I went down toward the lower part of the town. The sight was heartrending. All the cabins of the colored inhabitants had fallen into the muddy waters. They were there in hundreds squatting upon these moving wrecks, with eyes burning from fever, their white teeth chattering. Right and left, everywhere, were dead bodies floating about, knocking up against the wooden piles. Many ladies were distributing food, endeavoring to lead away the unfortunate negroes, but they refused to go. And the women would slowly shake their heads. One child of fourteen years of age had just been carried off to the hospital with his foot cut clean off at the ankle by an alligator. His family were howling with fury. They wished to keep the youngster with them. The negro quack doctor pretended that he could have cured him in two days and that the white quacks would leave him for a month in bed.
I left this city with regret, for it resembled no other city I had visited up to then. We were surprised to find that none of our party was missing though we had gone through—so they all said—various dangers. The hairdresser alone, a man called Ibé, could not recover his equilibrium, having become half mad from fear the second day of our arrival. At the theater he generally slept in the trunk in which he stored his wigs. However strange it may seem, the fact is quite true. The first night, everything passed off as usual, but during the second night he woke up the whole neighborhood by his shrieks. The unfortunate fellow had got off soundly to sleep, when he woke up with a feeling that his mattress, which hung over his collection of wigs, was being raised up by some inconceivable movements. He thought that some cat or dog had got into the trunk and he lifted up the feeble rampart. Two serpents were within, actively moving about, of a size sufficient to terrify the people that the shouts of the poor Figaro had caused to gather round.
He was still very pale when I saw him embark on board the boat that was to take us to our train. I called him and begged him to relate to me the odyssey of his terrible night. As he told me the story he showed me his heavy leg. “They were as thick as that, madame. Yes, like that....” And he quaked with fear as he recalled the dreadful girth of the reptiles. I thought that they were about one-quarter as thick as his leg, and that would have been enough to justify his fright, but the serpents in question were inoffensive water snakes that bite out of pure viciousness, but have no venom fangs.
We reached Mobile somewhat late in the day. We had stopped at that city on our way to New Orleans, and I had had a real attack of nerves caused by the “cheek” of the inhabitants who, in spite of the lateness of the hour, had got up a deputation to wait upon me. I was dead with fatigue and was dropping off to sleep in my bed on the car. I therefore energetically declined to see anybody. But these people knocked at my windows, sang about my carriage, and finally exasperated me. I quickly threw up one of the windows and emptied a jug of water on their heads. Women and men, among whom were several journalists, were splashed. Their fury was great.
I was returning to that city, preceded by the above story embellished in their favor by the drenched reporters. But on the other hand there were others who had been more courteous and had refused to go and disturb a lady at such an unearthly hour of the night. These latter were in the majority and took up my defense.
It was therefore in this warlike atmosphere that I appeared before the public of Mobile. I wanted, however, to justify the good opinion of my defenders and confound my detractors. Yes, but the Gnome who had decided otherwise was there.
Mobile was a city that was generally quite disdained by impresarii. There was only one theater. It had been let to the tragedian Barrett, who was to appear six days after me. All that remained was a miserable place, so small that I know of nothing that can be compared to it. We were playing “La Dame aux Camélias.” When Marguerite Gautier orders supper to be served, the servants who were to bring in the table ready laid tried to get it in through the door. But this was impossible. Nothing could be more comical than to see those unfortunate servants adopt every expedient.
The public laughed. Among the laughter of the spectators was one that became contagious. A negro of twelve or fifteen who had got in somehow was standing on a chair, and with his two hands holding on to his knees, his body bent, head forward, mouth open, he was laughing with such a shrill and piercing tone, and with such even continuity, that I caught it, too. I had to go out while a portion of the back scenery was being removed to allow the table to be brought in.
I returned somewhat composed, but still under the domination of suppressed laughter. We were sitting round the table and the supper was drawing to a close as usual. But just as the servants were entering to remove the table, one of them caught the scenery that had been badly adjusted by the scene shifters in their haste, and the whole back scene fell on our heads. As the scenery was nearly all made of paper in those days, it did not fall on our heads and remain there, but round our necks, and we had to remain in that position without being able to move. Our heads having gone through the paper, our appearance was most comical and ridiculous. The young negro’s laughter started again more piercing than ever, and this time my suppressed laughter ended in a crisis that left me without any strength.
The money paid for admission was returned to the public. It exceeded 15,000 francs.