Immigrant Ships

Transcribers Guild

SS Hermann
 

Bremen, Germany to New York
June 7, 1852

DISTRICT OF NEW YORK – PORT OF NEW YORK

I, E. Higgins do solemnly, sincerely and truly swear that the following List or Manifest of Passengers, subscribed with my name, and now delivered to me to the Collector of Customs for the District of New York, contains, to the best of my knowledge and belief, a just and true account of all the Passengers received on board the Steamer Hermann whereof I am Master from Bremen. Sworn to the June 7, 1852 So Help Me God. Before me Wm C Musel* E. Higgins (signature)

List or Manifest of all the passengers taken on board the Steam Ship Hermann whereof Edwd Higgins is Master from Bremen & Southampton burthen Seventeen Hundred and thirty four 45/95 tons.

Columns represent: First Name Surname, Age, Sex, Occupation, Country to which they belong, Country intend to inhabit. No deaths were recorded. An * indicates a transcribers note.

1      H. H.      Sengstath    52    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
2      F.       Mebiss   30    Male  Merchant      U.S.A      U.S.A.
3      Jose     Borrell  32    Male  Planter          U.S.A. U.S.A.
4      J. L.          Lock             38  Male  Editor            U.S.A.      U.S.A.
5      Emily    Strawbe  30    Female      Lady        Germany     U.S.A.
6      Marie    Selig    3    Female      Child       Germany     U.S.A.
7      Geo.     Holzhausen     5    Male  Child       Germany     U.S.A.
8      Anna     Selig    9m   Female      Child       Germany     U.S.A.
9      Theo     Meyer    30    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
10    Dorette        Warlich  32    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
11    M.       Fivey    27    Female      Lady        Germany     U.S.A.
12    Carl     Scherzen  31    Male  Doctor            Austria     Austria
13    Moritz         Wagner   39    Male  Doctor       U.S.A. U.S.A.
14    H.       Derkheim 29    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
15    R.       Strassin 34    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
16    James    Wilson   20    Male  Student           U.S.A. U.S.A.
17    Mrs. L.        Saunders 30    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
18    J.       Saunders 14    Male  Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
19    J. W.    Mercer   30    Male  Gentleman     U.S.A.     U.S.A.
20    Mrs. J. W. Mercer 35    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
21    H.       Fejerray 38    Male  Gentleman     France     U.S.A.
22    Mrs. H.        Fejerray 30    Female      Lady        France U.S.A.
23    Nicholas   Fejerray     6    Male  Child       France U.S.A.
24    Celestine  Fejerray     2y5m  Female      Child       France U.S.A.
25    Eva      Szentkeresti   50    Female      Servant           France      U.S.A.
26    Wm.      Campbell 28    Male  Gentleman     England    U.S.A.
27    Robt.    Campbell 26    Male  Gentleman     England    U.S.A.
28    R.       Cushman  30    Male  Gentleman     U.S.A.     U.S.A.
29    S.       Parsons  32    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
30    Louis    Foinguinss     30    Male  Gentleman     France     U.S.A.
31    Mrs. L.    Foinguinss   25    Female      Lady        France U.S.A.
32    D.       Healey   58    Male  Physician     U.S.A.     U.S.A.
33    E.       Schmidt  40    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
34    Mrs. E.    Schmidt 35    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
35    Mariette   Alboni 30    Female      Artiste           Italy U.S.A.
36    Candido        Verier   28    Female      Lady        Italy U.S.A.
37    Elizabeth  Vray           26  Female      Servant           Italy      U.S.A.
38    Achille        Pepoli   30    Male  Gentleman     Italy      U.S.A.
39    Augustine  Bovere 27    Male  Artiste           Italy     U.S.A.
40    Babett         Bovere   25    Female      Artiste           Italy      U.S.A.
41    Celestino  Verrier 24    Male  Gentleman     Italy      U.S.A.
42    Antonio        Sangiovanni    26    Male  Artist            Italy      U.S.A.
43    Mary     Schmidt  9    Female      Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
44    Ellen    Saunders 4    Female      Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
45    Edwd     Stainer  48    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
46    R.D.     Chatterton     50    Male  Merchant      England    U.S.A.
47    R.       Graumann 35    Female      Lady        Germany     U.S.A.
48    H.       Anschutz 59    Male  Manufacturer  U.S.A.     U.S.A.
49    D.       Bayrhoffer     45    Male  Professor     Germany    U.S.A.
50    Julia    Bayrhoffer     38    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
51    Louise         Bayrhoffer     10y6m Female Child       Germany      U.S.A.
52    Mrs. E.    Higgins 20    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
53    Alfred         Higgins  21    Male  Gentleman     U.S.A.     U.S.A.
54    Karl     Bayrhoffer     9    Male  Child       Germany     U.S.A.
55    Auguste        Bayrhoffer     7    Female Child       Germany      U.S.A.
56    Gustav         Bayrhoffer     4    Male  Child       Germany      U.S.A.
57    Victor         Bayrhoffer     1y9m  Male  Child       Germany      U.S.A.
58    Nettchen   Lies           14  Female      Servant           Germany      U.S.A.
59    D.       Boehme   35    Male  Physician     U.S.A.     U.S.A.
60    Herman         Harms    24    Male  Merchant      Prussia    U.S.A.
61    A.       Daucker  26    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
62    Johanna        Raick    25    Female      Lady        Prussia      U.S.A.
63    Charlotte  Pollack 22    Female      Lady        Prussia     U.S.A.
64    Mrs. H.        Asch             55  Female Lady        Prussia      U.S.A.
65    Mrs. B.        Koblanck 33    Female      Lady        Prussia      U.S.A.
66    Albert         Koblanck 9    Male  Child       Prussia     U.S.A.
67    Henry    Lebold   38    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
68    Mrs. H.        Lebold   19    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
69    Therese        Hassel   18    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
70    Samuel         Beck             19  Male  Merchant      Germany      U.S.A.
71    Babette        Levino   23    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
72    Fanny    Winklene 18    Female      Lady        Germany     U.S.A.
73    H.       Fraeger  48    Male  Tailor            Prussia     U.S.A.
74    Mrs. H.        Fraeger  40    Female      Lady        Prussia      U.S.A.
75    H.       Fraeger Jr.    18    Male  Merchant      Prussia    U.S.A.
76    H.       Kamena   28    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
77    Anna     Fritch   45    Female      Lady        Prussia     U.S.A.
78    Anna     Fritch   4    Female      Child       Prussia     U.S.A.
79    Cath     Lohn             26  Female      Lady        Prussia      U.S.A.
80    Robt     Graf             30  Male  Farmer       Prussia     U.S.A.
81    Carl     Dretze   25    Male  Farmer            Prussia     U.S.A.
82    A.       Kielblock 32    Male  Music Teacher Prussia    U.S.A.
83    H.       Kutzock  32    Male  Engineer      Prussia    U.S.A.
84    Andreas        Knauer   34    Male  Butcher           U.S.A. U.S.A.
85    H.       Reineke  30    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
86    C. H.    Meyer    25    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
87    Fr.      Schulze  65    Male  Farmer            Germany     U.S.A.
88    M.       Gunderman 26    Female      Lady        Germany     U.S.A.
89    Fr.      Bues             38  Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
92    W.       Bues              8  Male  Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
93    H.       Kindervatter   51    Male  Farmer       Germany     U.S.A.
94    Mrs. H.        Kindervatter   38    Female Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
95    Hermann        Kindervatter   16    Male  Farmer            Germany      U.S.A.
96    Heinrick   Kindervatter 14    Male  Child       Germany     U.S.A.
97    Rudolph        Kindervatter   9    Male  Child       Germany      U.S.A.
98    Auguste        Kindervatter   5    Female Child       Germany      U.S.A.
99    Sophie         Schmidt  10    Female      Child       Germany      U.S.A.
100   H.       Niebelung 29    Male  Farmer            Germany     U.S.A.
101   Mrs. H.        Niebelung 27    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
102   Wm.      Niebelung 3    Male  Child       Germany     U.S.A.
103   Fred.    Niebelung 6m   Male  Child       Germany     U.S.A.
104   S.       Gortatbroski   22    Male  Secretary     Prussia    U.S.A.
105   Moritz         Moller   29    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
106   H.       Meissner 22    Male  Merchant      Prussia    U.S.A.
107   Fanny    Faelk    28    Female      Lady        Prussia     U.S.A.
108   Clara    Faelk    9m   Female      Child       Prussia     U.S.A.
109   A.       Bluhm    29    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
110   Regina         Mahler   23    Female      Lady        Germany      U.S.A.
111   S.W.     Angel    27    Male  Merchant      Germany    U.S.A.
112   Francisco  Bacarissa    30    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
113   J.       Schmidt  40    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
114   Mrs. J.        Schmidt  35    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
115   Eliza    Schmidt  4    Female      Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
116   Albert         Schmidt  2y6m  Male  Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
117   Madelene   Schmidt 9m   Female      Child       U.S.A. U.S.A.
118   P.       Abbott   32    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
119   Mrs. P.        Abbott   29    Female      Lady        U.S.A. U.S.A.
120   O.       Zimmermann     31    Male  Merchan       U.S.A.     U.S.A.
121   John    Rossi    32    Male  Merchant      U.S.A.     U.S.A.
122   Matilda        Dewley   27    Female      Lady          England      U.S.A.
123   Sarah    Phillips 30    Female      Lady          England    U.S.A.
124   Mrs. W.        Churton  25    Female      Lady          England      U.S.A.
125   May      Churton  4    Female      Child         England    U.S.A.
126   Mrs. J.        Beechy   25    Female      Lady          England      U.S.A.
127   John E.        Beechy   1    Male  Child       England     U.S.A.
128   Wm.      Paine    29    Male  Merchant      England    U.S.A.
129   Marion W.  Wilkin 26    Female      Lady        England     U.S.A.
130   Elizabeth  Wilkin 8    Female      Child       England     U.S.A.
131   Geo. W.        Wilkin   5    Male  Child       England     U.S.A.
132   Margaret M.Wilkin 3    Female      Child       England     U.S.A.
133   Thos J.        Wilkin   8m   Male  Child       England     U.S.A.
134   Mary     Cato             19  Female      Lady        England      U.S.A.
135   Jennette   Tod            25  Female      Lady        England      U.S.A.

Correspondence: 1/00  Passengers #93-98 Kindervatter

A history of the Henry Kindervatter family in the USA was compiled by my

cousin, William Henry Kindervater,  some years before his death in 1994.

The version that follows has been substantially condensed from that

history.

"The Kindervatter family lived in the town of Nordhausen, Germany, and

farmed land outside of town. They were coopers by trade but also farmed.

Due to high taxes and military conscription they decided to come to the

United States of America. Great grandfather Kindervatter  filled his

pockets with money to pay his taxes and didn't have enough to pay them so

he said that was it and they were going to America.

They left Bremen, Germany on May 10, 1852 and arrived in New York City on

June 6, 1852. The ship on which they crossed the ocean was a side-wheeler

steam boat named the S.S. Herman. They were headed for Milwaukee,

Wisconsin. After landing in New York City, they took a boat to Albany, New

York. From there they took a train to Dunkirk, New York. From Dunkirk they

took passage on a boat to Toledo, Ohio. They were going to take a train to

Chicago from Toledo and then go by boat from Chicago to Milwaukee.

They arrived in Toledo on a Saturday and there were no trains running, so

they had to stay over until the following Monday. The hotel keeper told

them that they did not want to go to Milwaukee because it was too wild a

country up there. He said that it was wild enough  in Toledo. He was also a

real estate dealer and had several farms for sale around the Toledo area.

He showed them some of the farms and they liked the area between Maumee and

Toledo.They bought a farm of several hundred acres for $3,200.00 and

settled there.

There was a log house on the property. The family consisted of Henry (John

Henry ?) and Augusta Kindervater (note the spelling change) with four

children; Henry, Herman, Rudolph and Augusta. Also, the elder Augusta's

father whose name was Schultze. My grandfather, by adoption, Frederick R.,

was one of this family but he was born four years after they came to this

country.

The Kindervater family brought with them such things as clothing, boots and

shoes, pewter dishes which they had packed in wooden boxes and some large

iron kettles."

The marriages of the children introduced lines with the Wiltse family from

Sterling, N.Y. (this family can be traced back to Fourcoin, Luxembourg to

1580/81), the Bourdeau family that can be traced back to Quebec to 1659 and

the Stauffer family that came from Germany in the 1830 -1850 period. So

far, my research of Henry Stauffer has not been very productive.

My wife and I moved to Seneca, SC from Perrysburg, OH in 1989. Be glad to

help anyway I can.

Sincerely, Bill Kindervater

For further information on the Kindervatter family, please contact

Bill Kindevater at khome@mindspring.com

Transcriber's Notes:

* Wm C. Musel - This name was written more as a scrawl.  I write it as it appeared

to me.  The remainder of the Manifest is written in a very clear hand.

Marietta Alboni con Jenny Lind 

Marietta Alboni - Cenerentola (da un giornale dell'epoca)

Marietta Alboni a Londra (per gentile concessione della Biblioteca Piancastelli di Forlì)

From: National Archives and Records Administration, Film M237, Reel 114 .

Transcribed by Margaret Busteed a member of the
Immigrant Ships Transcribers Guild

20 October 1999

Marietta Alboni

 en los

Estados Unidos de Norteamérica

 (Ricostruzione storica a cura di Álvaro  Fernández Rodas - Getafe (Spagna)

g  seguimiento a través de la prensa  h

1852.05.26  Embarca para EUA en Southampton en el Hermann [estará en EUA casi un año -menos 5 días-]         [Disponible el Manifiesto de Pasajeros].

1852.06.07 Llega a NY (Llega casi al mismo tiempo que Sontag; Hubbard que vivía en Washington Sq, la visita a sus habitaciones del NY Hotel, ella le cantaba al piano, dice que su ‘marido’ el conde era muy agradable [Autobiography of N.T. Hubbard… 1789 to 1875] Los bomberos de NY (Volunteer Fire Department or “fire laddies”) tenían la costumbre de sumarse a los homenajes que se daban a algunas celebridades que llegaban a la ciudad.  Al primer o segundo día de la llegada de Alboni [¡¡??] (1) se dio uno multitudinario a Sontag por unas 1.000 personas (además de los 15.000 espectadores de la calle). Al concluir esta serenata y a iniciativa de los bomberos se dirigieron al New York Hotel, en Broadway, cerca de la calle Bond, en procesión para ofrecer el mismo homenaje a Alboni lo que hicieron hacia la una de la madrugada.[The NY Times, 16.12.1900] (1) [no coincide esta fecha: el mismo The NY Times pero del día 7 de septiembre de 1852, dice que la Sontag embarcó en Liverpool el 25 de agosto en el paquebote Artic y que llegó a NY el domingo 5 de septiembre. La acompañaba su marido el conde Rossi].

1852.06.09  El pasado miércoles [9] Mlle. Alboni recibió en su New York Hotel una serenata por la Philarmonic Society.  La banda la formaban 80 músicos dirigidos por el Sr. Arditi.  Música seleccionada: obertura de Zampa, obertura de La Gazza Ladra y un gallop.  Fue la serenata más brillante que nunca se ha dado en esta ciudad. [The New York Times, 11.06.1852].

1852.06.23  Concierto en el Tripler Hall (Metropolitan Hall) (es su 1ª actuación en EUA)[Richard Grant White] El Metropolitan Hall estaba muy concurrido ayer tarde. Por su fama de Londres y París era muy esperada y fue calurosamente acogida. Su primer “recitative”, de Semiramide, demostró su arte pero no despertó demasiada admiración. El brindis de Lucrecia Borgia logró mayor favor de la audiencia.  El trío de Child of the Regiment, con el tenor y el barítono no tuvo mayor novedad. Luego, el dulce dueto final de Don Pasquale, con Sangiovanni , logró mucha admiración.  El final, su triunfo, fue la introducción y el aria de Cinderella. La potencia de voz de Alboni no puede compararse con la de Jenny Lind pero tiene mayor facilidad y gracia y de manera perfecta, rápida y bellamente pasa de las notas más bajas a las más altas. El triunfo fue completo, el veredicto final de la audiencia inequívoco. [es mi resumen de un artículo poco extenso en The NYTimes, 24.06.1852] Con la temporada de conciertos ya concluida[The American Whig Review, ago 1852] “The programme of her first concerts answered well enough for summer weather. In the coming autumn, however, we trust that an opportunity will be…” [The American Whig Review, ago 1852]

1852.06.28  NY. Concierto en el Metropolitan Hall.  Es el 2º concierto en los EUA:  “...Alboni, gives a second concert...”[The NYTimes] Alboni tuvo la noche pasada un lleno completo con una audiencia elegante.  Se había incrementado el interés popular por su exclusiva y resplandeciente voz.  El resultado de su segunda aparición confirmó la favorable impresión de su primer concierto. [The NY Times, 29.06.1852].

1852.07.02 “July 2, 1852, Wednesday.  Madame Alboni announces, by card, that she will suspend her Concerts until September, owing to the repairs in Metropolitan Hall and the warm weather. She expresses herself gratified for the generous enthusiasm with which she has been welcomed to our shores”. [The NY Times]

1852.07.31 NY. “Relief for the poor sufferers by the fire in Montreal.-  The collections made for the relief of the poor sufferers by the fire in Montreal by the New-York Committee exceed $15,000. Madame M. Alboni has generously contributed $200 of this sum.(…)”. [The NY Times]

1852.08.07   Saratoga.  Saborea este lujoso centro acuático y aquí dará un concierto el día 12. [The NY Times, 07.08.1852] En verano visita Saratoga Springs, allí el ‘matrimonio’ fue visitado por los familiares de Hubbard. Para estos y otras   visitas Alboni dio varios recitales, a su regreso a NY dio 3 o 4 conciertos en el Tripler[Autobiography of N.T. Hubbard…1789-1875].

1852.08.12  Saratoga.  Concierto[es una previsión de] [The NY Times, 07.08.1852].1852, verano Alboni no anuncia su intención de iniciar sus actuaciones este verano, se propone pasar algún tiempo en Fairfield (Conneticut) en el campo y probablemente en alguno de los balnearios de la zona: “Signora Alboni, the eminent contralto, to whose Concerts the musical world look forward with such impatient eagerness, does not announce any intention of beginning her career this Summer.  She proposes to spend some time rusticating at Fairfield, Conn., and will probably be found at one or the  other of the great watering places in the course of the season.”[The NY Times, 12.06.1852]

1852, ago  Está en Niágara tratando con Brough sus futuros movimientos y enfrentamiento a la Sontag. Según Arditi, visitaron Chicago más de una vez  (our first visit to Chicago), no dice fecha ni actuaciones.  A la Alboni, muy supersticiosa, le dieron la habitación nº 13 del hotel, la única libre.  No paró hasta que se la cambiaron por otra ocupada, previo cambio admitido por otro huesped [My reminiscences, Arditi, 1896]

1852.09.06 NY.Concierto [¿Metropolitan Hall?]. Previsión: Alboni aparecerá en concierto el lunes próximo [6 sept], el programa aparecerá en unos días.[The NY Times, 30.08.1852]

1852.09.07 NY. Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto [deducido de la anotación del día 10 sep].

1852.09.10 NY. Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto (entre otras piezas: Cavatina de Don Juan de Mozart, aire suizo de Hummel, rondó de Sonnabula) El crítico dice que el tenor Sangiovanni no estaba a su altura, tampoco el bajo Rovere, bien la orquesta de Arditi en particular en la obertura de Guillermo Tell [The American Whig review/Vol.16.issue 94, NY, oct 1852]. / El segundo concierto de Madame Alboni tiene lugar esta tarde en el Metropolitan Hall.  La apreciación que ya tuvo el martes [7 sep] es una garantía de que tendrá una gran audiencia en esta ocasión.  Cantará por primera vez en los EUA, y creemos que en su brillante carrera, una balada en inglés, lo que será una adicional y peculiar atracción. [The NY Times, 10.09.1852][véase el énfasis al cantar en  otro idioma que el italiano o francés] /   El segundo concierto de Madame Alboni tuvo más éxito que el precedente.  Su voz excelente, la  orquesta afinada y la audiencia complacida, para nuestro gusto todo fue menos desagradablemente lineal. Sangiovanni es siempre dulce aunque a veces casi silencioso y Rovere no debería ser culpado ya que hace los esfuerzos suficientes para desarrollar su papel felizmente, aunque no siempre lo lograra.  Las notas de Alboni lograron ahogar una multitud de fallos de sus compañeros.  Siempre hay que recordar que sus triunfos los logra bajo lo que podría llamarse circunstancias adversas.  Viene ella del recuerdo de su más brillante pasado y a su anticipación del porvenir pero canta olvidando ambos y centrándose en la dulzura del presente.  Están anunciados otros conciertos para las próximas semanas. [The NY Times, 11.09.1852]         

1852.09.--  NY.  Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto. [deducción del apunte del día 17 sep]

1852.09.14  NY.  Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto.  Arditi pareció más en su ambiente como director.  La presencia de nuestro viejo conocido Astor Place Chorus dio más efecto al concierto, y brilló especialmente con el coro opertura de Ernani.  El joven tenor Sangiovanni y el bufo Rovere se defendieron con crédito; éste, pensamos, tuvo una más cálida bienvenida.  En el aria comica de Elixir of Love dio todo el efecto que es posible en el escenario de un concierto.        La verdadera atracción de la tarde, Alboni (hace el redactor una bella loa de sus cualidades, con una pequeña introducción sobre su reputación europea, terminando: la gran contralto, la mejor que nunca ha pasado por este país)De las piezas, dos eran nuevas en cuanto al repertorio de sus conciertos en NY: la cavatina “Di Piacer”  de la Gazza Ladra bellamente cantada, y una canción tirolesa de Donizetti, calurosamente recibida.[The NY Times, 15.09.1852]

1852.09.17 NY.  Metropolitan Hall. Concierto. Es su cuarto concierto [luego hay, entre el 10 y el 17 de sep, dos conciertos, uno es el del día 14, ¿y el otro?].  Mas público que en las ocasiones anteriores, y acomodaticio, dispuesto a disfrutar con todo lo que se ofrecía en el programa.  Incluso la pesada estupidez de los coros tuvo sus aplausos y bises.  Rovere fue escuchado con entereza.  Sangiovanni, lástima que no pudiera tomar algo de su fuerza de caballero para añadirla a su aterciopelada suavidad, el poco feliz número de las puertas falló totalmente a la hora de resaltar los méritos del encantador tenor.  Alboni, su potencia y ejecución fueron extraordinarias, superando actuaciones anteriores.  Su interpretación de las dos arias de Sonnambula fue impresionante.  La completa, líquida suavidad y  gran alcance de su órgano salió a la luz admirablemente y dio la idea de que ningún efecto está detrás  del genio y riqueza de la cantante.  Consiguió la más alta consideración del público de NY.  No debe omitirse la actuación al violín del señor Arditi, eligió desafortunadamente el estúpido lugar común “Old Folks at Home” pero con sus bellamente ideadas variaciones, pero con su estilo usual, sin gracia, rígido y mecánico. Fue, naturalmente, bisado.[The NY Times, 18.09.1852] (Por su parte la Sontag hizo un ensayo de su concierto en el Metropolitan Hall, ante no más de sesenta personas, en su mayoría profesionales)[The NY Times, 18.09.1852]

1852.09.21  NY. Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto.  En beneficio de la Fundación del Departamento de Bomberos [viudas y huérfanos][The NY Times, 22.09.1852]  /  Comentario elogiando en este concierto la calidad de Alboni, señala que las gemas fueron el tersetto del Barber of Seville y el rondó de Cinderella.  Se anuncia un concierto para el viernes [24] en el que se espera repita el Di Pacer de Gazza Ladra.[The NY Times, 23.09.1852].

