New Orleans Opera Bouffe: Orphée aux enfers

“A most enthusiastic reception was given last evening at this theatre to Mlle. Aline Lambele, who made her first appearance before a New York audience as Eurydice in ‘Orphée aux Enfers,’ the first and (we may safely say) the best of Offenbach’s operas. Into this opera the composer threw all the ardor of his first inspiration. Many of the themes of the ‘Belle Helene’ and of ‘La Grande Duchesse’ were borrowed from it, for Offenbach does not hesitate to pillage for himself. The part which Mlle. Lambele so successful sustained last evening was originally written for Tantin, nine years ago, and ‘Orpheus’ met with such immense success as to be played five hundred and fifty times in Paris and four hundred times in Berlin. The opera bouffe seems to be gaining ground everywhere. Mme Schneider has just been engaged in England to play four first rate operas bouffes—‘La Grand Duchesse,’ ‘l’Orphée,’ ‘La Belle Hélène’ and ‘La Barbe Bleue.’ Last evening one of the most interesting features of the performance was the duet in the first act, with Mr. Decre (Orpheus), with accompaniment obligato on the violin by this gentleman, who is the tenor of the company. Mlle. Lambele’s pastoral aria was both applauded and encored. Another interesting feature was the second tableau, representing the gods and goddesses asleep and snoring, and ending with their waking up to all the excitement of an Olympic cancan.”

“Last night, the New Orleans opera bouffé company made their first appearance here at the French Theatre. They certainly had no reason to complain of a lack of attendance. Every seat was filled, and much of the standing room was occupied.  The French element was well represented. As for the opera, it is already known here, although but slightly in comparison with the ‘Grand Duchess’ and ‘La Belle Helene.’

“As an entire composition the work is regarded by many capable critics as superior to either of the latter. It has not, however, so many pleasing airs, and is not so likely to become popular.

“The wit of the libretto is of a peculiarly ‘Frenchy’ sort, and can hardly be appreciated by American audiences. It is only the pantomime which is really enjoyed, and that was evidently keenly relished. The duet between Eurydice and Orpheus in the first act, when the caricatured father of music chases the annoyed charmer from one side to another, playing his violin, was exquisitely absurd and enjoyable—all the more so that Orpheus M. Decre—is an excellent violinist, and Eurydice—Mlle. Lambele—acted her part with admirable archness, vivacity and effect.  So in the scene where Jupiter—M. Edgard—disguised as a large fly, ‘buzzes’ around the entranced Eurydice, and evades her attempts to catch him until she throws her veil over him, there was capital acting, of a sort only seen on the French stage.

“Of the other scenes which appealed at once to the sense of the ridiculous were—that in which the indignant Juno is pushed resisting and kicking rather immodestly, by the whole force of gods, goddesses and minor characters in a row; the chorus and dance at the end of the second act, which was unique and funny, and the final dance, which equals the can-can in immorality and absurdity. Of the singing not much can be said. Mlle. Lambele has a facile execution, a voice which is sweet if not strong, a pleasing manner and an attractive appearance. The songs assigned to her were beautifully rendered. Of the other female singers we cannot speak in like praise. Some of them were fair, and in personal appearance attractive. None of them seemed disposed to hide their charms. M. Edgard depends mainly on his acting, which is intensely comic. M. Goujon, Pluto, is also a good actor and a moderate singer. The choruses were strong and satisfactory.   

“It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say anything in regard to the morality of the opera. Its character is well known. It is neither better nor worse than the two operas with which Mr. Bateman has recently made us acquainted. The immorality of this class of operas is too manifest to require demonstration. Those who go to see them know very well what they are. We simply report, and leave to those whose function it is to educate public morality.”

“Another Opera-Bouffe Company commenced operations at this establishment last evening.  There are now, we believe, three—one in the Bowery, one in Broadway, and one in Fourteenth-street.  The idea, largely and liberally promulgated by Mr. BATEMAN, has been seized, it is evident, with avidity by many people. It is proper, however, in view of preemptive rights, to recognize the fact that ‘Orphée and Enfers’ has long been a favorite with the eastern side of the town. It was produced several years ago, and had a success which continues to the present moment. It was even attempted wretchedly at this French house within the recollection of the youngest inhabitant. But, nevertheless, the intention of producing Opera Bouffe in a purely Parisian style belongs and remains with Mr. BATEMAN. We may say also that it has not been disturbed by any of his competitors. On the contrary, we believe that these ‘penny-a-scene’ imitations do him good. At all events we trust that they many.

