Philharmonic Society of New York Concert: 2nd

“This well-known instrumental organization, which claims to be the leading musical society in America, gave one of their characteristic concerts at the Academy last night. There was a large attendance as a matter of course, and corresponding enthusiasm on the part of those present. The programme of this society is a small four-paged affair. On the first page are the names, only the names, of the pieces performed; on the second, the names of the one hundred performers, many of which are outlandish, unpronounceable words; in the third comes the board of directors, and in the fourth a few lines complaining about people who come in late. Such a programme, we emphatically say, is a disgrace to any musical society and an insult to the public. Compare it with the clever little brochure issued by the Church Music Association. In the latter there is something to read, something to be interested in. Every work that is performed is explained in a brief, comprehensive sketch, which places both artists and amateurs en rapport with each composer. This is not only useful, but necessary, in order to make an audience feel a satisfaction in either a concert or any other description of entertainment. Suppose a theatrical manager should place alone on his bill the name of the drama or comedy, without announcing the cast or giving a synopsis of the play. There would be instantly an outburst of indignation, and deservedly, too. In the hands of the Philharmonic audience last night was placed the above mentioned four-page bill, containing, on the first page, the following words:--Symphony, Ocean, first time, Rubinstein; concerto in C minor, op. 37, Beethoven, first movement, for the pianoforte, with orchestral accompaniment, Mr. Richard Hoffman; overture, ‘Anacreon,’ Cherubini; barcarolle, from the fourth concerto, W. S. Bennett, Mr. Richard Hoffman; overture, ‘Ruy Blas,’ Mendelssohn.’ This is a poor and lame apology for a respectable programme. It tells nothing, explains nothing. On the next page come such names as Pfeiffenschneider, Steckelberg, Schullinger, and Lautenschlager. What, in the name of goodness, do people care for these individuals? How much better if instead of such horrible names we had a description of the music in the programme. We remarked last night a considerable falling off in the fashion of the Philharmonic audience, thanks to the stupidity of the society in not retaining the best president they ever had—Professor R. Ogden Doremus. His successor does not seem to have the slightest idea of what a Philharmonic audience requires. Again, there is a universal complaint about the wretched manner in which the seats are distributed, and we heard many indignant charges of favoritism against the management. Such things only tend to bring the once favored Philharmonic Society into disgrace and culminate in their downfall and annihilation.

 

Regarding the performance last night, which was entirely instrumental (and another grave error), we must praise the symphony and Mendelssohn’s work. The last movement of the former was spun out to an unnecessary extent, and the conductor did not seem to catch the spirit of the composer. Cherubini’s work might in some parts be mistaken for selections from ‘Don Giovanni.’ Hoffman played with his accustomed grace, power and finish; but never in a concert have our ears been afflicted by a worse instrument than the one set before him. At each touch on the keys it seemed as if wood alone were the resonant principle. Hoffman is an artist in the highest sense of the word, and certainly he deserves better treatment. In conclusion we would advise the Philharmonic Society, if they really intend holding their own in this city, to adopt a different style of management, and remember that this is not the sixteenth century.”

“For over a quarter of a century the Philharmonic Society has successfully breasted all [illegible] and vicissitudes, and has shown an amount of musical vitality scarcely equaled by any other organization of its kind. It has gathered within its ample folds the young, the old and most cultivated members of our family circles. Its orchestra has always been composed of the best musicians in our city, and its selections made from the leading composers of the world. Apart from the opera, it has done more to create, mould and mature the musical taste of our youth than any other society in our city, and now ranks among its members some of our most substantial and [illegible] people.

On Saturday evening its one hundred and twenty-ninth concert took place at the Academy of Music. The five pieces on the programme were taken from Rubinstein, Beethoven, Cherubini, W. S. Bennett and Mendelssohn, thus showing the unity of musical genius in a variety of nationalities and races. As vocalization is only an accessory of the Philharmonic concerts, it may be dispensed with as it was on this occasion, without impairing the integrity of the concert.

 

The Rubinstein symphony, ‘Ocean,’ was studded with musical beauties, and as harmonious in its varied pulsations as the mighty element it photographed in such vivid sounds. The ‘Concerto’ of Beethoven had the breadth, the simplicity and inexhaustible variety of that great master, and found a sympathetic and artistic interpretation in the piano playing of Mr. Richard Hoffmann, with the accompaniment of the orchestra. The overture to ‘Anacreon,’ by the Gallicised Italian, Cherubini, had the force, variety and dramatic effect of that prolific composer. Mr. Hoffmann played, with orchestral accompaniment, a ‘Barcarole’ of W. S. Bennett, with a delicacy of touch, a purity of tone and a lusciousness of melody which captivated everybody present. It was melody itself wafted over a bank of violets, and equally owing its birth to the twin genius of the composer and the interpreter. The overture to ‘Ruy Blas,’ by Mendelssohn, concluded the entertainment, and was given with an orchestral completeness peculiar to the masterly conductorship of Carl Bergmann.”