1852.09.24  NY. Metropolitan Hall. Concierto. El último concierto de Alboni la pasada tarde tuvo de nuevo un lleno.  Alboni va a Filadelfia, la Sontag la sustituirá en el Metropolitan Hall.  Podemos decir a nuestros vecinos de Filadelfia que después de seis conciertos aquí Alboni se lleva la admiración unánime del público melómano.[The NY Times, 25.09.1852]

1852.09.27  Filadelfia.  Musical Hall.  Concierto.  Es su debut en esta ciudad.  Brillante e importante audiencia, ni un asiento libre.  Muy aplaudida, hubo de repetir dos canciones.[The NY Times, 28.09.1852]

1852.09.28  Filadelfia. Concierto.  Previsión: “Alboni to-night.- We are to have a succession of good music in the Seventh Concert of the great Contralto this evening”. Las noticias telegráficas de Filadelfia hablan de su amplia y entusiasta audiencia.[The NY Times, 28.09.1852]

1852.09.30  Filadelfia. Concierto: “Philadelphia, Friday, Oct.1.-  Alboni had a splendid audience at her concert tonight, and was rapturously applauded; every piece was encored”.[The NY Times, 02.10.1852]

1852.10.05  NY.  Manhattan Hall.  Concierto.  “The disaster to the Manhattan Gas Works, up town, caused a postponement to Tuesday of next week of the Seventh Concert of Alboni. The audience had partially assembled, and       might have been subsequently accommodated with gas, as it afterwards turned out, but the      management deemed it best not to prolong the disagreeable uncertainty. The tickets hold good  for next Tuesday. We regret the contretemps, as a large audience would have welcomed the popular  contralto on her return from Philadelphia.”[The NY Times, 29.09.1852]. Alboni ha regresado de Filadelfia.  La última tarde ha tenido en NY una grande y brillante audiencia. Nos alegra que no deje NY hasta finales de la próxima semana [hacia el 16 o 17 de octubre]. Tenemos diez días para que los amantes de la música podamos alternar los conciertos de Alboni y ontag.[The NY Times, 06.10.1852]En el concierto del Manhattan Hall Alboni estará acompañada por Rovere, Sagiovanni y Arditi.  Es el último concierto de la temporada que dará Alboni en esta ciudad.[The NY Times, 05.10.1852]

1852.10.12  NY.  Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto.  Anuncio: “Madame Alboni gives a Concert this evening at Metropolitan Hall, when for the first time in this country, she will sing "Casta Diva" and will, by particular request repeat the celebrated drinking song from "Lucrezia Borgia." She will give but one more Concert In this city during the present season”[The NY Times, 12.10.1852]  “Alboni essayed a new field for her wonderful voice, on Tuesday night, in the Casta Diva from Norma. She proved quite equal to the task. It received the generous welcome of a real triumph. This difficult and beautiful composition was richly rendered throughout.”  Sontag estuvo como público y felicitó a Alboni por su éxito.[The NY Times, 14.10.1852]

1852.10.15  NY. Metropolitan Hall. Concierto. La primera serie de grandes conciertos del presente otoño ha concluido la pasada tarde con la última pero no menos brillante aparición de Alboni.[The NY Times, 16.10.1853]

1852.10.19  Boston.  Concierto. [mi traducción:] “Boston, 20 octubre (...) Madame Alboni ha tenido un lleno absoluto en el Melodeon la pasada noche, fue aplaudida con entusiasmo.  Ella lleva su corpulencia con mucha gracia.  Según un gracioso ‘Alboni, bien, yo la llamaría all fatty!’  Ningún hueso en ella, cierto, ella es lo redondo, lo suave y melifluo.  Su tono más bajo es rico y bello, en extremo: An over powering tone / Whence melody descends as from a throne.  En el brindis de ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ estuvo particularmente afinada y fue aplaudida con entusiasmo.  Al final cantó el rondó Ah non credia de ‘La sonnambula’ y Ah non giunge con una flexibilidad y potencia de voz que yo creo que la Lind nunca  alcanzó.  El tenor Sangiovanni y el barítono bufo Rovere lo hicieron bien y fueron bien recibidos. Parece que dará tres conciertos, el próximo mañana noche.”[The NY Times, 22.10.1852]

1852.10.20 Boston. Concierto.[deducción de lo señalado en el anterior apunte del día 19][The NY Times, 22.10.1852]

1852.10.29   NY.“Madame Alboni has returned to this city, and will give a series of Concerts at Metropolitan Hall.They
will commence as soon as the political excitement has subsided.”.[The NY Times]

1852.11.09   NY.  Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto: “Madame Alboni gives a Concert this evening, at Metropolitan Hall.
She is to be assisted by Signors Rovere, Sangiovann, Arditi, Mlle. Camille Urso, the young violinist, and Master Saar”.
[The NY Times, 09.11.1852]. Primer concierto desde su regreso a la ciudad.  Teatro lleno y audicencia cálida a la que
no falló.  Gustó especialmente en Casta Diva y en el rondó de la “Italian in Algiers” que cantaba por primera vez.
Los concomitantes de la tarde fueron dos novedades, el pequeño Urso y el juvenil Master Saar. Sangiovanni y
Rovere hicieron su parte como siempre. “The audience, altogether, found themselves  paid for having ventured out in
a dream storm”[The NY Times, 10.11.1852]

1852.11.12  NY. Metropolitan Hall.  Concierto: “Madame Alboni gives her second and last Concert of the series,     at the Metropolitan this evening. She will be assisted by the same artists as appeared on Tuesday evening, and the programme contains many of the old favorites.”[The NY Times, 12.11.1852]

1852.11.16    New Haven (Conneticut), un concierto. “Madame Alboni cantó aquí la pasada noche de camino para Boston.  La audiencia estaba compuesta por la élite de la ciudad y limitada por la capacidad del edificio en el que cantó”[mi traducción][The NY Times, 19.11.1852, del corresponsal de NY Daily Times, 17.11.1852]

1852.11.17 Hartford (Conneticut), un concierto en el American Hall: “American Hall. One concert only!: Madame Marietta Alboni respectfully announces to the musical public of Hartford, that she will give her first grand concert Wednesday evening, Nov. 17,1852”.[Amazon.com]. (La Sontag canta en el Metropolitan Hall, NY, desde el 25 nov, antes en Boston: Boston Music Hall. Tuesday evening, November 23, 1852. Madame Henriette Sontag's farewell concert.; Boston Music Hall. Tuesday evening, November 23, 1852. Madame Henriette Sontag's farewell  concert).

1852.11.30 Troy (Nueva York). Concierto.  De un reportaje del periódico local The Troy Budget de 1 de diciembre
puede entresacarse:  Gran audiencia.  Menciona la figura y agilidad de Alboni pero When she opens her mouth, let no
dog bark! , sigue que aparece en escena con la dignidad de Juno, sin traza  de anxiedad ni, siquiera, de curiosidad. 
“Her lips parted as if about a smile, and a stream of melody  gushed forth that waked at once the sleeping harmonies of
the heart”, y sigue con otros elogios a su rica voz de contralto, mencionando en especial su interpretación de “Casta
Diva”. La primera pieza del concierto fue un dúo cómico del “Barber of Seville” por Rovere y Sangiovanni. 
La cuarta pieza fue la cavatina de “The Pirate” de Bellini por Sangiovanni, cuya fina voz la desarrolló bien.Bien
también Rovere, en especial en “Mici rampolli” ya en la segunda parte del concierto.  La Fantasía al   Violín por Arditi
nos desconcertó, fue más de lo que esperábamos, la ejecutó de ,manera diferente y, a  nuestro parecer, mejor.

1852.12.10  Baltimore (City).  Concierto: “There is a great excitement here Alboni gives a Concert on Friday [10], and
Madame Sontag on Tuesday and Thursday next week. Preparations are making to give a splendid reception to Madame
Sontag [¡anda! ¿y la otra?].[The NY Times,     07.12.1852]

1852.12.14 Baltimore (City): “Carusi's Saloon Madame Marietta Alboni respectfully announces to the public of Baltimore, that she will give her first concert on Tuesday evening, Dec. 14, '52, on which occasion Mad. Alboni will be assisted by Sig. Rovere, Sig.            Sangiovanni, Sig. Arditi, musical director” [anuncio]

1852.12.14 Washington: “Washington, Tuesday, Dec.14.- Madame Alboni gave her first concert here to-night, it  as attended by the President, several members of the Cabinet, foreign Ministers, members of  Congress and a fashionable audience.”[The NY Times, 15.12.1852]. Alboni nos dio “this evening” un encantador concierto en el “Caruzi’s saloon”, no tenía, claro, la  ayuda orquestal pero yo la escuché con más placer.  La gran contralto estaba en excelente voz.  Por su  parte Sangiovanni y Rovere también me parecieron mejores que en el Metropolitan Hall, pena que  Sangiovanni no añada más alma a su melodiosa voz.  La audiencia inusualmente grande y brillante. El Presidente y su familia, varios miembros del Gobierno y representantes extranjeros, y otros importantes, que aplaudieron con entusiasmo cada pieza.[The NY Times, 16.12.1853]  ¿Se suspendió el concierto de Baltimore?  ¿Puedo hacer los dos? 

1852.12.16 Washington: Carusi's Saloon Madame Marietta Alboni respectfully announces to the public of Washington, that she will give  her second and last concert on Thursday evening, Dec. 16, '52, on which occasion Mad. Alboni will be assisted by Sig. Rovere, Sig. Sangiovanni, Sig. Arditi, musical director.

1852.12.27  NY.  Debut en el Broadway Theater (La Cenerentola): “The Broadway engagement of Alboni and her  troupe, begins on Monday evening. She has judiciously chosen Rossini’s Opera of Cinderella, with  one or two of the gems of which the public of New-York have identified some of her most charming notes, as the introductory Opera. She will be efficiently sustained in the tenor and buffo parts, and also by the old and well-trained Astor Place Chorus.”[The NY Times, 25.12.1852]  Este mismo periódico amplía la información sobre este debut tras señalar que tanto el empresario como Alboni pueden congratularse  del éxito de esta primera noche.

1853.01.04 NY. Broadway Theatre, La fille du regiment:  “Alboni, como la “Daughter of the Regiment” tuvo una  gran audiencia en la Broadway Opera la pasada noche.  Al principio parecía tímida, sin sitio, pero  luego se fue acercando a la audiencia.  Llevó su realización con emoción y vivacidad y cantó con tal encantadora dulzura -que por sí misma no era una atracción llamativa ni en cuanto a la música ni a su desarrollo dramático- a un éxito continuado. (...) La ópera se repetirá el jueves [6] y el viernes [7]  (...).”[The NY Times, 05.01.1853]  "January 4, 1853, Wednesday. The Broadway Opera, for this evening, is the "Daughter of the  Regiment," with Alboni as the prima donna, of course. To perfect the rehearsals, Monday evening was   omitted as an opera night. The same opera is to open the lyric scene to Madame Sontag, at Niblo’s, on  Monday of next week”.[The NY Times, 04.01.1853]

1853.01.06   NY.  Broadway Theatre, La fille du regiment (previsión, The NY Times, 05.01.1853 y 06.01.1853)

1853.01.07   NY.  Broadway Theatre, La fille du regiment (previsión, The NY Times, 05.01.1853 y 07.01.1853)

1853.01.10 NY. Broadway Theatre, La sonnambula:  ‘Bellini's beautiful opera of "La Sonnambula," in which two artistes make their first appearance in this country. Of course Madame Alboni plays Amina, Barilli Count Ridolfi, Signor Pellegrini Elvino, and Madame Seidenberg Lisa. After the opera, the  French troupe appear in the ballet of "Une Fete a Constantinople."[es un anuncio, ¿para el 9 o el 10?] [The NY Times, 10.01.1853] Mme. Alboni ha invitado a su concierto de hoy a los alumnos del Asilo de Ciegos de la calle 33, a  sugerencia de Mr. Root, preceptor de música de dicho centro.[The Ny Times, 10.01.1853]

1853.01.11  NY.  Broadway Theatre.  La sonnambula.  Estaba prevista La fille du Regiment: “The Broadway management, on very short notice, last evening [11] substituted the Child of the Regiment, with the  popular cast of last week, for the Sonnambula given over on account of the failure of the new tenor on Monday night [10]”.
[The NY Times, 12.01.1853]

1853.01.13  NY. Broadway Theatre.  La sonnambula. [anuncio:] El tenor Vietti, del grupo del Astor-place será  Elvino.  Por su parte Sontag sufre un enfriamiento severo que la obliga a retrasar la Child of the Regiment.[The NY Times]  Pese a la tormenta de esta pasada tarde Mme. Alboni tuvo una gran audiencia en compañía de los  mismos artistas que la tarde del lunes [10] más el señor Vietti (preferible a su antecesor).  Alboni fue aplaudidísima y hubo de repetir el brillante finale y salir a saludar tres vces entre los ramos de flores. No habrá sesión de ópera esta tarde [14] porque el elenco se dedicará a ensayar un Oratorio que será ofrecido el domingo [16] en el Metropolitan Hall por toda la compañía con, posiblemente, la orquesta y coros.[The NY Times, 14.01.1853]

1853.01.14 NY.  Broadway Theatre.  La Sonnambula.  [Dice el periódico que en el Niblo’s pero parece un error y será el Broadway].[The NY Times, 15.01.1853]

1853.01.16    NY. Metropolitan Hall.  Participa la compañía con el Oratorio [¿qué se celebra o se conmemora? ¿de quién es el Oratorio? ¿Quiénes son los otros participantes?].[deducido del apunte del día 13 de enero]

1853.01.17   NY.  Broadway Theatre.  Alboni aparecerá en una nueva ópera, creemos que Norma[no].[The NY Times,  15.01.1853] NY.  Broadway Theatre.  Il barbiere di Siviglia.  Se hará esta tarde por primera vez.  Alboni, Rosina; Rovere, Figaro; Sangiovanni, Almaviva.  Como final el ballet “La Maja de Sevilla”.[The NY Times, 17.01.1853].

1853.01.20  NY.  Broadway Theatre, repite la Sonnambula.  Se realizó admirablemente, lo que con calurosos y prolongados aplausos agradeció el público.  Saludó tras el primer acto y también al acabar la obra, repitió el brillante final.[The NY Times, 21.01.1853]

1853.01.21   NY. Broadway Theatre.  Anuncio en la sección Amusements del periódico: The Child of the Regiment, a beneficio del señor Rovere.  Es la primera vez que este artista recurre directamente al público.  Sin duda es hoy el mejor artista de su país y sus grandes méritos no pasarán inadvertidos. Naturalmente Mme. Alboni será Vivandiere y Rovere el sargento.  Es la última vez que La Figlia se representara en este teatro.  Además de la ópera se ejecutará la pieza “Una fete a Constantinople” por la compañía francesa de ballet.[The NY Times, 21.01.1853] (Mientras, en el Niblo’s harán “Lucrezia Borgia” con Sontag como Lucrezia, Badiali como Duke y Pozzolini, Rocco y Gasparone como Gennaro, Gazelle y Gubetta[en el mismo periódico y sección]

1853.01.22 El NY Times de esta fecha publica un largo estudio sobre las cualidades y diferencias entre la Sontag  y la Alboni.  Incluye indirectamente a Jenny Lind.

1853.01.25 NY. Broadway Theatre.  Alboni aparece de nuevo esta noche con La Cenerentola, con selecciones de  Lucrezia Borgia.  Su compromiso finaliza el jueves y el grupo marchará para ofrecer una  atractiva temporada de ópera.[The NY Times, 25.01.1852] “Apareció Mme. Alboni por última vez como Cenerentola la pasada noche.  Estaba en excelente voz y cantó incluso con más grácia y ánimo que la noche de apertura.  En el entreacto de la ópera ofreció  el brindis de ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ que hubo de repetir.  Fue entusiásticamente aplaudida durante toda la representación y al final hubo de salir dos veces a saludar entre los ramos de flores.”[The NY Times, 26.01.1853]

1853.01.27  NY. Broadway Theatre, Norma. “Mañana por la tarde hará Norma, un papel en el que ella sin duda  everdecerá sus laureles.  Quienes estuvieron presentes en los ensayos aseguran que todavía no conocemos a Alboni”[The NY Times, 26.01.1853]  Breve artículo sobre las dificultades que ofrece Norma y la cálida acogida a Alboni por un público que atestaba el teatro.  La ópera se repite esta tarde.[The NY Time, 28.01.1853][sin embargo Putnam dice que se cantó La Cenerentola, ver apunte del día 28]

1853.01.28  NY, Broadway Theatre, Cenerentola [Putnam’s monthly. enero 1853]^, Norma [Richard Grant White, crítico entonces, recuerda en 1881]   El  comentarista de Putnam: It is better to hear Alboni sing one good song, than Sontag through an opera, in  singing, after all, and in opera, of which the pith is song, the first absolute requisite is voice [Putman’s.Monthly, feb 1853] 

1853.01.31  Boston. ‘Madame Alboni being announced to appear in Boston on Monday evening. Between the acts             of the opera, Madame Alboni and the Chorus will sing the Drinking Song from "Lucrezia  Borgia."’[anuncio de] [The NY Times, 25.01.1853] “en enero Alboni ‘inauguró’ el nuevo Music Hall de Boston y ahora está haciendo su gira por el sur. Sontag está ahora por el sur[Putman Monthly, ene.1853]- (la Sontag da un concierto de caridad en el Niblo’s el día 19 ene).

1853.01.--     En este mes de enero en Boston [¿será enero-febrero?] da nueve representaciones entre ellas las óperas La Cenerentola, La figlia del Regimento, La sonnambula, Norma, Il barbieri de Seviglie.  Triunfó   especialmente con La figlia pero las representaciones no fueron muy remunerativas para el empresario Marshall (de NY) y LeGrand Smith [Views taken on the spot, Alfred Bunn, 1853][[aclarar y particularizar]]

1853.02.03   Boston. Una anécdota escrita por el corresponsal aquí del NY Daily Times el día 4 y difundida por el   NY Times después [traducción mía]: “La aburrida rutina de nuestra legislatura fue ayer en el Congreso y para variar  un poco divertida.    Durante un debate cuyo objeto era autorizar las representaciones dramáticas los sábados -el día judio del Sabbath- Mr.Coggswell, el famoso “ladies’ man” de estas latitudes, se detuvo en su alocución para ofrecer una moción. Había captado la presencia de Madame Alboni en la galería y sobre esto se refirió.  Su moción para permitir la presencia en  la Cámara de la Alboni fue aprobada ¡pero cuando fue a presentarla varios, fieramente, pidieron un aplazamiento!  Mr. Stevenson, de Boston, llegó a pedir que la moción fuera rechazada.  Había un divertido ambiente.  Mr. Butler, de Lowell, se levantó para hablar, pero el Presidente le detuvo diciendo que el asunto no admitía debate.  En la confusión, cuando pudo ser oído, Mr. Butler estaba protestando acerca de que una dama hiciera deporte.  Mientras, la pobre Alboni, viendo el barullo, y oyendo su propio nombre, asustada, salió rápidamente.  Sin duda tan feliz como Horacio salió de la corte de policía en la vieja Roma; y entonces Mr. Coggswell, muy abatido, retiró su moción.  Todo esto fue el pueril comportamiento de nuestros  representantes. Alboni no deseó más volver a visitarlos.[The NY Times, 07.02.1853]

1853.02.10  Boston.  Howard.  La sonnambula.  Amplia y brillante audiencia.[Sigue una breve crítica poco extensa pero muy favorable].[The NY York Times, 11.02.1853]

1853.02.11   NY.Niblo’s Garden, concierto, primero[¿como tal concierto?][Putnam’s Monthly marzo 1853]. El día 19 siguiente la Sontag da en el mismo lugar un concierto de caridad. [Putnam’s Monthly marzo 1853].

