At the Hotel de Bour­gogne in 1640, the stage is set for an evening of the­ater. The hall, resem­bling a ten­nis court adapt­ed for per­for­mance, fea­tures a dim­ly lit, oblong space with a com­plex arrange­ment of seats, a stage adorned with roy­al emblems, and no chairs in the pit area, cre­at­ing a dynam­ic and impro­vised ambiance for the audi­ence. An array of lus­ters, about to be lit, promis­es illu­mi­na­tion and spec­ta­cle. As the cur­tain ris­es, the space buzzes to life with a diverse crowd pour­ing in: troop­ers announce their entrance with author­i­ty, claim­ing free access by virtue of their mil­i­tary affil­i­a­tions, while a bustling mix of burghers, lack­eys, and pages, among oth­ers, fill the room with antic­i­pa­to­ry chat­ter and var­i­ous activ­i­ties.

The scene vibrates with the ener­gy of ear­ly spec­ta­tors seek­ing enter­tain­ment and pas­time; some engage in fenc­ing, oth­ers set­tle for card games, cast­ing aside for­mal­i­ty for leisure and cama­raderie. The atmos­phere is charged with antic­i­pa­tion, as the crowd await­ing the play ‘La Clorise’ nav­i­gates the social play­ground of the hall. Moments of humor and ten­sion unfold—a guards­man chas­ing a moment of romance, a pick­pock­et shar­ing his dubi­ous exper­tise with eager appren­tices, and pages mis­chief-mak­ing under the watch­ful eye of authority—all paint­ing a vivid tableau of a night at the the­ater in the 17th cen­tu­ry.

A sense of com­mu­ni­ty and rev­el­ry dom­i­nates as indi­vid­u­als from var­i­ous walks of life con­verge in this shared space, each with their motives and expec­ta­tions for the evening’s enter­tain­ment. Names like Rotrou and Corneille echo the cul­tur­al and his­tor­i­cal sig­nif­i­cance of the venue, remind­ing atten­dees of its sto­ried past. Antic­i­pa­tion builds for Mas­ter Balt­haz­ar Baro’s ‘Clorise’, set­ting the stage for a night of intrigue, dra­ma, and the col­lec­tive expe­ri­ence of the­ater-going in an era where such events were cen­tral to social and cul­tur­al life.