Theatre Production - The Merry Widow

"DIE LUSTIGE WITWE," as "The Merry Widow" is known in Austria, has been a success in every country in which it has been produced, and it has been seen in most of the European centres. That it will hold the boards at Daly's for many a month to come we may prophesy with absolute certainty. And the chief factor that makes for success is its music. I have assisted at no first night since the production of "The Gondoliers" in which the music has been so consistently melodious and ear haunting. So prodigal is the composer, Herr Franz Lehar, of his melodies that no sooner has one fascinating tune fixed itself in the mind than another comes to challenge its supremacy, with the result that at the end of the piece one is so surfeited with good things that they mix themselves up together in the most exasperating manner.

Having heard "The Merry Widow" once I am greedy to hear it again, and that, I think, will be the case with the great majority of the public. This is the factor which always makes for long runs, for the continued prosperity of a piece depends greatly on the repeat visits of those whom it delighted in the first instance.

PRESS REVIEW

(Daily Mail [London, UK] - January 3rd, 1908)
"THE MERRY WIDOW"

Today the luckiest light opera that was ever produced celebrates its second anniversary.

"The Merry Widow," written by Victor Leon and Leon Stein (who founded their book on a French original), with music by Franz Lehar, was performed for the first time on any stage on January 3, 1906, at the An der Wien Theatre, Vienna, and has since been played at something like 450 European theatres.

The making of "The Merry Widow" was as extraordinary as its career since production has been. Over and over again people in the theatrical business, as well as thousands of people out of it, wondered why it was not produced in London until eighteen months after that first night at Vienna. "There could have been no doubt about its success," they said after they had heard it, yet the fact remains that those who were financially responsible for putting it on at the An der Wien Theatre did not anticipate a success, and the first public performance was hurried on and given after only three rehearsals of the full company had been gone through. So slight was the expectation of a long run that another light opera was being mounted to take its place at short notice at the same time as its first performance was announced in the papers.

The reception accorded "The Merry Widow" by the Press and public alike soon convinced the management, however, that they had got possession of something exceptionally valuable, and in a few months Franz Lehar, ex-bandmaster of the 26th Infantry Regiment of the Austrian Army, became known, by his music, throughout Austria-Hungary and Germany.

EUROPE AND AMERICA CAPTIVATED

During the two years that have passed since that night when the little bandmaster was told that his work would not bring him fame or money, his "Merry Widow" has captivated the whole of civilised Europe. In America, where five companies are appearing in it, the rush for tickets at the New Amsterdam Theatre has been likened to the feverish crowding round the doors of a threatened bank.

In Vienna "The Merry Widow" has been performed 450 times, Berlin 400, St. Petersburg 300, Copenhagen 300, Cologne 200, Munich 200, Hamburg 300, Christiania 200. The total number of performanoes given in German has been over 12,000; in other than Germany 7,000. It is playing every evening in Europe in nine languages, and its performance has been witnessed by every monarch in the countries to which these languages belong. Our own King has seen it four times, the Queen once. The King and Queen of Spain and the Queen of Portugal witnessed it in London. And yet no play, as far as its production was concerned, has ever had a calmer career here than this one. Every week its receipts are the same, the theatre is always full. There is a positive monotony in the way this mascot play sweeps in the money everywhere every night!

£70,000 PROFIT FOR PUBLISHER

The Viennese music publisher, Bernhardt Herzmansky, has made over £70,000 profit out of the publication of the musical score. He got the concession for very little from the composer, who never expected to see the public buying his music. He almost looked upon the publisher as a brave man. Herzmansky, however, when found he had a fortune in the little bandmaster's music very generously gave him a new contract with higher royalties. So the composer fared well. Franz Lehar has been paid in fees for performances of his opera upwards of £60,000. The librettists have netted nearly £40,000. The An der Wien Theatre in Vienna has made a huge profit; so, too, have various other managements who have had the good fortune to play it.

In New York the gross receipts at the New Amsterdam Theatre are each week in excess of £4,000, and one can only guess how much the sale of the music amounts to. For the composer it was unfortunate that there was no copyright in his music in the United States, but Mr. Henry W. Savage, the manager who is running the opera there, is paying full fees on the theatre performances.

