The factor of safety is another matter. With rows of
flaming gas-battens in the flies, however carefully screened off,
and another row of "gas lengths" in the wings, and flaring
"ground-rows" in close proximity to highly inflammable painted
canvas, the inevitable destiny of a gas-lit theatre is only a
question of time. The London theatres of the "sixties" all had a
smell of mingled gas and orange-peel, which I thought delicious.
Mr. Spiegelberg most sensibly suggested that as I was absolutely
ignorant of German, the easiest manner in which I could accustom
my ears to the sound of the language would be to take an
abonnement at the theatre, and to go there nightly. So for the
modest sum of thirty shillings per month, I found myself entitled
to a stall in the second row, with the right of seeing thirty
performances a month. I went every night to the theatre, and there
was no monotony about it, for the same performance was never
repeated twice in one month. I have seen, I think, every opera
ever written, and every single one of Shakespeare's tragedies.
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