1853.02.28    Filadelfia, Walnut Theatre la Compañía de Ópera Italiana de Madame Alboni: La figlia del reggimento. 

1853.03.02    Filadelfia, La cenerentola

1853.03.04    Filadelfia, La sonnambula

1853.03.05    Filadelfia, Norma                

1853.03.07    Filadelfia, Il barbiere di Siviglia

1853.03.09    Filadelfia,  La cenerentola

1853.03.11    Filadelfia,  Norma - En este mes de marzo también triunfa en Boston [Putnam’s monthly magazine vol.1, issue 4. abril 1853] (la Sontag, mientras, actúa en el Niblo’s, Gottschalk sigue sus éxitos en NY -va a ir al Sur pero volverá en mayo para una gira por el Norte- y el violinista Paul Julien se despide en el Metropolitan) [Putnam’s Monthly marzo 1853]. Comentario:  There was considerable rivalry during the past winter (1852-1853) between Sontag and Alboni, which, like other rivalry, seriously damaged the chief performers in it.  Each of them had hearty partisans, by whom each was lauded to   the skies; but a comparison between them was thus humously drawn by New York  wag, which became, at length a sort of received opinion: “The only difference, no doubt, /  ‘Twixt Sontag and  Alboni,  /  Is that the one eats sauerkraut, /The other macaroni”[Old England and New England, in a series of views taken  on the spot,Alfred Bunn, 1853]

1853.03.--  NY. Niblo’s Garden.  La fille du Regiment [deducción del apunte del día 16, un día entre el 11 y el 15]1853.03.16 NY. Niblo’s Garden.  La fille du Regiment. Repetición por última vez, estarán con Alboni, otros  miembros conocidos como la signorina Steffanone o Maretzek.[The NY Times, 15.03.1853]

1853.03.28 NY. Niblo’s Garden.  Don Pasquale.  “The combination troupes commenced in earnest last evening.  It was an occasion of warm welcomes. Beneventano, Marini, Salve and Alboni were separately  greeted with rounds of applause.  Madame Alboni, of course, on her appearance produced a burst of genuine enthusiasm.  And well she deserved it; her jovial face and genial voice were never more bewitching”.  Sigue un extenso comentario muy favorable al equipo y en particular a Alboni y la a de Arditi (orquesta mejor conjuntada que la de Sontag).  Concluye anunciando el mismo Don  Rasquale para el próximo miércoles [día 30][The NY Times, 29.03.1853]  Antes, el mismo día 28 de marzo, The NY Times anunciaba una nueva era en la historia musical de  Nueva York.  Hace un extenso estudio de la obra, Don Pasquale y de los artistas que participarán esta tarde.  Señala la importancia de la contribución de la “Italian Opera Troupe”.

1853.03.30 NY. Niblo’s Garden.  Don Pasquale.  Otra noche maravillosa. Alboni cantó deliciosamente y la orquesta tocó con precisión.  Todo fue mejor que el lunes pasado [28].[The NY Times, 31.03.1853]

1853.03.-- Crítica de Putnam a la representación de Don Pasquale [probablemente la del día 28]: Fue el error  número uno... Alboni perdió su oportunidad... El teatro estaba lleno pero no a rebosar como con la Sontag... Quizá era caro...  Alboni (Norina) cantó tan bien como siempre... pero le volvió su vieja indiferencia... Marini (don Pasquale) demasiado serio, seco y duro en una ópera bufa... Lablanche muy bien, con excelente humor... Salvi bien como siempre... Beneventano, bien... Alboni cantó maravillosamente pero cuando el espectador sale y se pregunta si es superior a la Sontag, cree que no... todavía está a tiempo [Putnam’s Monthly, may 1853] [¡qué manía con compararla siempre con la Sontag!] El entendido de Putnam sigue: Hace un mes expresé la esperanza de que la ópera de Alboni se recuperara. No... Lucrezia Borgia, Alboni es Marffeo Orsini, Salvi, Gennavro, la De Vries es Lucrezia... La Alboni, de locura. La ópera estuvo bien, la sala prácticamente llena. Tras una semana de suspense... Don Giovanni... los cantantes italianos se ajustan mal a la música alemana... Salvi, descuidado pero aplaudido... Alboni, como Zerlina, estuvo exquisita...[Putnam’s Monthly, junio 1853]

1853.04.-- Actuará en el Niblo’s con Salvi y otros, contratados por Maretzek [es una previsión de Putnam’s monthly  magazine...vol.1, issue 4. abril 1853.  Actúa [Putnam’s monthly magazine...mayo 1853]. El día 19 la Sontag comienza sus actuaciones en Boston, Howard Atheneum, da 3 óperas[Views taken on the spot, Alfred Bunn,1853]

1853.04.01  NY.  Suspendida La Favorita en el Niblo’s por indisposición de Salvi.[The NY Times, 02.04.1853]

1853.04.02 NY. Niblo’s Garden, La fille du Regiment, con Sangiovanni y Rovere, artistas bien conocidos de nuestro público.  Los billetes para La Favorita no representada son válidos para esta noche, o reembolsados si se presentan antes de las doce. [The NY Times, 02.04.1853] Hace una extensa crítica de esta representación en The New York Times del día 04.04.1853.

1853.04.--   NY. Niblo’s Garden, La Favorita [deducción del apunte del día 13.04.1853]

1853.04.13 NY. Niblo’s Garden, La Favorita, repetición, con el teatro lleno y muchos aplausos.  Marini cantó  mejor y más en tono que en ocasiones anteriores.  Alboni en el último acto nos electrizó.  La Favorita ha sido para ella un éxito que se repetirá en las siguientes actuaciones de esta temporada.[The NY Times, 15.04.1853]

1853.04.15 NY. Niblo’s Garden, La sonnabula. (Es una previsión) Salvi será Elvino, este anuncio será suficiente para llenar el teatro.  Otra atracción será la primera aparición de Rosi que será el conde Ridolphi. Alboni, como Amina se ganará todos los corazones. [The NY Times, 15.04.1853]

1853.04.20  NY.  Niblo’s Garden, La Gazza Ladra, que recibió muchos aplausos.  Alboni en excelente voz dio un “Di Piacer” en un estilo verdaderamente bello.  Lo que el pequeño Sangiovanni hizo lo ejecutó con esmero, aunque no tiene mucha potencia lo hace con precisión.  La orquesta mucho mejor que la última noche.  La ópera abunda en brillante instrumentación muy apropiada cuando se hace bien y  Arditi lo hace. Hay un proyecto de producir “Lucretia Borgia” en la cual estarán Alboni y Rose de Vries, más los  señores Salvi, Sangiovanni, Beneventano, Quinto, Rosi, Zanini y Rovere.  Sin duda que un abarrotado teatro dará esta representación el viernes noche [22]. [The NY Times, 21.04.1853]

1853.04.22    NY.  Niblo’s Garden,  Lucrezia Borgia. [Es una deducción de los apuntes del día 20 y del día 28 de abril]

1853.04.25  NY.  Niblo’s Garden,  Lucrezia Borgia. [Curiosamente el periodista hace la crítica de De Vries, Marini y  Salvi, no la de Alboni][The NY Times, 27.04.1853]

1853.04.27 NY. Niblo’s Garden, La Gazza Ladra se repitió anoche de forma deliciosa.  Alboni estuvo excelente  de voz, un poco apagada al principio pero animada y deliciosa después.  Beneventano cantó con  mérito y recibió el calor del público, se le prevé un magnífico porvenir.  Quinto hubiera sido más  apreciado si no exagerara su voz.[The NY Times, 28.04.1853]

1853.04.28   NY.  Niblo`s Garden, Lucrezia Borgia,  repetición en beneficio del señor Salvi. [The NY Times, 28.04.1853]

1853.04.30   NY.  Niblo`s Garden, Norma. Se hace este sábado 30 en vez del viernes 29 por la sesión  extraordinaria del día 28. NY. [The NY Times, 28.04.1853]

1853.05.02  (NY, Metropolitan Hall) último concierto en EUA [que fue el 26 mayo], en beneficio de Arditi, su director en EUA [Great Singers.., G.T.Ferris, NY, 1891] [error de fecha de Ferris si se refiere al concierto en beneficio de Arditi]Cita que alguien gastó la broma pesada: “She was not all bony but all fatty”

1853.05.06 NY. Niblo’s Garden, Don Giovanni.  “The last night the combination Opera troupe attracted a large audience. ‘Don Giovanni’ was well rendered, but not with the spirit and ensemble we have before  witnessed. Possibly the consciousness that this was the last night of an unsuccessful campaign had an influence on the artistes. (…) Mr. Legrand Smith retires from the management (...) The company  engaged by him was certainly the best ever organized in the City (…) Madame Alboni was recibed las  night with parturous applause, and twice responded to the encores of the audience.  This amiable lady  is indeed an ornament to her prefession (…) We cannot say so much for Signor Salvi.  This gentleman  nearly escaped being hissed [silbado] last night (…)  but since it has been known that he is the source  of all the present difficulties and disunion (…)  Signor Beneventano and Mad. De Vries, distinguished  themselves in their several parts (...).”[The NY Times, 07.05.1853] 

1853.05.26  NY. Metropolitan Hall. El concierto en beneficio de Arditi tendrá lugar el próximo jueves [26] en el  Hall, en vez del Castle Garden como se había anunciado.  Podría ser la última oportunidad de escuchar a Alboni que embarcará para Europa el próximo sábado [28].  La Alboni, promotora de este  homenaje cantaría por primera vez en América Di Tanti palpiti de Rossini.[The NY Times, 25.05.1853]  El concierto en beneficio de Arditi.-  El salón lleno de una audiencia entusiasta.  “We have heard the last delicious strains of the best and most fascinating singer of the age”.  Hubo de repetir tres veces cada pieza que cantó.  Actuaron también el pianista Strakosh peculiar con su “Nightingale solo”,  mejor que con su “Banjo solo”.  Arditi dirigió la orquesta pero no con la misma habilidad que en sus actuaciones en el Niblo’s, el final de la obertura de “Muta dei portici” fue una mescolanza de  instrumentos.  La De Vries bien asistida en sus piezas pero nada que resaltar, fue recibida calurosamente. “Altogether we cannot hope to spent a more pleasant evening.  With the memory of the many we have passed, we can always turn to this as the last, best and saddest”[The NY Times, 27.05.1853]

1853.05.-- Se habla en dos artículos de The NY Times de las desavenecias entre Salvi y Alboni, se citan remuneraciones abultadas de ésta y mucho menores las de los otros.  Se va a crear parece una nueva compañía de ópera, sin la Alboni.[The NY Times, 10.05.1853 y 31.05.1853]. Un artículo en Spirit de 07.05.1853 relata el súbito colapso de la compañía de ópera de Alboni debido a que el tenor Lorenzo Salvi había recibido por adelantado una gran cantidad de dinero para realizar trece actuaciones.  Sin embargo se acabó la temporada y sólo había realizado siete.  Su comportamiento contribuyó a la rotura del grupo. [Opera on the roads, Italian Opera Companies]. 1853.06.01     Sale del puerto de Nueva York [posiblemente de un muelle de Jersey City] el vapor Africa, de la Cunard Mail, llevando 177 pasajeros y 778.153 $ en mercancías [su destino usual en esas fechas es Liverpool]. Entre los pasajeros está Madame Alboni. [The NY Times, 02.06.1853]  Embarca en NY para Francia: [Pougin dice que el 28.05.1853 y el propio NY Times preveía también el 28, pero finalmente fue el  1 de junio]

1853.06.12  Llega a Francia, unos 12 días después.[fecha estimada, no verificada]

  
Alvaro Fernandez Rodas

 THE DON QUIXOTE OF OPERA

No other impresario ever matched the record of the indomitable Max Maretzek in bringing new works and new stars to America

By HAROLD C. SCHONBERG

He was called “the indomitable Max,” “the indefatigable Max,” “the hardy pioneer,” “the Napoleon of Opera.” About that Napoleonic designation Max Maretzek himself disagreed. It would be more accurate, he ruefully said, if he were described as the Don Quixote of Opera. And in a way he was right. For some forty years the indomitable, indefatigable Max tilted at the American public and at assorted singers, mostly Italian, making and losing fortunes in the process. A stout, ebullient, eternally optimistic man, a good musician, a canny infighter when he had to be, a gambler, he was in many respects the Sol Hurok of his day, and he did more to establish opera in general and Italian opera in particular in the United States during the period before and after the Civil War than any other man.

This was recognized by all, and even his enemies paid tribute to his work. Maretzek had his share of enemies in the press and in the business, but he was always good copy, never reticent in talking about himself, and he. had almost a Hurok-like ability to identify himself with his product. The American public followed his ups and downs with fascination. The press gave credit where credit was due. As early as 1855 the New York Times was referring to Max as “the hero of nineteen opera campaigns.” “Seven years ago,” said the Times, “he landed in America with nothing but talent and a wooden baton. Today he has nothing but talent and a wooden baton.” Max had just lost a fortune on a low-priced opera project. In Boston, Dwight’s Journal of Music referred to him as “the hardworking protagonist of the Italian opera. … To Mr. Maretzek, New York is indebted for much of its best musical education.” The same kind of comment was echoed by the New York World in 1858: “No man has done so much for operatic music.”

There was not much opera in New York when Max Maretzek arrived in 1848. Indeed, New York had never even been exposed to the art until 1825, when a company headed by Manuel García came from London to give a season at the Park Theatre. In the 1830’s there was an attempt to establish opera in the city, but so much money was lost that very few attempts were made in the next decade. In 1847, however, the Astor Place Opera House was built, and that is where Maretzek came in.

Maretzek, born in Moravia (now Czechoslovakia) on June 28, 1821, had studied music in Vienna. He developed into a composer and conductor. Indeed, at the age of nineteen he composed an opera, Hamlet, which had a bit of a run. He settled in Paris as a conductor, became friendly with Berlioz, Meyerbeer, Liszt, and other heroes of the romantic movement, and then moved to Her Majesty’s Theatre in Covent Garden. There he was choral director and assistant conductor. It was in 1848 that he came to the attention of Edward P. Fry, an American impresario who was looking for talent for the new Astor Place Opera House. Fry asked Maretzek to come over as chief conductor, and the adventuresome Max jumped at the chance. Every European knew that the streets of New York were paved with gold. Max arrived at his El Dorado in September, 1848, and almost immediately started putting his mark on the musical life of the country.

The most complete account of his adventures reposes in his two autobiographical volumes—Crochets and Quavers (1855) and Sharps and Flats (1890). Considering his importance and popularity it is surprising that there has been no biography or other full-fledged study. There is not even a scholarly study of any kind, and anybody interested in his doings has to leaf through newspapers and magazines of his day. There plenty can be encountered to supplement—and correct—the often imaginative exploits recounted in his own books. There is, incidentally, something of a mystery about those two volumes. Max soon became fluent enough in English, but not so fluent that in 1855 he could turn out the amusing, highly idiomatic, combative prose that makes Crochets and Quavers such a delight. Max admits as much. He says that while working on the book he “rushed from the world,” secluded himself in his Staten Island home “with an English Grammar, an English Dictionary, and an English friend,” and made up his mind “with the assistance of these three indispensable necessaries to my task, to attempt its completion.” Nobody knows who the English friend was. Whoever he may have been, he was a first-class ghostwriter. Yet a spirit that can have come from nowhere but the mind of Max animates the book.

It has to be taken with a grain of salt, of course. Max was naturally interested in presenting his side of any particular case, and he wrenches a few facts here and there while doing so. With his natural ebullience and feeling for the ridiculous, too, he often veers into sheer burlesque, especially when gleefully describing the personal and musical shortcomings of his singers. Could anything be as inept as some of the performances he describes? But History whispers “Yes.” The mid-nineteenthcentury operatic scene in New York, with its hastily assembled casts, its pampered leading singers, its skimpy rehearsals, and its poorly trained orchestras was an example of the lyric stage in extremis. Certainly the spectacle upon which Maretzek gazed on his arrival—even discounting his tendency to exaggerate—was cosmic humor of a sort that has passed from the earth.

The twenty-seven-year-old conductor arrived in September, 1848, and the first impression he received was one that will wrench a sigh from New Yorkers of the 1970’s: “I was immediately struck with the beauty of the Bay and its environs. That which principally delighted me was, however, its bright, clear and blue sky. Such a sky I had not seen since I last left Naples.” He looked around, settled in, and went to the Astor Place Opera House to observe a performance of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. He was, to say the least, not very impressed. The orchestra did not even have a conductor. As in the old days, the conducting, such as it was, devolved upon the concertmaster. This concertmaster, while playing, “trampled on the floor as though he had been determined to work a path through the deal planking, and made a series of … grotesque faces.” The trampling was to give the rhythm to the players, but nobody was looking at the concertmaster, and his tramplings were ignored. The other string players scraped away, producing sounds resembling those of a sawmill in full operation. Every musician in the orchestra “went his own way, and made his own speed.” It was chaos. As for the singers, “it became unmistakably evident to me that none of them would ever produce a revolution in the musical world.”

Max later goes into a description of his singers in some detail, concentrating on the tenors. Many years later Frances Aida was to write a book named Men, Women and Tenors; and Giulio Gatti-Casazza, manager of the Metropolitan Opera, would tap his noble brow when anything went wrong and say, with infinite significance, “The head of a tenor.” Everybody in the business knows that tenors are a breed apart, followed closely by the prima donnas and then by all other musicians. Max spent many years wondering about and marvelling at the antics of musicians. He professed to be puzzled by the fact that musicians are the most quarrelsome of all beings upon the face of God’s round earth—that members of the most harmonious of all professions should be its most inharmonious set of denizens.

The leading singers for Maretzek’s 1848-49 season were a Signora Truffi, the tenor Sesto Benedetti, and the bass Settimo Rosi. Truffi, said Max, was a competent but not very exciting soprano. Benedetti was “as cunning as either a monk or a weasel.” He had a strong voice and a total lack of musical culture. “Did he chance to sing a false note, or commit an error in intonation, he would look daggers at some unoffending member of the orchestra.” That type is around to this day. Benedetti also had other jokers in his deck. “Whenever he could not keep time, he had the trick of beginning to beat it himself, although he literally never knew the difference between a sixeight and a two-four movement. This was for the purpose of showing the audience that the fault, supposing they discerned it, lay with the conductor.” As for Signor Rosi, his idea of acting was “to draw a long breath, put himself into a fighting attitude, and then rush to the footlights.” We still have those today, too.

It was a season that proved the theatrical theorem that anything that could happen would happen. There was an Ernani in New York with a cast of new and untried singers gathered together by Fry. The bass was Salvatore Castrone. He made a grand entrance, tripped over his sword, and rolled into a group of terrified choristers. Then he got his spurs tangled in the prima donna’s gown. After which, paralyzed with fright, he planted himself in front of the prompter’s box and simply refused to move for the rest of the act. Later in the opera he had troubles ol another sort. When he wanted to draw his sword, it stuck in the scabbard. When he did get it out, he never was able to sheathe it, desperately poking this way and that to find the aperture of the scabbard. If he was supposed to enter stage right, he entered stage left, surprising the whole company. When he knelt, he split his costume. Then…then …

But let Max tell the story. In the last act the wretched Castrone rushed on stage:
He … had forgotten what the Erse or Northern Scotch, though which it is I have suffered myself to forget, call their “gallygaskins.” In our own more fastidiously refined language, upon this continent, they are most generally and generically classified as the “unmentionables.” There he stood, representing the Spanish idea of an Inexorable Fate, clad in a black velvet doublet, but with a pair of flesh-colored and closely-woven silk inexpressibles upon his nether man. The horn, that fatal horn, hung from his neck in a position which it would be absolutely impossible for me consistently with propriety to indicate upon paper. Certainly, it was in anything but its right place. Some of the ladies who were present rose and quitted the theater. Others shrank back in their seats and veiled their eyes…

At the end of the season Maretzek was offered the company. He took it over, leased the Astor Place Opera House for twelve thousand dollars annually, got together a troupe, and was in business for himself—as he was to be for the next thirty and more years. In the troupe was a soprano named Bertucca. Maretzek shortly afterward married her. After her voice went, she played the harp in the orchestra and also did solo work on that instrument.

The doughty Max spread himself wide, meeting crisis after crisis with aplomb, taking on the competition as it appeared, jousting with the press. The New York Times on the whole supported his work, but the Tribune took out after him. Max was convinced that the Tribune critic, William Henry Fry, was hostile because he, Max, did not stage his opera. William Henry Fry, the brother of the Edward Fry who had brought Maretzek to the United States, did write the first opera ever composed by an American—Leonora, staged in Philadelphia in 1845. But Maretzek had a low opinion of Fry as a critic. Fry, he said, “uses in every ten or a dozen words some four or five technical expressions. By this simple means, he has the satisfaction of rendering his writing unintelligible to the general reader, while it is of no service to the practical musician.”

