Philharmonic Society of New-York Concert: 6th

“The Academy of Music was crowded, as usual, last night, as the numerous friends of the Philharmonic Society thronged to hear their last musical essay this season. The programme was varied enough, but not, as a general thing, up to the required standard of merit. [Lists program; calls Schumann’s Symphony No. 2 “one of his loveliest symphonies” and calls Liszt “that terrible pest of all musicians.”] The symphony is rich to excess in ideas and varied treatment, and has been played before by the society a few years ago. Mr. Bergmann in it seemed not to have sufficient consideration for his devoted followers for the tempo in the scherzo and finale was something terrible. An army of Paganinis could not do justice to the immensely difficult string passages in both those movements at the rate in which they were driven, and some parts of the scherzo were merely a scramble among the violins. Miss Mehlig played the concerto with her usual delicacy, finish and spirituelle expression, and gave the interpolated cadenza by Hans von Bülow with spirit and completeness. This cadenza is a truly great work, and a long one, too, for the occasion, extending over eight pages of manuscript, but it has as much reference to the concerto as the Wedding March from ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ would have in the Heroic Symphony. We are willing to absolve Wagner from many of his capital sins against music, on account of the magnificent finale he gave us last night. It was sung by the Arion Society (mixed chorus), with tenor and baritone solos by Messrs. Candidus and Remmertz. The style, instrumentation, coloring and effects are entirely those of ‘Lohengrin.’ The solos were beyond the powers of the two gentlemen to whom they were entrusted, lying wholly in the upper registers of both voices and calling forth strident efforts which few voices are capable of sustaining. There were many palpable breaks in the rendering last night. The instrumentation, especially in the episodial passages, was characterized by the true Wagnerian devil-may-carishness. Reminiscences of Weber came in occasionally. Gade’s work is rather fragmentary, but good throughout. The Danish composer has few equals in Europe at the present day, and he is a masterly interpreter of any subject. If anything could surpass in pure musical insanity the Dante symphony of Liszt it would be the selection from his oratorio played and sung last night. It is the veriest nonsense that ever entered the human mind on the score of music. Commencing with a sort of introductory breakdown for the trombones it wanders, bellows, strides and indulges in the most extraordinary pranks. St. Elizabeth of Hungary must have been a martyr of the first water, if she suffered one-half of what the auditors of her musical biography endure whenever they are compelled to listen to it. The last notes of the dying swan are said to be the sweetest. So it was with the finale of the last concert of the Philharmonic Society. Beethoven’s overture is the best of the four he wrote under the name of ‘Fidelio’ or ‘Leonora,’ being more spontaneously melodious and addressing itself to every one capable of appreciating music. Now that the society has closed its labors for the season, a few words of advice would not be inappropriate. Let them pay more attention to their programmes and have nothing but first class music on them. Liszt should be entirely thrown overboard, with the sole exception of his ‘Preludes.’ They must be careful in their selection of soloists and close their doors against mere amateurs. Such instrumentalists as Mills, Mehlig and Ole Bull, and such vocalists as Parepa and Kellogg, are always welcome to the public, but amateurs should be compelled to seek other occasions to display their crudeness. Again, whenever there is occasion for choral singing, let as [sic] have some of Meyerbeer’s or Weber’s operatic finales, or even those of the Italian masters, and let the choruses be properly placed, so that they may not be overpowered by the orchestra. Lastly, we decidedly object to the programmes furnished to the audience. They explain nothing, and treat of great works as if everybody understood all about them. Even the minstrels and burlesque theatres do more to satisfy their patrons. Let each programme have either a condensed history or explanation of each work, so that the Philharmonic audience can know what they are listening to. They do these things better in Europe. The society has prospered to an unexpected extent under the presidency of Dr. Doremus, and to him in particular their thanks are due for much of the financial success of the past season.”

