The theatres of Paris at the present time display such gross acts of
licentiousness among the spectators and such obscene dialogue on the
stage, that it is impossible to accompany a modest woman to most of
them. To those where the rules of decency were observed, our ladies
went, and the Opera Buffa was one of the few where we could resort with
comfort and convenience.
This theatre is in the Rue de la Victoire, and here one could listen to
the charming music of Cimarosa, Martinelli and Paesiello.[1] This last
composer has attained an immense success by a piece, called _Zingari
in Flora_, which attracts crowded houses. On the third night of
its representation Paesiello himself, just arrived from Naples, made
his appearance in the box next the stage, opposite the one in which
the First Consul, his wife, Louis Bonaparte and _his_ wife,
_ci-devant_ Mdlle. Beauharnais, and the lady of Joseph Bonaparte
were sitting.
The instant Paesiello was recognised, he was saluted with loud and
repeated applause, and all the spectators stood up to pay their
respects to the genius who had so often charmed them by his powers of
composition. A lady then stepped into his box, and placed a crown of
laurel on his head, the plaudits then redoubled, while Bonaparte passed
his hand over his own forehead as an indication of what was uppermost
in his mind. He condescended to notice Paesiello, and signified by a
movement of his head that he participated in the general sentiment of
approbation.
The respect paid to the composer by the band of musicians was
remarkable. They all rose at his entrance, turned towards him, and
retained this position during the rest of the evening. Great decorum
and good conduct are maintained in every part of this theatre, and even
behind the scenes. Sentinels are planted, not only behind the curtain
to preserve order, but plenty of them are stationed in every part of
the house, boxes, pit and gallery. Their conduct is exemplary. The
spectators, at this the best of the Paris theatres, behave themselves
with infinitely more propriety than the audiences at Drury Lane and
Covent Garden. The Cyprian corps also set an example of orderly
conduct, which their frail sisters in the fashionable London resorts
would do well to follow.
On the night of Paesiello’s coronation we were so extremely fortunate
as to obtain a box nearly opposite to that occupied by the First
Consul and his relatives, and we remarked that Madame Bonaparte, her
daughter, and Madame Joseph Bonaparte were the only French women in the
theatre whose dress was modest as well as elegant. I was peculiarly
gratified to observe this circumstance, because, when the force of
example is considered, these persons may be enabled, owing to their
distinguished positions, to do much to check the _mauvais goût_ in
the fashionable Parisian toilettes of to-day.
The three distinguished ladies sat in front of the box, and were
attired much as would be a respectable English woman of the upper
classes wearing evening dress.
Mesdames Napoleon, Louis and Joseph, wore fine diamond necklaces and
drop earrings.
[Sidenote: A REVIEW AT THE TUILERIES]
Behind them, with his back to the audience, sat the First Consul, who
conversed during the whole evening with his step-son, young Beauharnais.
During the whole evening Bonaparte never exchanged a syllable with the
female members of his party, and when the play was over he darted from
his seat and departed by a side entrance, leaving his family to be
conducted from the theatre by their attendants.