“There was an insufficiency of bills last night, so that we are unable to mention the names of the artists who took part in the performance. No one was announced in the papers, with the exception of Mlle. LAMBELE, implying, we take it, that no one was worth announcing. In this view of the case we by no means agree. Mlle. LAMBELE is prepossessing in her appearance. Her eyes are beautiful; her figure genteel. When these facts are stated—which do not belong properly to criticism, but which may be added in individual appreciation—there is nothing more to be said. She is not a great comedienne like—; nor a great singer like—; (when a woman is pretty it is outrageous to make invidious comparisons;) but she tries to sing, and perhaps succeeds acceptably, in a certain way. Only she does not sing in the way of the Opera Bouffe. She sings as though she had learnt to sing, while the essence of all Opera Bouffe is to sing as though this were not the case—the study of trying to sing and not trying to sing being equal in both cases.

“And so with the entire company. It was on every one’s part a duty, an effort to bring out OFFENBACH, to deliver him in a grand style (and with such little voices) in the Italian manner—a manner which he has taken particular pains to ridicule. In Paris the singers of this kind of music avail themselves of organs that are not usually devoted to vocalism. They are singularly felicitous in the particular of the nose. Under no circumstances do they make OFFENBACH’S music an affair of art—except in acting and musical repression. It is an affair of fun and general ridiculousness. If OFFENBACH had had the misfortune to be interpreted by first-class singers (singers merely) he would never have written a second work.

“Taken on the basis of mere vocalism, the performance was a failure; taken in any other way, it was tame. When we ascertain the names of the individual artists we will speak of them more particularly. We recognized M. EDGARD, who was excellent as Jupiter, especially in the fly scene. The opera is difficult to cast, inasmuch as there are many little parts that require good artists. The whole mythology of Greece is before us, and the gods and goddesses of old are not even now to be trifled with in the public mind—save in the way of fun. Some of these old friends were terribly belittled, dragged down and trampled on.

“The scenery was beneath notice, and the costumes were common, and evidently ‘washed out.’ There is a sufficiently large chorus, but it lacks the Parisian instinct—whether it come from that City or not. The orchestra was simply wretched; worse, if that can be possible than the band at the New-York Theatre. The conductor of course conducted without the score. Notes would have embarrassed him.

“We look forward hopefully to a better performance on Saturday evening. We have no apprehension of a worse one.”

French Opera—Orphee aux enfers

“The New-Orleans opera buffa company, under the direction of Messrs. Albaiza and Calabresi, opened a season at the French Theater last night with Offenbach’s ‘Orphée aux Enfers.’ In the first place, it has been performed before in New-York, though very poorly; and in the second, it contains but little music, and some of that little is embodied in ‘La Grande Duchess’ and ‘La Belle Hélène.’ There are only two or three striking airs: ‘Quand f’étais roi,’ in the Third Act, and ‘J’ai, vie le dicu Bacchus,’ in the Fourth, are the best. The soprano, Mlle. Lambele, who takes the part of Eurydice, has rather a pretty voice, which she uses with tolerable skill. She is a very pretty woman, and a passable actress, but has little of the abandon and vivacity which made Tostée so popular. M. Decre (Orpheus) has a neat tenor voice and some idea of singing, though he is not distinguished as an actor. M. Edgard (Jupiter) is a good burlesque actor, but no singer. The same may be said of M. Goujon (Pluto). M. Tholer (Opinion Publique) possesses an excellent baritone voice, with no cultivation at all. The rest of the troupe do not rise above disreputable mediocrity. It is hardly necessary to say that the piece is funny, for Offenbach is always funny; but the performance last night did not excite half so much amusement as the two operas by the same composer, with which we are already familiar—partly because it is intrinsically inferior, and partly because it lacked the finish with which Mr. Bateman used to produce his pieces. Of the morality of this sort of entertainment we have already spoken our mind pretty freely. Adultery is not a pleasant subject for the stage, and when it is coupled with lascivious dress, gesture, innuendo, it becomes simply disgusting. There were scenes in the exhibition last night which ought to have been hissed, and it pains us to say that some of them were not. That an apparently respectable audience could sit through such things, could witness especially the beastly bacchanal of the last scene without a protest, much more emphatic than the one they faintly made, against the insult to the virtue and decency of the New York public, is a saddening evidence of degeneracy in the moral sense of the community. We are happy to say that the opera won very little applause, and some few marks of disapproval. That is something, but it is not enough. So long as public parades of indecency are tolerated, so long as gentlemen and ladies look at such things in silence, instead of getting up, as they ought to do, and leaving the theater in anger, they, and not the managers, must bear the brunt of the blame. There is a certain class of dirty people who will rush eagerly to see anything that is dirty; and such people, we dare say, if they read what we have said, will be incited by our criticism to crowd the benches of the French Theater. So be it. We do not write for them. Our purpose is to guide, if we can, the taste of virtuous and refined people, and our advice to them is, Dont go there. The play is only fit for Bowery concert halls.”