“The concert given at the Academy of Music by the Philharmonic Society last evening was the sixth and last of the season. The impression made by the earlier rehearsal was that a more satisfactory programme might have been provided for the culmination of a series of concerts of at least fair merit. It was confirmed by each successive hearing of the music selected, and finally by the general sentiment yesterday. The programme was not classical enough to command undivided attention, and was hardly acceptable to the ordinary spectator. Schumann, with his rich and varied instrumentation, if romantic, is vague, and Wagner and Liszt are decisively wearisome, judging these composers, at all events, by their contributions to the entertainment we write of. Schumann was represented by the symphony No. 2 in C. Of the four movements the first, a sostenuto assai, has no marked character; the second, an allegro non troppo, is a series of tormented passages illustrative of extreme restlessness rather than pure gayety; the third is a sweet and almost tuneful adagio expressivo; and the fourth an allegro, fresh and spirited. The four movements were thoroughly well played, the second demanding and receiving extreme precision of tempo as well as a constant changefulness of shading, and the third, though the time might have been taken somewhat faster, being rendered with a greater appreciation of the effect of the motive than the slow recitation of the previous day foreshadowed. After the symphony, which, be it said, was the best part of the bill, Miss Anna Mehlig played with thoughtfulness and delicacy, Beethoven’s concerto in G, the cadenza by Hans von Bulow being given at its close. The chorus from the ‘Meistersinger,’ by Wagner, was quite disappointing, principally in respect of its own merits; the solos were sung by Messrs. Candidus and Remmertz. Part Second opened with Gade’s ‘Reminiscences of Ossian,’ which, though not of profound significance, is devoid neither of melody nor of suggestions of the subject it relates to. A chorus from Liszt’s oratorio of the ‘Crusaders’ was next sung, with as cheerless consequences as attended the execution of Wagner’s. Beethoven’s ‘Fidelio’ overture, No. 4, was the last piece of the evening.”

Lists program.

“The orchestra of the Philharmonic Society under the direction of Mr. Bergmann is generally so good that we have no excuse to find fault with it. If we take some exception to its execution of the Schumann Symphony on Saturday evening it is with no disposition to judge too severely a performance which in most respects was excellent. The second and fourth movements (allegro ma non troppo and allegro), with their broken rhythm, suspensions, and eccentric pauses, are extremely difficult, and in the former of them especially the playing degenerated at times into a helter-skelter hurry very different from the neat and precise style which usually characterizes this orchestra and which was conspicuous indeed in other parts of the programme on Saturday. The overtures were admirably given. Gade’s ‘Ossian’ is a good descriptive work, notable for distinct character and scholarly writing, and Beethoven’s fourth ‘Fidelio’ overture, at the end of the evening, filled our minds with repose, and sent us home contented. The concerto in G, of which Miss Mehlig played a part, is one of the best known of Beethoven’s piano compositions, and if we are not mistaken it has been heard several times of late in New-York—it certainly was played at a Philharmonic concert last season—but we have never heard it rendered with more feeling and intelligence than by the delightful artist who undertook it on this occasion. How well she understands Beethoven she had already shown us at the fourth Philharmonic Concerto this Spring; and indeed whatever she does we can always have an assured confidence that she will do well. The cadenza which she introduced was Von Bülow’s—brilliant, elaborate, and totally unsuitable, for Beethoven and Von Bülow mingle about as well as oil and water.

“It is of course no more than right that a society like the Philharmonic should give us specimens now and then of the new school of music represented by Liszt and Wagner, but this season we have really been afflicted with modern vagaries far beyond our deserts. Of Wagner’s ‘Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg,’ which is now in European opera-houses the direful spring of woes un[illeg.], and the occasion of fierce musical warfare, revolutions behind the curtain, and combats among the audience, nothing we believe has heretofore been publicly performed in New-York except the overture, which (like almost all the novelties we have had for some years) was brought out by Theodore Thomas. The chorus of mixed voices given on Saturday by the Arion Society and an auxiliary force of ladies, is not devoid of a certain grandeur, is in many passages impressive, and now and then almost becomes melodious, but it is a singularly unpleasant work, struggling with immense pains after effects which it never reaches, and creating difficulties which it never resolves. Two threads of solo run through it. One was given by Mr. Candidus, tenor, the other by Mr. Remmertz, baritone. Both did well in a very ungrateful duty. But if the ‘Meistersinger’ chorus was unpleasant, the chorus of crusaders from Liszt’s oratorio of ‘St. Elizabeth’ was little else than repulsive. Only the most fanatical devotee of the new school could bear it; for our part, we have not willing to call this music. The performance of neither chorus was very good, and more than once Mr. Bergmann lost that quiet and self-possessed manner which makes him to the eye of the audience on ordinary occasions one of the pleasantest of conductors.”

