New-Yorker Stadt-Theater Opera: Postilion of Lonjumeau

Adolph Neuendorff’s uncertain plans for the tenor following his arrival. Carl Rosa’s engagement of the Stadt Theatre and organization of a company composed of artists already in the United States; biographical and career sketch of the tenor; repertory planned for his engagement here.

Theodore Wachtel’s reported salary. 

Wachtel’s United States debut.

“The reigning prince of German tenors, Theodore Wachtel, made his American debut last night at the Stadt Theatre in Adam’s ‘Postillion of Lonjumeau.’ The unexpected arrival of this artist in New York created quite a commotion in musical circles, and Carl Rosa was the lucky manager to secure him on his arrival. The highest expectations were formed of him, based upon the extravagant encomiums passed upon him by German critics. Therefore, it was not surprising to find last night an audience of the most overwhelming description and enthusiastic to the last degree. Every artist of note in the city attended, and even Miss Kellogg left her charming home on the Hudson to grace the event with her presence. The cast was as follows [see above]. As we said before, the music of the opera is sparkling, and has that dash in it peculiar to French music. But it is ephemeral and superficial to such an extent that a musician would not care to listen to it twice; and however favorable it may be for a ballroom, it is absolute trash for the operatic stage. Again, the dialogue is too long, even in the French, and when translated into cumbersome German it is perfectly unbearable. French opéra comique is intended solely for the French language and French artists, and in any other form and with any other people it can never be made a success. Auber is the only modern French operatic composer that is cosmopolitan in art; his confrères were all intensely Parisian in their ideas. Halevy’s ‘Jewess’ may also be considered an exception. Regarding Thomas we have yet to judge of his works. Wachtel’s voice has the merit of volume, strength, sweetness and reliability of tone. These qualities are sufficient to attract attention to him and to secure for him undoubted popularity. The defects in his singing are a want of evenness, exemplified in his constant use of the falsetto and mezza voce, indecision at times in the ‘attack’ of the notes, and a too palpable fondness for sensational effects. The Italian school of singing is particularly directed against such serious defects, but both the German and French schools are irretrievably marred by them. Nature has been bountiful to Mr. Wachtel, but art has not fashioned the vocal materials to the extent that a critical ear would desire. Still, it would be unfair to judge definitely of a singer of such renown after a single hearing in such trivial music. The song of the postilion in the first act, which has created such a furor in Germany, and which brought down the house last night in an avalanche of applause, is, in a musical sense, absolute trash, but what with the skillful handling of the whip, a D in alt sung in falsetto and a C sharp in alt sung from the chest, it draws the profanum vulgis. We trust to be able to hear Mr. Wachtel to better advantage in such roles as Manrico, Raoul and Arnold. And here we may add that if Signor Lefranc could possibly be induced to learn music and take care of his voice, he might take the first position on the operatic stage at present, for his ut de poitrine is far more effective than that of Herr Wachtel. In the three roles we have just mentioned the public can judge better of the vocal merits of both artists. The best air sung by Mr. Wachtel last night was the ‘Good Night, My Beloved Child,’ by Abt. This was introduced in the third act as a substitute to a certain grand aria of such an absurd and incomprehensible character that no one but a Frenchman could have written it and no voice but that of a throaty, nasal French tenor could sing it. Franosch and Vierling did what they could with their parts, and Madame Rotter’s voice was enveloped in an atmosphere of hoarseness which, with her false method of singing, made the rôles of the hostess of the inn and the grand lady very disagreeable. The chorus and orchestra, having only music of the ‘tum ti ti, tum ti ti’ order to perform, acquitted themselves as well as anyone could expect. Mr. Adolph Neuendorf was the conductor, and his ability is unquestionable. We would suggest to Mr. Wachtel, notwithstanding the popularity of his ‘postilion,’ to drop it at once and confine himself to real art. Blonde burlesque, broken English and clog dancing are unfortunately popular with a certain class, but no one ever thinks of calling them art. Cracking a whip and flinging out high C’s may please the galleries, but it cannot gain the sympathies of the musical public. Mr. Wachtel can do much better, as his exquisite singing of Abt’s beautiful lied showed, and nature has been too kind to him not to demand his withdrawal from the bouffe stage. His reception was of the most enthusiastic character and should encourage him to efforts more worthy of his great talents than the trashy music of Adolphe Adam.”

