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Updated: June 3, 2025
One of them, the most powerful and numerous, composed of the great, of men of fortune, and the ladies, supported French music; the other, more lively and haughty, and fuller of enthusiasm, was composed of real connoisseurs, and men of talents, and genius. This little group assembled at the opera-house, under the box belonging to the queen.
When they arrived at the Opera-house the colonel and Mrs. James presently left them; nor did Booth and his lady remain long together, but were soon divided from each other by different masques.
They backed away, bristling with distrust. "That's the oath, fellows. Yu' may as well make your minds up for I have it to do!" "Dare you to! Ah!" "And after dinner it's the Opera-house, to see 'The Children of Captain Cant'!" They screamed shrilly at him, keeping off beyond the curb. "I can't waste my time on such smart boys," said Mr. McLean, rising lazily to his full height from the window-sill.
Every one knows the Opera-House, and where he would be standing, and the impossibility of saying anything but the most banal commonplaces, looking up like that. Then Josiah leaned forward, proud of his acquaintanceship with a peer, and said in a distinct voice: "Won't you come into the box, Lord Bracondale? There is plenty of room."
At twenty-one, when Leon Kantor played a Sunday-night concert, there was a human queue curling entirely around the square block of the opera-house, waiting its one, two, even three and four hours for the privilege of standing-room only.
The scene was the Royal Opera-house. The audience was the finest society of the court; and even then the musical taste of Berlin, as if forecasting Wagner, used to sneer loftily at that of Vienna, where Flotow was about to produce "Martha," as a taste for tanzmusik.
IT was two long weeks that the unfortunate Tartarin had been seeking his Algerian flame, and most likely he would have been seeking after her to this day if the little god kind to lovers had not come to his help under the shape of a Montenegrin nobleman. It happened as follows. Every Saturday night in winter there is a masked ball at the Grand Theatre of Algiers, just as at the Paris Opera-House.
The unlucky opera-house, shorn of its ancient popularity, was not half filled. Public curiosity was not specially aroused. Nobody cared particularly to see an Italian actor perform in a translation of a play by an English dramatist.
Two of our relatives, Frau Amalie Beer and our beloved Moritz von Oppenfeld, subscribed for boxes in the opera-house, and when they did not use them, which often happened, sent us the key. So as a boy I heard most of the operas produced at that time, and I saw the ballets, of which Frederick William IV was especially fond, and which Taglioni understood how to arrange so admirably.
After this confabulation the steward had orders to shut the door on Monsieur de Rubempre which was done. Lucien paced the waiting-room at the opera-house like a man who was drunk. He fancied himself the talk of all Paris.
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