or drowned all the artistic noise behind the
footlights. A military guard who had been called in to protect the stage
from invasion were overpowered by a throng of gentlemen who leaped on
from the auditorium, many of them men of high rank, and the guns and
bayonets wrested from the soldiers' hands. Bloodshed seemed imminent;
and had it not been for the moderation of the soldiers, who permitted
themselves to be disarmed rather than fire, the result would have
been very serious. The chandeliers and mirrors were all broken into
a thousand pieces, and the musical instruments hurled around in the
wildest confusion. Fiddles, flutes, horns, drums, swords, bayonets,
muskets, operatic costumes, and stage properties generally were hurled
in a heap on the stage. The gentlemen Mohocks, who signalized themselves
on this occasion, did damage to the amount of nearly one thousand
pounds, though it is said they made it up to the manager afterward by
subscription. The theatre was closed for a week; and when it reopened,
so great was the magnificent Italian's power over the audience that,
though they came prepared to condemn, they received her with the loudest
demonstration of applause. But still such conduct toward audiences, if
followed up, could not but beget dissatisfaction and wrangling, and the
growing impatience of her managers as well as the more judicious public
could not be mistaken.

In spite of the fact that several brilliant singers were in England, and
of the desire of the public that the splendid talents of Catalani should
be appropriately supported, her jealousy and her exorbitant claims
prevented such a desirable combination. She offered to buy the theatre
and thus become sole proprietor, sole manager, and sole performer;
but, of course, the proposition was refused, luckily for the enraged
cantatrice, who would certainly have paid dearly for her experiment.

Catalani on closing her English engagement proceeded to Paris. She had
been known as an ardent friend of the Bourbon exiles, and so, during the
occupation of Paris by the Allies in 1814, she found herself in great
favor. After the Hundred Days had passed and the royal house seemed to
be firmly seated, she received a government subvention of one hundred
and sixty thousand francs and the privilege of the Opera. Catalani's
passion for absorbing everything within the radius of her own vanity and
her jealousy of rivals operated against her success in Paris, as they
had in