“The new opera by Offenbach, which is now playing in this city, under the euphonius name of ‘Orpheus in Hell,’ is not only coarser, but its music is more flimsy, than that of either of its predecessors. The company, too, is poor, with one or two exceptions, and it is stated in the Providence Journal that when they performed in Boston ‘the appointments were of the most meager description, and the dresses not only tawdry, but so much soiled as to be positively disgraceful.’ The troupe seems to be greatly inferior to that of Mr. Bateman.”

“The second performance of ‘Orphée aux Enfers’ on Saturday night, at the French Theatre, showed in every way a marked improvement on the initial representation. The choruses were given with spirit, and the orchestra was more under control than before. Mlle.LAMBELE is certainly a charming artiste, albeit gifted with little voice, and almost destitute of dramatic skill. Her bearing nevertheless is graceful, and she sings with skill.”

“Orpheus and Eurydice loved each other with tender-hearted affection. They get married, from which it resulted that they didn’t take too long to not be able to feel for each other any more. Orpheus bored his tender spouse with his everlasting fiddle, and Eurydice made bouquets of blue flowers for the shepherd Aristée, who was going to dally with her in the wheat fields. It turned out that Aristée, who was Pluto, that is to say the king of Hell in person, carried off Eurydice, and brought her to the somber shores. Orphée wasn’t angry that it happened, and heaved sighs in mi-bémol (E minor) which could be translated by this familiar exclamation:  “What luck!” Nevertheless, a difficulty came up: as he was a Professor at the Conservatoire, he was elevated in the opinion of the public, and fearing to lose his courses if he resigned himself to his fate too easily, he resolved—very much in spite of himself, o my God!—to chase after his unfaithful wife—at least for the sake of form. But she had already changed her master—or her favorite, as you will. Jupiter had succeeded Pluto in her heart, and it was not in Erebus, but on Olympus that he [Orpheus] finds her. He’s totally trapped when the king of gods, who no doubt has had enough of her, orders that she be given back to him. But that doesn’t make a reckoning of either one or the other. Orpheus doesn’t see himself in the arms of such an easy woman as his wife without uneasiness, and she, for her part, who dreads the diet of the violin, would prefer to stay there and frolic with the gods, the demigods, the heroes and the supernumeraries than to return to her cottage in a suburb of Thebes, to listen eternally to the same refrain. And so she made her prayer, and implored Jupiter, very quietly, to not send her back to her sheep. Jupie allows himself to be touched, and arranges things for the best. He confirms the permission that he gave Orpheus to cross the Styx with Eurydice, but on condition that he’ll go first, and that he won’t turn around to look at her. Orpheus goes, playing his screeching fiddle, as if he were conducting a wedding; but as he doesn’t hurry, Jupiter astonishes him with a kick—which makes him turn around. Everybody’s happy; Eurydice remains on Olympus; Jupiter makes her a bacchante, which gives Pluto a revival of his lascivious appetites; she herself is delighted to not have to go back to her spouse, for whom the divorce is the acme of his wishes, and morality is satisfied, or at least Public Opinion, which doesn’t have to reproach Orpheus any more for being guilty of resigning himself to his misfortune.