Max not only took on Fry, he also fought the Tribune editorial staff and the terrible-tempered publisher, James Gordon Bennett himself. When the Tribune attacked Maretzek after his singers for the 1866-67 season were announced, Maretzek counterattacked with a letter to Bennett that was published in all the New York papers. Maretzek pointed out multiple errors and inconsistencies in the Tribune article and ended with: “You may, therefore, continue for a few more years your opposition. … A little personal abuse from the Herald may even increase my success, and is, therefore, respectfully solicited.”

Those were the days before unions, and Max ran his companies with an imperious hand. His orchestra once pulled what these days would be called a wildcat strike. It was at the final rehearsal of the American première of Donizetti’s Maria di Rohan. It seems that Max had rebuked some players with particular asperity. He was not only the Napoleon of opera; he also seems to have been the Toscanini of his time. This rehearsal saw him in fine form, and he went too far. The orchestra walked out, and a committee said it would not return until Max apologized. So Napoleon-Toscanini struck a pose, pulled out his watch, and said that if the orchestra was not in place in fifteen minutes, everybody was fired. The players did not show up, and Max did indeed immediately fire them. But what about the première the following night? Max rushed out to find a replacement orchestra. “They were impressed everywhere. We seized them in the streets. Descents were made upon the highly moral dancing-houses. Fiddlers were taken from the vessels of war in the harbor. That night, no musician was secure.” At 5 A.M. Max had an orchestra. At 7 it was in rehearsal. Rehearsals continued all day, with Max supplying food and encouragement. “The key [to the theatre],” he wrote later, “was in my breeches’ pocket. There was not the slightest possibility of escape for any one of them.” At 8 P.M. the première went on as scheduled.

Max was not only imperious; he could be ingenious, not to say devious. When Barnum brought Jenny Lind to America in 1850, Max was desperate. He knew that he would have trouble attracting an audience to his opera presentations; everybody was talking about the Swedish Nightingale. Barnum was making a fortune out of her. So Max quickly “purchased,” for twenty thousand francs, the great Teresa Parodi from London. Then, fighting fire with fire, he started a rumor that the old Duke of Devonshire was lusting after the attractive young soprano. America, then as now, always was titillated by the life-style of British nobility. A duke! In love with an opera singer! Maretzek’s planted stories were picked up by virtually every paper in the country. When the innocent Parodi arrived, she was no little surprised to learn about her love life. Everybody came to see her, and Max rode the publicity for a profitable season in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston.

Season after season Max gathered unto himself a company and introduced America to the operas of Verdi, Donizetti, and many others. In the fall of 1850 he took command of a company that had come from Havana. This was an eye opener. Never before had he encountered a group of singers with equivalent jealousies, intrigues, and pettiness. Much of this, Max believed, could be traced to stage husbands. If there was one thing Max hated more than operatic tenors, it was the stage husband. One of his leading sopranos, Angelina Bosio, had a husband who rejoiced in the wonderful name of Signer Panayotis di Xindavelonis. Max watched him aghast. Xindavelonis’ mission in life was to impress his wife with his usefulness and importance. He would see that her soup was hot and her champagne cold. He would dutifully carry her poodle under one arm and her music under the other. He would argue with conductors about the tempos in her arias, though he knew as much about tempos as did the poodle under his arm. He would pick fearsome arguments over trifles so that his wife would think he had saved her from artistic ruin.

In that company was a tenor named Lorenzo Salvi, with whom Max was to be associated for many years. Salvi, like so many tenors, was a little crazy. Max firmly believed that Salvi thought himself to be the Louis Quatorze of opera. “L’opéra, c’est moi.’ ” One of Salvi’s cuter tricks was to insist on a contract containing a provision to the effect that in case of illness there were to be fourteen days of grace. Sure enough, if Salvi did not feel like singing, his servant would come to Max with a medical certificate “certifying to an attack of bronchitis, yellow fever, or cholera morbus.” Thus for thirteen days Salvi had a vacation with full pay. Then he would sing. On the following day he would have a relapse—unless the manager humbled himself and sot down on his knees.

It is the job of an impresario to learn to handle this kind of nonsense. Salvi had a good voice, and popular tenors are always in a position to pamper their lusty egos. Max put up with Salvi and the others; he had to; there was no other option. But it was hard, hard. It was Salvi who in 1853 ruined Maretzek’s benefit. In those days it was the custom for certain nights of the season to be given for the benefit of the manager, who would take all the proceeds, pay off the major outstanding debts, and perhaps pocket a few surplus dollars. The Maretzek benefit was scheduled for December 19, 1853. Salvi suddenly decided, the afternoon of the concert, that he wanted his fee in advance. Max, the last one to submit to blackmail, closed down Niblo’s Garden instead. The New York Times did some digging and learned that Salvi was in debt and being dunned. Among the debts was $253.00 “to the druggist Dubuic for 80 gallons of cod liver oil.” Tenors are eccentric folk, but it was the general feeling that 80 gallons of cod-liver oil was carrying things a bit far. What on earth did Salvi do? Bathe in it? (It later was found that he had purchased it for delivery to Italy.) The Times pointed out that in the previous twenty months Max had paid Salvi “upwards of thirty thousand dollars.” Was Salvi worth it? The Times thought no. “Signer Salvi cannot be ranked with the first tenors of the present day, except by a traditional and extremely unsatisfactory fiction. He is passé and tolerated simply because he is one of the best we have among us.”

Salvi was one member of a strong company with which Max all but ruined himself in 1854. He got the idea of giving a season of low-priced opera—fifty cents admission for all seats—at Castle Garden in Battery Park. Such prices, he thought, would popularize opera. And as Castle Garden had about five thousand seats, there even was the possibility of a hefty profit. (Five thousand seats in those days before electronic amplification! The singers were a leatherlunged breed.) “Dreaming a golden dream,” Max wrote, “I fancied that with such a Company as this actually was, with prices no higher than the regular theatrical ones, and a large house, the taste for Italian Opera might be established, not amongst the ‘Upper Ten,’ but in the public heart of New York.” Alas! The company found itself playing to audiences of a hundred or a hundred and fifty, scarcely enough to meet the printing bills. Max ended up with a $22,000 deficit.

Max bounced back. He always did. Wherever there was opera, there was Max. He took a troupe to Mexico and made money. He competed with new impresarios. One of those was an immigrant named Max Strakosch, and the “war of the Maxes” enlivened and amused New York for many years. Great singers started coming to the United States, sometimes with their own companies. In 1853 New York could enjoy a company headed by Henrietta Sontag and another headed by Marietta Alboni. Sontag was one of the all-time greats. She had been a favorite artist of Carl Maria von Weber (creating the title role in Euryanthe) and was admired by Beethoven (she was the soprano in the world premiéres of the Ninth Symphony and the Missa Solemnis). Max worked out a deal with Alboni for a short season at Niblo’s Garden and then contracted with Sontag for a summer season at Castle Garden. Max always had his eye to the main chance. Poor Sontag, incidentally, did not have much longer to live. She contracted cholera while on a tour of Mexico the following year.

In 1854 the Academy of Music on Fourteenth Street near Third Avenue was built, and Max took it over the following year. One of his achievements was the preparation of the American première of Il Trovatore. The public loved it, but not John Sullivan Dwight in Boston. Dwight came to New York for the première and also attended all performances when the company played Boston. His stern Unitarian heart almost stopped beating. What was opera coming to? Dwight took off on Il Trovatore in his Journal of Music. He could find nothing new in the work, nothing that showed any progress. The opera demonstrated “only a hardened habit in the old false way; —the way of substituting strong, glaring and intense effects, at whatsoever cost of theme and treatment for the real inspirations of sincere human life and feeling.”

There was a trip to Havana. Maretzek decided that since Havana had been without opera from 1853 to 1856, “the señoritas began to grow tired of toreadors and were longing for sweet tenors, and the caballeros, satiated with the blood of bulls and horses, were clamoring for prima donnas and ballerinas.” So Maretzek whipped together a company, chief among which was the baritone Signer Amodio.

Amodio had a fresh, appealing voice. He also weighed “about 300 pounds, with a body like a Heidelberg wine cask surmounted by the head of a young boy.” As soon as the company disembarked, Amodio was the center of attraction, especially when he entered a carriage and went right through the floorboards. “The horse, frightened by the shock, started, and Amodio, with his head above and his feet below the volante, had to run under a scorching sun about six blocks in the Calle Obispo, among repeated cheers and screams of the following crowd, until at last rescued by the police. … From that day until the end of the season, whenever Amodio approached a stand of volantes, there was a general stampede among the black drivers, who stoutly refused to carry and to have their volantes broken by that monster.”

Amodio was promptly nicknamed el niño gordo—the fat baby—and every performance in which he sang was sold out. All Havana wanted to see him. Maretzek even ordered him to dance a tarantella in “Masaniello,” and Amodie, a good sport, did so, to universal applause.

One thing Maretzek liked about Havana: the authorities stood no nonsense from singers. That made Havana the promised land for an operatic manager. If a singer reported in sick, the police would send a physician. If the physician could find nothing wrong with the singer—no fever, no inflammation of the throat, no swelling of the vocal cords—and if the singer still refused to appear, a corporal and four soldiers were sent to escort him to the theatre “and there leave him the choice of advancing toward the stage before him, or retreating with four bayonets behind him.”

A return trip to Mexico proved a financial disaster. The great Adelina Patti promised Maretzek that she would be part of the company in Mexico. Maretzek immediately promised the Mexican public they would have Patti. But the prima donna finally changed her mind, at which point the Mexican public changed its mind about Maretzek’s company. The refunds were enough to make the goddess of music weep for very pity. Maretzek persevered, running into robbers, coming down with fever, borrowing money to pay his singers, and arriving home with exactly six dollars in his pocket. “After paying my hotel bill that night I reached my home on Staten Island absolutely penniless.” Six months later he was in business again, running a New York season with the best company he had ever had.

Now and then Maretzek worked outside of New York. There was a three-year period when he was head of the new Academy of Music in Philadelphia while Maurice Strakosch (Max Strakosch’s brother) and Bernard Ullmann ran the Academy of Music in New York. Back in New York in 1860, Maretzek took over the Winter Garden Theatre and then resumed direction of the Academy of Music. The building was destroyed by fire in 1866. Unbowed, Max promptly announced a season for 1867 and set to work raising money to rebuild the house. Said the Times, admiringly, when the new Academy of Music opened over the ashes of the old one: “A great loser by the fire and its unavoidable results, Maretzek held on to his company, engaged new artists, and before the smoke had ceased curling above the blackened walls of his ruined temple, reorganized his troupe and laid plans for the coming season.” To celebrate the reopening there was a promenade concert—an opera ball, as Max called it. Three New York orchestras were engaged for the Saturday afternoon event, and the program tells a good deal about the popular tastes of the day:

1.     1 March from Meyerbeer’s Le Prophète

2.     2 Potpourri from Meyerbeer’s L’Africaine

3.     3 Wagner’s Rienzi Overture

4.     4 Valse, Le Guard

5.     5 Selection, Ione [an opera by Enrico Petrella that Maretzek had introduced to America in 1863]

6.     6 Trio, Crespino e la Comare

7.     7 Yacht Club Waltz [composed for the occasion]

8.     8 Selections from Donizetti’s Gemma di Vergy

9.     9 Suppé’s Poet and Peasant Overture

10.   10 Selection from Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable

11.   11 Jockey Club Gallop [composed for the occasion]

12.   12 Aria from Verdi’s Nabucco

13.   13 Potpourri from Gounod’s Faust

14.   14 Marien Gallop

15.   15 Six-in-Hand Lancers

16.   16 Musical Telegraph

17.   17 Potpourri of Marches

18.   18 Medley

Said the New York Times of this program: “The music could not be more choice.”

There was great excitement in 1872 when Maretzek brought Pauline Lucca to his company. She was one of the important sopranos of Europe, and she lived up to her reputation. Maretzek alternated her with the famous American soprano Clara Louise Kellogg. Even more exciting was the 1873 season, when Maretzek had Enrico Tamberlik and lima di Murska in addition to Lucca and Kellogg. For this Max took over the Grand Opera House at 114 Broadway. Tamberlik may have seen his best days by then, but he was still an imposing stentorian tenor; and his high C and even C sharp rang out as brilliantly as ever. (It was not a high register to everybody’s liking. Tamberlik once asked permission from Rossini to visit. Rossini, whose ideal of singing was flexible bel canto, who hated high notes and loud attacks, told Tamberlik that he would be happy to receive him, but would he kindly check his high C sharp with the concierge.)

Max did not have many years left as an impresario. He was growing a bit old, was losing his zest, and times were changing. Strakosch and the others—the most formidable new entrant was an energetic Englishman named James Mapleson- were providing too much competition, and Maretzek was regarded as oldfashioned. It was not that Maretzek and Strakosch could not get along. Maretzek may have attacked Strakosch professionally, and gave some sizzling interviews about him, but they were really comrades-in-arms and could work together. Strakosch sometimes engaged Maretzek as conductor for his own companies. New York observers were amused. A strange combination, wrote one critic, “one day engaged in pitched battle, the next day walking arm in arm along Fourteenth Street, discussing some prodigious scheme to bring them nearer to bankruptcy than they both already were.” At one time Strakosch had a company with such international headliners as Alice Nilsson, Italo Campanini, Joseph Capoul, and Victor Maurel—the same season that Maretzek was offering Tamberlik and Lucca.

No wonder both went broke in this opera war. Maretzek believed that Strakosch was irresponsible. Strakosch was even more of a plunger than Maretzek was, and he just about put his rival out of business by paying his leading singers outlandish fees. Then when Maretzek’s singers learned what Strakosch was paying, they would not return until those fees were matched. Strakosch was paying his leading sopranos four thousand dollars a week, his leading tenors two thousand, other singers four to six hundred dollars. The whole orchestra those days could be hired for fifteen hundred dollars weekly; a chorus, eleven hundred; and the house rental was three thousand dollars.

After a short season at the Academy of Music in 1875, Max Maretzek retired as an impresario. For a while he was missed; New York musical life was not the same with him gone. “Max Maretzek,” announced the Herald in 1877, “to whom New York owes so much for good opera, is compelled to teach to eke out a livelihood, but he is looking younger and fresher than in his halcyon days.” Perhaps Max stopped every now and then to think of his past accomplishments. What a record he had compiled! In his thirty-odd years as an opera impresario he had been responsible for a list of American premières that no other manager in the history of music in America has come near. Thanks to Maretzek the United States heard for the first time the following Donizetti operas: Betly, Il Poliuto, Maria di Rohan, and Don Sebastiano. Verdi operas introduced by Max were La Traviata, Rigoletto, Il Trovatore, La Forza del Destino, Attila, Aroldo, Luisa Miller, and I Masadnieri. Meyerbeer’s Le Prophète, L’Africaine, and Étoile du Nord were presents from Max. So were Mignon by Ambroise Thomas, Roméo et Juliette by Gounod, L’Ombra by Flotow, Saffo and Medea by Pacini, and Duchess of Amalfi and Ione by Petrella. This is at best a partial list; the records are untabulated, and exhaustive research should turn up many more.

Besides setting himself up as a teacher and vocal coach, Maretzek also resumed composing. He finished an opera called Sleepy Hollow, which had its world première at the Academy of Music on September 25, 1879. The Times called it an opera of “decided merit… nothing sleepy or hollow about it.” Maretzek took out advertisements after the first night: IMMEDIATE AND COLOSSAL SUCCESS! NEARLY EVERY NUMBER REDEMANDED! ALL THE SCENES ENCORED! UNANIMOUS FAVORABLE VERDICT OF THE PUBLIC! After which it is with a sense of anticlimax that one looks at the New York newspapers of October 5 and reads the following notice:
Notwithstanding the gratifying and nightly increasing artistic success of American opera, the financial result has been so far such as to confirm the unanimous opinion of the press and public that the Academy of Music is not the proper place to risk English or American opera. Under these circumstances, the management feels justified in discontinuing the performances for the present. Arrangements are pending for its revival elsewhere.—Max Maretzek.

But there was to be no revival, ever. And little was heard from Max after that. In 1883, the year the Metropolitan Opera House opened, he did come out of retirement to conduct four operas—Faust, Der Freischütz, Martha, and La Traviata—at the Lexington Avenue Opera House. On opening night at the Met, Max was in the audience. He ran across Henry Abbey, the general manager, and said: “You’ll lose $300,000 this season.” Actually the Metropolitan Opera lost $275,000. The music critic Henry Krehbiel once encountered Max standing forlornly outside the new opera house. “Well,” he told Krehbiel, “when I heard the house was to be built, I did think—I did think that some of the stockholders would remember what I had done for opera. … I thought somebody might remember this and the old man, and come to me and say, ‘Max, you did a great deal for us once, let us do something for you now.’ I didn’t expect them to come and offer me the house, but I thought they might say this and add: ‘Come, we’ll make you head usher,’ or ‘You can have the bar.’ But nobody came, and I’m out of it completely.”

Yet he was not altogether forgotten, and on February 12, 1889, friends and admirers took over the Metropolitan Opera for a concert honoring the fiftieth anniversary of the old man’s debut as an opera conductor in the United States. Such important conductors as Theodore Thomas, Anton Seidl, Frank van der Stucken, Adolph Neuendorff, and Walter Damrosch contributed their services. Eminent musicians sang and played. Max must have been pleased. He made a speech. The presence of such a large audience, he said, repaid him for the trials, the troubles, and all of the vicissitudes of fifty years. He said he had been asked many times how he had managed to keep opera going for thirty years, while others who had more brains and money than he had, had given it up in three or four years. The answer, Max said, was simple; it was because they had more brains than he had.

That was Max’s last public appearance. Eight years later, on May 14. 1897, while living in obscurity in Pleasant Plains, Staten Island, he had a heart attack and died at the age of seventy-six.

Senior music critic of the New York Times, Mr. Schonberg is a Pulitzer Prize winner and the author of many books on the history of music.

HISTORY 

El Dorado County, California.

Chapter XXX.

CRIMINAL ANNALS..

The record of crimes committed inside the borderlines of El Dorado county, commencing from the earliest times, has become quite a volume of history in itself. The enormous influx of adventurous men of different nationalities to this very spot of land, the New El Dorado, undoubtedly had brought a good many daring and desperate characters, who had come for gain, in the easiest and least troublesome manner, but for gain under all eventualities. There were others whose intention had been to make an honest living and they started in accordingly ; but the weakness of mind and body, together with the bad examples they frequently saw, let them astray, to make a fortune in an easier way than with pick and shovel. So we find as early as 1848 and 1849 already organized bands of desperadoes, with signs, passwords and grips, with chiefs and lieutenants, who would lay in wait in and around the mining camps. The people endeavoring to put a stop to those crimes were often enough compelled to take the law in their own hands, as may be seen out of the case which originated the sobriquet of Hangtown for the village of Placerville. (See Placerville.) 

Such summary execution had the effect at least to intimidate the rogues, and put a restriction to the commitment of crimes for some time. This, however, did not last very long, for no sooner those outlaws observed that the watchfullness of the people gave way, and smaller crimes passed by unpunished, than they threw off their fear, raising up their heads and growing bolder than before. The result was another hanging of a desperado by the name of Richard Crone, going by the name of Irish Dick, a mere boy, after his looks, at Placerville in October, 1850. He had crossed the plains from St. Louis in 1849, as a cook, but took to gambling as a profession and always was ready for shooting and fight. He used to keep a monte game in the El Dorado saloon located at the site of the present Cary House, and one night a quarrel ensued there between two men. Crone jumped up from his game and stabbing the one, he almost instantly killed him. After the act he deliberately wiped the blood from his knife and left the saloon ; but after a long search was found hidden at Coffey's on Sacramento street, where he was arrested. The murdered man had a brother mining at Chili Bar, and on account that those two hundred and more gamblers had always got the best of the miners, when the latter came to town, which was almost ruled by that class of men, the miners made up their minds that this business had to be stopped right there, and to the number of several hundreds came into town determined that Dick should die ; in which determination the better people in town concurred with them. Dick was taken from the officers of the law and tried by two Justices of the Peace, one was Dud. Humphrey, the other Wallace, in the presence of the excited thousands. While here on trial the spectators seemed to get impatient, but with the coldest blood Dick remarked to them : "Have patience, gentlemen : I will give you soon a fair lay out." The verdict was guilty ; he was speedily taken by the crowd to a large oak tree, near where is now the Presbyterian parsonage, in spite of the officers, Bill Rogers, Sheriff, and Alex. Hunter and John Clark, Constables, who fought desperately but powerless for the possession of the prisoner, the multitude being determined to see justice done and not to be trifled with, as often before. The prisoner was placed under the tree with rope around his neck, he then begged for the privilege of climbing the tree to leap down from the fatal branch, but this was denied him, and he was jerked up by strong and willing hands.

Brutal Murder at Greenwood Valley.

On Sunday, July 23d, 1854, an old man named William Shay was most brutally murdered at Greenwood valley, El Dorado county, by one Samuel Allen. From the testimony adduced before the coroner's inquest it appeared that Shay was engaged in watering his garden, when Allen came up to him, knocked him down and stamping on him until he was quite dead ; after this he pounded Shay's head with stones until it was literally crushed to a jelly. After the perpetration of this fiendish murder Allen attempted to escape, but was arrested by an eyewitness of the scene, Antonio Dias, and taken before Justice Stoddard for examination, who ordered him to jail to await his trial. An officer started with Allen for Coloma, but had not proceeded far when he was overtaken by a large and excited crowd, who forcibly took the prisoner from his custody. An hour afterwards the dead body of the guilty man was hanging from the same oak limb, in the town of Greenwood, that had been used already on a similar occasion a few years ago, a solemn warning to malefactors. The aroused vengeance of the outraged community was not to be appeased with less than inflicting the most extreme punishment on the guilty. 