“The long-expected opening of the Wachtel opera season took place last night at the Stadt Theatre, in presence of an immense audience, seemingly moved by both national and personal feeling to an expression of enthusiasm which is unfortunately fast becoming exceptional in an American theatre.

The calmer judgment of professional criticism must, however, be pardoned for reviewing the occasion in a less roseate light. The great claims made in advance for the famous Berlin tenor and our traditional respect for the judgment, in musical regards, of the best German public, had led us to form very high-colored and delightful expectations of this engagement. Perhaps it was only natural that such extravagant hopes should be in some measure disappointed. The new tenor is a fine, handsome, manly-looking fellow, of splendid height and figure, and singularly [notive?], easy and even graceful in his movements. His acting, too, is very natural and good; modest, yet lively, and pervaded with a great deal of quiet humor. His voice—a full, clear tenore robusto—is strong, resonant and metallic, of wide range, though a little uneven in some parts of the register, and shows, as it appeared to us last night, some traces of wear. It somewhat lacks the sympathetic and delicate vibratory quality of the best Italian voices, as illustrated by such singers as Salvi, Mario, or even our own Brignoli, and both in enunciation and inflection betrays a certain hardness and dryness—a lack of elasticity which we had hardly expected. In intonation, too, strange as it may seem, Mr. Wachtel is not always unimpeachable, and one of two passages a decided lapse from truth might have led us to suspect a younger singer of nervousness. Above the ordinary range of his chest voice Mr. Wachtel supplied another and independent register of falsetto, which he manages with great strength, purity and accuracy, and from his transitions to the natural range are singularly well veiled and easy. This register he uses, however, with undue freedom, and many of his arias are overcharged with an elaborate fioratura, apparently intended to display the resources of his organ in this regard. His execution is easy and assured, but not, as heard last night, remarkable for delicacy of finish.

As judged by the debut last night, Mr. Wachtel did not in voice or execution justify the perhaps exaggerated opinion we have been led to form of his merits. We put forward this criticism with hesitation, however, since, not to mention some unfavorable circumstance of position which may have tended to impair our full appreciation of the music, the rôle of the Postillion is clearly not calculated to allow fair scope for the powers of a first-class tenor. The music is singularly fragmentary and inconsequent, to say nothing of the almost entire absence of recitative, and though light and lilting in movement, is not richly harmonized, nor clear in melody and intention. There is an utter absence of that fine, steady cantabile which forms at once the sternest test and most favorable field for a really fine voice and style. Perhaps the best numbers, in this regard, were the famous Postillion’s song, the love scene in the second act, and the song from Abt, none of which, however, quite supplied the deficiency we have indicated.”

“But few names have been heralded by the European press in connection with German opera in terms of such general commendation as that of Herr Wachtel. The occasion of his first appearance, therefore, at the Stadt Theatre last evening was one of peculiar interest to our German fellow-citizens, and drew together, as might have been anticipated, an overflowing house. The singer was received by his audience with an earnest welcome, and listened to with constant demonstrations of favor. Wachtel, though in middle life, looks and acts like a young man of thirty. He is easy in manner, full of vivacity, and a capital actor. The ‘Postilion of Lonjumeau’ was written for the French Opera Comique, and is fully one-half spoken dialogue. It is a clever work, and gives Herr Wachtel an equal opportunity to display his talents as comedian and vocalist. In the first there was nothing wanting; as to the second, we confess to a slight feeling of disappointment. The voice was neither so fine in quality nor so carefully cultivated as we had hoped to hear. The constant use of the falsetto is a custom to which the Americans are not so partial as the Germans. Nor did Herr Wachtel by any means always sing in tune. His voice is somewhat lacking in refinement, and many of the tones seem unfinished and rough. And yet it is an honest and manly voice, [illegible] and sonorous, and of great range, and even the falsetto is so finely blended with the lower registers as to be almost agreeable.

