The chorus appeared as demons at the opera, and
wore the tight-fitting scaly dresses which time out of mind have been
invested upon the stage with diabolical attributes. What were they to
do? Was there time to undress and dress again? Scarcely. Besides, was
it worth the trouble? It was very dark; bitterly cold; there was not a
soul to be seen in the streets; all Paris was abed and asleep.
Moreover, the door of the sacristy would be ready open to receive
them, and their white stoles would be immediately obtainable. Well,
the story goes that these desperate singers, accoutred as they were,
ran as fast as they could to Notre Dame, veiled their satanic dresses
beneath the snowy surplices of the choir, and accomplished their
sacred duties without any discovery of the impropriety of their
conduct. It is true they encountered in their course a patrol of the
civic guard; but the representatives of law and order, forming
probably their own conclusions as to the significance of the demoniac
apparition, are said to have prudently taken to flight in an opposite
direction.
Upon our early English stage the "super" had frequent occupation; the
Shakespearean drama, indeed, makes large demands upon the mute
performers.
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