Strakosch Italian Opera: Aida

“The third performance of ‘Aïda,’ last night, was by all odds the best that has yet been given. Everything was perfect. The attendance was large and fashionable; the artists all sang well, and the entire evening was marked by the liveliest enthusiasm.”

“The third performance of this work drew one of the largest houses of the season, and was such a marked improvement over the previous representations that little was left to be desired. This music also improves on acquaintance, and at each hearing new beauties are revealed. Verdi has completely discarded mere prettiness of melody in it, and exhibits a dramatic grandeur of design unsurpassed by any modern operatic composer. The reminiscences which are thickly scattered through the opera, and which we pointed out at the first representation, are not plagiarisms by any means, for the treatment, instrumental and otherwise, is original in every sense of the word. Reminiscences in an opera are not at all derogatory to a composer’s reputation when they are used with the consummate skill that Signor Verdi exhibits. Portrait and landscape painting in the most vivid musical colors, from the barbaric splendor of ‘L’Africaine’ to the septentrional gloom of ‘Robert,’ distinguishes this truly great work. The voluptuous school of Italy loses none of its charms when wedded to the asceticism of Germany. Verdi’s later years reflect more lustre [sic] on his genius than all his efforts when melody was spontaneous with him. The work is encrusted with rich gems, not of that superficial kind that are transferred to barrel organs, but more valuable to a musician. The third act, with its magnificent portraiture of love and passion, is, musically speaking, the best of the opera. When the curtain fell last night on the betrayal of Radames[,] Mlle. Torriani and Messrs. Campanini and Maurel were repeatedly called before the curtain. It was a renewal of the success of the duet in the fourth act of ‘Les Huguenots.’ Miss Cary achieved such a triumph in the rôle of Amneus [sic] last night that made it a fit companion picture for Mlle. Torriani’s Aïda. Signor Nannetti made the rôle of Ramfis, the High Priest, a feature in the opera. Chorus and orchestra were absolutely faultless, and with the magnificent mise en scène called forth the frequent and hearty applause of the audience.”

“With seven (7) entirely new scenes…Grand Chorus of 60. Orchestra of 50.”

“Last night, in the full blaze of a triumphant success, the evening performances at the Academy of Music came to an end. ‘Aïda’ was the opera—its fourth performance—and never has it been sung here with such splendid energy and amid such genuine enthusiasm. All the artists were in excellent voice, but the palm belongs to Campanini, who certainly gave a most spirited rendering of the music of Radames. In the third act he, with Torriani, erected quite an excitement, singing the grand, passionate duet with superb effect. Miss Cary looked and sang to the best possible advantage, and Nannetti made the usual hit in the great trial scene of the last act. Maurel, Scolara, chorus and orchestra, all aided in the successful presentation of this magnificent work.

In regard to ‘Aïda’ it may be said that the opera is falsifying some of the predictions made in regard to it, for while its scholarly characteristics as a musical composition are acknowledged, it is winning a general popularity which was scarcely expected. There was much enthusiasm manifested by the immense audience at the Academy of Music last night. The music so improves on repeated hearings that it would appear as if the opera of ‘Aïda’ were destined to become a standard work, to be heard every season with renewed pleasure. We anticipate for this opera, in the season of 1874, a very great measure of popular favor.”

Brief; part of review of entire operatic season. “With the performance on ‘Aïda,’ last evening—a performance symmetrical and impressive, and enjoyed by a very large audience—the season of thirty nights of Italian opera at the Academy of Music terminated.”

“Addio! the saddes word in the tuneful language of sunny Italy! Last night was the final representation of Verdi’s glorious work, which has taken such a hold on the American public. The house was crowded to suffocation, and rarely has such enthusiasm been manifested in any place of amusement in this city. From the exquisite ‘Celeste Aïda’ to the love-stricken Radames in the first act to the rapturous duet to the dying lovers in the last, each artist vied with chorus and orchestra to gain the rarely won laurels that are wreathed into the word, ‘perfection.’ Mlle. Torriani, Miss Cary and Messrs. Campanini, Nannetti, Maurel and Scolara were all greeted with that genuine applause that is so dear to the heart of every artist, and on no Nilsson evening was there a more hearty and significant outburst of commendation. [Notice of Mignon matinee on 12/06/73.]

