Two or three nights after I wrote my last, I went to the play.--Lady
Anne, Colonel Montague, and a Miss Finch, were the party. Unhappily, the
after-piece represented was one obtruded on the public by an author
obnoxious to some of them; and there were two parties formed, one to
condemn, the other to support. Wholly unacquainted with a thing of this
kind, I soon began to be alarmed at the clamour which rang from every
part of the house. The glass chandeliers first fell a victim to a
hot-headed wretch in the pit; and part of the shattered fragments was
thrown into my lap. My fears increased to the highest degree--No one
seemed to interest themselves about me. Colonel Montague being an
admirer of Miss Finch, his attention was paid to her. The ladies were
ordered out of the house. I was ready enough to obey the summons, and
was rushing out, when my passage was stopped by a concourse of people in
the lobby. The women screaming--men swearing--altogether--I thought I
should die with terror. "Oh! let me come out, let me come out!" I cried,
with uplifted hands.--No one regarded me. And I might have stood
screaming in concert with the rest till this time, had not the Baron
most seasonably come to my assistance. He broke through the croud with
incredible force, and flew to me. "Dearest Lady Stanley," cried he,
"recover your spirits--you are in no danger. I will guard you to your
carriage." Others were equally anxious about their company, and every
one striving to get out first increased the difficulty. Many ladies
fainted in the passages, which, being close, became almost suffocating.
Every moment our difficulties and my fears increased. I became almost
insensible. The Baron most kindly supported me with one arm--and with
the other strove to make way. The men even pushed with rudeness by me.
Ton-hausen expostulated and raved by turns: at length he drew his sword,
which terrified me to such a degree, that I was sinking to the
earth--and really gave myself up totally to despair. The efforts he made
at last gained us a passage to the great door--and, without waiting to
ask any questions, he put me into a coach that happened to be near: as
to my carriage, it was not to be found--or probably some others had used
the same freedom with that we had now with one unknown to us.
As soon as we were seated, Ton-hausen expressed his joy in the strongest
terms, that we had so happily escaped any danger. I was so weak, that he
thought it necessary to support me in his arms; and though I had no
cause to complain of any freedom in his manner, yet the warmth of his
expression, joined to my foregoing fright, had such an effect on me,
that, though I did not wholly lose my senses, I thought I was dying--I
never fainted in my life before; to my ignorance, then, must be imputed
my fears and foolish behaviour in consequence. "Oh! carry me somewhere,"
cried I, gasping; "do not let me die here! for God's sake, do not let me
die in the coach!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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