“The second concert of the Philharmonic Society was given at the Academy of Music on Saturday evening. Its interesting features were the performance of works by three composers whose names but seldom appear in our concert programmes--Rubinstein, Cherubini, and Sterndale Bennett. We observe with pleasure that Rubinstein’s name is gradually becoming familiarized to the public. He has written much in almost every form of composition, and always scientifically and well. His chamber music, especially his trios, are strong and vigorous. His pianoforte compositions are fresh in their motives and brilliantly treated. Both Miss Mehlig and Miss Krebs have played some of them at their concerts. His songs are good, especially his twelve duets for soprano and alto, which are worthy to rank with Mendelssohn’s two-part songs, and are like them in some respects, yet not imitated. The symphony entitled ‘Ocean,’ played by the Society on this occasion for the first time, shows that in the broader field of orchestral composition Rubinstein is also a master. The treatment and coloring of his themes has all the freedom of the modern school without its exaggeration.

 

The Cherubini overture was that to ‘Anacreon.’ It is to be regretted that this eminent Italian, who preserved the grace and purity of the earlier writers of his native land, should have written so little for orchestra, since he could write so well.

 

Mr. Richard Hoffman played an exceedingly delicate, quiet, and graceful barcarolle from Bennett’s fourth concerto for piano and orchestra, and played it thoroughly in the spirit in which it was composed. He also gave the first movement of the familiar but always welcome and delightful Beethoven concerto in C minor.

 

Mr. Hoffman is not one of those declamatory players who are heard to greater advantage the larger the building in which they perform. The aroma of his art is lost and dissipated in great spaces. There are players—and Leopold De Meyer was one of them—who seek to triumph over the instrument by sheer force. Their test of merit seems to be the number of pounds avoirdupois with which they can strike the keys. But Mr. Hoffman is not of this kind. He does not seek to make the instrument a field for display of his muscle, but of his intelligence. His playing is instinct with delicacy. It if refinement—in fact, it is that of an artist.

 

The piano is a much-abused instrument, and is subjected to many disadvantages by being pushed forward in places unsuited to its capabilities. It commands really quite a limited area of space. Its tones are not penetrating like those of the violins or the reeds, or sonorous like those of the brass instruments. In spite of its size, it is of comparatively feeble power. Its transition from piano to forte, from which it takes its name, is not great even under the hands of the strongest player, and all its effects are of a very delicate character. One should sit within a circle of twenty or thirty feet from the piano, while he may without loss be twice that distance from almost any orchestral instrument. All players, therefore, and all pianos, are at a disadvantage in the Academy; and those who wish really to hear and enjoy Mr. Hoffman’s playing, must attend the pianoforte soirées that he is to give during this and the following months at Chickering’s rooms.”

The issue containing this review is missing from America’s Historical Newspapers; the version below was copied from Dwight's Journal of Music. Two elipses indicate omissions.

 

“Rubinstein’s Symphony does not belong to that bastard order of compositions called ‘programme music,’ which need a page of description to explain what they are vainly attempting to imitate,--as the music had no higher aim than to reproduce the sound of nature, or to describe, by inarticulate notes, scenes, and sentiments which can be much better expressed in written language…If we are asked what are the leading ideas suggested by this Symphony, we answer, immensity and irresistible force. Both these are indicated with wonderful distinctness in the first movement (allegro maestoso), wherein a rather simple theme is treated with admirable breadth, and wrought into a sweeping fortissimo passage worthy of one of the old classical composers. The second movement (adagio), opening with a graceful duet between the strings and reeds, and the scherzo, wherein the lively measure gives place for a time to a few slow and almost mournful phrases, are distinguished for clear and spontaneous melody. The final allegro confuoco embodies some of the most powerful writing and richest instrumentation in the whole work. Here the idea of repressed force, which has all along been occasionally perceptible, seems to get the mastery; and as, when the terrors of nature show their full power we are taught to look above for safety, the symphony reaches its climax in an adaptation of Luther’s choral, ‘A Stronghold is our God’—not treated, indeed, with very marked strength, but most ingeniously and strikingly introduced. The work, as a whole, leaves an excellent impression. Its effects are attained by thoroughly legitimate means, and in forcible, compact, and distinct writing we know of few compositions of the modern school to compare with it. We need hardly say (the work being Rubinstein’s) that the harmonies are superb, and that the handling of the different components of the orchestra affords a noble study…There is little to be said about Mr. Hoffman’s playing except what we have so often said before, that in technical accuracy, in refinement, and in grace, it is almost without a blemish. He is one of the best American interpreters of Beethoven’s piano music, and he gave the first movements of the C minor concerto deliciously. Even better than this, however, was his playing of the lovely Barcarole of Sterndale Bennett’s—one of the most exquisitely delicate bits of execution that we ever heard on a piano. He was recalled after it, and played a little piece—we believe his own—conceived in a somewhat similar spirit.”

 

Reprinted from the New York Tribune in Dwight’s Journal of Music, 01/11/71, p. 381-382.