Melbourne’s Princess Theatre has been host to many fine performers over the years, but the most famous performance of all belongs to its ghost, Federici.
Princess Theatre Melbourne Victoria; H94.90/1
In 1887, British opera singer Frederick Baker (Signor ‘Federici’) arrived in Australia to perform with Messrs. Williamson, Garner and Musgrove’s Opera Company. He was to play in several operas, culminating with a star turn as Mephistopheles (the devil) in Gounod’s famous opera, ‘Faust’.
The opening night of Faust at the Princess Theatre was keenly anticipated. The Argus reported that: ‘There was a very large house, and “Faust” was given with unexpected success … Mr Federici shared with his fellow artists the applause of the audience’.
The interior of the Princess Theatre, Melbourne; IMP25/11/65/168
It was in the final scene that tragedy struck. Federici, as Satan, was to spirit Faust down to hell. Standing over the stage trapdoor in a mirage of smoke and fire, Federici wrapped his scarlet cloak around his victim. He spoke his character’s final lines: ‘It might be’. They were the final lines he would ever deliver. [1]
The late Mr. F. Baker (Federici); A/S22/03/88/44
Federici and his fellow actor began to disappear from the stage through the trapdoor, but ‘just as their shoulders were on a level with the stage, Mr Federici was seen to put out his hands and clutch the boards’ [2]. Federici fell down the trapdoor, taking his fellow performer with him. He died in the green room forty minutes later. The cause of death was a heart attack.
Scene from the opera of “Faust,” at the Haymarket Theatre; IMP18/05/64/8
Meanwhile, the audience had no idea that anything was amiss. It was not until the following Monday that Melburnians awoke to the news in The Argus newspaper. ‘Shocking occurrence at the Princess Theatre. Tragic death of Mr Federici.’
The theatrical world was in uproar. ‘Nothing more weird and melancholy than this unlooked for and highly sensational occurrence has been recorded in connection with the stage … [T]he crimson hood, the pointed shoes and cap lying near him on the floor, could only seem a grim and ghastly mockery’ The Illustrated Australian News lamented.
The Australasian Sketcher with Pen and Pencil, 22 March 1888, p. 38
In true theatrical style, even Federici’s funeral was dramatic. He was buried in the Melbourne General Cemetery on Monday 5 March. The coffin was ‘literally smothered’ in wreaths and flowers (Table Talk). Reverend E.H. Goodwin was so affected by the tragedy that as the coffin was lowered into the ground, he ‘sank on to a mound in a fainting fit’ and ‘was unable to complete the service’.
In the years that followed, actors, stagehands and even patrons began reporting strange happenings at the Princess Theatre. Audience members reported odd lights flashing on and off during theatre performances. Stagehands and artists described feeling something brushing past them in empty corridors. Strangest of all were the reported sightings of Federici. Witnesses said that his ghost appeared as ‘a tall figure of a good-looking man, in full evening dress, hair slightly greying at the temple, and of stylish appearance’. [3]
Princess Theatre. Photograph by Rennie Ellis; H2011.150/2668
It is said that Federici appears at night. Usually, he sits around the centre of the second or third row of the theatre’s dress circle. Sometimes he changes seats to watch the faces of the critics. Some say they have observed the Italian ‘frowning at the weak performances of inferior actors’, taking notes, and brushing his hair back ‘with impatient gestures’ when he is displeased. [4] Eventually the ghost glides off through the boxes, disappearing down the stairs behind the Royal Box.
Every opening night, a seat in the Dress Circle at the Princess Theatre is left empty for Federici. It is a good luck sign if his ghost appears. [5]
References
[1] Pinkney, J., 2005, Haunted. The book of Australia’s ghosts. Five Mile Press, Rowville, Vic
[2] ‘Shocking Occurrence at the Princess’ Theatre. Tragic Death of Mr Federici’, The Argus, 5 March 1888, p. 8
[3] McKenzie, V. & T., 1984, A Glimpse of Ghosts. Mysterious Places and Haunted Houses of Early Australia, Centennial Publications, Chatswood, NSW, p. 54
[4] The Argus, 1 June 1946, p. 17
[5] City of Melbourne website
www.thatsmelbourne.com.au
The City of Melbourne’s ‘That’s Melbourne’ was a website that provided information about things to do in Melbourne, including places to go, things to see and do, and places to eat & drink. This web page was preserved by PANDORA, Australia’s web archive, on 27 February 2011.
Loved this dramatic story and the accompanying pictures and information, particularly The Argus report of the death – so much information was given in those days, even to the use of the ‘galvanic battery’ by his doctor in an attempt to save him. It never ceases to amaze me when I read of medical procedures in those days – quite remarkable!
Thank you for a fascinating blog
This is awesome Sarah!
Correction: Federici was buried on Monday 5 March 1888. Not on 6 March.
Thanks for picking this up Daryl. I have amended the date to 5 March. Sarah
I worked at the Princess Theatre as an usher decades ago and am convinced that there was a man in a dark suit wearing a white shirt standing at the back of the dress circle one evening after the theatre was empty, watching me check the stalls for an umbrella that a woman had left under her seat.
HI Katherine. Which shows did you work on during your time at The Princess. You story doesn’t surprise me at all. I worked there from 1996 until around 3-4 years ago.
Like a number of people who have worked at The Princess over the years, both on-stage, back-stage or Front of House, I’ve had a number of experiences. During my 26 years working there, a number of times I smelt burnt toast when the audience had left and there were only a few staff members still there. That smell is often associated with a presence. It can be a smell which we instantly equate to burnt toast. No one in the theatre would have been making toast that long after a performance that late. So many performers have seen him over the years from the stage as well. His seat is actually number 32-33 but I won’t mention which row. There are so many stories I’ve heard from people who work at the theatre. I have also heard stories from staff members who were NOT believers and who could not explain seeing a man in period clothes in the Dress Circle. When they looked away and looked back.. he was gone.
What a well-told tale. Thank you. I lived across the lane from the Princess Theatre for about six months. Never got to meet Federici though. And I’m curious why the postcard of the Princess Theatre seems to have snow in the street?
Hi David, Thanks for your interest. Yes, I have wondered about the snow. Artistic licence perhaps? Although, according to the University of Melbourne’s online encyclopedia, eMelbourne, it has snowed in Melbourne on rare occasions: ‘ Melbourne’s heaviest snowfall on record occurred on 31 August 1849, when snow on Melbourne streets was reported to be one foot (30 cm) deep in places.’
Well, he certainly had no adverse affects upon the skill sets and professionalism of the cast of “Jesus Christ Superstar” that I was fortunate enough to witness last year, along with the brilliance of members of “A Beautiful Noise,” that I was again lucky enough to view when in Melbourne most recently. All of the musicians, singers, dancers, actors, were fantastically uplifting and dynamic. Old Federicis certainly missed something if he didn’t sneak in and partake of the energies generated in those brilliant and buoyant presentations.