“At the closing concert on Saturday evening of the present Philharmonic season, Schumann, Beethoven, Wagner, Gade and Liszt were the composers represented on the programme. In Schumman’s symphony in C, Gade’s ‘Reminiscences of Ossian’ and Beethoven’s ‘Fidelio’ overture the orchestra under Mr. Bergmann found ample opportunity for the exercise of their best powers. Miss Mehlig’s performance of the first movement of a Beethoven concerto was in that eminent pianist’s most masterly style. The choral music of the Arion Society presented features of the novelty in extracts from Liszt’s ‘St. Elizabeth’ and Wagner’s ‘Meistersinger;’ but novelty was the only attraction of these selections.”

Merely notes that the performance took place.

“The Performing Members of the Philharmonic Society of this city divide about $130 apiece for their season’s work, which includes six concerts, with eighteen public and about twelve private rehearsals.”

Part of a very long article on the damaging role of “the music of the future” in America, focusing in large part on the Boston orchestral scene.

“…Meanwhile the New York Philharmonic Society, the oldest and most respectable of the Orchestral Societies in this country, seems to have been teaching the same lesson lately by holding up examples to be shunned; running after strange Gods: Wagner, Liszt, &c.; introducing the ‘sensational’ element into its programmes, and catering to caprice. The vigorous, new administration worked to a charm for a while; concerts and rehearsals were thronged by all the votaries of Fashion. Another season is just over. But it appears that, after all, the music lovers are already weary of the ‘Future’ coveted so eagerly by some. There has been much complaint and falling off in the attendance. The following comments on the last concert, taken from Watson’s Art Journal—though some of the sentences are not in the best taste, and some not quite intelligible—doubtless express a pretty common feeling among the truest music-lovers, and therefore among the only class who can be counted on in any city for the permanent nucleus of an audience for serial concerts of the highest order:

“‘The last concert of the present season of the ancient and renowned Philharmonic Society, took place at the Academy of Music last Saturday evening. It was not very largely attended; the audience was fashionable and numerous for another concert, but barely three-fourths of the usual Philharmonic audiences. We shall not presume at this moment to speculate upon the causes of this very perceptible diminution in the numbers present at some of the concerts of the present Philharmonic season. We may touch upon this point possibly, in our review of the past season of the New York Philharmonic Society, and what it has done for art in its integrity. At this moment we can only say, that the past season should have been a success, for Dr. R. Ogden Doremus was always on hand, to lead on the ladies, who vouchsafed their services to the society, and to give away the material substance of the society to generous hearted volunteers; garnishing the gifts with honeyed words of figurative and mellifluous extolment. That Carl Bergmann was always there with unlimited powers to ride his hobby to death, and to thrust down the throats of the confiding, but over-simple subscribers the mad musical monstrosities of Berlioz, Liszt, and Wagner. We cannot blame Mr. Bergmann, he is a German and is naturally impelled to sustain the honor of his people. It is, of course, the dominant musical intelligence of the great American nation, it rules the opera in the Bowery. It is the arbiter of taste in our private salons; it elevates and enlivens our funerals, and it animates our parades; it is the satisfactory elements which deadens (!) [sic] the delicate and infinitesimal feet of our dainty and spiritual American maiden. It nauseates with bad music the unnumbered audiences for our multitudinous theatres. It makes and unmakes managers, and in short, it does pretty much as it pleases, and nobody can say it nay!