In London fifty thousand copies of the vocal score have been sold by the publishers, and they have supplemented the popularity of "The Widow" by selling two hundred thousand copies of the famous waltz which is danced in the second act.

PROTECTED FROM POPULARITY

The composer takes his good fortune very well. When Vienna found that "The Merry Widow" was much to their liking they took Franz Lehar in their arms every evening when he arrived at his favourite restaurant. That amused him very much. He is the most thoroughly quiet, good-humoured man to be met anywhere, so every night he uncomplainingly allowed himself to be carried shoulder-high to the piano, until the proprietor of the restaurant insisted on protecting his customer.

He is glad, he says, to be independent now. Money has made life easier, so he can work better. He has become director of the Raimend Theatre, Vienna, and his ambition is to make it a famous comic-opera house. He is an alert, industrious man of medium height, and is in his thirty-seventh year. He has fierce upturned moustaches beneath the merriest pair of eyes, and he still keeps his hair cut short, as he did when he was in the Army.

The first visit Franz Lehar paid to England was on an Austrian battleship; he was conductor of a marine band then. His second and last visit was to witness the final rehearsals of "The Merry Widow" at Daly's Theatre, and to lead the orchestra through them then and on the opening night. Ceremony he does not care about. He could not sneak a word of English, and he was very shy. After the dress rehearsal of his piece he was invited to join the company on the stage, where there was a light supper. But he was as timid as a wild rabbit. Champagne had no charms for him. He smiled and drank a glass. Then he got to the door and bolted. He knew that 12.30 was the closing time here, and he wanted just one glass of Pilsen and a cigar. He knew where to go too; he had found that out. It reminded him of Vienna, and in that retreat he spent an hour or two each evening until he returned to the Carlton to sleep.

NO TAMPERING ALLOWED BY AUDIENCE

The most remarkable thing about the London run of this Hungarian composer's play is that the audiences at Daly's Theatre seem to think that "The Merry Widow" belongs as much to them as to the management. When the piece had been running three months Mr. Edwardes introduced a slight change into the third act, but slight as it was the audience protested. There were shouts from pit and gallery on several consecutive nights. Mr. Edwardes persisted, so did the audience. Eventually he received a deputation, who told him that they wanted the play left as it was on the first night. Most of these protesters were people who go there every week, and after Mr. Edwardes had assured them that he would make no further changes whatever in the play an incident probably unique in its character ended.

In no country where "The Merry Widow" has been played has its success been attributed to the starring of an individual. In this case it is the name of the piece that is starred. At Daly's no fewer than three different actresses have appeared on one or other of the occasions when Miss Elsie was absent. Changes in the cast make no difference whatever in the reception accorded to the play. Everywhere else it is the same: it is the fame of the mascot piece that draws. The company that went north to Glasgow, where they are remaining for several weeks, had the rare experience of finding every seat for the first fortnight sold ten days before they left London. Another company from London opening at Portsmouth for Christmas had the same experience.

The Little bandmaster has captivated the world, and is making a fortune for everyone who has taken him up. The profit to the theatre managers and publishers concerned in the English performances and rights is estimated at two thousand pounds a week. "The Merry Widow" is a fortune hunter, but she is rich, and she makes others rich.

JAMES WATERS

The plot is of the romantic type made familiar to us by such pieces as "The Prisoner of Zenda." In this case the leading personages are natives of the petty kingdom of Marsovia, supposed to exist in the regions of the Balkans. The scene is laid in Paris, where the Prince is the secretary of the Marsovian Embassy. In his more youthful days he was enamoured of a very beautiful but poor girl, and would have married her, but his father intervened, the maiden was sent about her business, and she eventually married a millionaire, who died and left her a richly endowed young widow.

Sonia, the wealthy, was a personage of some importance to the state of Marsovia in as much as its exchequer was in a very low state, and for financial and diplomatic reasons it was most desirable that she should wed Prince Danilo. But his Royal Highness had been having a very lively time with the ladies who frequent that well-known restaurant, Maxim's, while the "merry widow" was being eagerly sought after on account of her wealth. Old and young offer her marriage, and eventually she meets the Prince at a ball at the Embassy in Paris. She is still in love with her old admirer, and he is with her, but it shall not be said that he married her for money. Sonia is determined that he shall propose to her, and so it becomes a game of cross-purposes. She is constantly endeavouring to force him to a declaration, while he is as constantly putting restraint on himself and holding back the words that are burning on his lips.

