Evening star., 1897-03-27

eants. You should have seen the parquet
boxes, the great ones taken by the greater
Paul Demidoff-then In the flower Of his
oriental and prtnceiy magnihcence, aitnougn
the grandson Of q serf-when Nariscklne'
Redon de Beaupreau. Choiseul, Lagrenee.
the Herissons and the Monclains were sub
scribers! What an orchestra leader was the
pere Strauss! What magnificent generosity,
when these princes and mobiles. French and
foreign. would stand up In their places at
the final crash of Quadrille and shower
down double handfulls Of gold pieces-gold!
yes gold!-on the poor girls and fellows let
in free because Of their costumes and their
dancing"
1t must be true what Clodoche told us.
though 1t seems hard that here. again, rs
ever. the present Is so much weaker than
the past. Any romantic youth. fresh from
the country and his reading of Balzac and
Paul lie Kock. who, saving up his spending
money for the wherewithal to figure worth
lily in one of this winters functions, dreams
beforehand Of adventures and conquests. is
likely to be sadly disappointed. Duchesses,
countesses and ladies of the great world
no longer patronize the Opera balls. unless
as mere spectators from the second third
row boxes. And as for lively gayety, while
1t eXists-and in profusion: while the sights
and sounds are still intoxicating, bewilaer-
ing: while costumes. bright eyes and rosy
cheeks are all the artist represents. it is the
tone-so ci,anged-the ruder ideal of a
| ruder. democratic age, that drives refined
and cultured people from these halls of
| light
The Balls of the Present.
What passes there? You hear the cries
| of the tortured. In the corridors behind
| the boxes a band OF very young men of
! that age which is without pity have by
| their own private authority transformed
| themselves into torturers. With cries of
| cannibals they surround a girl. thirty
against one. push and pull, stifie and try
| at every price to lift her up in air under
! pretext Of carrying her about in triumph.
The unhappy creature beseeches, sobs even,
| struggles. bites! She breaks her fan in
| descair across the face of her nearest
| assailant! Until. with hair down and head
| dress torn. prey to veritable fit of
Mysteries. she is at last left alone like a
| package in a corner. Farther down. in one
| of the central loggias. of the grand stair
| way. little page in tight black velvet
coIse.et. with satin lap-ls cut heart-shaped,
! is driven against the marble balustrade, and
| close-preSsed. like deer at bay, by pack
| OF wild beasts.
The Dancing.
There is always movement, noise, gayety
| even, with all the "serDentines' and lines
which are let down from the boxes to fish,
| with sweetn eats as a bait. The frippery
| on the backs of the hired freely adj
| mitted dancers is sorry enough, however;
| and there is a sad contrast between the
| tawdry rags and anxious faces, with worn
| eyes and features wearied by the battles
| OF life. Firemen from the suburbs, nurses,
| conscripts. all have come down from the
| outer quarters smelling of the petit bleu,
| the ''picolo.' the two-cent glass of chean
| red wine. In the quadrille there is young
| beardless boy, disguised as a Norman girl
| enigmaticaly waving his petticoats Op-
| posite him Spanish general, with hang
| ing arms. goes through a pantomime
| while the sweat burrows his face, dishon-
ored by an indecent nose. red and swollen
a mr. uyffh
| of this ball are ignoble.
| Yes, there is violence, coarseness even
| drunkenness; but the Opera is so large
| with its great auditorium, its corridors
| its foyers-all these open to the dancers
| and the Observation-Disclosures Is room fol-
all that objectionableness without com
pletely running The ball. For the eye it Is
| certainly beautiful and l can ina CINE thai
tourist coming with his fresh enthusiasm
thinking it delightful all throughout Ant
was 1t really ever better?
Poor Alfred de Musset thought as mucf
sixty years ago and wrote about the DE
cline and Fall of the Opera Balls"
II ever the ruin of century, the deatf
of a people, the destruction of a city, tht
oN ci4urning Of a kingdom could inspir,
melancholy rhymes In an observer of goot
VIII; II ever the changes and inconstancy
OF fortune could throw into sobs and har
nCnious strains some bard carefully cling
Ing tc the pinnacle of a picturesque, crumb
ling tower, what graver subject of medita
ton could be given to man than the pitifu
spectacle Of tie Opera balls?
| 'All the pleasures of the masked ball
the intrigue, the promenade, the oppor
tuTlty of saying something. the permission
t. say everything, the imbroglio charm
OF heart and spirit, of folly and mystery
all Is dead STERLING HEILIG