Church Music Association Concert

“The great feature of the concert of the Church Music Association last night was Beethoven’s Mass in D. This is a composition of stupendous difficulties, not much less formidable than the Choral Symphony. It was written in the last period of the master’s life, when the grandeur of his conceptions seemed to soar so far beyond ordinary forms of expression that they were often thought to be impossible of execution. Properly performed, the works of this period are the most sublime and impressive in the whole range of music; but when the orchestra is imperfectly trained and the chorus weak, ragged, and uncertain, there is no music more disappointing. Whether to praise the Church Music Association for their zeal in presenting this Mass for the first time to an American audience, or to blame their rashness in attempting a task for which they were so obviously unfitted, we find it difficult to decide. Their chorus, which is the weakest for one of its size, and the crudest for one of its pretensions that we ever heard, is very far from having attained the necessary discipline for such serious business, and the most we can say for it is that it got through without any great catastrophe. The author of the programme deprecated criticism on account of the immense difficulties of the score and the few weeks allowed for preparation. But meagre preparation is not an excuse, for the Association was under no compulsion to bring out the Mass until it had been sufficiently rehearsed. The solo parts, which are quite as difficult as the chorus, were intrusted to Madame Jaworska, Miss Antonia Henne, Mr. Leggatt, and Mr. Remmertz. Madame Jaworska was very bad, Miss Henne good, Mr. Remmertz very good, and Mr. Leggatt good now and then.”

“The elegant appearance presented by Steinway Hall on the evenings of the concerts by the Church Music Association has now become quite a familiar sight. The crowded auditorium last night was aptly reflected in the well-dressed groups collected on the platform. About the entire assemblage there was an air of marked culture and refinement.

“The music announced for the performance was such as to require a cultured audience. Beethoven’s Mass in D is a colossal work, which needs frequent hearing and close study to be fairly appreciated. It is not merely a vocal composition with instrumental accompaniment; it is a massive orchestral symphony, over which has been placed a choral structure of unequalled elaboration. To the singers it is peculiarly difficult, because the orchestration, instead of giving aid—instead of leading off the phrases with the voice—is so constructed as to be directly opposed to the vocal parts in time and in notes. The singers, either principals or chorus, must be perfectly at home in their parts. They have nothing to sustain them, and thus the success they may gain is fairly and legitimately earned. Through the choral masses of the music is interwoven a series of quartet passages for four single voices, and the contrasts with the chorus thus formed are in many respects most striking. Of melody, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, there is but little; but every other advanced form of music is amply represented. The fugue is frequently introduced, and with splendid effect. In the ‘Benedictus’ there is a bit of graceful melody, in a violin obligato played last night by Mr. Carl Hamm. When this Mass was sung at the Beethoven Centenary festival at Bonn last year, this obligato was allotted to Joachim. It is in triple time, and presents a constant, flowing theme, not unlike that of Handel’s ‘Pastoral Symphony’ or his ‘He shall feed his flock.’ In the Agnus Dei there is a specimen of dramatic recitative different in style from anything else in the Mass. Any protracted analysis of the work is, however, rendered unnecessary by the excellent synopsis of the Mass from the pen of Dr. Pech, which was distributed to the audience last night and which with its musical illustrations, gives an admirable idea of the general structure of this masterpiece, probably the most difficult and stupendous composition ever written.

“The creditable manner in which the ladies and gentlemen of the Church Music Association performed this difficult work is worthy of the warmest praise. There were deficiencies, it is true. In several of the more difficult fugues there was an evident timidity, and in the anxiety to get the notes correctly the pianissimo chords, which frequently occur in the course of the composition, were not sung with that light softness which they required. But when it is remembered that this knotty, peculiar music, which is to the singer peculiarly ungracious in its unusual sequences and unvocal progressions, was even fairly mastered after only a few weeks’ rehearsal, by a body of earnest amateurs, the achievement is certainly one of which our musical circles may feel proud. Their thanks are also due to Madame Jaworska, Miss Henne, Mr. Leggatt and Mr. Remmertz for their careful singing in the quartet parts where the music demands intellect as well as skill, while it contains nothing to feed the personal vanity of the vocalist. On this point, Dr. Pech in his brochure, remarks: ‘Beethoven was never so merciless to the voices as in this Mass. Its tempi are always changing unexpectedly; its progressions are new and difficult, and (if we may venture to use such an expression) crabbed, and its score seems a series of pitfalls for everybody engaged in its execution. A perfect performance of the work, after but a few weeks devoted to its study and rehearsal, is hardly to be hoped for.’ In all probability the Mass will be repeated next season, as it should be. Further rehearsals will bring out still more forcibly the splendid sweep of the sopranos and the grandiose tread of the bassos of this fine society. They did nobly last night; nor were the tenors and altos far behind them.

