CHAPTER VII.
PANIC AT NEW ORLEANS—THERMOMETER FALLS 105 DEGREES—BANQUET AT CHICAGO—THE COUNT DI LUNA AT MARKET—COFFEE JOHN—AN AMERICAN GEORGE ROBINS—MY UNDERTAKER.
ON getting down to New Orleans we found a great change in the temperature, and although it was the month of January the thermometer stood at about 75°. It had been raining exactly six weeks prior to our arrival, and only ceased as our train went in, fine weather immediately afterwards making its appearance.
Our opening opera was La Sonnambula with Nevada, which was followed by La Traviata with Mdme. Patti. Prior to the last act a panic was caused in the theatre by the falling of some plaster from the front of the dress circle. Someone near the exit to the stalls shouted "Fire," a cry which was repeated by numbers of men in the lobby. Consternation was seen in the faces of the audience, and a general rush was made for the doors. The situation was serious in the extreme; but the presence of mind of some gentlemen present, aided by the equal coolness of several ladies, had the effect of allaying the general fright.
Many ladies, on the other hand, fainted from excitement, whilst numbers of persons left the theatre, so that the last act was given with a very bare house.
"A great deal of excitement," wrote a local journal, "was manifested in the street, and rumour magnified the incident. It took the shape of a fearful accident in the minds of some people, and it was some time before the public was assured that no damage had resulted to life or limb. One young lady fainted as she was about to enter her carriage in front of the theatre. She fell to the side walk, slightly cutting her mouth, and was unconscious for a few minutes. With the assistance of Dr. Joseph Scott, her friends succeeded in reviving her, and she was placed in a carriage and driven home. Mr. David Bidwell was this morning waited upon by the Item reporter, who informed him of the many rumours regarding the safety of the St. Charles Theatre. Mr. Bidwell said: 'The whole trouble comes from the fall of a small piece of plastering, three feet long by one foot and a half wide, in the left part of the theatre, back to the parquette seats. The plastering at that place had been disturbed during the Kiralfy engagement by the moving out of some scenery. I had the spot repaired during the wet weather, and, from the dampness, the plastering did not hold. As regards the solidity of the theatre, you can state that it is the strongest building of its kind; the walls are in places four feet thick. Everything inside is sound and substantial, having been recently repaired and renovated. Mr. William Freret, the architect, has just been in here, and made a thorough inspection. He finds everything in first-class condition, and sound as can be. The public should not give credence to silly rumours, but listen to the voice of common sense and reason, and accept this satisfactory explanation.'"
The City Surveyor, with various architects, visited the theatre the following day to report; but all certified that the building was solid, and that probably the stamping of so many feet in applauding Patti had caused the fall of the plaster. However it may have been, my receipts being so considerably injured, I was compelled, after paying damages to the manager for not completing the engagement, to remove the Company and rent the Grand French Opera-house for the ensuing week. When my announcement was made several ladies called upon me, and a meeting was convened at one of their houses at which the élite of the city were present. A number of gentlemen had been invited to tea, and before being allowed to leave the room each of them was required to subscribe for at least one box. In this manner the whole of my boxes for the remainder of the season were disposed of.
I had a deal of trouble in getting the theatre into working order, it having been closed for a considerable period. The corridors had to be whitened and the dressing-rooms to be papered, and all the business had to be conducted in French, as my stage carpenters and employés were all of that nationality. The manager of the other theatre had refused to allow any of his staff to assist.
During this time the great New Orleans Exhibition had been opened, to which thousands of people were attracted. My attention, however, was drawn to the Woman's Work Department, in great need just then. I therefore organized a grand benefit matinée on their behalf, which was promptly responded to by many of the ladies of New Orleans. Many of my principal artists took part in the concert, and I was assisted by a splendid Mexican cavalry band. A large sum of money was realized, which was afterwards handed over to the treasurer of the Woman's Department.
After a performance of Les Huguenots we all left that night for St. Louis. The temperature was now intolerable, the thermometer marking 75 degrees. But on reaching St. Louis the following Monday afternoon we were overtaken by a blizzard. It was literally raining ice. The streets were impassable, it being difficult to stand upright or to move a step; whilst the thermometer stood 30 degrees below zero (62° below freezing point)—being a fall of 105 degrees. I need scarcely say everyone caught sore throat, even to the chorus. One or two of the ballet girls were blown down and hurt on leaving the train, and it was with considerable difficulty that I made a commencement that evening, two hours after our arrival, with a performance of La Sonnambula. This was followed by Semiramide with Patti and Scalchi, and by Lucrezia with Fursch-Madi. All the artists not taking part in these works were ill in bed during the week.