“On Saturday evening Miss Sterling gave a concert at Steinway Hall. The musical attractions have been so numerous this fall, and the demand upon the purse so heavy, that Steinway Hall has been the scene of many disappointments. Witness the Prince Galitzin’s concerts and many others of greater excellence and equal failure. It is therefore all the more to the credit of Miss Sterling’s popularity that she was able to fill the hall. It was a substantial and well-deserved recognition of her artistic worth.
The concert was a pleasant one. It opened with Schubert’s quartette in D minor (for stringed instruments), a posthumous work and a favorite with the famous Florentine quartette club, who brought it prominently into notice. There is a place for everything, and certainly an ordinary popular concert is not the place for all the fine movements of a stringed quartette. It is sure to weary an audience however well played, for such a composition is not easily apprehended [sic] by any but musicians. This is especially true of the work in question, the andante and scherzo of which alone are simple enough in structure to address the general ear. Dr. Damrosch played the first violin in the quartette, and in a subsequent part of the programme played the second and third movements from Mendelssohn’s E minor concerto. Such a work is deprived of half its significance and more than half its beauty when the bald accompaniment of a pianoforte is substituted for the rich and varied support of an orchestra. Dr. Damrosch is a man of musical learning and an excellent player, but he has neither the sentiment, the grace, nor the delicacy requisite to the proper interpretation of the exquisite and essentially feminine andante of this concerto.
He is essentially a man possessed of many qualities to command respect and esteem, and yet his playing falls short of the highest attainment. It lacks, for reasons that are plain, but that we have not space to give, the power of strongly moving his audiences. A quartette of amateurs—Messrs. Bush, Rockwood, Beckett, and Aiken—sang Thomas Cooke’s elaborate glee, ‘Strike the Lyre,’ and Horsley’s ‘Retire, my Love,’ a composition of equal intricacy and even greater beauty. Mr. Mills played the Chopin C sharp minor study, to which he has for so many years shown his partiality, and which no other person plays so well, also a salterella of his own.
So much for the accessories.
As to Miss Sterling, we have never heard her sing so well or so effectively. Usually there has been too much repose in her manner, the feeling that she undoubtedly has for music being apparently withheld and her personality not carried into her art. There are many persons, both pianists and singers, who have a seeming repugnance to lay bare their emotions before a public audience by the exhibition of the passion emotion that the right interpretation of the work in hand calls for, or to connect their emotions with their voices. But this reserve is fatal to art—as fatal on the one hand as over-demonstration is on the other. It is the business of the true artist to express the emotion, and if it is not actually felt then to simulate it. This expression Miss Sterling gave on Saturday evening more fully than we have before heard her, both in her English songs and in the three German lieder by Schubert, Schumann, and Mendelssohn, a class of music with which she has a keen sympathy and in the interpretation of which she has few rivals.
An aria admirably suited to her voice, from Rossini’s ‘Italiana in Algeri,’ was also smoothly and felicitously given. Miss Sterling has a large and noble voice, and in quality it is of exceptional beauty. She carries to her hearers the sense of power, and the impression that she is in the possession of natural attributes and gifts that, properly directed and utilized, should make her the foremost contralto in America. Steinway Hall is, in point of size, well suited to her voice. Smaller halls are too limited for its breadth and volume.
The songs which evidently pleased the greatest number of her hearers were Gow’s ‘Caller Herrin’—the same that Agnes Robertson used to make an effect with years ago—and John Hullah’s ‘Three Fishers,’ which was given with great pathos. In actual musical merit these pieces were not to be compared with the German selections; but an audience responds generously to any artist who addresses it intelligently in its own language, and vocalists fling the priceless aid of their native tongue too readily aside, and forfeit half their power by using foreign words and leaving the music to tell obscurely its own story.”