“The evening’s programme also concluded [sic] the music of Mendelssohn’s unfinished opera of ‘Loreley.’ After the intricate and somber harmonies of the Mass, its exquisite melodies come like the rainbow after the thunderstorm. The ‘Ave Maria’ was excellently sung by the ladies of the chorus, Mrs. Imogene Brown taking the solo, and in a long sostenuto note, in which her voice fell on the ear as gently and sweetly as the summer rose leaves on the grass, winning instant and cordial applause. In the more exacting music of the finale she sang with fine effect. The vintage song for male voices was promptly encored, and the ‘Loreley’ music left with every hearer a desire to hear it again.

“Two overtures were played during the evening—Handel’s prelude to ‘Acis and Galatea,’ and Benedict’s ‘Undine’ overture. The latter is a delicate bit of orchestration, chiefly for strings and the lighter wood instruments, and formed a fitting introduction to Mendelssohn’s vocal and orchestral treatment of a similar subject.

“With this concert the Church Music Association and its energetic and successful conductor close their labors for a season, and rest on their laurels until the autumn months.”

“The last concert of this society took place at Steinway Hall last night before an immense audience that filled not only the main body of the hall, but even the galleries. Full dress was de rigeur, and the auditorium consequently presented a very picturesque and brilliant appearance. The stage was adorned by the addition of a semicircular platform above the regular one, on which sat the two hundred singers of the chorus. In front were grouped eighty memebers of the orchestra, and on an advanced platform the four soloists, Mrs. Ackermann, Jaworska, Miss Antonia Henne, Mr. William S. Leggat and Mr. Franz Remmertz. In front of all stood the accomplished conductor of the society, Dr. James Pech, Mus. Doc. Oxon. The programme was the grandest and most interesting that probably has ever been presented to the American public. It consisted of Beethoven’s mass in D, Mendelssohn’s ‘Lorelei’ and the overtures ‘Acis and Galatea,’ by Handel, orchestrated by Mendelssohn, and ‘Undine,’ by Sir Julius Benedict. Beethoven’s mass alone would be a curiosity in any programme, considering that, even in Europe, it is seldom performed, owing to its extreme difficulty. It was the height of daring on the part of Dr. Pech to attempt it, and a great triumph for his ability as a conductor and organizer that the rendering of this colossal work was so eminently satisfactory. The last movement of the choral symphony is popularly considered as the climax of vocal difficulty; but the mass in D is a step beyond. An admirable orchestra, a spirited chorus that gave the listener a thorough idea of ensemble and a hard working solo quartet, that went, one and all, through their terrible work (terrible, when one considers the colossal difficulties of the work), with credit, presented the grandest effect of human genius in a style that one would scarcely expect in these days. The clever brochure by Dr. Pech, which formed the hit of the evening, and which gave an analytical description of all the works performed, lent an additional interest to the concert. In the ‘Lorelei’ Mrs. Imogene Brown took the soprano part. The performance of Beethoven’s mass in D was a triumph for American art that any musician can boast of. We trust that it will prove an incentive to our resident talent to perfect themselves in the study of great works.”

“The concert of the Church Music Association and the last rehearsal on the previous day may always be considered as one performance. Few who have attended the one would miss being present at the other, and the concert can scarcely be thoroughly enjoyed by those who have not listened to the ‘prova generale.’ There are works, some of them by great masters, which amateurs care to hear only as a matter of curiosity, and to fill up a gap in their knowledge. It has been more than once hinted that Beethoven’s Mass in D comes under this category. But careful reading and listening has shown how unwise it would be to pass over anything on which the greatest of musicians has set the seal of his genius and his labor. On each hearing the mass gains in melody, in dignity and in eloquence, as a further acquaintance brings us nearer to the composer’s thought. To criticise in any adequate manner this great work of the great German is a serious task. It is seldom attempted to be performed even in Germany from its singular obscurity. But it is well known that there was a time when even the Eighth Symphony was considered obscure, and certain of the piano-forte concertos remained unattempted for the same reason. Now the Eighth Symphony is often performed by our own Philharmonic, and Arabella Goddard has made these very concertos familiar to a portion of the musical world. We may hope that in the general increase of musical knowledge, even the Ninth Symphony and this difficult mass may come to be understood, but at present we can only bow our heads and listen to music which is solemn, impressive, awful, transcending all our conceptions of the thoughts of mortal men; to be rewarded from time to time by such heavenly melody as is in the ‘Gratias agimus,’ in the ‘Qui tollis,’ and in those gleams of light which are vouchsafed to us when in the very turmoil of the ‘Amen’ the four solo voices are heard floating away as it were into an empyrean of their own.

