Roi Carotte

To be performed in English; adapted by Daly to the American stage; company roster; redecoration of the auditorium; conversion of the lobby to an art salon.

”It is proposed to give Sunday evening concerts at the Grand Opera House, with Maretzek’s Italian Opera Company—a design of which no person can approve who understands what is best for the public welfare. We want no Sunday evening entertainments of any kind. Many theaters are getting to be pernicious on the six days of the week. Let us keep the one day we have for rest, devotion, meditation, and home life.” 

Roster.

Discussion and synopsis of the plot.

Opening night August 21.

Postponement until Monday the 26^th because of a necessary alteration to the stage to accommodate a mechanism imported from Paris.

Postponement until Monday, August 26, owing to the late arrival of costumes and other important properties from Paris.

Postponement until Monday, Sept. 26.

Complete cast listing.

Resignation of Robert Stoepel as conductor; Auguste Prédigam, successor.

Complete cast and scene listing.

Complete cast.

“The brilliant success of this spectacular play last night was a triumph over serious difficulties. Like Napoleon invading Russia, Mr. Daly had to contend with the temperature, with the difference that while the cold conquered the conqueror of Europe, Mr. Daly obtained the victory over the heat. For five hours an immense audience endured a vapor bath to see unrolled the wonders and beauties of this strange fairy-work, and at the close overpowered the manager with their plaudits. Neither in the music nor the text is ‘Roi Carotte’ worthy of serious criticism. Mr. Daly had little to go upon in adapting the extravaganza to the tastes of an American audience, and the result of his efforts is creditable to his resource and invention. The general impression made by the performance is that the manager has collected an undue amount of dramatic talent for the presentation of a piece that requires very little dramatic talent in any one of its situations. Mrs. John Wood and Mr. John Brougham were alike cast in characters ridiculously beneath their powers. The ministers of the Cabinet of Prince Fridolin were the only members of the multitudinous corps who enjoyed the opportunity for the display of individual cleverness, and they well improved it, especially Messrs. Robson and Ketchum. ‘Roi Carotte’ will prove the great popularity of the season, not for its music, though here and there a chorus or a single strain reminds one of the ‘Belle Helene,’ not for its plot, which is weak and disconnected, not for its dialogue, into which some remote political allusions and clever local satire have been introduced to no purpose; but, as a wonderful piece of mechanical contrivance, a succession of bright pictures and animated scenes, in which all that costume, and color, and glowing lights from polished surfaces can do to produce effect, have been most abundantly and happily employed. The dresses are superb, and both in the style of their make-up and in the texture and delicate nuances of the material, bespeak Paris, and give assurance that the taste of the costumiers has survived the Commune. Nothing could have been prettier than the motley apparel, not immodestly brief, of the Dolly Varden ballet-dancers, who whirled so rapidly past that the eye could scarcely follow one graceful form for the confusing images and miscellaneous wardrobe that came after it. Specially worthy of notice was the scene of the Pompeian solitude, and the restoration was ingeniously contrived and appropriately peopled. Mr. Daly made the most of the anachronistic situation where the nineteenth century comes together with the first, and this scene would have been eminently satisfactory had it not been for the gratuitous vulgarity of the Roman soldier Harpax, whose appearance was repulsive rather than comic, and who had adapted his manner to his mask. The vivisection of the astrologer was exceedingly well done. To see a man cut up before one’s eyes, to hear the dissevered head giving orders for the disposal of the legs and arms, is a novel illusion that requires the nicest management and the best mechanism, and this was accomplished so neatly that it was quite impossible to detect the trick. In noticing the reopening of the Grand Opera and its renovations we should not omit a word of praise for the beautiful proscenium hangings, upon which appears in the centre the medallion of Moliere with a tableau from his comedies on either side.”

“Mr. Augustin Daly, whose career as a theatrical manager dates back barely three years, achieved last evening at the Grand Opera House one of the greatest managerial successes ever known. We recently said that he was playing for high stakes. We now most gladly record the fact that he has won. With terrible odds against him—in the hitherto remote locality of the theatre, its very unsavory reputation under Fisk, and the financial failures of its successive managers—this youngest and most venturesome of the class staked all on the game, and wins.

“The house was packed as full as it could hold with an audience whose enthusiasm was unbounded, and whose patience such that it sat until long past midnight to see the fascinating scenes of the best of recent burlesques unfold themselves. There is so much to say of ‘Le Roi Carotte,’ and so little time was left us after the curtain fell on the wonderful transformation scene to say it in, that we content ourselves this morning with noting the entire success of the piece, and leaving further comment until tomorrow. The receipts of the evening were much larger than anybody expected.”

“The hour at which the representation of ‘King Carrot’ at the Grand Opera-house terminated last night, or, more properly speaking, this morning, prevents so careful a review of the play as its qualities call for. The imperfections of a first performance would, in any case, have made a satisfying summary of the spectacular merits of the entertainment—its chief merits, it will be understood—almost impossible. A hurried review of the story of the piece and of the points illustrated with most felicity is, for these reasons, all that can be attempted. A very numerous audience witnessed the representation, and its tendency to applaud—a very remarkable tendency when the intense heat of the auditorium and the length of the rehearsal are taken into account—found frequent opportunities for gratification. To the durable success of ‘King Carrot’ we cannot, under the impression of yesterday’s incidents, point with certainty. But it may be said from the outset that at many stages of the evening great delight was manifested at the action of the piece, at its recital and at the special beauties of portions of its stage costume. [A synopsis of the story follows.]

“No reader at all familiar with M. Sardou’s dramatic compositions need be advised that his last work but one—‘Rabagas’ being his freshest—is by no means his best. Apart from the lack of ingenuity shown in the creation and development of the plot, the language of the original libretto—for there is much music in ‘King Carrot’–is of the commonest sort. Mr. Daly has made good use of the material at his disposition; and, if we expect some allusions to politics, provoking demonstrations which playgoers do not attend the theatres to witness, his dialogue is not a whit more trashy that that of the original scenario. It is justice to M. Sardou to say that M. Offenbach has not outdone himself, either, in the tunes written for the spectacle. The airs are vivacious enough, but of all the numbers there is none likely to cope in popularity with the sentimental songs or the ear-taking couplets and choruses of his earlier operas. A closer acquaintance with the score, resulting from attendance at after representations of ‘King Carrot’ may bring about a partial revision of this opinion. But it is impossible at present to pronounce the words of the notes of ‘King Carrot’ worthy of their author and composer.

“As a vehicle for the display of fine scenery and elegant dresses, we can write, we are glad to say, with less reserve. Though much can and will be done in the matter of making many of the scenic effects more impressive, by an increased rapidity in changes, by a better disposition of the masses, and by a more skillful management of the lights, parts of ‘King Carrot’ were gorgeous pictures, and fully deserved the evidences of admiration which marked their exhibition. The scenery throughout the four acts is exceedingly beautiful and elaborate, and the costumes are new, accurate and glittering. The first tableau in act the second; the view of reanimated Pompei—a view of which we much fear local audiences are not quite fitted to appreciate the fidelity in the matter of the actors’ attire—and the Island of Monkeys, were most conspicuous among many sets. The presentation of the picture last cited afforded an opportunity for the introduction of a score of apes, whose antics produced more merriment than any of the events of the night.

“To the interpretation of ‘King Carrot’ we must allude with even greater brevity than has been observed in handling the foregoing subjects. Miss Rose Hersée embodies Rosée du Soir, and sings exquisitely the music allotted to her. Mrs. John Wood does wonders with the character of Robin Luron, whose lines and duties are quite beneath her. Miss Emma Howson is more than equal to the songs set down to Cunegonde, but the mild princess she portrays bears a very slight resemblance to the lady of the period, whose characteristics are so clearly indicated by her language that we are rather surprised the part should have been assigned to so accomplished a songstress and so quiet a comédienne. The principal male performers are Mr. John Brougham, Mr. Stuart Robson, Mr. Robert Craig and Mr. J. F. Ketchum. If Mr. Brougham were to make it a specialty to insure bad plays against failure by figuring in them, there would be hope for the most mediocre of dramatic authors. His stage experience and his personal popularity are unfailing protection for this artist from the consequences of unworthy rôles. We are secure in our belief that Mr. Brougham was never assigned to a more thankless duty than that involved in the personation of King Carrot. The artist’s presence and spirit, it is pleasant to say, delighted the public. Mr. Robson’s acting afforded immense amusement. As Truck, Secretary of Magic to Fridolin, his practical sayings and doings provoked the heartiest laughter. Mr. Craig embodied Fridolin, and Mr. Ketchum, almost unheeded, supplied some neat bits of stage-business in the subsidiary character of Baron Koffre, the Minister of Finance. It only remains to add to this notice that the Majiltons repeated in the second act the marvelous feats which have become familiar, but which never weary, so deftly are they executed. A reception of the most enthusiastic kind awaited them, and they were recalled time and again. ‘King Carrot’ is held to the bills, of course, until further advices.”