The first occasion where this historical oak tree had been selected to serve for the same purpose, happened in 1851 ; James Graham, from Baltimore, treacherously had invited an old denizen of Geenwood* valley, by the name of Lesly, a well respected gentleman, to go with him on a prospecting trip, where he filled his head with buckshot, and thinking his victim dead, he fled. Lesly, however, did not die on the spot ; though fatally wounded, he crawled to the next cabin, being that of Tom Burch, in Coloma canyon, whom he informed of what had happened ; the people thus alarmed, turned out in pursuit of the assassin, caught him at Uniontown, and brought him back to Greenwood valley, where a jury of twelve men was sworn in before whom he was tried, found guilty and immediately taken to the mentioned oak tree, standing on the lot now owned by Mr. Ricci, where he was hung without ceremonies.

Another case of mob violence occurred in the fall of 1850, in the neighborhood of Georgetown. An Englishman by the name of Devine, in a drunken spell, had a quarrel with his wife, and repeatedly having threatened her before, she attempted to run out of the door when he reached for his gun, but she hardly had passed out the door in the rear of the house, when he shot after her, killing her instantly. He was known as a reckless and desperate fellow, and the whole population of Oregon canyon, in a rage of indignation, gathered and decided that life had to pay for life. Devine was arrested, found guilty, and taken to an oak tree, which had been selected for the execution, and after less time than what is necessary to write this down, a dead body was hanging from the tree that may be seen yet on that spot.

In the summer of 1855, the cases where Chinamen miners were robbed, particularly in the neighborhood of Placerville, became quite frequently heard from ; the Mountain Democrat, of September 22d, 1855, brings the following : 

"We learn that an attempt was made last week to rob a Chinaman who supplies several companies on the South Fork of the American river with fresh meat, as he was returning to White Rock, by three well known river thieves. The attempt was made in open day on a much frequented trail. The Chinaman made his escape by sliding down a precipitous mountain about fifty feet, deep without other injuries than tearing his clothes into ribbons. These outrages are becoming quite common, and it is time that some stringent measures should be taken to have the scoundrels arrested."

On the 7th of March, 1857, a man by the name of A. Noakes was murdered near Greenwood valley, and a notorious character going by the sobriquet of "Long John," was suspected of the murder, as he had publicly threatened to kill Noakes on account of an old grudge. At the same place, on the 11th of the same month, a negro was most brutally murdered; he had been arrested as a suspicious character, and as he was familiar with Long John and his doings, it was supposed the latter killed him to prevent his disclosing some disagreeable facts. Long John had the reputation of being a bold, depraved, hardened wretch, who would not hesitate to commit any crime for gain. It always had been believed that he was at the head of the organized band of villains who had infested the county for a long time, and had particularly robbed so many Chinamen.

Ah Soo, a Chinaman, on the 19th of September, 1859, stabbed one of his countrymen, Ching Sam, with a bowie-knife at Placerville, inflicting a wound upon him of which he died a few days later. He was arrested and arraigned for trial in the District Court, where the evidence clearly showed that the deed had been committed in cold blood and without the shadow of provocation. The jury, consisting of John R. Ross, J. F. Cary, Samuel Center, Wm. A. White, A, O. Holmes, John E. Kunkler, Jas. Monroe, Isaac Withrow, W. P. Early, Wm. Pryde, Geo. W. Griffin and A. Kennedy, returned a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. But before the sentence could be pronounced upon him, the unfortunate wretch hanged himself, thus saving the county the expense by cheating the gallows.

Robbery and Murder at Peru

On the evening of October 20th, 1860, while four miners of the vicinity were seated in the store of Messrs. Pierson & Hackamoller, engaged in a social game of cards, five men with masked faces and pistols in hand entered the store. The first party, supposing that they were a party of miners, bent on a little fun, attempted to set the dog on them, which move was responded by the robbers with a shot, fired at the card players, and the advice if they would remain quiet, they should not be hurt.  Upon this proposition being agreed to, they demanded of Mr. Pierson the key to his safe. He told them it was not in the store; whereupon they commenced to beat him with the butt end of their pistols, he warded off the blows and tried to make his escape by a door leading into the family room, which they were determined not to allow him. He was fired upon by one of the villains, the shot entered near the eye, producing almost instant death. Then they took the key from his pocket, and rifled the safe of its contents, and departed. The safe at the time contained a thousand dollars or more. This robbery and murder, unequalled for boldness and daring, produced great excitement, Mr. Pierson being one of the best and most respected citizens.

Stage Accident - a Stage Driver Drowned.

On the morning of March 27th, 1861, the stage from Placerville to Folsom met with a very serious accident, at the crossing of Deer creek, on the Placerville and Sacramento stage road. Leander or "John" White, driving the forward stage, Mr. Crowder the second, and on reaching the crossing of Deer creek, White found the flood running and the bridge washed away. He hesitated a moment, and meantime the second coach came near. Crowder seeing what was going on advised him not to attempt to cross ; this warned the passengers to get out ; White, however, thought he could go over easily enough and let his horses plunge into the deep and rapid water. But no sooner had the coach entered the water, then it was swung round and overturned, uncoupling the forward running gear and enabling the horses to escape. The driver, though, fastened by means of the drawn-up leather apron, was floated out, rose two or three times in making efforts to gain the bank, but was taken away by the swift current, and he disappeared under the water. His body was found in some driftwood at an old dam, and in the endeavor to get it Mr. Shed came near enough drowning also. Mr. Leander White was one of the earliest inhabitants of El Dorado county, and one of the pioneer stage drivers. He left California late in 1855, going east and to Canada, from where he returned accompanied by his wife, who was left with two helpless children at Sacramento to mourn his sudden death.

Bold Robbery.

Spanish Camp, January 12th, 1863.
On Saturday last, the 10th of January, this camp was visited by a band of guerrillas, who had as little respect for the rights of property and law as there is possible in man. About 7 o'clock four men--W. Porter, C. S. Smith, P. West and Ike Hitchcock, seated themselves in the store of W. E. Riebsam for a game of whist, Messrs. Adams and Riebsam were standing near. Suddenly four men entered, each armed with a large navy revolver, cocked and held at the party around the whist table. They ordered all in the store to remain quiet, which order it was useless to resist ; one of the robbers put up his revolver, turned around to coil  cope, cut off several lengths and tied the men in the store. They then searched each man, taking every valuable and attempted to open the safe, the key of which they had taken from Mr. Riebsam, but failing, they forced Mr. R. to unlock it for them. They soon rifled the safe of its contents, but there being but little cash in it they were greatly exasperated and departed. They took in cash and dust about one hundred and seventy-five dollars, and clothing and provisions to the amount of about one hundred and twenty-five. 

The man who opened the safe and search our pockets was masked, and the man who tied us was very large, dressed in a gray frock-coat and dark pants. 

After leaving here they took the road towards Sacramento ; a short distance from E. Bryant's they met Mr. Brandon's teamster and robbed him of forty-five dollars in cash.

We thought it prudent to quietly submit under the circumstances ; we were unarmed and at the mercy of the robbers. Whilst we were bound two Chinaman and a white man came into the store, and it was some time before they could comprehend affairs. They, too, were served like us.

H. N. I. 

Stage Robbery.

On June 30th, 1864, between 9 and 10 o'clock P.M., on the narrow grade about two and  a-half miles above Sportsman's Hall, the two coaches of the Pioneer Stage line were stopped by six men, armed with shotguns and pistols, and eight sacks of bullion taken away from them. Ned Blair was driving the first team, Charles Watson the second. Blair was ordered to halt by seizing his leaders and stopping them. They demanded the treasure box, and Blair told them that he had none ; whereupon he was ordered to throw out the bullion, and he replied : "Come and get it!" And while tow of them covered him with their guns, two others came and took out the bullion. They did not get the treasure box. Blair asked them not to rob the passengers, and they replied that it was not their intention, all that they wanted was the treasure box of Wells, Fargo & Co.

Observing that Blair's stage had stopped, and supposing that Blair had met with an accident, Watson stopped his team, left his seat, and hurried to his assistance ; but when he was approaching, two of the robbers advanced toward him and covering him with their shotguns ordered him back and demanded the treasure box and bullion. Watson was forced to comply, and they took three sacks of bullion and a small treasure box from Genoa from his stage. Both stages were filled with passengers, but queer to say, none of them was armed.

The "captain' of the band, before he parted from Watson, handed to him the following receipt : "This is to certify that I have received from Wells, Fargo & Co. the sum of $__________ cash, for the purpose of outfitting recruits enlisted in California for the Confederate States army.

R. Henry Ingrim
Captain Com'g Co. C. S. A. 

June, 1864.
Immediately on the arrival of the stages at Placerville, Sheriff Rogers was informed of the robbery, and he, accompanied by deputy Sheriff Staples, Constables Van Eaton and Ranney, policemen Bailey and Williamson, and several attachees of the stage company, started in pursuit of the robbers. Sheriff Rogers, with Taylor and Watson, arrested two men at the Thirteen Mile House, one was recognized by Watson as one of the robbers. They had taken supper the night before at the Mountain Ranch, but left and called between 12 and 1 o'clock in the morning at the Thirteen Mile House, asking the proprietor to allow them to sleep in his stable. On his answer, that he did not allow anyone to sleep in his stable, they declared to have no money and couldn't pay for a bed ; but he told them they might sleep up stairs in his house, and they accepted the proposition. For concealing their countenances they had drawn their hats over their faces while talking and entering the house. In the morning they overslept themselves and were arrested while in bed, brought to Placerville and lodged in jail.

Meanwhile deputy Sheriff Staples and Constables Van Eaton and Ranney tracked the robbers to the head of Pleasant valley, where Van Eaton left his companions, in order to inform Sheriff Rogers of the route the robbers had taken, and the two continued the pursuit in the direction of the Somerset House, on the road to Grizzly Flat ; arriving at the latter place Staples inquired of the landlady if there were any men in the house, and she replied ; "Yes, six, up stairs." He rushed up stairs, seized a gun standing at the door of a sleeping room, burst the door open and presenting the gun cried : "You are my prisoners!" But scarcely had he uttered these words, when the robbers fired, wounding him fatally, he fired at the same time, hitting one of the robbers in the face. Officer Ranney, also, was dangerously wounded, both officers were robbed by taking their money, watches, horses and arms ; whereupon they decamped, leaving their wounded companion behind. On August 2d, Under-Sheriff J. B. Hume and deputy Sheriff Van Eaton arrested in Santa Clara county, Henry Jarboe, George Cross, J. A. Robertson, Wallace Clendenin, Jos. Gambill, Thos. Poole, John Ingren, H. Gately, and Preston Hodges, and brought them to Placerville on August 4th. The above named parties were charged by Allen H. Glasby, one of the stage robbers, with being accomplices before and after the stage robbery, and upon his evidence the Grand Jury found bills of indictment against them, whereupon Judge Brockway issued warrants for their arrest. They were arraigned in the District Court on August 19th, attended by their counsels Messrs. Hurlburt & Edgerton and J. M. Williams. The case again came up in the Districk Court on November 22d. Preston Hodges was convicted of murder in the second degree, and sentenced by Judge Brockway to 20 years' imprisonment at hard labor. Thomas Poole suffered the extreme penalty of the law, his execution took place September 29th, 1865, at 12 o'clock noon.

At Perkin, in the lower part of Mud Springs township, three Chilenos became engaged in a fight on Sunday, March 18th, 1866, the result of which was the killing of Casas Rojas and Marcellius Bellasque by Pedro Pablo. The murderer was arrested by other Chilenos present and handed over to special constable Bailey, who started to Shingle Springs. The night being dark and stormy, and under cover of the darkness the prisoner freed himself from the handcuffs, jumped from the horse and escaped. The sheriff was notified, and sent Under-Sheriff Hume and Jailor Cartheche in pursuit of the murderer, who finally was discovered by a brother of one of the murdered men in a quartz mill near Diamond Springs, on the following Wednesday.  He informed Constables Bailey and Shrewsberry of his whereabouts, and they arrested and brought the culprit to Placerville ; where he was examined before Justice Sherwood and committed to jail awaiting the action of the Grand Jury.

A terrific and most savage fight with knives took place near Garden Valley, on the morning of April 30th, 1866. The combatants were Joseph Eaton and Alexander Galdden; both had been drinking together very hard, and became engaged in a quarrel, which resulted in the fight. Gladden cut off a part of Eaton's nose, besides inflicting some more wounds upon him; but Eaton cut his assailant in a terrible manner, literally, to use the language of one who saw the murdered man, "slicing him up." 

Highway Robbers Arrest.

Three desperate fellows, giving their names as Faust, De Tell and Sinclair, started from Sacramento in the later days of July, 1867, with a determination to make money some way. They commenced by robbing houses along the road, and on Tuesday, August 3d, stopped a teamster on his return from Carson Valley, just above Sportsman's Hall, and made him shell out ; then coming up the road, robbing houses at their pleasure, also picking up a man who was driving a water cart on the road, for ten or twelve dollars. Under-Sheriff Hume, with a posse of three or four men, went in their pursuit, and being informed of their course between the time, by Constable Watson, of Strawberry, he lay in wait for them t a point in the road near Osgood's toll house which they could not well get around. About half-past eleven on August 5th, the robbers came up all armed with rifles. Hume ordered them to stop, whereupon one of them fired, the shot taking effect in the fleshy part of Hume's arm, though not hurting him seriously. Hume then ordered his men to fire, and when the smoke cleared away they found two of them lying on the ground, one being dead, the other unhurt ; the third one had been seen falling off the bridge, and until the next morning was believed to be drowned in the creek ; but then they found that he had recovered and crawled under the bridge, where he stayed until all were in the toll house, when he--minus two coats--started back towards Placerville. One hour after daylight the Sheriff's party struck his track, and he was captured a short distance above Brockless' bridge, and both the prisoners brought to Placerville and lodged in jail. Before Court Sinclair stated : My name is Walter Sinclair ; am one of three men that were in the party that fired upon the Sheriff's party; am from Arizona ; served there under Gen. Conner; am from New York ; aged 21 years. The dead man was a German by the name of Faust ; age unknown ; was deceased and another man named Hugh De Tell. Their trial ended with a sentence for a good long term to be sent to the State prison.

White Rock Jack.

Joseph F. Rowland, a Frenchman, about 45 years of age, and a miner by occupation, was found dead in the bed of Weber creek, one-half mile above Webertown, and two hundred yards below his cabin, on the morning of January 16, 1868. He had been dead evidently several days, and had, no doubt, been murdered with some sharp instrument, as his skull was found fractured in several places ; this, with other accompanying circumstances, led the Sheriff to the conclusion that the murder had been committed by Indians, and Under-Sheriff Hume and Cartheche were sent out to arrest a lame Indian, who was able to talk English, and was supposed to know something about the affair. While in search of him, passing along a trail between the American river and the main road, in the vicinity of the Nine Mile House, they suddenly rode up on to three Indians, armed with rifles, who, as soon as they saw themselves discovered, leveled their rifles cocked at the officers. The recognition was so unexpected that the latter had no chance to draw their revolvers from underneath their overcoats and gumcoats, [guncoats?] which were button all up, as it was exceedingly cold. They consequently remained stationary on their horses, as it would have been certain death to attack the Indians, having neither shotgun nor rifles with them, and three well armed Indians but a few feet from them. The latter meanwhile backed off with their rifles leveled at the officers until they had passed out of range. Hume and Cartheche on reaching Sportsman's Hall telegraphed for an additional force, properly armed, and with their help they succeeded in securing the lame Indian and arresting some others. The Indians who confronted them with their rifles proved to have been White Rock Jack and two of his accomplices; the lame Indian acknowledged to having been in their company, a party of four who committed the murder, and his testimony was corroborated by the circumstantial evidence in the case. He as well as the two others, who were subsequently caught, were tried and sent to San Quentin ; but Jack could not be apprehended at the time.  

The Indians of the vicinity of American and Columbia Flats had a "big eating" on Irish creek, on Wednesday, July 27, 1870, and it seems that White Rock Jack could not withstand the temptation of being present and participating. He accordingly left his mountain hiding place and repaired to the place of feasting, where, in all probability, he would not be recognized by anyone but friends. The Indians, in some way, had procured liquor, and Jack's appetite again getting the better of him, he got beastly drunk. Two Indians then came to the storekeeper of Columbia Flat, a Mr. Anderson, informing him that Jack was near by and in what condition ; they also accompanied Anderson to the spot, and did not stop with pointing out the Indian brigand, but help to bind him ; whereupon he was brought to Placerville, and delivered into jail by Messrs. Anderson, Breeze, and a third gentleman. Thus, after a long series of plots, setting traps, etc., by the officers of the county, this savage desperado, for whose capture the Supervisors of El Dorado county had offered a reward of $500, with an additional $300 by Governor Haight, had been secured. His trial came up in the District Court on March 3, 1871, he pleaded guilty of murder in the second decree, and was sentenced by Judge Adams to hard labor in the State Prison for the term of his natural life. Jack received his sentence with the characteristic Indian stolidity, but, it is said, when reaching his cell, he wept at the cheerless and hopeless future of a lifelong incarceration within the walls of San Quentin. Jack was then 23 years of age and a superior specimen of the Digger Indian.

A man by the name of Jesse Hendricks, an employee of the Sough Fork canal company, mysteriously disappeared from his section on the canal, some eight miles above Placerville, about May 25, 1870, and notwithstanding the most careful search by a large number of men, no traces could be found ; and the general supposition ran that the man had been murdered by Indians,** and suspicion rested upon White Rock Jack, the notorious Indian desperado. On December 19, 1876, a deer hunter discovered on the South Fork of the American river, about seven miles above Placerville, two sections of a human skull, one of which he found near the bank of the river, the other about 50 feet higher up, on top of a bluff. Coroner Collins, after being informed of these facts, went up with a party to investigate the locality, on December 21st. They went to the big flume on the old Jack Johnson ranch, and thence directly down to the river; near the river the found the two pieces of skull and a miner's shovel. Further up they discovered a boot containing the bones of a human foot, and still further up another boot containing the bones of a foot and the leg from the knee down.

Continuing their search still further up an abrupt swail, most difficult to climb, at various intervals, other fragments of a human skeleton were found, including quite a number under a tree near the flume; here and there also particles of clothing attached to or near some of the bones were found, and at a point, where it appeared very likely the body had originally lain, by digging away the dead leaves and rubbish, a pocket-book and a few half and quarter dollars, amounting in all to $2 25*, were discovered. The pocket knife and some strips of a woolen shirt were identified as having belonged to Jesse Hendricks, the ditch tender, whose mysterious disappearance in June, 1870, cause quite some little excitement. No doubt he had been murdered ; by whom, however, never has come to light up to this day; but the theory that he had been killed by Indians, as strongly was suspected, seems to be disproved by the discovery of his knife and money, which excluded robbery, something the Indians always will connect with the killing of a person. 

In 1857, the County Treasurer, . M. Reed, after defaulting the county for the sum of $124,000, escaped, not to be seen or heard from afterwards.

The Death Penalty.

The accumulation of disorderly, unruly and desperate fellows and the crimes they had committed, had caused the people of El Dorado county at various instances to take the law in their own hands, and deal with those rogues just as they deserved it. This was well enough and could be excused on account of the unsettled condition of the whole country; but as the population was rapidly growing, and the courts were gaining strength, it became time to have the law take its own way, and the execution of the lawful sentences by the officers of the law. James Logan, for the murder of Fennel at Coon Hollow, and Wm. Lipsey, for killing Powelson at Cold Springs, were the first to be convicted of murder in the District Court of El Dorado county. Their execution took place, according to the sentence of Judge Howell, on Friday, November 3d, 1854. The assemblage of people to see the unusual sight was the largest ever known in El Dorado county. From early morning of that day every thoroughfare leading to Coloma from all parts of the county, far as well as near, were thronged with one continuous line or mass of people on foot, on horseback, in wagons, carts and every conceivable mode of locomotion then in use in California. This procession resembled to a certain extent a sample-carte of nationalities and races, all different shades of skin, from which to black, were represented, and all seemed under the same influence, as thought an invisible power directed their steps towards Coloma; and hours before the execution the streets of that town were nothing else than a dense mass of human beings, while the hillsides were covered with thousands more. 

The crowd was estimated at from six to eight thousand persons. The execution took place at Coloma, on the hill where the cemetery now is located; Rev. Mr. Taylor officiating, and Drs. Taylor, of Coloma and Stephenson of Cold Springs, sworn physicians; David E. Buell, Sheriff, and J.S. Welton, Deputy Sheriff. 

On October 26th, 1855, Crane, the murderer of Miss Newnham , and Mick Free, one of the murderers of Howe, were executed by hanging at Coloma. And again an execution took place at Coloma on January 23d, 1857, and was the last one that occurred amid that community, and concerned the hanging of Andrew Best, for the murder of the Indian squaw, and Elijah Archer for the murder of Mr. Fuller, of Placerville.

John Robinson, convicted of the murder of Gregoire Aubemet, near Greenwood Valley, on the 4th day of March, 1861, in the District Court, was sentenced to be executed on August 2d, but filing a writ of supercedes, his execution was postponed and a new trial granted, which resulted in the same conviction and sentence. His execution took place on July 18th, 1862.