In connection with the performance last evening at the Academy of Music, the police authorities figure in a very unpleasant manner. We have been assured by the director of the opera and the principal representatives of the stockholders of the recognized home of opera in the metropolis that last evening, by order of the Police Commissioners, the usual and necessary guard of policemen—necessary from the fact that 3,00o or 4,000 ladies and gentlemen, mostly of the higher classes of society, were assembled together and presented a rich harvest for the dangerous classes of the city—was withdrawn. The reason alleged is, that the Police Commissioners applied yesterday, by deputies, at the box office for a large number of free tickets, and were refused by Mr. Strakosch on the ground that the demand for seats by persons willing to pay for them was so great that nothing was left for police deadheads. Mr. Strakosch has bravely fought through a season of unexampled financial troubles, and has shown, in every sense of the word, the spirit of a man willing to and capable, under all circumstances, of carrying out his engagements to the public. If the representations made to us last night be true, and they have some of the leading men of New York as vouchers, the chiefs of the Police Department of the metropolis occupy very undesirable positions. Mr. Strakosch was distinctly threatened with the entire withdrawal of police protection because he refused free tickets to the magnates of Mulberry street. We only speak from hearsay, but our informants occupy the most prominent positions in society and wealth in New York.”

“There was an unpleasant little affair at the Academy of Music on Friday. A messenger applied at the box office in the course of the afternoon for three free tickets (value $12) for Mr. Police Commissioner Smith. He did not get them, and an official notification was then conveyed to the manager that if the tickets were not given the usual police force would be withdrawn from the opera house during the rest of Mr. Strakosch’s administration. As Mr. Strakosch stood firm, the threat was carried into execution that evening and at the performance on Saturday afternoon. Two patrolmen were indeed stationed somewhere near the building, but the customary supervision of the house and of the departing audience was remitted, and the coachmen were left to regulate themselves according to their own sweet wills. Inquiry at the manager’s office reveals the interesting fact that Police Commissioners and subordinate officers of the force have been in the habit of demanding—not asking—a number of seats, ranging anywhere from three to twenty, for every performance. Let us call the average tax five seats. Mr. Strakosch then has been called up to surrender twenty seats a week as an inducement to the police to do their duty. Perhaps it would not be overstating the case very much to say that the Commissioners have blackmailed him to the amount of $80 a week. That is not a very large sum; but then there are all sorts of theaters, and shows, and such things in operation in New-York, and if the Commissioners treat them all alike the aggregate ‘raise’ may be considerable.

We confess that we were not prepared for finding the Chronic Dead Head in municipal uniform. We have known him for years in the newspaper offices, the Legislature, and the national capitol; traveling free on the railroads under pretense of being an editor; dining for nothing and getting gratuitous cigars because he is supposed to write letters for the metropolitan press; and franking his household effects from Washington to the Pacific slope in wooden packing cases, which he calls ‘registered letters;’ but Commissioner Smith and his colleagues have surprised us with a new sensation. Of course they have no sort of claim to free opera tickets—none but their ability to annoy the manager if they don’t get them. Placing a sergeant and a few men on duty at the Academy of Music when two or three thousand people are coming out, and the streets for several blocks around are crammed with carriages, is not a favor to the manager; it is merely an ordinary duty to the public. Wherever crowds collect, and thoroughfares are obstructed, and opportunities for theft, violence, and disorder are multiplied, the Commissioners are bound to have an ample police force at hand—just as much bound to do that as they are to have the streets patrolled. If they are going to demand a recompense from private citizens for doing what they are paid to do by the city, we might as well have Mr. Hank Smith sending to our basement doors and demanding a roast leg of mutton, with plenty of gravy, under threat that no policeman shall ever pass our house if we refuse.” Final paragraph on how “deadheadism [sic] is becoming a national vice,” with nothing specific to the Academy case.

Brief letter to the editor in support of the previous day’s article on police extorting opera tickets.