality and fashion could obtain seats without the trouble of attending at the opening of the doors for that purpose, was by sending on their servants beforehand to occupy places until such time as it should be convenient for the masters and mistresses to present themselves at the theatre.  When Garrick took his benefit at Drury Lane in 1744, the play—­“Hamlet”—­was to begin at six o’clock, and in the bills of the day ladies were requested to send their servants by three o’clock. It was further announced that by particular desire five rows of the pit would be railed into boxes, and that servants would be permitted to keep places on the stage, which, for the better accommodation of the ladies, would be railed into boxes.

The custom of sending servants early to the theatre to secure seats in this way was, no doubt, a very old one; and, of course, at the conclusion of the entertainment they were compelled to be again in attendance with the carriages and chairs of their employers.  Meanwhile, they assembled in the lobbies and precincts of the playhouse in great numbers, and considerable noise and confusion thus ensued.  In the prologue to Carlell’s tragi-comedy of “Arviragus,” 1672, Dryden writes, begging the public to support rather the English than the French performers who were visiting London: 

    And therefore, Messieurs, if you’ll do us grace. 
    Send lacqueys early to preserve your place;

and in one of his epilogues he makes mention of the nuisance occasioned by the noisy crowd of servants disturbing the performance: