Perfect Behavior: A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in All Social Crises

IN A BOX AT THE OPERA The opera differs from the symphony concert, or piano recital, in the same way that the army drill command of “At Ease!” differs from “Rest!” When one of these orders (I never could remember which is given to a battalion in formation), it signifies that talking is permitted; opera, of course, corresponds to that command. Before the invention of the phonograph it was often necessary for the opera goer to pay some attention to the performance— at least while certain favorite arias were being sung; this handicap to the enjoyment of opera has now fortunately been overcome and one can devote one’s entire attention to other more important things, safe in one’s knowledge that one has Galli-Curci at home on the Vic. In order really to get the most out of an opera a great deal of study and preparation is required in advance; I have not space at this time to cover these preliminaries thoroughly, but would recommend to the earnest student such supplemental information as can be obtained from Lady Duff-Gordon, or Messrs. Tiffany, Técla and Pinaud. Upon entering one’s box the true opera lover at once assumes a musical attitude; this should be practised at home, by my lady, before a mirror until she is absolutely sure that the shoulders and back can be seen from any part of the house. Then, with the aid of a pair of strong opera glasses, she may proceed to scrutinize carefully the occupants of the boxes— noting carefully any irregular features. Technical phraseology, useful in this connection, includes “unearthly creature,” “stray leopard” or, simply, “that person.”