“Another perspiring spectacle, born in another scorcher! The heat, yesterday, was almost intolerable, and toward night there came up signs of a tempest. But neither heat or threatening of storm prevailed with the public to keep it away from the Grand Opera House and the new-born pageant there revealed. The vast auditorium,--too vast for anything but spectacle or opera,--was full in every part. Ardent curiosity had evidently been inspired by the copious announcements of ‘Le Roi Carotte;’ and curiosity is an eager spirit and tireless in its quest. The throng included may prominent citizens and journalists, and an unexpectedly large number of ladies, and it was a reputable and brilliant assemblage. Its surroundings lent it additional luster. These were found to be fully as magnificent in fact as in the manager’s glowing words of preliminary promise. ‘From turret to foundation stone’ the Grand Opera House has been renovated and beautified. No blotch of dinginess, no trace of disorder, no shabbiness of appointment, mars its splendor or detracts from its pervading air of luxury. The splendor is somewhat garish, perhaps, with excess of gilding and bright colors and torrents of light; but this is a native American merit, and the public is not likely to view it with displeasure. On the contrary, expressions of delight were general in the crowd, last evening; and, equally for the gorgeous adornments of the theater and the scenic display upon its stage, the popular verdict was one of sincere, if rather mild approval. Spectacle-drama has never yet found in this country a home so fit and fine as the Grand Opera House; and spectacle-drama has never before presented itself upon our stage in a more costly array than is worn by ‘Le Roi Carotte.’ Whether spectacle-drama, itself a subordinate incident in stage literature, is desirable, on so large a scale, may be questioned. We greatly distrust its influence on the public taste for dramatic art. But, whether adverse or propitious to the true interest of the theater, it is here, on this occasion, in splendid magnitude, and it bids fair—if we may trust the welcome it received last night—to be accepted by the people with enthusiasm.

“To the art-critic the show was not largely significant. Such exhibitions always savor more or less of shop-keeping. Their object is to take money by pleasing superficial popular taste. They do not address thought; they do not appeal to deep feeling; they lay no claim to earnestness; they possess no substantial value. Their purpose is to glitter and scintillate and make pleasing sounds, dazzling the eyes, charming the ear, stimulating the fancy, scattering merriment, and steeping the senses in a soft, luxurious atmosphere of enjoyment. The spectator carries nothing away from them, either of culture or mental experience. To discuss them seriously seems, therefore, a waste of time. They would, of course, become important should their prevalence grow to be excessive and tend to thrust forth substantial drama from the stage. But they are not important yet—being, thus far, in no higher estate than that of the subterfuge and make-shifts whereby theatrical speculators advance in the peaceful if not publicly edifying pursuit of lucre. We have had the ‘Black Crook,’ the ‘White Fawn,’ the ‘Devil’s Auction,’ ‘The Twelve Temptations,’ ‘Lalla Rookh,’ and divers other pieces of this sort, and we have seen them run their course and win their dollars. The public wishes to be amused, and, like the infant of the poem, it is ‘pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.’ So be it. There is no good reason why the worn and tired journalist, however, should trouble himself to descant at length or with specific pains, on these exceedingly trivial sources of an evanescent popular joy. ‘Le Roi Carotte’ may be a butterfly of finer plumage than blazed on his winged brethren that have fluttered hitherward before him; but he is a butterfly, all the same—and we do not incline to ‘give him tending’ in any other character.

“Last night’s performance lasted about five hours. Scant time remains for thinking about it. Journalistic duty, for the present, will be sufficiently fulfilled in a brief enumeration of incidents and a running commentary thereon. It is almost exclusively as a matter of news that the subject commends itself to attention. There are a few points of art involved, and critical remark may properly be reserved, if not withheld altogether. The production of a new show piece is scarcely more important than the opening of a new grocery store—and ‘Le Roi Carotte’ is nothing more than a show piece. Some account of its plot has already been laid before our readers, and they have also been furnished with the cast of its parts as done at the Grand Opera House, and with mention of divers of its accessories and features. It relates to the deposition of a true monarch, the sudden exaltation of a parvenu king, and the subsequent restoration of the rightful ruler. In the original, and in France, it doubtless possessed political significance. In the Americanized version it possesses almost no meaning at all. Certain political allusions were, indeed introduced, remotely bearing on the approaching Presidential election; and these provided a contest of applause and hisses; but this means nothing. To the local observer ‘Le Roi Carotte’ is the exposition of a sort of fairy story; and last night the exposition was protracted, tedious, and rather wearisome—in spite of many beauties of pageantry. Several extraordinarily delicate pieces of scenery were exhibited, and several unusually clever performers exerted their talents with excellent effect, in both acting and singing. But the movement seemed to halt and the requisite ginger to be wanting. Enthusiastic plaudits greeted Mr. Brougham, Mrs. John Wood, and the Majiltons, and a cordial reception was accorded to Miss Rose Hersee—who sings like a nightingale, and irresistibly makes one think of strawberries and cream—and to Miss Emma Howson and the Lauri Brothers. The chief musical hits were ‘Birds and Flowers,’ by Miss Hersee, the duet of ‘The Golden Thread,’ by Miss Hersee and Mrs. John Wood, and the quartett in the ruins of Pompeii. We single out the interlude scene in the second act as the most admirable of all. Beauty and harmony of color and of adjuncts—infused with the real life of an old civilization—could do no more than was done in this lovely picture. A pretty feature of realism in the antique was thoroughly well embodied by Miss Ella Dietz, who appeared as a gay wanton of Pompeii, driving in two gray horses attached to an ancient chariot. The coarseness of Mr. J. A. Meade’s soldier, Harpax, marred this scene, but in many respects this was a gem. The Majilton dance elicited the loudest and longest plaudits that were heard. A fine dramatic effect, if hackneyed, was created by the singing of the armored statues, and there was a truly charming medley of bright, coquettish colors shown in the Dolly Varden dances. Mrs. John Wood moved through the several [illegible] in continually changing costumes and in unflagging vivacity, and did a great deal for the piece. It took humor, also from the preternatural gravity and the funny little squeak of Mr. Stuart Robson. It will take its best benefit, however, from the judicious but liberal use of scissors and the compression of scenery. It is altogether too long. On the other hand it is not broad. We have had no great spectacle here for years that was so delicate, and at the same time was so fanciful in substance. Perhaps it is quite as well that our public is not likely to appreciate what is possibly its real meaning. It satirizes the parvenu, but it also seems to amount to a satire upon popular government—that is, if serious significance be attached to it, which we do not think probable. The assemblage, last night, viewed it as a showy piece, and, as such, did not see anything more striking than it has seen before. Aside from the elements of delicacy in the scenic treatment, and costliness and taste in the dresses, it was not seen to possess any unique attribute. We record an estimable success, but nothing more. Future performances may be sharper and more effective; they cannot well supply meaning and brilliancy where these essentials absolutely have no existence.”