“There’s the whole story; it’s neither new nor moral, but it’s a faithful reflection of plenty of conjugal adventures and misadventures. It’s this theme, pretty much recognized by everyone, nevertheless, that embellishes the charming foolishness that serves as the text of Offenbach’s musical fantasies, and on this text and this theme he has strung the finest pearls in his jewel-box. There is no lack, indeed, of people, and of the most expert connoisseurs, who affirm that this score is the maestro’s best, or at least the freshest and the most perfect. It’s less racy, less burdened with incidentals, less abundant in secondary action than La Grande Duchesse and La Belle Hélène; it has less singing, less melodic development: but it contains, nevertheless, a quantity of charming numbers, divinely orchestrated, the style of which is coherent, united, homogeneous, in fact an accomplished masterpiece of gracefulness and mischief.

“To mount this work with the perfection that’s needed to appreciate all its merits, you need a model company, composed of artists of a superior rank, not only for the principal characters, but for the episodic roles, several of which are very ticklish and demand infinite tact. You must have, in addition, a chorus, a troupe of well-disciplined supernumeraries, and an orchestra, even if it’s not very large, at least very familiar with the score and its interpreters. Should one be astonished, then, that Thursday’s performance wouldn’t have been in any way sheltered from criticism; that it wouldn’t have presented as steady, in a word as irreproachable [a production] as that of M. Bateman’s company?

“MM. Albaiza and Calabresi’s troupe wasn’t formed all of a piece to perform operetta; it was recruited from very worthy elements, for the most part, but not at all homogeneous; it’s a travelling troupe, almost an itinerant one, composed not of artists chosen in a leisurely way, but [of] artists taken as they were found. And this troupe arrived in New York, which it wasn’t acquainted with, the same day that it had to brave the footlights. It didn’t have a single rehearsal on the stage where it had to be produced, not one get-together to concoct a complicated and difficult performance in an unknown theater, and among improvised sets. Well, in those circumstances, we don’t hesitate to say that they’ve managed a very remarkable tour de force, almost a marvel. We know very well that the audience doesn’t want an “almost” and that it requires a finished piece, not a sketch; but that sketch, for us, is enough, especially if we consider it a satisfying show, at least in order that we see in it components from which they had very little time and very little strength to pull off an excellent outcome. One may recall the first days of the Grande-Duchesse, and one may measure the distance that separated that rough draft of success from the legitimate triumphs that have followed it.

“These reservations made, we will adjourn a definitive judgment as much on the actors as on the performance. For the present, we will confine ourselves to a simple survey.

“Mlle Lambele, announced as a star of the first magnitude, won’t eclipse Mlle Tostée at all, but she can have a very distinguished place at her side. M. Bateman has proved his touch in offering her a splendid engagement in his company; she would have had a seat of honor alongside the throne of her predecessor, and we regret sincerely, for her and for ourselves, that, be it in this company or another, it wasn’t convenient for her to stay among us. She’s a pretty woman, graceful, likeable, singing well with a well-toned voice, and playing the comic role well enough, but not rising at all as highly in appearance, in being a devil of a person, in style, as the astounding Grande-Duchesse-Hélène that we are acquainted with. Mlle Lambele was always charming, sometimes excellent. She’s very bewitching as a Bacchante, and she sings the drinking song well; less well, however, than we’ve heard them sung by the Diva Mlle Naddie, so voluptuous and chaste at the same time, so energetic and so delicate, and who mingles so well the becoming graces and the flutters of voluptuousness!

“On the second level are represented two pleasing young women, Mlles Tholer in the role of Diana, and Isai in that of Cupid. Both of them have vivacity and mischief; only it seems that they would each gain by changing roles with the other. Mlle Isai is too tall to play Amor, Mlle Tholer too small to do Diana. The former is also dressed too much like a girl, with a bodice that’s too indented which contracts her chest. Amor is a boy and shouldn’t be so burdened with skirts and chicories. 

“Juno is represented by a woman who resembled enormously, in the hall at least, our duenna, Mme Daire, and Mercure resembles her son. We advise Mme Diare-Juno to watch out a little, at the moment she tries to swoon, for the indiscreet movements of her legs, which have too much of a tendency to beat the air like wings.

“Venus is a strong woman, one of the powerful figures, like Liberty in Barbier’s iambic verses. Alma mater!

“If we pass on to the men, we find Edgard-Jupiter, to whom we’ll tell his own deeds later. First, to the highest rank of male singers: M. Decree, the tenor, who has a pleasing physique, a voice at least sufficient, that has few opportunities to be developed in the role of Orphée, and extensive musical study, as attested to by the remarkable way he plays the violin: the dispute with Eurydice in the first act was excellently rendered and immediately established this artist, who was applauded warmly.