Jim, and Jim Patterson, Indians, indicted for the murder of Charles Gay, on June 26th, 1861, near Salmon Falls, found guilty of murder in the first degree, and sentenced to suffer the extreme penalty of the law. Their execution took place on November 1st, in the jail yard. Their bodies were permitted to hang twenty minutes, when they were cut down, placed in coffins and delivered to some Indians, who conveyed them to Gold Hill to Captain John, Chief of the tribe, who burnt them in due form.

C. W. Smith, convicted of the murder and robbery of F. I. Smith on the Carson road, on April 23d, 1862, was sentenced by Judge Myers to be hanged on the 9th of January, 1863, and Juan Belencia, convicted of the murder of a Chinaman near Pleasant Valley, to be hanged on January 16th, 1863.

No doubt the line of those who had to give up their lives for other lives they had taken, and sacrifice their blood for the blood that had been shed by them, is quite a large one, but as it cannot be the intention of this article to give a full record of all of them, we will conclude with the last criminal who had to suffer the death penalty.

James K. Page was excuted* at 8:15 A. M. , on August 10th, 1883, in the jail-yard at Placerville, for the murder of an unknown man in New York ravine, near Folsom, May 10th, 1883.

Humor of the Highway Man.

On the morning of November 27th, 1863, as Mr. T. A. Valentine was driving a team on the road between Johnstown* and Uniontown he was stopped by a highway man, who demanded his money, at the same time presenting a colt's revolver. Mr. Valentine, being unarmed, handed over his money, amounting to twelve dollars, saying he would much rather part with his money than his scalp. The robber politely assured him that he did not intend to hurt him; he stated to Mr. Valentine that he was strapped and had resorted to robbing to make a raise. He returned Valentine a dollar to pay toll across the Uniontown bridge and a bit to buy a drink, remarking that he never took bits anyhow.

Fratricide at Grizzly Flat.

Wednesday evening, January 9th, 1878, Constable J. B. Fisher, of Grizzly Flat, delivered David Branthover to Sheriff Theissen, on a charge of having killed his brother, Adam Branthover, near the above-named place. The facts are as follows: There was some trouble between them in relation to a partnership in a quartz claim. Tuesday, in company of D. T. Loofbourrow, David went to the cabin of the deceased for the purpose of settling the dispute. While comparing accounts, according to Loofbourrow's testimony before A. J. Graham, Justice of the Peace, David frequently gave Adam the lie, and finally, both being much excited, they clinched. During the struggle, a gun in the hand of David went off, the ball striking Adam in the thigh, coming out at the hip; death ensued in less than an hour. Immediately after the affray, David went to the cabin of Fisher and Morey, stated what had occurred, and said that he expected to shoot Adam through the body, but the deceased knocked the gun down ; he was not aware at the time that Adam was mortally wounded.

A man by the name of F. L. Smith was murdered on April 23d, 1862, on the Ogilsby road, about 21 miles east of Placerville. A rifle ball broke his spine, passing through his heart. Two young men traveling the same road on foot, heard the report of a gun, hurried to the spot, and arriving where the murdered man fell, saw a man picking up his hat and a rifle. Some dispute arose between the parties, but the two being unarmed left after the murderer threatened to shoot them also. They went to the Goodwin Mountain House, to give the alarm, and on returning to the spot and searching, they discovered the murdered man, who had been dragged about 100 yards below the road into the chapparel. A rope was tied around his body. The body was brought to Placerville for burial. The murderer was arrested by Deputy Sheriff Chapman, two days after, near Ringgold, and lodged in jail. The name of the prisoner was C. W. Smith, his case was tried in the District Court before Judge Myers, and as the evidence was entirely circumstantial, but so conclusive as to leave not the shadow of doubt of his guild, he was convicted of murder in the first degree and on November 24th, 1862, sentenced to be hung on January 9th, 1863.

Captain Davis.

A California Ballad By Frederick Cozzens.

All the heroes that ever were born
Native or foreign, bearded or shorn,
From the days of Homer to Omer Pasha
Who mauled and maltreated the troops of the Czar ;
And drove the rowdy Muscovite back,
Fin and Livonian, Pole and Cossack,
From gray Ladoga to green Ukraine,
And other parts of the Russian domain,
With an intimation exceedingly plain,
That they'd better cut ! and not come again.
All the heroes of olden time
Who have jingled alike in armor and rhyme,
Hercules, Hector, Quintus Curtius,
Pompey and Pegasus-riding Perseus,
Brave Bayard, and the braver Roland,
    Men who never fight turned back on ;
Charles the Swede, and the Spartan band,
    Coriolanus, and General Jackson,
Richard the Third, and Marcus Brutus,
And others, whose names won't rhyme to suit us,
Must certainly sink in the deep profound
When Captain Davis' story gets round.

Know ye the land where the sinking sun
Sees the last of the earth when the day is done ;
Where the course of empire is sure to stop,
And the play concludes with the fifth-act drop ;

Where, wonderful spectacle, hand in hand
The oldest and the youngest nations stand ?
Where yellow Asia, withered and dry, 
Hears Young America, sharp and spry,
With thumb in his vest, and quizzical leer,
Singing out "Old Fogie, come over here !"
    Know ye the land of mines and vines,
    Of monstrous turnips and giant pines,
    Of monstrous profits and quick declines,
    And Howland and Aspinwall's steamship lines ?
Know ye the land so wondrous fair
    Fame has blown on his golden bugle,
From Battery-place to Union Square
    Over the Park and down McDougal ?
Hither and thither, and everywhere,
    In every city its name is known,
There is not a grizzly Wall street bear
    That does not shrink when the blast is blown.
There Dives sits on a golden throne,
    With Lazarus holding his shield before,
Charged with a heart of auriferous stone,
    And a pick-ax and spade on a field of ore.

Know ye the land that looks on Ind ?
     There only you'll see a pacific sailor,
Its song has been sung by Jenny Lind,
    And the words were furnished by Bayard Taylor.

Seaward stretches a valley there,
    Seldom frequented by men or women ;
Its rocks are hung with the prickle-pear,
    And the golden balls of the wild persimmon ;
Haunts congenial to wolf and bear,
Covered with thickets, are everywhere ;
There's nothing at all in the place to attract us,
Except some grotesque kind of cactus ; 
Glittering beetles with golden rings,
Royal lizards with golden wings,
And a gorgeous species of poisonous snake, 
    That lets you know when he means to battle
By giving his tail a rousing shake,
    To which is attached a muffled rattle.

Captain Davis, (Jonathan R.),
    With James McDonald, of Alabama,
And Dr. Bolivar Sparks were thar,
    Cracking the rocks with a miner's hammer.
Of the valley they'd heard reports
"That plenty of gold was there in quartz."
Gold in quartz they market not there,
But p'ints* enough on the prickly pear,
As they very soon found
When they sat on the ground,
    To scrape the blood from their cuts and scratches :
For rickety cactus had stripped them bare,
    And cobbled their hides with crimson patches,
Thousands of miles they are from home,
    Hundreds from San Francisco city ; 
Little they think that near them roam
    A baker's dozen of wild banditti.
Fellows who prowl, like stealthy cats,
In velvet jackets and sugar-loaf hats,
Covered all over with trinkets and crimes,
    Watches and crosses, pistols and feathers,
Squeezing virgins and wives like limes,
    And wrapping the legs in unpatented leathers ;
Little they think how close at hand
Is that cock of the walk--"the Bold Brigand !"

And here I wish to make a suggestion
    In regard to those conical, sugar-loaf hats,
I think those bandits, beyond all question,
    Some day will find out they're  parcel of flats ;
For if that style is with them a passion,
And they stick to these hats in spite of the fashion,
Some Tuscan Leary, Genin, or Knox
Will get those brigands in a ----------- bad box ;
For the Chief of Police will send a "Star"
To keep a look-out near the hat bazar*.
And when Fra Diavolo comes to buy
    The peculiar mode that suits his whim,
He may find out, if the Star is spry,
    That instead of the hat they've ironed him.

Captain Davis, and James McDonald,
    And Doctor Sparks together stand ;
Suddenly like the fierce Clan Ronald
    Bursts from the thicket the bold Brigand,
Sudden, and never a word spoke they,
But pulled their trigger and blazed away.

"Music," says Halleck, "is everywhere,"
    Harmony guides the whole creation ;
But when a bullet sings in the air
So close to your hat that it moves your hair,
To enjoy it requires a taste quite rare,
    With a certain amount of cultivation.
But never music, homely or grand,
Grisi's "Norma" or Jungle's band,
The distant sound of the watch dog's bark,
    The coffee-mill's breakfast psalm in the cellar,
    "Home, Sweet Home," or the sweet "Sky Lark,"
    Sung by Mrs. Payne, in "Cinderella;"
Songs, that remind us of days of yore,
    Curbstone ditties that we have loved to hear,
  " Brewer's Yeast !" and "Straw, Oat Straw ?"
    "Lily-white corn, a penny an ear?"
    Rustic music of chanticleer,
    " Robert the Devil," by Meyerbeer,
    Played at the "Park "  when the Woods were here,
Or anything else that an echo brings
From those mysterious vibrant strings,
That answer at one, like the telegraph line,
To notes that were written in " Old Lang Syne."
Nothing, I say, ever played or sung,
Organ panted, or bugle rung,
Not even the horn on the Switzer Alp,
    Was half so sweet to the Captain's ear
As the sound of that bullet that passed his scalp,
    And told him a scrimmage was awful near.

Come, O Danger ! in any form,
" The earthquake's shock or the ocean storm ;"
Come, when its century's weight of snow
The avalanche hurls on the Swiss chateau ;
Come with the murderous Hindoo Thug,
Come with the grizzly's fearful hug,
With the Malay's stab, or the adder's fang,
Or the deadly fly of the boomerang,
But never come when the carbine's bang
That are fired by men that must fight or hang.

On they came with a thunderous shout
    That made the rocky canyon ring ;

(Canon, in Spanish, means tube or spout,
    Gorge, or hollow, or some such thing."
On they came with a thundering noise ;
Captain Davis said, calmly, "Boys, 
I've been waiting to see them chaps ;"
And with that he examined his pistol-caps ;
Then a long, deep breath he drew,
Put in his cheek a tremendous chew,
Stripped off his waistcoat and coat, and threw
Them down, and was ready to die or do.

Had I Bryant's belligerent skill,
    Wouldn't I make this a bloody fight ?
Or Alfred Tennyson's crimson quill,
    What thundering, blundering lines I'd write !
I'd batter, and hack, and cut, and stab,
And guage, and throttle, and curse, and jab,
I'd wade to my ears in oaths and slaughter,
Pour out blood like brandy and water ;
Hit 'em again if they asked for quarter,
    And clinch and wrestle, and yell and bite,
But I never could wield a carniverous* pen
Like either of those intellectual men.
I love a peaceful pastoral scene,
With drowsy mountains and meadows green,
Covered with daisies, grass, and clover,
    Mottled with Dorset and Southdown sheep,
Better than fields with a red turf over,
    And men piled up in a Waterloo heap.
But notwithstanding, my fate cries out :
    " Put Captain Davis in song and story !
That children hereafter may read about
His deeds in the Rocky canyon foray !"

James McDonald, of Alabama,
    Fell at the feet of Dr. Sparks,
"Doctor," said he, "I'm dead as a hammer,
    And you have a couple of bullet marks.
This," he gasped, "is the end of life."
    "Yes,&qugt; said Sparks, "'tis a mighty solver,
Excuse me a moment, just hold my knife,
And I'll hit that brigand with my Colt's revolver."

Then through the valley the contest rang, 
Pistols rattle and carbines bang,
horrible, terrible, frightful, dire, 
Flashed from the vapor of the footpad's fire,
Frequent as when in a sultry night
Twinkles a meadow with insect-light ;
But deadlier far, as the Doctor found,
    When, crack ! a ball through his frontal bone
Lands him flat on his back on the hard-fought ground,
And left Captain Davis to go it alone ! 

Oh ! that Roger Bacon had died !
Or Schwartz, the monk, or whoever first tried
Cold iron to choke with a mortal load,
To see if Saltpeter wouldn't explode.
For now, when you get up a scrimmage in rhyme, 
The use of gunpowder so shortens the time,
That just as your "Iliad" should have begun,
Your epic gets smashed with a Paishan gun ;
And the hero for whom you are tuning the string
Is dead before "arms and the man" you sing ;
To say nothing of how you jar and shock
Your verses with hammer and rammer and stock
Bullet, and wad, trigger and lock,
Nipple and cap, pan and cock.
But wouldn't I like to spread a few pages
All over with arms of the middle ages ?
Wouldn't I like to expatiate
On Captain Davis in chain or plate ?
    Spur to heel, and plume to crest,
    Visor barred, and lance in rest,
    Long, cross-hilted brand to wield,
    Cuirass, gauntlets, mace and shield ;
    Cased in proof himself and horse,
    From frontlet-spike to buckler-boss ;
    Harness glistening in the sun,
    Plebian foes, and twelve to one !
I tell you now there's a beautiful chance
To make a hero of old romance ;
But I'm painting his picture for after-time,
And don't mean to sacrifice truth for rhyme.
Cease, digression ; the fray grows hot !
    Never and instant stops the firing ;
Two of the conical hats are shot,
    And a velvet jacket is just expiring.
Never yields Captain Davis an inch,
For he didn't know how, if he wished, to flinch.
Firm he stands in the rocky gorge,
    Moved as much by those vagrant men
As an anvil that stands by a blacksmith's forge.
    Is moved by the sledge-hammer's ten-pound ten !
Firm though his shirt, with jag and rag
Resembles an army's storming flag :
Firm, till suddenly they give a shout,
    Drop their shooters and clutch their knives,
When he said, "Jackson their powder's out,
    And I've got three barrels and that's three lives !"

One ! and the nearest steeple-crown
    Stood aghast, as a minister spire
    Stand, when the church below is on fire,
Then trembles, and totters, and tumbles down.
Don Psquale the name he bore,
    Near Lecco was reared his ancestral cot.
Close by Lago Como's shore
    For description of which see Claude Melnotte.
Two, and instantly drops, with a crash,
An antediluvian sort of mustache ;
Such as hundreds of years had grown,
When scissors and razors were quite unknown.
He from the Tuscan city had come,
Where a tower is built all out of plumb !
Puritani his name was hight.
A terrible fellow to pray or fight ;
Three ! and as if his head were cheese,
    Through Castadiva a bullet cut;
Knocked a hole in his os unguis,
    And bedded itself in his occiput.
Daily to mass his widow will go,
    In that beautiful city, a lovely moaner,
Where those supernatural sausages grow,
    Which we mispronounce when we style "Bellona.

As  crowd that near a depot stands,
    Impatiently waiting to take the cars,
Will "clear the track" when its iron bands
    The ponderous, fiery hippogriph jars,
Yet the moment it stops don't care a pin, 
But hustle and bustle and go right in,
So the half of the band that still survives,
Comes up, with long mustaches and knives,
Determined to mince the Captain to chowder,
So soon as it's known he is out of powder.

Six feet one, in trowsers and shirt,
Covered with sweat, and blood, and dirt ;
Not very much scared, (though his hat was hurt
And as full of holes as a garden squirt.)
Awaiting the onslaught, behold him stand
With a twelve inch "Bowie" in either hand.
His cause was right, and his arms were long,
His blades were bright, and his heart was strong;
All he asks of the trinketed clan
Is a bird's eye view of the foremost man;
But shoulder to shoulder they came together,
Six sugar-loaf heads and twelve legs of leather;
Fellows whose names you can't rehearse
Without instinctively clutching your purse ;
Baldiani and Bottesimi, 

Fierce Alboni and fat Dandini,
Old Rubini and Mantillini,
Cherubini and Paganini:
(But I had forgot the last were shot;
No mater, it don't hurt the tale a jot.)

Onward come the terrible crew !
Waving their poignards high in air,
But little they dream that seldom grew
Of human arms so long a pair
As the Captain had hanging beside him there,
Matted fro shoulder to wrist with hair.
Brawny, and broad, and brown, and bare.

Crack, and his blade from point to heft
Had cloven a skull as an egg is cleft;
And round he swings those terrible flails,
Heavy and swift as a grist mill sails ;
Whack! and the loftiest conical crown
Falls full length in the Rocky valley;
Smack! and a duplicate Don goes down,
As a ten-pin falls in a bowling alley.

None remain but old Rubini,
Fierce Alboni and fat Dandini;
Wary fellows, who take delight
In prolonging, as long as then can, a fight,
To show the science of cut and thrust,
The politest method of taking life;
As some men love, when a bird is trussed,
To exhibit their skill with a carving knife.

But now with desperate hate and strength,
The cope with those arms of fearful length.
A scenic effect of skill and art,
A beautiful play of tierce and carte,
A fine exhibition it was, to teach
The science of keeping quite out of reach.
But the parry, and ward, and guard, and fend,
And rally, and dodge, and slash, and shout,
In hopes that from mere fatigue in the end
He either will have to give in or give out.

Never a Yankee was born or bread
without that peculiar kink in his head
By which he could turn the smallest amount
Of whatever he had to the best account.
So while the banditti cavil and shrink,
It give Captain Davis a chance to think;
And the coupled ideas shot through his brain,
As shoots through a village an express train;
And then ! as swift as the lightning flight,
When the pile-driver falls from its fearful hight*,
He brings into play, by way of assister,
His dexter leg, as a sort of ballista.
Smash ! in the teeth of the nearest rogue,
He threw the whole force of his hob-nailed brogue !
And a horrible yell from the rocky chasm
    Rose in the air like a border slogan,
When old Rubini lay in a spasm,
    From the merciless kick of that iron brogan.

As some old Walton, with line and hook,
Will stand by the side of a mountain brook,
Intent upon taking a creel of trout;
But finds so many poking about,
Under the roots, and stones, and sedges,
In the middle, and near the edges,
Eager to bite, so soon as the hackle,
Drops in the stream from his slender tackle,
And finally thinks it a weary sport,
To fish where trout are so easily caught;
So Captain Davis gets tired at last
Of fighting with those that drop down so fast,
And a tussle with only a couple of men
Seems poor kind of fun, after killing of ten !
But just for the purpose of ending the play
He puts fierce Alboni first out of the way;
And then to show Signor Dandini his skill,
He splits him right up, as you'd split up a quill;
Then drops his "Bowie" and rips his shirt,
To bandage the wounds of the parties hurt;
An act as good as a moral, to teach
"That none are out of humanity's reach,"
An act that might have produced good fruit,
Had the brigands survived, but they didn't do it.

Sixteen men do depose and say,
"That in December, the twentieth day,
They were standing close by when the fight occurred,
And are ready to swear to it, word for word,
That a bloodier scrimmage they never saw;
That the bodies were sot on, accordin' to law;
That the provocation and great excitement
Wouldn't justify them in a bill of indictment;
But this verdict they find against Captain Davis,
That if ever a brave man lived--he brave is."

The above ballad made its round from the Knickerbocker Magazine, Referring to a desperate fight between three miners, prospecting after a vein of gold-bearing quartz, and eleven robbers, as had been published in the newspapers of El Dorado county in December, 1854, and t that time had caused quite some controversy on account of the credibility in the affair. The Captain's gallant deeds in Rocky Canyon are rendered in imperishable verse, abounding in wit, sprightliness and humor. His name will live in song, if not in story, long after his strong arm and undaunted heart are cold, pulseless and stiff.

**Like Judge Withrow, also ditch tender on that same section, who had been killed in 1860.

[*Items so marked are typos contained in the original book]

The New Criterion
 

                                                                                                                                   On line
 

                                                                          
New York obbligato
by James F. Penrose

________________________________________

Vera Brodsky Lawrence Strong on Music: The New York Music Scene in the Days of George Templeton Strong. Vol. 2: Reverberations, 1850–1856. University of Chicago Press, 863 pages, $90; $27.50 paper

Greenwich Street, though close by New York’s financial temples, has seen better times. These days, the neighborhood is home to a financial printer (whose house python once amused lawyers and jaded investment bankers at its feeding time), a two-thousand-car Port Authority carpark, and the Thunder XXX Video. In 1835, however, when young George Templeton Strong lived at 180, Greenwich Street was home to a far tonier crowd than the clientele of Buttman II and On Golden Blonde. A future Wall Street lawyer, Columbia College trustee, founding member and treasurer of the United States Sanitary Commission (predecessor of the American Red Cross), and autocrat-at-large, Strong was also to be one of the great diarists in American history, and his pungent chronicles are the point of departure for the highly informative and amusing second volume of Strong on Music. (Resonances, 1836–1849, the first volume in the projected three-volume set, was published in 1988.)

Strong kept his diary for forty years, from 1835, when he was a precocious sophomore at Columbia College, to the year of his death, 1875. It was a lively time, when the country sensed, in differing degrees, economic superiority, cultural inferiority, and its ability to use the advantages of the one to deal with the shortcomings of the other. At midcentury, while novelists like James Fenimore Cooper and artists like Benjamin West had long since presented satisfactory cultural credentials to Europe, our musical achievements were considered so modest as to permit the director of the Paris Conservatoire to think he was upholding standards by slamming the audition-room door on the phenomenal young American pianist Louis Moreau Gottschalk while hissing that “America is only good for steam engines!”