The ‘Postilion’ is a favorite opera with Herr Wachtel, but we can’t believe that it displays his voice to the best advantage. The light character of the music gave no sufficient opportunity for the display of real artistic qualities, and it was not until the third act, and in a ballad (‘Gute Nacht’) there interpolated, that the audience really heard how well he could sing.”

“The Stadt Theatre last night was a sight to be seen. Rarely is so dense a throng packed in the auditorium of any building, and the excitement and curiosity of the crowd were as remarkable as their numbers. Nor was the house what is known as a ‘black’ one. The fashionable world, the class of pleasure-seekers who seldom venture east of Broadway were in strong force; and if the crammed benches of the galleries were chiefly filled by frequenters of the house, the parquet and boxes were largely monopolized by comparative strangers. Evidently no common attraction would have sufficed to produce this curious blending of opposite elements, and nothing less perhaps would have done so than the first appearance in the United States of a lyric artist so famed as Herr Theodor Wachtel.

The hero of the evening chose for his debut the character of the hero in the ‘Postillion of Lonjumeau’—the opera being given in German. On his early entrance Herr Wachtel was rapturously welcomed, and showed his auditors very soon what they had to expect of him. This, substantially, is a tenor voice of marvelous natural power and somewhat inferior sweetness; a voice developed and extended in a striking degree, and fortunately capable of responding to almost any demands; a voice, so far as we can now judge, not distinguished originally for sympathetic qualities or flexibility, but by no means devoid of either as matters of acquisition; and, finally, a voice which, like most voices from which at intervals ‘electrical’ effects are demanded and given, is somewhat deficient at intervals in evenness or certainty of tone. Herr Wachtel uses the falsetto far too much for our taste; and, although his subsequent repetition from the chest of passages first given in falsetto is sometimes remarkably effective, even at the sacrifice of the contrast we prefer the chest voice alone. Most of our readers are aware that this artist reaches the high C, or ‘ut de poitrine’ with remarkable facility; and he exhibited this gift at times, last night, with a prodigality delightful to his auditors. The vocalization of Herr Wachtel is often very florid, and it is observable of him that he in general delivers middle-voiced passages with a grace and delicacy seldom heard from a tenore robusto. In a word, he is in his way an extraordinary artist; and if we do not find him so captivating a one as most of his public evidently did last night, it is certainly not because he does not possess a truly phenomenal organ or that he has not taken great pains to learn how to use it. The famous air of the first act—in which, by the way, Herr Wachtel, as a postillion should, uses his whip nearly as well as his voice—was vastly applauded last night; it was, however, far from being so legitimate a success as the romance of the second act, which, in some regards, was the gem of the whole impersonation. It is not to be denied that his lavish ornaments, alternated with his prodigious displays of force, give to Herr Wachtel’s performance an air of singular variety; yet such an effect might possibly be attained without resort to means that sometimes appear rather extravagant and bizarre. Comment like this is inapplicable to Herr Wachtel’s acting. As an actor of eccentric and sentimental comedy, he surpasses most tenors whom we have seen; and he fills the stage with an ease and vivacity very agreeable to witness.

‘The Postillion,’ with its jocund and tripping melodies, was perhaps a greater favorite twenty years ago than it is likely to be again. In 1836, when it was first sung, the manner of Boieldieu was so far esteemed as to color in a marked degree that of his pupil Adam; and Adam initiated the common-place in Adam’s manner as well as his frequent gayety, his rarer tenderness, and his almost invariable grace. Easily caught and easily forgotten, the airs of the ‘Postillion,’ once everywhere heard, now seem almost obsolete. The richer and more sensuous strains of later composers make Adam’s love passages appear somewhat tame. Yet there is a sweetness and simplicity about some of them by no means unworthy of admiration, and there is an inspiring vigor about bits of his writing that on some occasions—and last night was one of them—stir up enthusiasm. The pretty duet in the second act between the lovers, being one of the prettiest compositions of the opera, and one of the very choicest performances of the evening, failed, oddly enough, to do so. Applause was, however, pretty judiciously, although very liberally, bestowed. Herr Wachtel was repeatedly called before the curtain, and the general impression certainly prevailed that he had made a great success. Whatever the true measure of the success, it was not largely due to his support. The principals were probably the best attainable, but they were hardly worthy of the occasion. We can say better things of both chorus and orchestra, which were very creditable.” 