“Another artist, M. Gilbert, sang and acted the role of John Styx delightfully. He made a masterpiece out of his tête-à-tête with Eurydice.

“As for Edgard, we’re sorry to have to tell him what we already said to him last year in regard to the same piece, which he had performed with M. Chol: he overloads it too much, and he spins out terribly some situations that would gain by being burning hot rather than insipid. Thus, at the moment when he gets ready to seat himself on the throne to receive Orphée, in the second act, he takes an interminable amount of time, and multiplies the witless jokes that lack taste. Why, for example, does he spring from one end of the theater to the other, and run like a fool to take his place in the middle of his court? Stunts are good—when they’re good; but at least they must be justified, that is to say, in the spirit of the situation. In sum, with a bit more simplicity, our friend Edgard would attain the comic [spirit] more surely; he’d do well to restrain himself.

“We also have an observation on the unwinding [unstringing] of this same scene. This unwinding is charming when it’s well-performed; but the effect is completely lacking when it’s disorderly. That’s the case here, and we couldn’t urge the management too much to rehearse and rehearse this action, until it has the appearance of being a steady maneuver, instead of a mess.—Same observation for the dances at the end, where they must endeavor that the cancan, eminently moral in itself when it’s well-executed, doesn’t turn toward licentiousness, which unhappily occurs when the movements are disorderly.

“To sum up, Thursday’s performance was neither a hit nor a flop, it’s an anticipation, and that’s a lot. We don’t dougt that this evening’s will already be better, and if they take a bit of trouble with it, which isn’t questionable with M. Grau and probably also with M. Alhaiza, whom we know less well, we sincerely believe that Orphée will be able to run its course very suitably.

“We won’t end without saying a word about the scenery [and costumes], which were improvised in three days, and which do honor to the artists who directed their execution, MM. Calyo, Smith and Hill.”

