Reviews — The New York Times

From the New York Times - May 19, 1889

Copyright, 1889, by the New York Times.
    Paris, May 18. - Among more agreeable preoccupation, the return of the Deputies has almost passed unnoticed. The abandoned statesmen have cut out their work in practical divisions absolutely devoid of interest to the general public. The budget of necessity cannot be made a groundwork for discussion, because, like the celebrated four-cent Paris cakes, it is always la même chose. What will be more conflicting is the prologue. There are so many irons to be placed on the fire for future use, and ways and means to an end, while skillfully concentrated, must be artfully concealed, and all this will use up the better part of the first five or six sessions. From June 1, then, to the middle of the month, the budget will be itemized, and the end of June will send the Deputies to the provinces, when a tooth-and-nail fight for the general elections will begin.
     The Haute Cour has not yet finished its labors, and in spite of the extraordinary reserve unusual to this gossiping town, it creeps out that Boulanger will be banished. Whether this is a result natural to the discovery and writing up of a long history of crime, or a foregone conclusion to Governmental necessity, is not divulged, and, to write frankly, no one seems to care anything about it. “The Marseillaise,” momentarily at least, outfeasts the Boulanger anthem. Rumors concerning the health of the General became so persistently alarming that finally great scientific names were called in to vouch for the statements. When Dr. Bronardel, one of the most eminent French physicians, found words of precise meaning, and even dates of probable life, put in his mouth, he came out with a short clear letter stating that not only had he never seen Gen. Boulanger, but he knew nothing about his constitution, and that, had he been consulted as a physician, he would know enough to hold his tongue. This frank precision has bodkined gossip for the present.
     The fun at the exhibition continues, and the Champ de Mars’s atmosphere is more quicksilvery than ever. Nothing is finished yet, but the Eiffel Tower is open to the second platform. The public can go up there on foot, for the elevators cannot work before a fortnight. To open the tower even thus partially the workmen have labored all night, changing off hands as midnight hours advanced. M. Salles, son-in-law of M. Eiffel, assures me that no soldier on the battle field deserved better mention than these humble toilers, who, will never go down to history.
     Except in block, it costs 2f. to climb up stairs to the first story, and 1f. more to mount one above. The ascension begins at 11 o’clock, and it would take too much cable space to describe that scene of yesterday amid the happy patient crowd below and the glorious harvest of Russian, Flemish, and English restaurants above. Telephone communication regulates the number admitted at one passing. M. Eiffel remained all day, ever active and full of contented zeal, whenever he was recognized. Cheers were given a Mme. Sommer, who was the first lady to touch terra firma above, and next came in placid solemnity an Arab chief. All the French press came, and one or two foreign journalists. Each and all inscribed their names on the Figaro Eiffel sheet. This hands them down to French posterity.
     There is no use in trying to epitomize the exhibition in routine, for it partakes of all the kaleidoscopic delight of every Parisian fête. One should be able to fly like a bird to every enticing necessity, and even then half the fun and wit would be lost. The Cairo donkey drivers have been reduced to a more quiescent mood, but owing to the change of surroundings, to the atmosphere perhaps, they certainly look more devilish than under the uniformly blue Cairo sky, with pyramids as a background. It is hard for them to be very reserved, for their very appearance with their daring patrons - for it does take a good deal of audacity to ride a donkey through the exhibition grounds - is a constant signal for wild applause. Half of these Arabs have to be imprisoned every night, and three were sent back to the Khadive yesterday. Like the dancers ambitiously called Almees, they are one of the great attractions, and Cairo - streets is a swell resort and the proper place to be from 5 to 7 o’clock. The Algerian tent on the esplanade is really more interesting, because there are five women there, two of them beautiful types, but the distance over there is great and it has not yet grown into fashion.
     I have enjoyed fully two comfortable views of the American picture exhibition. This has been a sly peep, for varnishing day has not yet been appointed. Some of the work from home will certainly astonish the critics here. I presume that Dewing will find gratification in the fact that his portrait of a lady, in yellow, entirely absorbed the jury’s interest and admiration, and the Allegany landscape of Bolton Jones and the landscape of Wyant defeated all criticism. The portraits of Eastman Johnson and all the black and whites were respected centres. In its ensemble the home exhibition is already a pronounced success. Dannat, Sargent, Knight, and Weeks come out very strong in their respective showing and in their new and special exhibition pictures. The water colorists and pastelists have formally opened their expositions this week, the first afternoon bringing only invited guests. These particular exhibits are to be changed constantly. The pastelists are not the best.