“Herr Theodor Wachtel took the country by surprise when he appeared in it, a few weeks ago, almost unannounced. At first there seemed as though there was no exact place for him. All the principal theatres were engaged for other enterprises; no company had been [illegible] to with him, and no very [illegible] was at hand. Mr. Carl Rosa, however, in connection with Mr. Neuendorff, musical director of former German operatic companies, smoothed away all difficulties, and the Stadt Theater was selected as the one at which Herr Wachtel should appear. The selection was undoubtedly a wise one. The theater is not in a fashionable locality, nor is it dependent for favor upon fashionable people, but it is there out of the great body of Germans with whom a love for music inborn and whose devotion to that art is not affected by the caprices of fashion. Their support is steady and uniform, and they may be relied upon to make this season, as they have many a previous one, pecuniarily successful. They bring also to the performances a hearty enthusiasm and appreciation that is stimulating to the artist.

Herr Wachtel has been trained in the Italian school, and has sung in most of the great cities of Europe, but he addresses himself most fitly to a German audience. He is not a tenor of the lackadaisical school, but a robust singer and a very spirited actor. His voice is not only of great compass, but is very thoroughly under control. He executes with ease, and if occasionally untrue to pitch, this may be looked upon not as a habit, but as due to the nervousness of a first night.

The Postilion of Lonjumeau is one of the best operas that the industrious Adolph Adam ever produced, and is one of the few of his works that have sufficient intrinsic merit to give promise of remaining long upon the stage. Adam was not a genius, but a man of clever fancy, much talent, and exceeding industry. His music is light, sparkling, and melodious, but is of the kind that is better adapted to cover up the deficiencies of an indifferent singer than to display the excellencies of a great one. The postilion who sings a rollicking song, cracking his whip with remarkable dexterity in the interludes between the verses may make it clear that he is a vivacious singer, but not that he is a great artist. For this, more serious music and a broader style is needed. Wachtel, therefore, may be said not to have been heard as yet at his best. He reveals himself so far as a singer admirably possessed of [illegible], having excellent control of a voice of fine quality and great range, rising quite above the slight demands that the present opera makes upon his powers, and holding much in reserve that he will, doubtless, display when the occasion serves. The company by which Herr Wachtel is supported though only of moderate excellence is quite sufficient for Adam’s Opera. Madame Rotter is the prima donna. She sang as she always does with all her heart and voice and acted in a pleasant and sprightly way. The chorus and orchestra call neither for special commendation on the one hand or criticism on the other.”

“A second hearing of the ‘Postillion’ last night has only tended to confirm in our mind and, as it were, deepen the impressions of his first appearance. The natural resources of his uncommonly fine voice are more evident than before, while the attention of the hearer is even more sharply drawn to the qualifications and exceptions inevitable in any praise of his delivery and method. But, as in our Tuesday’s notice, we gladly postpone further consideration of this view of the subject till we shall have heard him in one or more of the so-called heroic operas.

It would be inexcusable, however, not to do a somewhat delayed justice to the supporting artists, who have hardly had their dues in the notices in this arrangement. They are one and all, it is true, ill-provided in the matter of organ. Mme. Rotter, alike with Messrs. Franosch and Vierling, has to struggle with a poor and rather worn voice of the second-class German sort—colorless, unresonant and unsympathetic. But the lady especially makes up in a great measure for this deficiency by so many of the excellences of the thorough artist that her impersonation of the spirited little hostess, on the whole, is far more agreeable than it would be with a better voice managed by an inferior artist. Her method is good and judicious, and her acting singularly lively and humorous, yet modest and in good taste. In short she acts and sings like a lady and an artist. Herr Vierling, who has perhaps the best voice of the three, is very discreet, both in music and action, as the enamored chamberlain; and Herr Franosch continually elicits bursts of uproarious laughter and applause by his genial drollery in the broad buffo part of the melodious blacksmith. As a mere bit of dumb show the opera is worth hearing, or rather seeing, for the acting alone.” 