“‘Orphee aux Enfers.’—Notwithstanding the exceptional heat of the weather, besides other counteracting influences, the attendance at this brilliant little theatre last evening was both numerous and fashionable. Indeed, shortly after eight o’clock seats in all parts of the house were in eager request; soon after it became crowded, and owing to the intense warmth which prevailed, fans and other cooling apparatus were brought into active play. In a pecuniary point, therefore, the managerial treasury had but little to complain of. The occasion was the second representation this season of the Offenbachian production ‘Orphée aux Enfers’ by the New Orleans Opera Bouffe Company. It is but just to state in the commencement that in spite of all the virtuous raids made upon this production few symptoms of disapprobation were manifested throughout the entire performance. It must not, however, be inferred that the tout ensemble of the production was heartily endorsed—though, by the way, rounds of applause were not infrequent—but there was an absence of that aversion which the severe strictures of hasty penmen might have led one to anticipate. On the contrary, judging from outward manifestations the audience appeared in the best of humor; but whether inwardly delighted is a different affair. And now a word or two about the piece itself. Admittedly the decline of that once admirable form of entertainment denominated ‘burlesque’ may be traced to the ‘fast’ propensities of the age, in which the writers seemed induced to provoke laughter at all risks. To effect this they generally spice their productions with a something beyond judiciousness, and so succeed in catering for the public taste. Yet it must nevertheless be born in mind that burlesque flourished most when it was most refined, for not many years since it was a work of art. But burlesques and opera bouffe are different things, and while perhaps the former may in more recent times have degenerated, the latter cannot be said to have considerably changed, it having from its very commencement been recognized as a grand spectacle addressed to the eye; not remarkable for its poetry or music, but relished for its scenery, grotesqueness and pantomime. C’etait le paradis des yeux et l’enfer des oreilles. To what extend Offenbach has elevated opera bouffe the public are undoubtedly the best judges. Whether he has raised it to a high moral standard of elegance, retained it in statu quo or reduced it to the ebb of indelicacy, we will not pause to question, certain that from whatever aspect it may be regarded his effusions have attracted hosts of admirers and nightly delighted thousands in nearly all the large cities of Europe and America. Few who have witnessed the exhibition of the extravagant ‘La Grande Duchesse’ came away absolutely displeased, for its sparkling airs will long be remembered; nor did ‘La Belle Hélène’ fail in her attractiveness to crowd around her numberless devotees. As musical compositions both fall short of respectability. What, then, conduces to their popularity? That they are the embodiment of pleasing variety none will dispute; but their lyrical monologues and dialogues (even in burlesque) exhibit the very acme of absurdity. We come, then, to examine the secret of their success and find that it is their character, their style, the manner in which they are put upon the stage, the quality of the representatives—not omitting the proper development of their doubtful insinuations—in fact the uniform combination of minor attritubes that have contributed so largely to their widespread favoritism. Good music can answer for itself, but the homoeopathically weak dilution of an opera bouffe—a wine glass of Bellini poured into a bucket of water—must have all the foregoing requisites to insure it patronage. In these observations ‘Orphée aux Enfers’ is of course included, with the proviso that it is considered one of Offenbach’s best productions,and on the whole, as a composition, superior to either ‘La Grande Duchesse’ or ‘La Belle Hélène.’ The music is thought better, and, perhaps, justly so, and the arrangements, though one thing is certain, that its airs will never attain such popularity as those of either the preceding. It needs its proper development or to make it acceptable to the public there must be even good second rate singers, as well as actors possessing some claims to histrionic ability. Of these peculiar traits of the piece one must speak with discretion and not be carried away by his own virtuous inclinations into excessive paroxyisms of disgust. This is more especially the case where comparisons are invidiously introduced. That Offenbach has not succeeded in bringing back sinners to the ways of repentance is now pretty well established; that he never tried to do so has been already proven, and that the representation of ‘Orpheus,’ or any other of his productions (the intention of all is the same), is not likely to create any religious impressions is scarcely worthy of remark. But, after all, Offenbach is not to blame. He caters to the public appetite, which on all such matters is remarkably keen, however egregiously false. His subjects are not new; as schoolboys most of us had to plod through them, and have been, perhaps, not unfrequently reprimanded for an inadequate knowledge of them. But enough of moralizing. Let us proceed to view the piece upon its merits, as we would any similar representation, and condemn or praise it, as it deserves, remembering in the start that criticism need not become persecution. The scene opens with a pleasing aspect of the suburbs of Thebes [plot synopsis] . . . Diana sang her little song creditably; but the others, including Juno, had no pretensions to fair vocalism.  Jupiter has an excellent representative in M. Edgar. He is a capital burlesque actor and has a twinkle of humor in his funny eyes, while his didactic mode of utterance and versatility of grimace give sufficient raciness to the ridiculous portions of his part. While subsequently taxing Pluto with the abstractions of Eurydice, the gods, demi-gods and minor deities burst into open revolution and sing a capital chorus—‘Aux armes, dieux et demi-dieux’—with considerable harmony and effect. One of the best scenes in the piece, that is, one of the most grotesque and ridiculous, is when Jupiter is assailed with all his crimes, in which there is also a well arranged chorus. ‘Gloire, Gloire a Jupiter’ was given in spirited style by the whole strength of the company, and was deservedly encored. The third tableau does not possess much merit, with the exception of the scene when Jupiter, disguised as a fly, enters the boudoir of Pluto, where Eurydice is pining away.  Her chase after the insect provoked the heartiest laughter, as well as loud applause at the excellent duets which were rendered [plot synopsis continues]. . . . Of the character of the performance little need be said. It is produced perhaps as well as the author intended it, and that is not very commendatory. It is extravagant even for an opera bouffe, for the performers in some parts appear to be entirely unlicensed. Extremes of burlesque produce contempt, and care should be taken that the bounds of propriety are not exceeded. These remarks might be applied equally to the recent performances of opera bouffe at the French theatre, though there the representatives had not the same opportunity for display. Although ‘Orphée aux Enfers’ partakes largely of the farce it has many excellent and redeeming points. Mlle. Lambelle is a capital singer and a graceful actress, and deservedly won the applause which was bestowed upon her efforts in the last scene. The abilities of the others consisted chiefly in acting without much vocal merit. Altogether the performance as a whole cannot fairly elicit condemnation, for divested of its vulgarities, devoid of all unnecessary displays, either of facial contortions or otherwise, it is just as good as those that have heretofore been largely patronized.”

Popularity of Offenbach’s music in New York.

“[W]e are left to the empty frivolities of the “White Fawn,’ and Offenbach’s brilliant but unsatisfying nonsense, which have taken possession of opera houses.”

“’Orphee Aux Enfers’ was the initial performance, but failed to attract more than a moderate house. The same performance was repeated on the 6^th inst. to another poor house.”