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.
III
A bright rift in the cloud that hung over operatic New York at that time was the coming to Niblo's in 1855 of a German company, with Mlle. Lehman (not, of course, the more famous Lilli Lehmann) as star. Among the operas presented were Flotow's 'Martha,' Weber's Der Freischütz, and Lortzing's Czar und Zimmermann.
In the following year the German company added Mme. Johannsen to its forces, with Carl Bergmann as conductor, and presented, among other operas, Beethoven's Fidelio. Bergmann remained as conductor for several years and did an amount of pioneer work for German opera in New York the importance of which has been curiously ignored. It may be mentioned here, though a little in advance of our narrative, that he introduced Wagner's Tannhäuser for the first time in America at the Stadt Theatre, New York, in 1859. The chorus was supplied by the Arion Männergesangverein.[44]
In 1855 Maretzek produced Rossini's 'William Tell' and Verdi's Il Trovatore at the Academy. He had a good company which included the soprano Steffanone—one of Señor Marty's singers—and the tenor Brignoli, who became a great favorite with New Yorkers. A Mr. Payne opened a season of forty nights there in the fall of 1855 and in the following year Maretzek again became lessee. He soon quarrelled with the proprietors of the Academy and went to Boston. In January, 1857, Maurice Strakosch opened a season of Italian opera with an indifferent company, but in March Maretzek reappeared and set up an opposition at Niblo's. The next few seasons were marked by an amount of activity in which control of the operatic field was a consideration paramount to artistic achievement. Maretzek, Strakosch, and the latter's aide, Bernard Ullman, were the principals in an amusing campaign which, on more than one occasion, saw the rival impresarios acting as partners. Strakosch and Ullman opened the Academy season in the fall of 1857 with the fascinating Emmilia Frezzolini in La Sonnambula. Carl Anschütz, later of the Arion, was conductor. It was really a good season and, though it saw no novelties, it was redeemed from the usual hurdy-gurdy category by the production of Les Huguenots and Robert le Diable. In March, 1858, 'Leonora,' by the American composer W. H. Fry, was produced at the Academy under the bâton of Carl Anschütz.
Maretzek, in the meantime, was in Philadelphia with a company headed by the famous buffo, Roncone. In 1858 he returned to New York and opened a season at the Academy, while Strakosch took up a stand at Burton's Theatre. Ullman came from Europe in October, bringing with him the saucy and winsome Maria Piccolomini, whom he advertised as a lineal descendant of Charlemagne and the great-granddaughter of Schiller's hero, Max Piccolomini. As a showman Ullman was second only to the great Barnum. Maretzek and Ullman joined hands at the Academy in the fall of 1859 and presented Adelina Patti in Lucia di Lammermoor.
For several years following there is nothing much to note. The operatic situation was summed up in the alternate quarrels and reconciliations of Maretzek, Ullman, and the brothers Maurice, Max, and Ferdinand Strakosch, all of whom at various times have taken occasion to speak of the sacrifices they made for Italian opera in New York. As a matter of fact, opera was to all of them what the green table is to the confirmed gambler. Yet they accomplished much, and, though they relied mainly on the hackneyed list of Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini, they introduced New York opera-goers, during the sixties and seventies, to a number of novelties. Among these may be mentioned Meyerbeer's L'Africaine, Le Pardon de Ploërmel, and L'Étoile du Nord, Verdi's Aïda, Gounod's Faust, Thomas's Mignon, Wagner's Lohengrin, and the Crispino e la Comare of the Ricci brothers—all in Italian. Maurice Strakosch was responsible for the presence in America of Christine Nilsson and of Italo Campanini, both distinguished artists who held a high place for many years in the affections of New Yorkers.[45]
By far the most noteworthy operatic event of the sixties was a season of German opera given by Carl Anschütz at the old Wallack Theatre on Broadway and Broome Street in 1862. The principals of the Anschütz company were mediocre, though they included Mme. Johannsen, but there was a good orchestra and a well-trained chorus. The list of operas included Mozart's Die Zauberflöte, Don Juan, and Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Beethoven's Fidelio, Weber's Freischütz, Auber's Le Maçon, and Flotow's Martha and Stradella. Unfortunately, no social glamour was attached to the enterprise, nor were the times especially propitious to it, and it soon failed.