Richings English Opera: The Doctor of Alcantara

“The Richings opera troupe closed a busy week at the French Theater on Saturday evening, with a revival of Julius Eichberg’s capital opera bouffe, ‘The Doctor of Alcantara’—a composition that has, within the brief space of three or four years, obtained the honor of upward of four hundred representations in various parts of the country, and as, in Boston at least, generally preferred to the French species of operatic burlesque, to which in some respects it corresponds. Although the libretto of the ‘Doctor’ is the invention of a Parisian vaudeville constructor, it is morally as clean as it is comically wholesome. And in his subsequent amusing efforts, all of which have not yet been introduced in New York, Mr. Eichberg seems to have been equally fortunate—in no instance depending upon vulgarity either in the action or in the text, to secure attention and excite the mirth of audiences. It is well, perhaps, to note this, since the term opera bouffe is now so generally identified with that broad style of lyric entertainment adapted to the demimonde taste of a few overgrown capitals, and which might be more aptly named opera de cancan.  

"While we may admire the zeal which Miss Caroline Richings displays in presenting herself and company in opera six nights in the week and at a Saturday matinee, we cannot compliment the judgment that counsels such an incessant round of vocal labor. Voices, like limbs, need repose at stated intervals, and much more repose than Miss Richings is in the habit of allowing to her own efficient organ. It is not too much to say that this energetic prima donna sings nearly 300 roles in the course of the regular season, beside undergoing the fatigue of rehearsals. Hence there are times when the evidences of ever-exertion become painfully apparent, not only in her own case, but in the general efforts of the troupe. Such results were particularly noticeable in the performance of the ‘Doctor’ which dragged sleepily on, and was, with the main exception of the choruses, but half sung. The representation was in strong contrast with that of ‘Fra Diavolo’—the preceding matinée attraction.  Mr Wylie—who, by the way, had not been over-exercised during the week—would have done well had he taken snuff himself and infused a pinch of the same into his opening serenade, ‘Wake! Lady, wake!’ which was sighed forth with the tranquilizing effects of a lullaby. Mrs. Seguin, in the role of Isabella, gave the least occasion for any other than complimentary comment. Her rich contralto finds a fruitful opportunity for display in the sweet, melodious themes allotted to this part. Her rendering of the favorite romance in the first act—‘Beneath the gloomy convent walls’—has never yet failed to give entire satisfaction, nor did it in this instance. Mr. Seguin’s Doctor Paracelsus is good in make up and mien, but needs filling out in by-play.  Indeed, the librettist has left many vacancies for character actors to occupy at discretion. On the theatrical stage advantage would be taken of such desirable opportunities, but our young operatic friends are apparently afraid to take the liberties not definitely ordered by the author. Hence follow numerous awkward pauses in the action, and the conversations dwindle to dull and disjointed observations. Even ‘gagging’ within bounds were preferable to such amateurish relapses. This observation applies more or less generally to the other performances which the troupe have lately given.

“Mrs. Arnold, who appeared as Lucretia, is not suited to the part, vocally or otherwise. It was not surprising therefore, that she should make nothing of it, though trying to do what we charitably supposed might have been her best. Mr. Peakes, as Don Pomposo, executed an admirable bit of low comedy, and Mr. Arnold, the Senor Balthazar, gave renewed interest to the farcical situations in which he becomes involved. On the whole, there was much to be thankful for, although the representation did lack in life, compactness, and in that harmonious wholeness which marked the operetta as originally produced at this theater under the composer’s personal direction. Mr. Behrens, intelligent musician that he is, does not hold his orchestra to strict account at rehearsals, we fear, else how is it possible that his band should feel their way through the score with such slovenliness as becomes too frequently apparent at the English opera? There is no excuse for orchestral inaccuracies in New-York, where the musicians are inured to wrestling with the toughest masters for their daily beer and bread.”