Such is the main essence of the plot, but there are subsidiary love affairs. The wife of Popoff, the Ambassador, is in love with the Vicomte Camille de Jolidon, and it is Popoff who suggests that his wife shall indulge in a harmless flirtation with the Vicomte in order to prevent his marrying the widow. These three roles provide Mr. George Graves, Mr. Robert Evett, and Miss Elizabeth Firth with excellent opportunities for comic and vocal display. Mr. Graves, in a part which reminds one somewhat of his General D'Ifs in "The LitHe Michus," is full of droll whimsicalities and resourceful touches of "business." Miss Firth and Mr. Evett have an early opportunity of proving their vocal worth in a capital duet (I am unable to name the respective numbers, as on the first night there were no books of the words, and no list of numbers inserted in the programme), and this led to the entrance of the merry widow, who was given a delightful waltz song. Mr. Evett's solo was another example of the composer's gift for writing for the voice, and Miss Elsie's song in the finale to the first act lost none of its beauty in the course of rendition.

The second act, which takes place in the grounds of Sonia's house, near Paris, opens with a captivating semi-oriental dance and chorus, with another very taking song for Miss Elsie. If one had doubts then as to the success of "The Merry Widow" they were speedily dispelled by the characteristic duet and dance for Miss Elsie and Mr. Coyne. The valse music in this number is absolutely intoxicating. In sensuousness it rivals Gounod's ballet music in the Kermesse scene in "Faust," and no higher compliment can be paid the composer. Miss Elsie danced with an abandon which was as entrancing as it was surprising. Barely had we escaped from the magic of this fascinating number ere we were taken into the sphere of serious opera, a duet for Miss Elizabeth Firth and Mr. Robert Evett, which was undoubtedly the best musical number of the piece from the musician's standpoint. It would not have been out of place in such an opera as "Carmen," and although it was followed by a charming sextet and a capital finale the influence of the duet remained uppermost in the mind.

The third act takes place at Maxim's, but while the melodious lilt of the music is maintained I did not find in it any fresh features of special interest, except a capital dance by Miss Mabel Russell.

In addition to the artists already named there were others who contributed their fair share towards tbe success of the production. Mr. Fred Kaye was as quaint as ever in his Kaye-isms as the pompous military attache. Mr. Lennox Pawle has ever a fund of unctuous humour at his command, and he used it whenever the authors (Victor Leon and Leo Stein) gave him the chance. Mr. W. H. Berry provided an admirable sketch of the messenger to the Legation. Mr. Roberts was quietly amusing as the waiter at Maxim's. It is a pity no use was made of Mr. Gordon Cleather's fine baritone voice, but if the music was not there for him to sing, the fault was not his or Mr. Edwardes'. Miss Nina Sevening and Miss Irene Desmond played prettily in minor roles, and the group of beautiful ladies who represented the girls at Maxim's would take a lot of beating at a beauty show. The chorus was excellent, and a splendid orchestra answered to all the demands of the composer, who on the first night occupied the conductor's chair, and was rewarded with a magnificent ovation. He well deserved it.

"What's in a name?" Well, according to Shakespeare - not much. But it is not on record that Shakespeare ever asked "What's in a frock?" He was too wise, for there is a good deal in a frock - to the average woman, anyway. I am quite sure that nine out of every ten women invariably break the Commandment which begins "Thou shalt not covet" whenever they are brought face to face with a particularly fascinating specimen of Madame la Mode's latest caprice. Now - I admit it frankly - I'm one of the nine, and as the gowns at Daly's are particularly fascinating, cela vet sans dire, that I not only admired - I coveted them. They appealed to me especially perhaps because they are so unlike the frocks you meet in everyday life.

They are essentially stage gowns, and so lavishly are they strewn, especially those in the second act (when Madame Sonia & Co. relapse into the dress of their native country) with gold and silver, that one cannot help wondering whether the dressmaker responsible for their production did not pay a surreptitious visit to Tom Tiddler's Land, where, or at least so it is said, gold and silver may be had for the asking. Their colour scheme throughout is really beautiful, and it is worthy of notice to mention that all the gowns in the first and third acts are, without exception, made in the Empire style. The highwaisted bodices, the long, trailing skirts, the tinted aigrette floating from perfectly dressed heads, how well they suit the tall, graceful Daly girls; and the Daly stage! but alas! how very little practicable for the average woman with the average dress allowance. But still, let us admit it, their effect is undoubtedly artistic.

