III
In the meantime, however, New York had launched one of the greatest of operatic enterprises, a direct successor to the Italian Opera House conceived and carried out by the old dreamer da Ponte. Palmo's splendid experiment had only served to show that da Ponte was right. Democratic opera was a delusion. Opera in Italian or in any other language foreign to the mass of the people was foredoomed to failure. Only the glamour of social prestige could save it. And, just as opera needed society, so did society need opera. It was out of the question, of course, that persons of social pretensions should patronize Palmo's or Niblo's or Castle Garden or any other place geographically outside the social sphere and appealing largely to the common herd. Society is a jewel which shines only in an appropriate setting. Hence one hundred and fifty gentlemen of New York's social (and financial) élite got together and guaranteed to support Italian opera in a suitable house for five years. On the strength of this guarantee Messrs. Foster, Morgan and Colles built the Astor Place Opera House, a theatre seating about 1,800 persons. 'Its principal feature,' said the slightly malicious Maretzek, 'was that everybody could see, and, what is of infinitely greater consequence, could be seen. Never, perhaps, was any theatre built that afforded a better opportunity for a display of dress.' The Astor Place Opera House was opened in 1847, with Messrs. Sanquirico and Patti, late of Palmo's, as lessees, and Rapetti as leader of the orchestra. They produced during the season Verdi's Nabucco and Ernani, Bellini's Beatrice di Tenda, Donizetti's Lucrezia Borgia, and Mercadante's Il Giuramento. In 1848 the house was taken over by E. R. Fry, an American, who brought over Max Maretzek as conductor and gathered together a fairly good company, including M. and Mme. Laborde. The operas given were Verdi's Ernani, Bellini's Norma, and Donizetti's Linda di Chamouni, Lucrezia Borgia, L'Elisir d'amore, Lucia di Lammermoor, and Roberto Devereux. Fry made a complete failure, and, judging by his list, one is impelled to say he deserved it.
In 1849 Maretzek became lessee of the house and began that chequered career as an impresario which ended only when the Metropolitan so to speak shut its newly made doors in his face. Most of his singers were taken from Fry's company, but he also had some new ones, among them the Signora Bertucca, who was included in the famous list which, according to Mr. H. E. Krehbiel, the redoubtable Max invariably checked off on his fingers when recounting his services to opera in New York. Maretzek remained at the Astor Place Opera House until 1850, and during three seasons gave Lucia, L'Elisir d'amore, Don Pasquale, Il Barbiere, Rossini's Otello, I Puritani, Belisario, Ernani—the list is tiresomely familiar.[43]
In the meantime the Astor Place Opera House was leased to William Niblo, the backer of Señor Francesco Marty y Tollens. Niblo's idea in leasing the opera house was to eliminate it as a competitor. In pursuance of this idea he engaged one Signor Donetti, and his troupe of performing dogs and monkeys, whom he presented to the aristocratic patrons of the institution. The patrons obtained an injunction against Niblo on the ground that the exhibition was not respectable within the meaning of the terms upon which the house was leased. 'On the hearing to show cause for this injunction,' says Maretzek, 'Mr. Niblo called upon Donetti or some of his friends who testified that his aforesaid dogs and monkeys had in their younger days appeared before princes and princesses and kings and queens. Moreover, witnesses were called who declared under oath that the previously mentioned dogs and monkeys behaved behind the scenes more quietly and respectably than many Italian singers. This fact I feel that I am not called upon to dispute.' Thus the ambitions and exclusive Astor Place Opera House ended as a joke. The building was used later as a library.
There is a peculiar resemblance between opera houses and human beings. High hopes and ambitions mark the beginnings of both; but the corrosive influences of life's practical everyday soon tarnish the shining metal of their ideals until finally they are reduced to the dull commonplace that marks the end of all created things. And, it may be added, in the majority of cases the most powerfully corrosive influence is money. An instance in point occurred in New York in 1852. It was another dream of democratic opera—or rather, democratic music—a dream of a great new institution adapted to American conditions wherein would germinate and grow to a brilliant flowering the seeds of a national musical art. Truly a beautiful dream, and one which, it might seem, should easily materialize in a country so rich, so young, so eager, so progressive. A charter was obtained from the state of New York authorizing the establishment of an 'Academy of Music for the purpose of cultivating a taste for music by concerts, operas, and other entertainments, which shall be accessible to the public at a moderate charge; by furnishing facilities for instruction in music, and by rewards of prizes for the best musical compositions.' American music-lovers were naturally gratified and Mr. D. H. Fry, a prominent musical critic, ventured to hope that it might 'yet come to pass that art, in all its verifications,' would 'be as much esteemed as politics, commerce, or the military profession. The dignity of American artists lies in their hands'—meaning, we presume, the hands of the Academy promoters.
The dignity of American artists lay in very incompetent hands—incompetent as far as the dignity of American art was concerned. The commodious new Academy was leased to Max Maretzek, who sub-leased it to J. H. Hackett, and it was opened in October, 1854, with a company headed by Grisi and Mario. The showman exploitation of great artists existed long before P. T. Barnum exhibited Jenny Lind. The appearances of Henrietta Sontag at Niblo's in La fille du régiment in 1850 and of Grisi and Mario at Castle Garden in 1854 were purely and simply showman enterprises.
In January, 1855, Ole Bull, the Norwegian violinist, took over the management of the Academy, with the earnest intention of carrying out the high purposes for which it was founded. As a first step to that end he offered a prize of one thousand dollars for the 'best original grand opera, by an American composer, and upon a strictly American subject.' The phrase has become almost a formula. It is unfortunate that idealistic enterprises in America always seek to fly before they can walk. There was no American composer capable of writing an original grand opera on any subject, neither was there a public opinion cultivated enough to support such an enterprise as the Academy. Within two months of Ole Bull's announcement, 'in consequence of insuperable difficulties,' the Academy was forced to close and the original grand opera by an American composer never saw the light. The season was completed by the Lagrange company from Niblo's, managed by a committee of stockholders, with Maretzek as conductor.