The perception of the United States as a giant machine-tool shop and Americans as a nation of mechanics in search of gratification was pounced upon by armies of European performers. Lured westward, a steady procession of virtuosi visited New York as the first stopping place in this “Land of Musical Promise … with cities … filled … with gold and silver and ivory.” Our forebears attended concerts for a variety of reasons: curiosity, fashion, sensation, and even for the performances themselves. For whatever motive, however, they heard music to which they would not otherwise have been exposed. While the violinists Ole Bull, Henri Vieuxtemps, and Camillo Sivori, the pianists Sigismund Thalberg, Henri Herz, and Leopold de Meyer, and the sopranos Henriette Sontag, Jenny Lind (the “Swedish Nightingale”), and Marietta Alboni (the “elephant that swallowed the nightingale”) all came to reap their share of the bountiful harvest of American shekels, they also left their profound effect on American musical life.

Part of the freshness and vitality of Vera Brodsky Lawrence’s excellent series stems from the curious fact that the history of nineteenth-century American music has been so little explored. While the éclat of Phineas T. Barnum and Jenny Lind was such that even today non-musicians still half-remember their names, the deadening apathy surrounding our musical history ensures that only few remember why. There is certainly no dearth of raw material: in addition to the immense press coverage that music and its practitioners received, there are roguish and beguiling works left by many of the heroes of Mrs. Lawrence’s tale. On the scholarly side, students of the period have contributed useful studies, but these tend to focus on isolated individuals and events. Perhaps the sheer size of the endeavor has been the chief repelling factor? Or is it that much of the music of the period has long been considered trash (particularly by those who have established this fact secondhand) and thus unworthy of serious study? At any rate, not since Gilbert Chase’s America’s Music and Arthur Loesser’s famous social history, Men, Women, and Pianos, has anyone taken such a stimulating and successful approach to the musical history of the time.

To write a truly great diary, one should keep its composition secret and should intend no early publication of its contents.” So wrote Allan Nevins in 1952 in the preface to his and Milton Halsey Thomas’s edition of The Diary of George Templeton Strong. Circumstances conspired to ensure the complete satisfaction of this principle. The diary was closely guarded by Strong’s heirs for over fifty years until a descendent lent it to the museum of the American Red Cross. Little scholarly interest was paid to the document, possibly because of Strong’s appalling handwriting. Cramped and minuscule, it appears to describe the erratic wanderings of a hemorrhaging ant. By coincidence, however, the diary came to the attention of Henry Waters Taft, who was writing a history of his law firm, Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft, the successor to Strong’s legal practice. Taft informed Nicholas Murray Butler, president of Columbia University, that Taft was holding a document of considerable historical interest, and, in due season, the diary was published in four volumes by Columbia University Press. Formerly, the diary was easy to find secondhand. These days it is seldom found, and expensive when it is.

Nevins and Thomas’s preface noted a conscious editorial omission: “Though we give numerous excerpts from his discriminating criticism of concerts, oratorios, and operas … an interesting volume of musical comment could—and some day will—be compiled.” A quarter-century after it was written, this remark gave Mrs. Lawrence the idea for her series, but she soon found that, unless she provided some sort of substantive context (such as New York’s musical life or the rest of the diary), those music entries by themselves would seem to be too fragmented to make the exercise worthwhile. In the event, Mrs. Lawrence’s title is somewhat misleading. Although Strong himself was president of the New York Philharmonic and an enthusiastic amateur musician particularly taken with the Masses of Haydn and Mozart (an amusing indulgence for one so caustic about Catholics), Strong on Music covers considerably more territory than the diarist’s often irascible mutterings about the state of music and musicians in his hometown. In truth, the author uses the diary as a point of departure for the wider (and wilder) musical life of the period.

The series ranges through the highs and lows of New York’s midcentury musical life. In addition to the performances of the great and famous, we see grotesque blackface minstrel shows like the Albino Minstrels and heavy-handed opera travesties like Lucy Did Sham Amour (Lucia di Lammermoor), as well as the sobrieties of the oratorio-and-motette crowd, who preferred their music as an adjunct to more soulful activity. Musical life is described mostly from the perspective of the critic—sometimes Strong himself (as chiefly found in the chapters headed “GTS”) but more often his critical brethren (in the chapters headed “Obbligato”), whose blood-in-the-water approach led them to attack one another with the same savage abandon with which they greeted a performer.

Although New York City’s musical life had altogether changed from its small-scale beginnings, a number of quaint absurdities persisted well into the nineteenth century. Professional musicians were still rare; some organizations debarred them completely (along with that other pariah class: women). Recitals were almost unheard-of and concerts were a mishmash of chamber music, popular songs (often sung in dialect), sentimental ballads, chunks of oratorios, and piano reductions of the overture or symphony of the moment. For the Upper Ten, the nose was an organ with which to look down on what they regarded as unspeakably debased theatrical and “operatic” performances.

They may have had a point. In those days “opera” belonged more to the genus Nashville than La Scala and was an art form of infinitely elastic definition. There were horse-operas (animals on stage, with the equine performer assuming a prominent role), aquatic operas (with stage-length tanks of water on which the action took place), ballet burlesques, dramatic travesties of plays, and the frantically popular blackface minstrel productions of Thomas Dartmouth (Daddy) Rice, including that perennial favorite, Bone Squash Diavolo (1835). There were gift concerts where prizes rather than performers got top billing, ethnic concerts, temperance concerts (countering the nineteenth-century equivalent of karaoke), bizarre brother/sister and family acts, a group of renegade religious nuts billed as the Shaking Quakers, bell ringers, and strategically draped nudes with names like the Grecian Exercises and the Model Artistes, who, in their own less cynical versions of performance art, re-enacted patriotic, artistic, or even biblical scenes to the accompaniment of a brass band.

These noisy and vaudevillian aspects of musical life contrasted sharply with the received tastes of New York’s aristocracy. For Strong and his coevals, musical life started with the foursquare harmonies of church music and did not progress much further. Outside of church, musical life was pursued through sodalities and private performance societies featuring excellent local performers and conductors like Ureli Corelli Hill, George Loder, and Henry Christian Timm, who, aside from their work in the concert hall, were not averse to supplementing their living by arranging travesties and Ethiopian operas for the music hall.

While the upper-caste prejudice against opera and theater performance gradually dissipated, Strong’s own distrust of what was heard there largely did not. Strong was among the highest of the High Episcopalians and after the Episcopal Hymnal, Bach and Handel seem to have been his formative influences. The early years of the diary show Strong’s wrestling with Beethoven and Weber, and, as far as he was concerned, much of their music bordered terra incognita. While still in his twenties, Strong discovered the roots of his lifelong ambivalence toward Donizetti (“ought to be hanged”), Mendelssohn (“unmeaning, stupid, and wearisome”), and Bellini (“stupid and silly”), as well as the foundation of his furious loathing of Berlioz, Verdi, and the other High Romantics.

Strong’s somewhat closeted musical education proved to be no impediment to his ability to deliver himself of a vivid and memorable line. A matchless adept of the poisonous phrase, Strong was also capable of elegant and touching praise. He once wrote that the effect of an aria from Weber’s Preciosa was “one of those things that carry one away with them at the very first note and go on in a perfect glow of intense beauty to the end—it did seem as if the Tabernacle [concert hall] and all in it were beginning slowly to whirl round and round.”

The music critic, a subspecies of the murderously belligerent New York journalist, added fizz to this potent broth. With editor-owners beating, suing, and horsewhipping one another as a stress-relieving consequence of their vicious circulation wars, there was plenty of spare bellicosity to trickle into their critics’ copy. Their primus inter pares was Henry Cood Watson, who, even when professing to admire a performer, couldn’t resist the dig. “Antognini has a beautiful tenor voice,” he wrote. “We should advise him, however, to keep from public view the disgusting practice of indiscriminate expectoration so peculiar to Italian vocalists.” Partisanship and the occasional cash payment were also known to help nudge critical opinion for (or against) a performer. Critical consistency was rare, at least when it came to musical matters. Strong put it well: “Niminy will call it quaint, and Piminy will call it very bad … so they’ll cackle and bray, according to their several gifts.” Personality clashes were another matter entirely, and the fraternity was much more predictable when it came to taking sides during their frequent and acrimonious personal disputes.

While the United States was not unknown to European performers before Strong’s time, artistic peregrinations to the New World were scarcely causing a shortage of steamship tickets. Starting in 1841, however, the stream of performers steadily increased and, by 1843, Europe’s superstars began to arrive. The Norwegian violinist Ole Bull (“as beautiful as Apollo”) and the Belgian Henri Vieuxtemps (who played with gold drops pendant from his ears) captivated New York. The press was quick to divide on the merits of the “Norwegian Paganini” and the “Belgian Paganini.” While Paganini himself never set foot in the United States, this was a mere trifle to critics who wrote as if they were on familiar terms with Niccolò. Thus, there were French, Irish, and Australian Paganinis, a Paganini of the harp, Paganinis of the accordion and the double-bass and even a Paganini whistler. The Ethiopians also laid their claim: a verse in “Daddy” Rice’s notorious song “Jim Crow” contained the line “An’ down in old Virginny/ Day say I play/ Like massa Paganinny.”

Indeed, “humbug,” that quality so dearly beloved of the American public, enjoyed one of its vintage years in 1850, the beginning point of Reverberations. Its qualities were described by the critic Richard Grant White. “Humbug,” he wrote, “does not necessarily imply a cheat on one side and a dupe on the other. It is the art of drawing attention and attaining success by … allowing people to deceive themselves.” Its fixed and immutable goal was the seduction and capture of other people’s money, generally with the willing connivance of the victim. In the hands of its most able practitioners, music itself was redefined as “the art of attracting … by secondary devices which often become the principal ones, the greatest possible number of curious people so that when expenses are tallied against receipts, the latter exceed the former by the widest possible margin.” This was what the legendary proto-impresario Bernard Ullman called “financial music.” Musical affect was nice, but what really counted was, as they say in baseball, putting butts in bleachers.

Situated at the midpoint of both the Romantic movement and the nineteenth century, 1850 was a pivotal year. The United States was at one of its many cultural crossroads. Still beholden to the colonial tradition, most of our music was imported from Europe. Fourteen years before, however, Ralph Waldo Emerson had famously enquired, “Should not we have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition? … There are new lands, new men, new thoughts. Let us demand our own works.”

While national demigods such as Walt Whitman effused about all things American, other Yankees, such as Strong, were more reserved. In Europe, the revolutions of 1848 had galvanized, either through terror or elation, almost everyone. Against this backdrop were the successful conclusion of Liszt’s revolution of performance practice and the ascendancy of Beethoven’s music. Richard Wagner was writing murky tracts entitled Art and Revolution and The Art Work of the Future, and Europe had been subjugated by Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini in preparation for their even greater successor, Giuseppi Verdi. Quarantine of this febrile artistic atmosphere was impossible. When it finally arrived in the United States at around 4:00 in the afternoon of September 1, 1850, with the Swedish mega-soprano Jenny Lind, the dock-side band welcomed her with “God Save the Queen,” and all hell broke loose.

Lind had retired from opera performance the previous year. Her timing was auspicious. That unerring barometer of the American character, Phineas T. Barnum, “the True Prophet and Patron Saint of Media Hype,” in Mrs. Lawrence’s deft phrase, sensed that our tastes had changed. While Barnum knew we had always been infatuated with entertainment (such as his own credulity-straining attractions like the Feejee Mermaid and the Woolly Horse), he was willing to bet his fortune that America was ready for “Art.” Emersonian sentiments notwithstanding, Barnum knew people would not accept music as “Art” unless it was European.

While the Barnum and Lind episode has been frequently told, it has seldom been told as well or as amusingly. Mrs. Lawrence, a master of the throwaway line, describes Barnum’s unprecedented PR campaign with its endless public confidences, commissioned biographies, marketing paraphernalia (Jenny Lind “Segars,” Hair Gloss, and Chewing Tobacco), a poetry competition, a Jenny Lind Music Hall, and, above all, adroit, continual, and shameless manipulation of the press. It worked: Lind’s performances in this country earned, in the author’s words, “all but orgasmic” reviews, even from notorious party-poopers like John Sullivan Dwight. Even Strong, ever suspicious of popular enthusiasms, liked Lind. Artfully placed stories about the Nightingale’s church attendance and charitable activities added additional luster to her already absurdly gleaming halo.

Even haloes have their dark sides, however. One of the most interesting features of Reverberations is its portrayal of Lind as substantially more than some species of earthbound angel, as Barnum’s publicity machine had had it. Before breaking with Barnum (she un-angelically objected to performing in a Philadelphia amphitheater redolent of fresh horse turds), Lind accumulated much professional and personal criticism, which only increased as she continued her tours. But as the author shows, so effective was Barnum’s hard sell that even today the surviving image of Lind is that of a wedding-cake bride.

Other renowned singers visited the opera-mad United States during this period. The rotundly sensuous Marietta Alboni (“her embonpoint exceeds even the most accommodating standard of symmetry,” wrote White) and Henriette Sontag, a particular favorite of Beethoven and Weber, flourished. The brilliant Giulia Grisi and Mario arrived in 1854 and quickly established themselves as the team to beat. The opera world itself was, by Mrs. Lawrence’s account, a maze of intrigue, sabotage, backbiting, and petty jealousy—how different from today!—and shaky finances exacerbated matters. While classical companies like Don Francisco Martí’s Havana Opera Company and the troupes of Maurice Strakosch and Max Maretzek struggled to remain solvent, Ethiopian opera had no such troubles. Night after night, Christy’s Minstrels, Eph Horn (“the prince of Darkies”), and Maximilian Zohrer (who specialized in blackface falsetto imitations of Lind, Sontag, and Alboni) packed ’em in. The year 1853 saw the arrival of Lola Montez. Most of Europe thought Lola was only wasting her strength when standing, as her reputation as slut far exceeded her fame as dancer. But here’s a quibble: Mrs. Lawrence recycles Lola’s old claim that she and Liszt once enjoyed an indiscretion, although modern scholarship has corroborated Liszt’s always forcible denial of the liaison.

While it never appeared to trouble George Templeton Strong overly, the fundamental theme of the series that bears his name is the development of American music. According to Mrs. Lawrence, its unlikely protagonist was the peculiar William Henry Fry. Not a very good composer, not a very good lecturer, and not a very good critic, Fry showed how determination and an unfailing sense of amour propre can propel an otherwise mediocre talent into history. Fry used his bully pulpits to bewail the reluctance of New York’s fledgling orchestras to perform American music—in particular, his. Fry offered a gargantuan lecture series covering the history of music from ancient times to modern masters in which his own works were the inevitable criteria of excellence. “Didn’t suppose that it was possible for a sane man … to make such a jackass of himself,” observed Strong sourly. Fry’s The Breaking Heart, Leonora, and The Borderers were, possibly with reason, the subject of barely concealed snickers. One snicker, however, was too much to bear. Upon the critic Richard Willis’s fateful review of Fry’s limp Santa Claus Symphony, Fry screamed into print with a forty-page rant that touched off a decade-long critical free-for-all about the place of American music and musicians. Although Fry’s letter has been read by some as the true start of American music, Mrs. Lawrence convincingly notes that Fry was more akin to Mrs. O’Leary’s cow than the mastermind of a cultural revolution.

While America’s composers were feeling somewhat stifled, its performers were doing a little better. Louis Moreau Gottschalk, the Creole pianist, survived a shaky start in New York to become, along with Sigismund Thalberg, the smash hit of 1856. Strong, however, was not a Gottschalk partisan. Ever on the alert for piano-bashing (though he admired Thalberg), Strong described Gottschalk’s virtuosity as an accumulation of “dirty antics and dexterities,” likening it to Romeo pausing in the Balcony Scene and saying “six slim slick saplings” very fast. Warming to his subject, Strong wrote that Gottschalk’s delicate fingering put him in mind of “the traveller [who], having gone to sleep in the depths of the tropical forest, is gradually awakened by ants and other bugs crawling over him.” New York’s critics thought otherwise, reaching a rare concord in their acknowledgment of Gottschalk’s mastery.

Strong’s opinions on music did not mellow with age. “Tolerable music is not to be endured: a decent and creditable symphony is an abomination,” he glowered when but a tender thirty-three, while his furious sentiments about Wagner, Liszt, and Berlioz that would so gratify and irritate later generations were incubating nicely. It would be wrong, however, to dismiss Strong as just a reactionary hothead. Ignoring our contemporaries is the sport of the ages. Indeed, Strong’s retrospective tastes are shared by many of us, differing only in degree. Strong emerges as a man to whom standards meant everything and who thought, at least as deeply as today’s critics, about aesthetics. It seems that his real sin was the vigor with which he expressed himself. “As Strong’s musical preferences narrowed,” sighs Mrs. Lawrence, “so did his faculty for verbalizing them expand—sometimes to numbing lengths.”

Reverberations, like its predecessor, Resonances, is complex and dense. So rich are its characters and so involved were their times that few will come away after a single reading with their recollections intact. Nevertheless, Reverberations reads wonderfully well. This is due to Mrs. Lawrence’s considerable gifts as organizer and musical historian, but especially to her exceptionally droll observations. Her humor is similar to Arthur Loesser’s—clever and detached, often deadly but always fair. As exasperating as Strong was, and as silly as his contemporaries could often be, the author recounts their shortcomings and qualities with the same benign and tolerant affection. At least as captivating is Mrs. Lawrence’s evocation of Old New York with its music houses, opinionated and noisy population, bizarre enthusiasms, and its collective delight at all of this astonishing new music. After reading Strong on Music, walk around Lower Manhattan to the present-day sights of Strong’s houses, Barnum’s American Museum, Castle Garden, Niblo’s Saloon, the Tabernacle, and the various hotels and dwellings where Lind, Gottschalk, and others slept, and realize that while New York may be young, it too has ghosts.

________________________________________

From The New Criterion Vol. 14, No. 5, January 1996

       
Palmer List of Merchant Vessels
________________________________________

ALBERT (1841)
PRINS ALBERT [1855]

The Bremen ship ALBERT was built at Vegesack/Grohn by Johann Lange, for the Bremen firm of Gebrüder Kulenkampff, and was launched on 1 June 1841. 200 Commerzlasten; 32,5 x 9,1 x 5,5 meters (length x beam x depth of hold). Her maiden voyage was from Bremerhaven to Baltimore, under the command of Joh. Klockgeter, who was later succeeded, in turn, by D. von Tritzen, H. Reichl, Remme, and Joh. C. Meyer. In 1855, the ALBERT was sold to F. Hvistendahl, Krageroe, Norway, who renamed her PRINS ALBERT, and placed her under the command of C. Hvistendahl. Her later history and ultimate fate are not known.

Source: Peter-Michael Pawlik, Von der Weser in die Welt; Die Geschichte der Segelschiffe von Weser und Lesum und ihrer Bauwerften 1770 bis 1893, Schriften des Deutschen Schiffahrtsmuseums, Bd. 33 (Hamburg: Kabel, c1993), p. 203, no. 165.

Voyages:

1. Bremen ship ALBERT, Remme, master, according to records in the Staatsarchiv Bremen. sailed from Bremen on 20 June 1854 with 224 passengers, arriving at Baltimore on 8 August 1854. The ship broker's form (National Archives Microfilm Publication M255, roll 10, no. 2 = Germans to America, vol. 6, pp. 249-251) is misfiled by the U.S. National Archives under 13 January 1854; a close inspection of the microfilm of the original indicates that it is dated 15 "Juny" (= June), 5 days before departure. The passenger arrival manifest, dated 10 August 1854, two days after arrival, is microfilmed on National Archives Microfilm Publication M255, roll 10, no. 66 = Germans to America, vol. 8, pp. 24-25.

ALBONI (1852)

The U.S. ship ALBONI was a medium clipper, designed and built by Mason C. Hill, at Mystic, Connecticut, and launched in October 1852. She was named after Marietta Alboni (1826-1894), the celebrated Italian contralto, who was then in the middle of a tour of America. 917/837 tons (old/new measurement); 156/182 x 37.5 x 21 feet (length between perpendiculars/ overall length x beam x depth of hold). Her figurehead was the image of a dove with an orange branch in its beak. She was originally owned by Charles Mallory, but was purchased shortly after launching by James Bishop & Co of New York for a reported $55,000.

The ALBONI was originally employed in the Cape Horn trade, for which she made 4 voyages:

1.            Maiden voyage, N. R. Littlefield, master, New York 11/21/1852 - San Francisco 3/31/1853 (130 days); 65 days to the Horn, 99 days to the equator in the Pacific; when 113 days out was within 300 miles of the Golden Gate, being close to the coast in a dense fog for the final 7 days. Return: San Francisco - Callao (51 days) - New York (85 days), with a cargo of guano.

2.            Littlefield, master, New York 4/8/1854 - San Francisco 9/1/1854 (146 days); had a very hard time off Cape Horn, being driven back 700 miles and forced to go round the Falkland Islands twice; hove to on one occasion for 9 days; carried skysails for 60 days after passing Cape Horn. Return: San Francisco - Shanghai (52 days); Shanghai 12/1854 - New York in 98 days.

3.            Barnaby, master, New York 5/5/1855 - San Francisco 10/21/1855 (169 days elapsed, 165 days net claimed). Return: San Francisco - Shanghai (59 days); Shanghai 1/28/1856 - NY 5/19/1857 (111 days, 93 days from Anjier).

4.            Barnaby, master, New York 6/8/1858 - San Francisco 11/8/1858 (153 days elapsed, 150 days net claimed). Return: San Francisco - Shanghai (53 days) - Singapore - Foochow; Foochow 12/24/1859 - Anjier 1/8/1860 - Start Point 4/12/1860 - London 4/16/1860 - New York 1/12/1861 (61 days).