“For all this we are very much obliged, and we recognized the force of the stand taken, for we, being an easy, but self-sustained people, must submit, carelessly, to the control of somebody, and as the great Irish nation condescends to exert a gentle and imperceptible influence over our politics, so our aesthetic German citizens kindly consent to take and holds us by the ears through an exquisite concord of sweet and sensuous sounds.

“Still, with all the advantages we have mentioned, we cannot but look upon the past season of the Philharmonic Society as a comparative failure on the whole. It is true that the great and much-to-be-worshiped amateur element has condescended to stoop down and mingle, in an aristocratic way, with the more professional, but we have not observed any elevating result arising therefrom. The condescension was, of course, overwhelming, but we would humbly and falteringly remark that, while the coalition, which was spontaneous and complete as oil and water, was very damaging to the society, it was infinitely more so to the amateurs.

“Of the last concert, we do not care to say much. Schumann’s symphony in C is the least interesting of all his works of that class. It is very much spun out, very labored, stiff, and possesses even less spontaneity than his manner usually exhibits. It was fairly played, but its performance was by no means up to the Philharmonic standard. Gade’s overture, ‘Reminiscence of Ossian,’ should have been called ‘a Mendelssohn,’ and a diluted reminiscence at that. Wagner’s chorus, from his ‘Meistersinger,’ possesses some beautiful points of instrumentation, and some tender and impassioned phrases, how arrived at is a mystery profound; but the good that is in it is quite overshadowed by the fearful vocal and instrumental riot, which grows wilder and more furious the more the officer in command waves his baton in the vain endeavor to harmonize the conflicting elements. As a writer for the voice, Wagner outrages every vocal principle, and refuses to recognize registers or compass; what he requires to be done must be accomplished although the larynx split! His needs are imperative, and poor humanity must suffer in throat and ears.

“As if to offset the raving of Wagner, Liszt, in his coldest and most uncompromising mood of musical ascetism [sic] and melodic barrenness, is introduced on the same programme! We shivered to the bone when we heard those blatant ravings with which the selection from his oratorio of ‘Elizabeth’ commenced, and listened in a state of blank despair, as the horrors of mechanical, soulless, devil-inspired musical discord multiplied. We looked around and we found the same hopelessness, combined with a stolid expression of resignation upon every face—no, not on every face! One countenance beamed with supernal brightness, glowing with a sort of rare ecstacy [sic], which could hardly be surpassed, even by the application of hot iron to the soles of the feet. Thus Bergmann stood, and seemed to drink in melodic rheumatism and harmonic gout at every pore. It is upon such food that he lives and grows fat! Gott in himmel, wot a beebles!

“Beethoven’s Concerto and his great Fidelio Overture No. 4, redeemed the audience from insanity; they were finely performed. Miss Anna Mehlig, in the Concerto, displayed all those fine points which we have credited her with in previous articles. She was very cordially called, and played, in admirable style, Paganini’s Campanella, varied by Liszt, when temporarily sane. And so ended the Philharmonic season of 1869-70. A review of its achievements would certainly paint a moral, if it would not adorn a tale.’

“Now, mingled with the wholesome truth of the above there are, to be sure, some things smacking of unreason. The sneer at the German influence in our music seems willfully blind to all but the more coarse and vulgar kind of German musicianship; and that is more apt to be Italian or French in its inspirations, than to be genuine German. Surely the writer will not deny that the best German influence among us has been a good one; for that would be denying Beethoven and Mozart. Then again, we do not think him just to Schumann. The English prejudice peeps out there; but not in so virulent a form as we have sometimes met it, where Schumann has been classed in the same category with Liszt and Wagner,—which is almost equal to the wild ingenuity of our young friend’s discovery of a resemblance (in spirit too!) between Wagner and Sebastian Bach! Nevertheless, mutatis mutandis, it is evident that the musical heart of the great body of true music-lovers, after listening to those specimens of Liszt and Wagner, would say Amen to the general tone of the remarks which we have copied. And we have heard more than one prominent member of that same New York Philharmonic Orchestra privately confess, and in sad earnest, to the same conviction.”

Continues about Boston.