It was a sage of the gentler sex who, after many years of experience,
remarked that "men are queer!" That they are so in a positive sense no
shrewd observer of mankind would deny, but that they are so
comparatively or absolutely would be a very hardy assertion. If the
queen of the household is of opinion that her associate majesty is
very queer because he enjoys a torrid height of the mercury in the
drawing-room, he holds probably a similar view of her fondness in the
dining-room for what he describes as burnt beef. A hopeless bachelor
who prided himself upon what he defiantly called his freedom, used to
say, with an air of commiseration and extreme caution, that he
supposed his married friends were probably what they called happy. But
he added that he never knew any of the happy pairs to agree upon the
proper warmth of a room, or the true turn of a roast, or the just
amount of fresh air. Still, he said, demurely, I do not assert that
their matrimonial felicity was not great.
But the axiom of the sage of the better sex, that men are queer, has
been strongly confirmed by a recent decision of the authorities of the
Metropolitan Opera-house in New York. That important body, producing
the figures, has announced in effect that as it is clear from the
accounts that the presentation of German opera is more profitable than
that of Italian and French opera combined, it is evident that the
public desires to hear Italian and French opera, and therefore for the
present the German opera will be discontinued. This is certainly
delightful proof that men are queer, and that one respected group of
them by a signal display of queerness are anxious to contribute to the
gayety of nations. It is a striking illustration of the superiority of
man to money, and in the mad struggle for a mere material advantage,
this devotion to pure art, condemning the expense, is a noble tribute
to the unselfishness of human nature.
Another view has been advanced which is also interesting to the
student of mankind. It is put in this way, that if the cost of the
Italian and French opera should be a hundred thousand dollars in a
season more than that of the German, yet it will be gladly paid by
those denizens of boxes who have an insatiable desire to proceed with
their intellectual cultivation by audible conversation during the
performance. The argument is that these devotees of the intellect hold
that nothing is lost by not hearing the Italian and French music, and
that the evening can be much more profitably devoted to the
stimulating conversation which takes place in an opera box.
Still another view is even more honorable to the boxes, while it does
not depreciate the performance. This view holds that the operatic
situation offers a choice of delights, an embarrassment of riches.
Charming and elevating as the music may be, yet still more lofty and
inspiring is the conversation, and the boxes are therefore compelled
to an alternative, and very naturally and properly choose their own
talk to the music. The decision of the authorities may be consequently
held to be designed to secure a continuation of conversation in the
boxes upon the lowest terms of loss.
This cannot but be regarded by a judicious public as a wise
conclusion. It is, of course, desirable that the wit and wisdom of the
box chat should continue, but at the least sacrifice; and the least
sacrifice seems to be considered the Italian and French opera together
with a certain sum of money. Upon these lowest terms every friend of
humanity will be glad to know that the colloquial delights of the
boxes will be perpetuated. It is even hinted also that there will be
no disposition in an unmannerly parquet to hiss the interruption of
Italian and French opera. If the boxes think fit upon intellectual
grounds to accompany the dying falls of French and Italian strains
with a cheerful murmur of talk, the parquet will acquiesce without a
sense of loss, if, indeed, upon such occasions there should be any
parquet remaining.
The noble sacrifice of those public benefactors, the unmusical boxes,
is still more strikingly illustrated by the fact that the Italian
opera droops in other operatic countries as with us, and that not only
in England, which has been the El Dorado of the artists of the
Southern school, but in Italy itself, the opera of Italy has declined.
The truth probably is that for some time in all musically cultivated
countries Italian opera, which was a traditional fashion, was largely
maintained as a social opportunity under conditions which most favored
personal display and made the least intellectual demand. It supplied
also to the society in the boxes at the San Carlo, the Pergola, the
Scala, the Italiens, and Her Majesty's, the entertainment, in the
persons of famous prima-donnas, of an extraordinary vocal performance.
The charm of that performance was undeniable. The rippling and
glittering gayety of Rossini, the sweet and tender melody of Bellini,
the sparkle of Auber, the romantic pathos of Donizetti, the brilliant
melodramatic strain of Verdi--none who have felt the spell will deny
the enchantment. But _tempora mutantur_; one age with its spirit and
taste succeeds another. A deeper, stronger, more earnest taste in
music, a higher general cultivation, another theory of opera, have
come into the house and seated themselves in the parquet, and look
askance at the boxes as the Quartier St. Antoine looked upon the
Faubourg St. Germain. The boxes, with the innocent ignorance of the
_oeil-de-boeuf_, propose to maintain the old order, to stand by
Bellini and Donizetti and the last half-century. It is touching and
interesting. _Vive l'opera italienne! Vivent les loges!_ So Marie
Antoinette appeared in the balcony of the banqueting hall at
Versailles, and so the _garde du roi_ sprang to its feet with gallant
enthusiasm, rattling its sabres and pledging the Queen. It is a heroic
story, a romantic tradition.--And the Queen? And the _garde du roi_?
The authorities of the opera invite the city to an interesting
entertainment. Nothing has seemed more natural than the precedence of
German opera at a time in which the German musical genius and
cultivation are dominant, and in a city in which the German audience
abounds. And now, for our pleasure, Sisyphus will take a turn at the
stone, and the lovely Danaides of the boxes, in the shining garments
of Worth, with soft disdain of difficulty, will essay with sieves of
the finest texture to bale out the ocean.