The ALBONI was then engaged in trade between New York, Bremen, and Antwerp. After the first voyage, to New York, Captain Blanke was replaced by Captain Hoyer. About January 1863, the ALBONI was sold to Theodore Ruger, renamed the ELSIE RUGER, and transferred to the Hannoverian flag. She was engaged principally in the trans-Atlantic trade, but made at least one more voyage (in 1864) to the Orient (New York - Hong Kong). In 1868, she was listed as still owned by Ruger, but hailing from Geestemünde. Her name does not appear in ship registers for 1874.

Sources: Octavius T. Howe and Frederick C. Matthews, American Clipper Ships, 1833-1858, vol. 1 (Salem, MA: Marine Research Society, 1926), pp. 4-6; Carl C. Cutler, Greyhounds of the Sea; The Story of the American Clipper Ship (New York: Halcyon House, c1930), pp. 237, 357, 419, 473, 486, 494, 500, 512; William Armstrong Fairburn, Merchant Sail (Center Lovell, Maine: Fairburn Marine Educational Foundation, [1945-55], II.1508, 1526; III.1659, 1888, 1940, 1963, 1966, 1969, 2018, 2024, 2029, 2030, 2043, 2044, 2045, 2060, 2065, 2097; IV.2231, 2266, 2269; V.2853, 2855, 3072; VI.3629, 3659, 3661, 3747, 3920, 3937, 3942.[25 Oct 1997]

ALEXANDER PETION (...)
OLBERS [1830]

Russian frigate ALEXANDER PETION was built in Archangelsk, Russia, year not given, although she was considered "old" when she arrived in Bremen in 1829. 959 45/94 French tons (in the hanseatische Schiffahrtsregister, capacity given as 480 Lasten, approximately equal to 320 of the later standard Commerzlasten); 2 decks. She arrived at Bremen on 19 November 1829 under the command of Arnold Philipp Gaetjen. She was renamed OLBERS, after Heinrich Wilhelm Matthias Olbers (1758-1840), the famous Bremen medical doctor and astronomer, in honor of the 50th anniversary, in 1830, of Olbers receiving his medical doctorate from the University of Göttingen. She was later under the command of Johann Michael Herklotz.

Source: Dieter Gerdes, Olbers-Planetarium: Fünf Schiffe nach Olbers benannt.

[16 Sep 1999]

Hamburg ship ALFRED [1844] - See: AUSTRALIA (1841)

ALGERIA (1870)
PENNLAND [1882]

The steamship ALGERIA was built for the Cunard Line by J & G Thomson, Glasgow, and was launched on 12 July 1870. 3,428 tons; 110,08 x 12,53 meters/361.2 x 41.4 feet (length x breadth); straight stem, 1 funnel, 3 masts; iron construction, screw propulsion, service speed 13 knots; accommodation for 200 passengers in 1st class and 1,054 in steerage.

27 September 1870, maiden voyage, Liverpool - Queenstown - New York. 22 October 1881, last voyage, Liverpool - Queenstown - New York. 1882, acquired by the Red Star Line and renamed PENNLAND; compound engines by J Jack & Co, Liverpool. 13 May 1882, first voyage, Antwerp-New York. 1888, new spar deck; 3,760 tons. 15 December 1894, last voyage, Antwerp-New York. 11 April 1895, proceeded Antwerp-Philadelphia. 18 May 1895, first voyage under charter to the American Line, Philadelphia-Liverpool; passenger accommodation: 200 in 2nd class, 1054 in steerage. 6 April 1901, last voyage, Philadelphia-Liverpool. 4 May 1901, resumed Antwerp-New York service. August 1901, resumed Antwerp-Philadelphia service. 1902, 3rd class only. 27 March 1892, last voyage, Antwerp-New York (3 roundtrip voyages). 23 September 1903, last voyage, Philadelphia-Antwerp (15 roundtrip voyages). 1903, scrapped in Italy.

Source: Noel Reginald Pixell Bonsor, North Atlantic Seaway; An Illustrated History of the Passenger Services Linking the Old World with the New (2nd ed.; Jersey, Channel Islands: Brookside Publications), vol. 1 (1975), p. 151. Pictured in Michael J. Anuta, Ships of Our Ancestors (Menominee, MI: Ships of Our Ancestors, 1983), p. 4, courtesy of the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem.

[19 Jan 1998]

ALICE BALL (1857)

The U.S. ship ALICE BALL, 898 tons, was built at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in 1857, and enrolled at the port of New York on 8 August 1863.

Source: Forrest R. Holdcamper, comp., List of American-flag Merchant Vessels that received Certificates of Enrollment or Registry at the Port of New York, 1789-1867 (Record Groups 41 and 36), National Archives Publication 68-10, Special Lists 22 (Washington, DC: National Archives and Records Service, 1968), p. 31.

[17 May 1999]

ALICE TAINTER (1856)

The U.S. bark ALICE TAINTER was built at New York by the celebrated New York shipwright William H. Webb as a cargo carrier for the New York firm of Post, Smith & Co, and was launched in February 1856. 667 tons; 140 ft x 31 feet 5 inches x 17 feet 8 inches (length x beam x depth of hold); draft load 15 feet 4 inches. She was, in the judgment of her builder, "... a good sea boat. Good carrier".

The ALICE TAINTER's first certificate of registry was issued on 2 April 1856, and she sailed the following day on her maiden voyage, to Antwerp, under Capt. Spencer.

On 16 July 1862, the ALICE TAINTER, then under the ownership of J. & N. Smith & Co (successors to Post, Smith & Co), arrived at New York, from Matamoros, Mexico, 25 June, carrying a cargo of cotton belonging to Charles Stillman, a Brownsville, Texas, steamboat owner and entrepeneur (and business partner of Richard King and Mifflin Kenedy, founders of the King Ranch). The ALICE TAINTER was one of a number of vessels that sailed between Matamoros and New York and New England carrying Confederate cotton, returning with such articles as cavalry boots, coffee, powder, and soap. This trade was carried on with the full knowledge of Union military and civilian officials, but was condoned as it kept the mills of New England running (clothing many Union soldiers in Confederate cotton) and provided a market for Northern manufactured goods.

After her voyage to Matamoros, the ALICE TAINTER made a roundtrip voyage from New York to New Orleans and Matanzas, Cuba. On 23 April 1863, she cleared from New York for Shanghai, returning from Liverpool on 25 July 1864. During this voyage she was transferred to Bermudian registry, under the ownership of Pendergast Brothers. She subsequently traded between North and South American ports. On 6 December 1874, she arrived at New York, 47 days from Rio de Janeiro, with a cargo of coffee. Nothing is known of her movements after this date, but she was removed from the register about 1876.

Source: Edwin L. Dunbaugh and William DuBarry Thomas, William H. Webb: Shipbuilder (Glen Cove, New York: Webb Institute of naval Architecture, 1989), pp. 207-208.

Voyages:

1. The bark ALICE TAINTER, Spencer, master, arrived at New York on 24 August 1856, from Antwerp and Flushing 7 July, and 45 days from Lands End, with merchandise and 128 passengers to Post, Smith & Co; there had been one birth among the passengers during the passage.

[27 Jul 1999]

ALIQUIS (1854)

The British ship ALIQUIS (Official No. 535; International Signal code: HDGQ) was built under Lloyd's Register of Shipping Special Survey by John Munn, Quebec, in 1854. 1150/1247 tons (old/new measurement; Lloyd's Register of Shipping, 1855/56) / 1125/1125/1032 tons (net/gross/under deck; Lloyd's Register, 1875/76). 185.9 x 36.3 x 22.9 [Lloyd's Register, 1863/64] / 184.9 x 35.7 x 22.9 [Lloyd's Register, 1875/76] / 181 x 32.30 x 22.90 [Wallace] / 182 x 32 x 23 [Marcil] feet (length x breadth x depth of hold). Originally registered at Quebec, but re-registered at Liverpool 29 August 1854. The following is taken from the annual volumes of Lloyd's Register for 1855/56-1880/81:

Master:

     1855/56-1860/61 - T. Pain

     1861/62-1864/65 - Scancroft [1861/62-1862/63 "Scowcroft"]

     1864/65-1867/68 - J. Davidson

     1867/68-1879/80 - F. Marshall

     1880/81         - [not given]

Owner:

     1855/56-1878/79 - G. Marshall [1855/56-1857/58 "Marshall &"]

     1879/80         - G. Marshall [lined out]

     1880/81         - [not given]

Port of Registry:

     1855/56-1878/79 - London

     1879/80-1880/81 - Amsterdam

Port of Survey:

     1855/56-1857/58 - Liverpool

     1858/59-1868/69 - London

     1868/69-1869/70 - Liverpool

     1869/70-1870/71 - Liverpool [lined out] / Clydeside

     1871/72         - Clydeside

     1873/74-1874/75 - London / Liverpool

     1875/76-1876/77 - London

     1877/78         - Clydeside [last survey in Great Britain, 6/1877]

Destined Voyage [-1873/74]:

     1855/56-1857/58 - Adelaide

     1858/59         - India

     1859/60-1860/61 - [not given]

     1861/62-1864/65 - India

     1865/66         - India [lined out]

     1866/67         - [not given]

     1868/69-1872/73 - India

     1873/74         - Guatemala

From the entries in Lloyd's Register for 1879/80 and 1880/81, it appears that the ALIQUIS was sold Dutch in approximately 1879/80, and re-registered, under the Dutch flag, at Amsterdam. For her later history check the annual volumes of the Registre Veritas, the publication of the Bureau Veritas, the Continental classification society. Since the ALIQUIS was built under special Lloyd's Register of Shipping survey, the records of this survey survive among the Lloyd's Register of Shipping Survey Reports deposited in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London SE10 9NF; there is a microfilm copy of this survey in the National Archives of Canada, microfilm reel A-434, survey 102.

Sources: Lloyd's Register, 1855/56-1881/82; Canadian Ship Information Database, No. 9000603, quoting National Archives of Canada, RG 42, Vol. 1409 (original Vol. 198 = microfilm reel C-2062); and No. 91000043, quoting Eileen Marcil, The Charley-Man: a history of wooden shipbuilding at Quebec, 1763-1893 (Kingston, Ontario: Quarry Press, 1993); Marine Museum of the Great Lakes at Kingston, Wallace Ship List, quoting Frederick William Wallace, Record of Canadian shipping; a list of squarerigged vessels, mainly 500 tons and over, built in the Eastern Provinces of British North America from the year 1786 to 1920 (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1929); according to Ian Hawkins Nicholson, Log of logs; a catalogue of logs, journals, shipboard diaries, letters, and all forms of voyage narratives, 1788 to 1988, for Australia and New Zealand and surrounding oceans,, vol. 1, Roebuck Society Publication No. 41 (Yaroomba, Qld: The Author jointly with the Australian Association for Maritime History, [1990]), p. 16, papers concerning two voyages of the ALIQUIS (Liverpool 23 May 1855 - Adelaide 12 August 1855, and Plymouth 4 June 1856 - Adelaide 26 August 1856) are held in the Public Record Office of South Australia, Adelaide, GRG 35/48/1855.

[21 Jan 1998]

ALLEMANNIA (1865)

[Right] Photograph of the ALLEMANNIA, the oldest known photograph of any vessel of the Hamburg-America Line. Source: Arnold Kludas and Herbert Bischoff, Die Schiffe der Hamburg-Amerika Linie, Bd. 1: 1847-1906 (Herford: Koehler, 1979), p. 26. To request a larger copy of this scan, click on the picture.

OXENHOLME [1880]

Left] Print of the ALLEMANNIA. Collections of the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Massachusetts. Source: Michael J. Anuta, Ships of Our Ancestors (Menominee, Michigan: Ships of Our Ancestors, 1983), p. 5. To request a larger copy of this scan, click on the picture

The steamship ALLEMANNIA was built for the Hamburg-America Line by C. A. Day & Co, Southampton (yard #23), and was launched on 11 May 1865. 2,695 tons; 96 x 12,5 meters/315 x 41 feet (length x breadth); straight stem, 1 funnel, 2 masts; iron construction, screw propulsion, service speed 12 knots; accommodation for 60 passengers in 1st class, 100 in 2nd class, and 600 in steerage; crew of 90.

17 September 1865, maiden voyage, Hamburg-Southampton-New York. 1872, compound engines by Reiherstiegweft, Hamburg. 5 October 1872, last voyage, Hamburg-New York. Hamburg-New Orleans, then Hamburg-West Indies service. 11 April-11 September 1880, resumed Hamburg-New York service (3 roundtrip voyages). 1880, purchased by W. Hunter & Co, Liverpool, and renamed OXENHOLME. 1894, sold to A. Chapman, Liverpool. 6 June 1894, bound to South America, stranded near Santa Catharina, Brazil, with no loss of life.

Sources: Arnold Kludas and Herbert Bischoff, Die Schiffe der Hamburg-Amerika Linie, Bd. 1: 1847-1906 (Herford: Koehler, 1979), p. 26 (photograph, the earliest known of any Hamburg American Line vessel); Noel Reginald Pixell Bonsor, North Atlantic Seaway; An Illustrated History of the Passenger Services Linking the Old World with the New (2nd ed.; Jersey, Channel Islands: Brookside Publications), vol. 1 (1975), p. 388.

Voyages:

1. Hamburg-America Line steamship ALLEMANNIA, Capt. Bardua, arrived at New York on 16 September 1869, from Hamburg 1 September, via Le Havre 4 September, with merchandise and 645 passengers. "Took pilot off George's Shoals 15th from pilot boat No. 13; passed Sandy Hook at noon of 16th."

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Last Revised: 16 March 2001

ALSTER (1854)

The steamship ALSTER (Official No. 25,137) was built by W. Denny & Bros, Dumbarton, in 1854. Measurements (Lloyd's Register for 1881/82): 387/599/538 tons (net/gross/under deck); 213.5 x 25.7 x 14.6 feet (length x breadth x depth of hold); iron construction, 1 deck, poop 44 feet long; screw propulsion; engine (by Holmes & Co, Hull): compound inverted, 2 cylinder 25" & 52" - 30", 100 hp; schooner rigged. 1881: owned by W. Liddell; Capt. Lee; registered at Hull. The Times (London) for 3 June 1881, p. 7f, reports that

The ALSTER, a large steamer, bound from Hull for Antwerp, with passengers, was run into near Great Yarmouth at about 7 o'clock yesterday morning by another steamer, the ADAM SMITH, of Kirkaldy, during a thick fog. The crew and passengers of the Alster, to the number of abut 40, had sufficient time to board the ADAM SMITH before their vessel sank. The party landed at Great Yarmouth yesterday afternoon and the crew were taken to the Sailors' Home. The ADAM SMITH was slightly damaged.

Sources: Lloyd's Register of Shipping, annual volume for 1881/82; Times (London), 3 June 1881, p. 7f.

[10 Aug 1999]

ALSTER (1867)

The steamship ALSTER was built under Lloyd's Register of Shipping Special Survey for the Hamburg firm of O[tto] L[udwig] Eichmann by Schlesinger Davis, Newcastle, and was launched in March 1867 (certificate 15 April 1867). 237 Commerzlasten/709 tons; 61,20 x 8,75 x 4,93 meters (length x breadth x depth of hold).

Master:

     1867      - P. Thomsen

     1867      - M. H. Sass

     1867-1873 - J. M. C. Schmidt

     1870      - M. H. Sass

     1873-1879 - T. C. Köner

     1879-1880 - J. Klaasen

Voyages:

     1867 - Havre/Newcastle (2 x), Newcastle (5 x), Sunderland (5 x), Hartlepool (13 x)

     1868 - Dunkirk/Newcastle (3 x), Havre/Sunderland, Havre/Hartlepool, Rouen/Newcastle, Rouen/Hartlepool,

               Newcastle (11 x), Sunderland (4 x), Hartlepool (7x)

     1869 - Helgoland (5 x), Newcastle, Shields (13 x), Sunderland (6 x), Hartlepool (17 x)

     1870 - Newcastle (2 x), Shields (15 x), Hartlepool (3 x)

     1871 - Havre/Hartlepool (4 x), Blyth (5 x), Shields (2 x), Sunderland, Hartlepool (10 x), Grimsby (3 x)

     1872 - Blyth (2 x), Shields (5 x), Hartlepool (11 x), Grimsby (6 x)

     1873 - Antwerp/Shields, Blyth (7 x), Shields (4 x), Hartlepool (11 x), Grimsby (4 x)

     1874 - Blyth (19 x), Shields (3 x), Hartlepool, Cardiff (5 x)

     1875 - Blyth (14 x), Shields, Newcastle, Hartlepool (15 x)

     1876 - England (32 x)

     1877 - Blyth (11 x), Newcastle (5 x), Hartlepool (9 x)

     1878 - London/Blyth, Blyth (8 x), Newcastle, Sunderland, Hartlepool (16 x)

     1879 - London/Blyth (2 x), Grimsby/Blyth, Blyth (26 x), Sunderland (3 x), Hartlepool

     1880 - Blyth (9 x), Sunderland

In June 1880, Eichmann returned the ALSTER to her builders, perhaps in (partial) payment for the steamer LIBELLE, which Schlesinger Davis delivered him in February 1881. The annual volume of Lloyd's Register for 1881/82) gives the following information on the ALSTER:

Official No. 81,788

Tonnage:  528/709/688 (net/gross/under deck)

Measurements:  200 x 28.6 x 16.2 feet (length x breadth x depth of hold)

               iron construction, 1 deck, 2 tiers of beams

Engine (by Thompson, Boyd & Co, Newcastle): inverted, 2 cylinder 36" - 26", 80 hp

Ship rigged.

Owner:  Powley, Thomas & Co

Master:  Nance

Port of Registry:  Cardiff

Sources: Walter Kresse, ed., Seeschiffs-Verzeichnis der Hamburger Reedereien, 1824-1888, Mitteilungen aus dem Museum für Hamburgische Geschichte, N. F., Bd. 5. (Hamburg: Museum für Hamburgische Geschichte, 1969), vol. 1, pp. 127-128. Lloyd's Register of Shipping, annual volume for 1881/82. The Lloyd's Register of Shipping Special Survey under which the ALSTER was built is now held by the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich (see in particular National Maritime Museum Research Guide H6, Lloyds: Lloyd's Register Survey Reports).

[10 Aug 1999]

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Last Revised: 16 March 2001

 Necrologio

(Emma Bullet - 12 July 1894)

Marietta Alboni [orig. Maria Anna Marzia] (6 Mar 1823 - 23 Jun 1894):  Italian contralto. Studied with Bertinotti. Worked personally with Rossini to learn his contralto roles. Debut Bologna 1842 as Climene in Pacini's Saffo. Leading contralto at London's Covent Garden and was considered a rival to Jenny Lind. Meyerbeer wrote Page's Aria (Les Huguenots) for her. She sang the baritone role of Carlos in the first Covent Garden Ernani when both Tamburini and Roncini turned it down. Sang at Rossini's funeral along with Adelina Patti.
"One of the greatest artists of the lyric stage has just passed away. The French press says that the era of such singers as Alboni is over. Alboni, it is true, had the most incomparable voice both as to extension of register as well as sweetness. Of the famous trio, Malibran, Alboni and Viardot, the latter only is still among the living. Since she retired from the stage Alboni lived in Paris. She was one of the few singers who knew when to retire and fatigue her auditors by remaining on the stage when her voice was gone and she also is one of the few who knew how to amass and keep a fortune. She lived in opulence, having her own private mansion in Cour la Reine and her country seat in Vill d’Avray.
"From her youth up Alboni’s greatest enemy was corpulency [sic]. At the beginning of her career, when she sang the part of the page in “Lucrezia Borgia,” she was already possessed of too much avoirdupois; and her flesh has been steadily increasing until, as an American girl expressed it, when she saw her at her home, where she sang for the last time, she was a sight. It was rarely that she and her husband consented to go into society, but when they did they were at once recognized as two immense waddlers able only to make very short steps by means of canes. In the later years, whenever Alboni consented to sing, she always did it sitting in the widest chair that could be procured for her, or in the one at her home, which had been made on purpose to contain her immense weight and corpulence.
Marietta Alboni was born in 1824 in a small Italian town. When still in her teens her parents, seeing that she was gifted with a superb voice, had it trained with the utmost care. Rossini, who was then the director of the Bologne conservatory, heard her, predicted her glorious future and superintended her studies for several years. The young singer made her debut in La Scala, and meeting with brilliant success she was afterward engaged for the principal cities of Italy, Austria, Russia and Germany. In 1847 she sang in Covent Garden while Jennie Lind was singing in the Queen’s Theater, and both cantatrices rivaled with each other in applause and in drawing crowded halls. In the fall of 1847 she sang in a series of concerts for the first time in Paris, and some time after she made her debut at the Theatre Italien in Rossini’s “Cenerentola,” her greatest success. After a season at the Grand Opera Alboni accepted brilliant engagements for North and South America, where, no doubt, many of my readers had the pleasure hearing her.
"After her marriage to the Count Pepoli she sang only when she was offered great sums of money or for charity’s sake, and on the death of her first husband she expressed her intention of retiring entirely from the stage. In 1892, however, she created the contralto part in “Il Matrimonio Segreto.” In 1877 Mme. Alboni married an officer of la Garde Republicaine, Charles Zieger. She then retired from the stage forever. Her voice, however, had lost nothing of its sweetness and its extent, and on certain anniversaries she loved to invite her friends and for them sing some of her favorite airs." 

---  Emma Bullet     12 July 1894