Another disaster has occurred in a theatre from pure panic.
On Saturday, the Theatre Royal, Gateshead, was crowded with spectators intent on a pantomime, when a woman noticed some smoke near the balcony, and shrieked out, " Fire !" There was really no fire, the smoke arising from some paper lighted by a falling match in a crevice between two seats ; but the audience rose in wild panic, a stampede occurred, and, as -usual, was fatal to the occupants of the gallery. They could only fly by a single staircase with a sharp turn in it, and terminated by a door one leaf of which was bolted. Forster, a check-taker, threw this open, but was crushed by the rush, and his body, falling across the road, became the foundation of a barricade. Under the pressure, which, remember, is tremendous, equal at least, for each hun- dred, to six tons moving at ten miles an hour, nine children, ranging in years from eleven to fifteen, were crushed to death. Everything was done by the actors and those who re- tained their reason to check the stampede, and no blame attaches to any one.except the audience, who were completely carried away by their own selfishness, and that emotion which only crowds develop, and to which we attach the word " panic," the ancient name for religions delirium. Nothing, it would seem, except military discipline will teach people that, if they will only march quietly, any building whatever can be emptied in a minute. And nothing except hanging will teach the builders of theatres that galleries need two staircases, either straight, or with a deep and large bay at each turn.
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