     In the machine gallery Edison’s division is a crowded resort, and the poor fellow who attends to the phonograph will have a thorough French education before the season is over. He still looks a trifle blasphemous, in Anglo-Saxon, as he wipes his brow and casts up an agonized glance at the hated glass roof, but his attention and returning smile are purely French. The machine gallery is said to have wonderful ventilation resources somewhere, and it is becoming urgent for them to appear.
     The Russian incident is closed. All the imperial crowns have disappeared, and Moscow and St. Petersburg emblems have replaced St. George. This takes away the official recognition from the year 1889, while it still leaves plenty of enthusiastic room for the French alliance belief. Politics have given great immunity to the Russian section, just as the patronage of the Prince of Wales has worked freedom for the English division. His Royal Highness is expected here, and all hands are at work to make the Saxon showing taut and clear.
     The furniture section is almost empty. People delay bringing in their exhibits in dread of imitation, but May 20 has been officially made the ultimatum, and all must come to time or withdraw. No one goes to visit the superb horticultural display at the Trocadero, and it is a pity, for it is well worth the journey.
     Dagnan Bouveret’s Salon success, “Bretonne’s au Pardon,” has been sold by a Mulhouse gentleman for $6,000.
     Coquelin was treated like a spoiled child at his farewell benefit in the Théâtre Français. He did a vast amount of work, appearing in portions of five of his best rôles, including Tartuffe, which he had never before played here. Notwithstanding the opinions expressed in his famous pamphlet on this subject, and contrary to its conclusions, the actor played the part according to tradition, and his attempt has been sincerely praised. A group of his friends intrusted to Madeleine Lemaire the presentation to him in the foyer of a plaque of lapis and silver and gold, with palms and laurel crowns engraved thereon, by Fannière. On one side was engraved “Coquelin - Com‚die Français - 1860-1889,” and on the other “Coquelin - His Friends.” The house was crowded, a good many well-known New Yorkers being conspicuous.
     There was a great counter-attraction, however, at the Opéra Comique in the première of Jules Massenet’s “Esclarmonde” and the d‚but of Miss Sybil Sanderson. On the evening before about 2,000 people had crushed into the building to listen in supposed select privacy to a dress rehearsal. The new opera tends entirely to the modern school. Thanks to the courtesy of Editor Hartmann, THE TIMES received the first published score, and its reading shows only intermittent concessions to melody. It is sensuous music, with sonorous orchestral effects, giving accompaniment to continued love duets. The soprano rôle is written for the exceptional voice of our Californian débutante. It ranges constantly in high notes above the line, and once Miss Sanderson takes and holds high G with ease and sweetness. It was called facetiously on the first night an “Eiffel Tower note.” Miss Sanderson makes a beautiful picture in her picturesque costumes, and the dramatic rôle suits her style as well as the vocal score. She was received favorably.
     At Cluny Théâtre “Trop Ainé,” by MM. Valady and Dancourt, has not been the promised success, and there is no use in going into the details of the plot. The remarkably excellent troupe of the distant Cluny gave all their brightness and go to the piece, but it was unavailing. There was superb dressing on the part of the leading lady.
     The theatres with the exception of the Français, the Grand Opéra, and, of course, the Opéra Comique are absolutely empty. No one can give a reason for this unprecedented abandonment. In 1878 the theatres enjoyed a harvest. Prices went up and staid up. It is now moved to close, as usual, in June, For with the exhibition, the bull-fight attraction, and the great Buffalo Bill show the theatres will stand no earthly chance.
     Quite thirty thousand persons were present at the Wild West opening today, headed by President Carnot. The band mingled the “Marseillaise” with “Yankee Doodle.” Great enthusiasm was caused by the shooting of the cowboys. The Indian tents are already a chic attraction, however Indian morality may suffer. The braves are courted and fêted by the prettiest women in Paris. Yesterday Valtesse and Depaix carried them cigarettes. Wherever you go you have of nothing but “Buffalo Beel.”

Last updated December 30, 2006