Complete cast; synopsis. “M. Offenbach has, by no means, achieved very great success with the musical portion of the work, for although the music is pleasing, none of the airs are likely to become popular. The numbers that gave the greatest satisfaction were ‘Birds and Flowers,’ sung by Miss Rose Hersee; ‘The Golden Thread,’ a duet sung by Miss Hersee and Mrs. John Wood, and a quartet in the scene in Pompeii. Viewing the production simply as a show piece, we cannot conscientiously state that it has achieved the success that was anticipated, nor does it equal the spectacular pieces recently produced at the same theatre and at Niblo’s Garden. There was less display of the female form than has been customary of late in such pieces, but such was not entirely abrogated, particularly in the scene of the Apotheosis. The dismemberment of the aged astrologer, while he is seated in a chair in full view of the audience, and the placing of his head upon a table where it continued to talk, was skillfully accomplished, as was likewise a mechanical cage which imprisons Coloquinte. All the dancing of the evening was confined to a Dolly Varden ballet. The scene of Pompeii, as it existed in the year ’76, with the stage well filled with people clad in various costumes of the period, and a courtezan, who entered in a chariot drawn by two splendid white horses, was effective, and the Island of Monkeys, in which quite a number of apes indulged in various antics, proved interesting. As a whole, the acting was good. Spectacular plays as a general thing do not afford a wide field for the display of dramatic ability, and the one under discussion is no exception. King Carrot is the most thankless part we ever saw John Brougham act, but his stage experience and personal popularity lent importance to it. Why Robert Craig, who is an excellent low comedian, should have been selected to impersonate Fridolin we cannot imagine. That role evidently belongs to a first-class tenor singer; therefore Mr. Craig, who makes no claim to being a professional vocalist, deserves greater credit for the more than acceptable manner in which he impersonated that character. Mrs. John Wood, by her vivacious acting and many changes of costume, enhanced in no small degree the effect of the piece. Miss Annie Deland gave a creditable representation of the bad fairy, Coloquinte. Miss Rose Hersee was charmingly costumed as Rosee du Soir, and deserves high praise for her acting as well as her artistic rendering of the music assigned her. Miss Emma Howson deserves approbation for her musical performances, but her acting was hardly what the character of Cunegonde required. Stuart Robson lent much gravity to Truck, which, contrasted with his squeaky voice, created some humor, of which there was none in the lines assigned him. G. F. Ketchum, J. W. Jennings and Martin Golden were effective in their respective characters, and the balance of the cast were satisfactory in the little that was required of them. The dialogue needs curtailment, as the performance did not close on the opening night until about a quarter before one o’clock. The Majiltons performed during the evening the same fantastical act in which they originally appeared in this country. They have lost none of their suppleness nor agility, and were the recipients of much applause. The Lauri Family were quite successful in their impersonation of the apes, and John and M’me Lauri were conspicuously seen in the Farandole. The attendance on the opening night was very large, every portion of the auditorium being filled, and many persons were disappointed by not even obtaining standing room.”