Van Bibbers Life | Page 3

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EPISODES IN VAN BIBBER'S LIFE
By Richard Harding Davis

Her First Appearance
It was at the end of the first act of the first night of "The Sultana," and
every member of the Lester Comic Opera Company, from Lester
himself down to the wardrobe woman's son, who would have had to
work if his mother lost her place, was sick with anxiety.
There is perhaps only one other place as feverish as it is behind the
scenes on the first night of a comic opera, and that is a newspaper
office on the last night of a Presidential campaign, when the returns are
being flashed on the canvas outside, and the mob is howling, and the
editor-in-chief is expecting to go to the Court of St. James if the
election comes his way, and the office-boy is betting his wages that it
won't.
Such nights as these try men's souls; but Van Bibber passed the
stage-door man with as calmly polite a nod as though the piece had
been running a hundred nights, and the manager was thinking up
souvenirs for the one hundred and fiftieth, and the prima donna had, as
usual, begun to hint for a new set of costumes. The stage-door keeper
hesitated and was lost, and Van Bibber stepped into the unsuppressed

excitement of the place with a pleased sniff at the familiar smell of
paint and burning gas, and the dusty odor that came from the
scene-lofts above.
For a moment he hesitated in the cross-lights and confusion about him,
failing to recognize in their new costumes his old acquaintances of the
company; but he saw Kripps, the stage-manager, in the centre of the
stage, perspiring and in his shirt-sleeves as always, wildly waving an
arm to some one in the flies, and beckoning with the other to the
gasman in the front entrance. The stage hands were striking the scene
for the first act, and fighting with the set for the second, and dragging
out a canvas floor of tessellated marble, and running a throne and a
practical pair of steps over it, and aiming the high quaking walls of a
palace and abuse at whoever came in their way.
"Now then, Van Bibber," shouted Kripps, with a wild glance of
recognition, as the white-and-black figure came towards him, "you
know you're the only man in New York who gets behind here to-night.
But you can't stay. Lower it, lower it, can't you?" This to the man in the
flies. "Any other night goes, but not this night. I can't have it. I--Where
is the backing for the centre entrance? Didn't I tell you men---"
Van Bibber dodged two stage hands who were steering a scene at him,
stepped over the carpet as it unrolled, and brushed through a group of
anxious, whispering chorus people into the quiet of the star's
dressing-room.
The star saw him in the long mirror before which he sat, while his
dresser tugged at his boots, and threw up his hands desperately.
"Well," he cried, in mock resignation, "are we in it or are we not? Are
they in their seats still or have they fled?"
"How are you, John?" said Van Bibber to the dresser. Then he dropped
into a big arm-chair in the corner, and got up again with a protesting
sigh to light his cigar between the wires around the gas-burner. "Oh, it's
going very well. I wouldn't have come around if it wasn't. If the rest of
it is as good as the first act, you needn't worry."

Van Bibber's unchallenged freedom behind the scenes had been a
source of much comment and perplexity to the members of the Lester
Comic Opera Company. He had made his first appearance there during
one hot night of the long run of the previous summer, and had
continued to be an almost nightly visitor for several weeks. At first it
was supposed that he was backing the piece, that he was the "Angel,"
as those weak and wealthy individuals are called who allow themselves
to be led into supplying the finances for theatrical experiments. But as
he never peered through the curtain-hole to count the house, nor made
frequent trips to the front of it to look at the box sheet, but was, on the
contrary, just as undisturbed on a rainy night as on those when the
"standing room only" sign blocked the front