“The rehearsal, on Wednesday, of the mass was a trial of our musical faith. The addition of the orchestral parts to the vocal score, with which we had flattered ourselves we were becoming familiar, increased the complexity of the whole to that degree that we observed many who, listening intently to follow the development of the various forms, were compelled every now and then to give it up in despair. What was worse, the singers almost gave it up too. Toward the end of the ‘Credo,’ while the anxious conductor beat time, as if under a spell, and the instruments went on and on remorselessly, and the music they evoked seemed more and more unearthly, the voices began to sound in that muffled way which is common when people are uncertain of their whereabouts. Faint shrieks came, from time to time, from the exhausted sopranos, the tenors were inaudible, and if the tremendous ‘Amen’ had lasted much longer, we doubt whether half the voices would have been singing at all. The performance on Thursday night, was, therefore, much finer than we expected, and, indeed, in almost every way commendable. The only effect that absolutely missed fire was the ‘Et Resurrexit,’ and that mainly because it is so rapid that the mind can hardly seize on it before the following ‘Et Ascendit’ comes in. Haydn set the example of commencing the ‘Benedictus’ with an instrumental solo. Beethoven gives his to the violin, and that instrument predominates throughout the movement, which was admirably performed. For the rest, Dr. Pech made no attempt at light and shade, but wisely confined himself to the sufficiently difficult task of keeping his forces together. We rejoice to see Dr. Pech continuing to carry out the work on which he has bestowed so much effort. The education and the general culture requisite in a conductor are more rare than the mere technical knowledge which enables a man to wield a baton; and if we think that on this occasion Dr. Pech has been overambitious, we confess that ‘Thou who aspire too high reach nearer Heaven than those who n’er aspire.’

“It seems ungracious, after the fatigues endured by the singers, to have little to say as to the sweetness of the singing in the mass. Mme. Jarowsky, with an energy and faithfulness we must respect, sang every note set down for her. The beautiful quality of Miss Henne’s voice remained unchanged to the last, and Mr. Leggatt and Mr. Remmertz did themselves great credit. But, after all, singers are not hod-carriers, and if it was the will of Beethoven to impose on his voices tasks beyond the power of human lungs, the remedy is to divide each solo part between two or more vocalists, so that each should have no more to sing than is reasonable.

“It was at the end of one of the most brilliant musical seasons that Western Europe had ever known that the world was startled and shocked by the sudden death of Mendelssohn. We say Western Europe, for the four most musical countries were in a state of great political repose and artistic vivacity and correspondence. In the absence of important anxieties an uncommon degree of interest was bestowed on musical affairs. No sooner was an opera of Verdi’s produced in Italy than it was represented in Vienna, Berlin, Paris and London. Jenny Lind would close a series of ovations in one capital, and begin a similar one in a second, while the managers were fighting as to who should possess her services in a third. The fair Swede was then young, Alboni had just appeared, Grisi was in the plenitude of her powers, Mario was delighting all ears, Ronconi was rising to the eminence as an actor which overtopped anything that had previously been known on the lyric stage, Verdi and Meyerbeer were in the height of their fame; but the crown and glory of the whole musical world was Mendelssohn. His praise was on every tongue. Large and enthusiastic musical societies were coming into existence in all parts of Germany and England, with the main purpose of studying his compositions. Socially and aesthetically there was no figure so interesting when, in the fall of 1847 he sank exhausted by labor, by excitement, and the ceaseless strain of alternate production and performance. In ’48 this sad event might have passed comparatively unnoticed amid the crash of thrones and the uprising of peoples; but in ’47 the shock was prodigious, the grief sincere. Every sort of honor was paid to his memory. ‘Elijah’ was performed at Exeter Hall in solemn silence, orchestra, singers, and even the audience being dressed in black. That scene must have been impressive indeed. Then a search arose for any works, any fragments which Mendelssohn might have left behind him, and after a time ‘Lorelei,’ the most important, was performed.

“Hawthorne says that the first chapter of a novel should always be written last. The overture to an opera, as is well known, is always the last thing written. We need not, therefore, be surprised that Mendelssohn began his work on the subject of ‘Lorelei’ by writing the finale to an act. The ‘Ave Maria,’ for alternate groups of male and female voices, is pretty, but rather more commonplace than we had hoped for.

“The audience of Thursday—glad, perhaps, to escape from the severe mental strain of listening to the mass—received it good-humoredly, and gave the vine-dressers’ chorus an unexpected encore. The adjuration of Leonora to the rapidly-gathering spirits, and the compact with them, is worthy of Mendelssohn’s fame. It is highly dramatic, and was admirably sung, bringing the concert to a triumphant close.

“Mrs. Imogene Brown is a concert-singer of the very highest class. Her style is serene, stately and intellectual, and conduces, even more than her voice, which is pure and limpid, to the beauty and elevation of her singing. She combines great intelligence with perfect enunciation, and in her we have a singer capable of that difficult achievement, the delivery of a vehement recitation in the English language without loss of dignity. The concert was most successful in an artistic point of view, and the attentive audience were indulged with an opportunity of applauding from the first long-sustained and delicately-graduated note sung by Mrs. Imogene Brown to the very end of her ambitious and brilliant finale.”