Lucky Miss Elsie, of "The Merry Widow" Waltz fame, is, of course, specially favoured in her frocks. In the first act she is gowned in what appears to be woven sunshine, bu t is in reality a shimmer of silver and gold embroideries over oysterwhite satin. There is a foam of palest pink tulle edging the decolletage of the Empire bodice, and huge shoulder-knots of the same. A loose rose-pink wrap adorned with bands of silver and careless knots of rosebuds accompanies this gown.

In the second act she is clad in the costume of her native country. She is all black and gold, like an Arabian Night's dream. Over this dress she wears a "tabard" coat of cloth of gold, and her head-dress is a gorgeous affair of silver and gold with a cluster of silver and gold passion flowers at one side and gold-spangled long floating ends of black gauze.

In the third act Miss Elsie returns to modern dress, and wears a clinging white chiffon Empire gown over palest pink satin. There are gleams of silver on the long trailing skirt, which is beautifully embroidered round the hem with pink and blue chiffon blossoms. The short silver sleeves and the low-cut bodice are also edged with tassels and knots of palest blue net. With this gown she also wears an old rose satin coat trimmed with bands of black and gold and which in shape rather resembles an Egyptian burnous, and an immense black crinoline hat, banded round the crown with silver and two huge pink roses nestling under the brim.

Some lovely gowns also fall to Miss Elizabeth Firth's share. In the first act she wears a chiffon frock of a most uncommon shade of blue. The skirt has a broad hem of velvet of the same shade, and as Miss Firth moves there are hints of silver in its folds. Pale green velvet and pouts of white net outline the decolletage and the short tinsel sleeves. The gown she wears in the third act is a triumph of artistic skill. It is composed of black net over gold net over a foundation of mist-grey satin. Emerald velvet hems the skirt. Above is a border of sapphire net, and from this net spring trails of golden flowers. The high-waisted bodice is a riot of gold embroidery, and green and violet and blue velvet meet and fade away into each other. Round the shoulders is a cloud of black net. Altogether a gown fit for an Eastern queen. With it Miss Firth wears an enormous black-and-white hat trimmed with a medley of the same hued feathers. Her "fancy" dress in the second act is of primrose crepe-de-chine hemmed with silver. Its accompanying "tabard" coat is of oxidised tissue bordered with black fur and buttercup satin. The head-dress is all silver and gold with one huge silken tassel and a fluffy yellow osprey.

Miss Nina Sevening wears in the first act an Empire gown of pale blue glace silk with a skirt quite guiltless of trimming. The white and gold bodice is relieved with trails of exquisitely shaded roses, and the broad belt is silver and blue. Her dress in the second act is of cream and gold tissue relieved with red gold-encrusted embroideries, and her cream velvet coat is edged with brown fur. Her quaint head-dress has long floating ends of yellow chiffon, and is further adorned by a huge silken tassel. In the third act she makes her entry in a pink satin gown. A multitude of rosy net frills adorn the skirt, and the highwaisted bodice is trimmed with roses and net of the same shade. With this dress she wears a very becoming white chip hat trimmed with pink ospreys and a hanging lace veil.

Miss Desmond also has two lovely dresses, one of blue chiffon beautifully hand painted with garlands of pink roses, the Empire bodice swathed with pink chiffon and gold spotted net, the other a gorgeous affair of purple chiffon over blue - the blue that is exactly the colour of the sky on a summer's night, and golden embroideries scattered all over it with a lavish hand. A dainty yellow wrap with knots of velvet tucked cosily here and there among its folds also falls to her share. In the third act her fancy dress is composed of violet crepe-de-chine lined with old rose satin, and the accompanying "tabard" coat is of filmy gold tissue.

So much for the dresses of the principals. I will spare you details of the frocks worn by Prince Danilo's giddy friends Lo-Lo, Frou-Frou, Clo-Clo, and so on, for they are all of the same fashioning as those I have just described to you, and, as the wilderness of old, the Daly stage with their presence blossoms like the rose. Messrs. Gainsborough are responsible for the extremely becoming and artistic hats worn throughout the piece.