Arion Gesangverein Bal Masque

“Despite the Alaska-like condition of the weather and the penitential season of Lent, Italian opera and Prince Carnival are still on the metropolitan boards, the former using up Verdi and Gounod and the latter jingling his cap and bells. The departure of the La Grange and Brignoli company from the Academy leaves Pike and Harrison without a competitor, and the one hundred and ninety-nine and a half stockholders are in a quandary. They fall back on Prince Carnival for assistance and call upon his jolly Arions to mount guard at the Catacombs for one night. A cosmopolitan garrison, therefore, in strange attire and speaking in an unknown tongue (at least to opera-goers) will take possession of the Irving place opera house on Thursday night, and hold it against all comers ‘until five o’clock in the morning.’ This will be the last grand demonstration made on the east side until the return of La Grange and Brignoli on St. Patrick’s Day.”

Ad for publication of the polka.

The publication of the composition for this ball “Arion Carneval Marsch Polka” by Carl Fradel, publisher C. W. Ditson & Co., 711 Broadway,  is now available. This composition by the the popular composer contains attractive melodies, and already sells very well.

“The Arion Vocal Society give their annual bal masqué at the Academy of Music tonight. The programme announces the ball to commence at nine o’clock. At that time a number of coopers will tap the celebrated ‘Heidelberger Fass,’ out of which will appear three representatives of the god Mercury, four police clubs standard bearer, master of ceremonies, in gala carriage, drawn by four hobby horses; three wig makers, two aides-de-camp, band of music, floor committee, lobby committee, drum major’s hand and the rattle guard.” More information on participants and displays.

“The Arion Ball: Prince Carnival’s Last Grand Reception at the Academy—Masks, Merriment, Music and Dancing—A Night of Jollity.

Once upon a time, so heathen mythology at least says, there was a jolly minstrel named Arion, who picked up a precarious living by twanging his lyre in the streets of some well known old Grecian city, until the good people there became disgusted with him and forced him to emigrate. On the ship, he got into a row with the deck hands, so they incontinently bundled him and his lyre over the side of the vessel into the sea. A queer looking fish, alarmed at the splash, popped his head over the surface of the water to see whether the intruder was anything in the edible line. Finding him nothing but a half starved minstrel with only a harp and its green baize covering in his possession, the scaly individual politely offered to paddle him ashore on his back. Arion gratefully accepted the invitation and went to the nearest dock playing ‘Mother I’ve Come Home,’ while the dolphin beat time with his tail.

Hence is derived the Arion Vocal Society, though what connection there is between this classical gentleman and the thousand jolly Teutons who last night converted the Catacombs into Aladdin’s palace we are at a loss to know.  However, what’s in a name? The modern Arions know how to enjoy themselves and make all their friends do likewise. Last night a long line of carriages filled Irving place, with horses’ heads facing towards Fourteenth street [illeg.] general order No. — Captain Brackett, and as each stopped at the gas lighted entrance to the Academy a procession of strangely attired people tripped up the steps and disappeared in the tombs where many an operatic voice is inurned. To the crowd of idlers standing outside it would seem as if a volume of universal history, strangely confused, however, like the author of the ‘elbows of the Mincio,’ was being unfolded before them at the opening of each carriage. Here a North American Indian handed out Mary Stuart and Queen Elizabeth, while Sir Walter Raleigh busied himself about Meg Morrilles. A harlequin escorted Lucretia Borgia and left his columbine to the care of Sam Slick. Passing the magic portals by means of a talismanic card, on one side of which Prince Carneval appeared blowing a ‘tallyho’ sort of welcome from his hunting horn, and on the other a number of American and European celebrities wee grouped in the most undignified manner like the peanut occupants of the pit of the Bowery, the carnival visitor found himself in the midst of an assemblage of all nations, and through the lobby door he saw the stage with its rich decorations. The stage part of the [platform was concealed by a red curtain in the middle of the floor there being a huge barrel called the ‘Heidelberger Faas,’ in imitation of the students’ celebratyed drinking resort in Heidelberg. Commencing at ten o’clock, the following programme opened the ball:— 

Eight coopers tapped the great celebrated ‘Heidelberger Faas,’ out of which the following appeared:—Three Mercurys (god of commerce and thieves); four police clubs; standard bearer with the Carnival’s flag; Master of Ceremony in gala carriage drawn by four hobby horses; three wigmakers carrying the ends of the wig of the Master of Ceremonies; two aides-de-camp riding on big snails; music band with their leader and flag bearer; Floor Committee in the costume of Wallenstein’s mounted body guard; Lobby Committee in the costume of falconers, drum major’s hat; Klapper Guard (rattle guard); Good Times, represented by a giant silver dollar; Hard Times illustrated by a torn greenback; deputation from the animal kingdom; Johnson’s defenders, light artillery; Congressional protectors, heavy artillery; ovation to Prince Carnival, after which the Prince descended from his throne and opened the ball by commanding the march, when all maskes were admitted to the floor and joined in the dance. During the night, in intervals of one hour, sundry carnivalistic and grotesque drolleries were presented.

The procession was the most gorgeous of the kind we have ever witnessed in the Academy. The sudden disappearance of the curtain after a pistol was fired revealed a ‘White Fawn’ kind of scene in the midst of which Prince Carnival sat on his throne, while behind him constantly revolved an ever-varying wheel and on either side of him were groups of masks had children attired as danseuses. Caricatures of the most pointed and mirth-provoking kind lined the walls on each side, and a happy family of elephants, bears, storks, frogs and snails were prominent in the procession and afterwards had a dance of their own. After this brilliant opening a surge of masks floated across the floor and rippled in bright and many colored eddies against the throne of the merry prince, flashing forth in dazzling splendor when touched by the light of a thousand gas jets. Everywhere good humor, everywhere enjoyment and everywhere the eye sparkled and the pulse quickened beneath the magic influence of the presiding deity.

Sitting in one of the balcony boxes and looking down on the floor the spectator seemed to be transported to one of those enchanted palaces about which the princess Sherazed [sic] told her Blue Beard husband during the ‘Arabian Nights.’ A thousand masks whirled around in the mazes of the waltz or flitted past each other in the inspiriting gallop, and helmets, plumes, satin, velvet, tinkling ornaments and grotesque masks danced like the shifting figures of kaleidoscope. Here Sinbad the Sailor and the Witch of Endor formed the head of a quadrilles, while opposite them stood a ferocious Fenian and the Fair Maid of Perth. Paul Fry might be seen accosting each fair domino with the inevitable ‘Hope I don’t intrude,’ and the one hundred and ninety-nine and a half stockholders, clad in the cerements of defunct opera managers, smiled graciously on everybody. Amid the gay human carpeting of the platform the floor committee, in the gorgeous attire of Wallenstein’s guard, were conspicuous. At each crash of the orchestra the floor seemed as if a hundred serpents in variegated scales were writhing themselves into the most fantastic groups, and eye and ear became bewildered at the human rainbow on which the huge chandelier in the centre danced lances of light, and at the strains of music from a hundred instruments, which floated from the amphitheatre and filled every nook of the building with a perfect avalanche of harmony.

As we write the ball is at its height, the envious masks have dropped from blushing faces and the sound of voices is laughter and happiness mingle with the strains of the orchestra.The polie arrangements, under Captain Cameron, were as usual satisfactory. Last night’s Arion festival will be a green spot in the memory of all who attended it.” 

The event was very well attended...A quadrille was performed by dancers…Choruses from outside of New York participated: Boston’s Orpheus and Newark’s Eintracht…

The attendance of the ball was almost as high as for the Liederkranz ball.