“Herr Wachtel repeated at the Stadt Theatre, last evening, his personation of Chapelou in ‘The Postillion of Longjumeau,’ and an audience quite as dense and as enthusiastic as that on Monday, savored its excellencies and expressed thereat its delight. The performance, in a word, impressed his hearers by the same points and with the same force. Herr Wachtel’s voice is now devoid of the sympathetic quality we are assured it once possessed, but it is still of rare power and extent, and altogether too fine for its natural effect to be jeopardized by the occasional overleaping ambition of its owner. Time was when Herr Wachtel could experiment with impunity, sure that a successful overcoming of difficulties would excuse inappropriateness of ornament, and even downright ill-taste. At present, however, he has not the surety of execution several wholly uncalled for attempts at originality need for apology. When Herr Wachtel essays cadenzas, he does so without the slightest apparent plan, and before he ends them he betrays a long-enduring ignorance as to their close. The second verse of the romance in the second act, for example, was quite spoiled by a vocal journey of this kind, while the first, recited as written, was simply unexceptionable in its delivery. As for the false singing wherewith Herr Wachtel has been taxed, this, too, is avoided in all his legitimate work. The control of his breath, his skill in swelling a sound, his admirable phrasing are too remarkable not to be appreciated without the aid of unwelcome feats; and the beauty of his rendering of the lied by Abt, introduced in the progress of the opera, and its immediate approval, ought to convince even a tenor sated with triumphs, of their uselessness. As for Herr Wachtel’s acting in ‘The Postillion of Longjueau,’ it cannot be too highly praised, and would commend applause were it part of a dramatic representation only. The most intelligent and conscientious comedian could not enter more happily into the spirit of the rôle and do fuller justice to its details.”

“Herr Wachtel has now appeared in one serious and in two light operas, and may be said to have displayed very fully the scope of his artistic attainments, the extent of his culture, the varied capacity of his voice, and his general methods both as an actor and singer. There is no doubt that the effect of his first performance in the ‘Postilion of Lonjumeau’ was one of great disappointment. We say this the more readily because he has since so completely effaced that impression by his later efforts. Probably the nervousness incident to a first appearance before not only a new audience but a new nationality, affected the artist. Certain it is that he then sang frequently out of tune and that his tone was often forced and unpleasant. As, since then, he has exhibited neither of these characteristics, we must ascribe them to the cause indicated.

The ‘Postilion,’ with its frippery of cracking whips and loquacious Punch and Judy melody, is not calculated to provide the best vehicle to convey an impression of high artistic worth. Wachtel gave the role of the Postilion better, doubtless, than any other man could have done, and apparently delighted his audience; but it was rather as a vivacious actor than as a great singer that he accomplished even this.” [remainder of review discusses Wachtel’s appearances in other operas]

“Theodore Wachtel, claimed to be Europe’s greatest tenor, made his American debut at the Stadt Theatre Monday evening, September 18^th, before an audience that filled the auditorium in every part, in the character of Chapelon in ‘Der Postilion von Lonjumeau,’ being a German version of Adolph Adam’s Franch opera of that name. The French version is full of vivacity, humor and sprightliness, and suffered considerably by being translated into German. It is claimed that the tenor had won his greatest laurels abroad in this role, but we think the selection was an unfortunate one for his debut. Herr Wachtel, though fifty-five years of age, has a lithe, well knit figure, a handsome presence and appears full of mercuriality. He is, by far, the best actor of any tenor that has hitherto appeared here. His voice has an extraordinary capacity, over which he appears to have the most complete mastery. He was prone to indulge to a great extent in the use of the falsetto, which, however well handled, does not please American ears. The postilion song in the first act, with the whip accompaniment, which was handled in the most masterly style, was enthusiastically encored. In the second act he had an excellent opportunity to display his exuberant and graceful manners, and presented as fine a piece of light comedy acting as we ever remember to have seen upon the dramatic stage. That he is a great artist we doubt not, but that he did not appear at his best in this opera we are willing to concede. The balance of the cast, embracing Fraulein Rotter and Schmidt, and Herren Bierling, Franosch and Weinlich, were only fair in their respective roles.”