Venue(s):
Steinway Hall
Conductor(s):
Theodore Thomas [see also Thomas Orchestra]
Price: $1.50; $1; $.50 extra, reserved seat
Performance Forces:
Instrumental
Status:
Published
Last Updated:
8 November 2024
“The fourth of the Thomas series of Symphonies, given Saturday night at Steinway Hall, was a magnificent entertainment. We do not say that it surpassed the others of the series, for they have all been concerts far in advance of anything else of the [illegible] class that can be heard in America, but it was [illegible] events one of the most brilliant in our experience and Mr. Thomas himself must have been more than satisfied with it. The programme was as follows [see above].
The symphony was the one generally known as the Cologne Symphony, which many critics have regarded as a sort of unusual panorama of the Rhine. Whether the composer really attempted to suggest in it [illegible] commentators have imagined they could [illegible] perhaps be doubted, but it is not difficult to keep in mind, through the broad and fluent and ever changing movements of this noble work, the majestic sweep of the river, the merriment of peasant life, [illegible] serenity of blooming meadow and purpling vineyard and local groves, the [solemn?] [illegible] of the cathedral city, and the religious accents of the [illegible] chant. Its strong and healthy spirit seems particularly congenial to Mr. Thomas and his orchestra, and they gave it such handling as it never had before in New York. The perfection of the strings in the vivacious but [sturdy?] scherzo was especially appreciated, and at the close of the movement there was a prolonged demand for an encore, to which Mr. Thomas was judicious enough not to yield. The other movements were equally excellent. The grand harmonies of the religioso were developed by the wind instruments with a magnificent blending of tones, and as the various passages brought out one after another the various merits of the band, the perfect rapport among its strings, the delicacy and strength of the reeds, and the full, rich, and nicely modulated voices of the brass, the enthusiasm of the audience seemed steadily to [illegible]. So highly finished and sympathetic an interpretation of a great masterpiece is one of the rarest of musical treats. Beethoven’s grand overture fitted well with the Symphony, for Schumann is one of the few composers who in their best works are not dwarfed by association with the most sublime of all the masters. This, too, was played with remarkable force and elegance. The two specimens of the modern school which closed the programme, widely as they differ both in spirit and in methods from what went before, certainly conveyed no sense of incongruity. Even the ‘Orpheus’ was not injured by its close juxtaposition to the ‘Coriolanus.’ It is not one of the most bizarre and eccentric of the Symphonic Poems. Judged, indeed, by the light thrown upon it in Liszt’s explanatory preface, it is seen to be not only thoughtful—as Liszt’s music always is—but truly poetic and graceful, which his music very often is not. ‘The gentle undulations like Elysian zephyrs ,’ enveloping the universe ‘in a flood of eternal and mysterious harmony,’ are delicately suggested in the wandering strains, vague but always beautiful, fantastic but always sweet and harmonious, which compose the greater part of the work. Two harps are used in this movement with admirable effect, and the piece closes with a series of the richest and most varied harmonies, wrought out with full voice by the entire band.
The Vorspiel to Wagner’s much discussed opera has often been played in New York, but we have never before enjoyed it as we did on Saturday night. The explanatory paragraph on the programme gave it a meaning for which, without such assistance, we might have searched in vain, and yet how clear everything seemed when we had the key. It would have been a humorous introduction to a very sprightly scene, but Wagner in reality is never humorous and never even brisk. It suggests, however, ‘the cheerful turmoil of a German holiday festival,’ with the gorgeous processional magnificence in which Wagner delights, and is not only a superb specimen of musical combinations and rich coloring, but a bright and cheerful expression of gay poetic fancies.
All this music was exquisitely played, and Miss Mehlig with the F Minor concerto achieved a triumph as decided as that of the band. She is one of those delightful artists who seem to be always well prepared and always in good spirits, always intelligent, graceful, and self-possessed, but on this occasion she was something more. We have never found her more brilliant in execution or more poetic in her readings. The excitement of the evening apparently had seized upon her; the inspiring influence of the orchestra acted as an intellectual stimulant; she fairly excelled herself in the grand adagio, and gave the whole work not only with the delicacy and sentiment which we should naturally have expected, but with a certain appropriate force for which we confess we were hardly prepared.”
“In ‘Charles Auchester’ the eccentricities of Mendelssohn are commemorated, and any one who walks up Broadway may see for himself that the portrait of Rubinstein does not represent the face of an ordinary man. But a stranger would not discern any outward differences between Mr. Theodore Thomas and any hundred men such as pass up and down Broadway at any hour of the day. He has all the appearance of the thrifty business man, who withal is a gentleman in his manners. He has none of the marks which are associated with the common notion of ‘genius.’
We have been led to make these remarks concerning the difference between Mr. Thomas as he might be seen by a casual observer and as he is, by the emphasis with which he showed his real character at the Symphony concert at Steinway Hall on Saturday evening. Unless it be when he directed his orchestra with such facile adaptation and masterly assurance in accompaniment of the playing of Rubinstein thus showing his instinctive recognition of his mental equality with the great composer and proving it, never before to our eye did he make so clear a display of his own self. Outwardly he stood before the audience like an ordinary gentleman; but one was able to see, beyond and above this, the musical instinct and knowledge and taste and skill which are in our mind when we speak of any acknowledged king among musicians. The machina we have seen often, but on Saturday night we say the deus.
This may sound extravagantly to some, but we are convinced our words are justifiable. Only a few years ago Mr. Thomas and his orchestra were the theme of ridicule, but the ridicule came largely from ignorance. The programme of Saturday evening consisted of selections from Schumann, Chopin, Beethoven, Liszt and Wagner. The list was admirable throughout, Miss Anna Mehlig’s rendering of Chopin’s concerto No. 2 dividing with the purely orchestral pieces the applause of the audience. It was curious to notice the feeling of intense sympathy with which the selection from Wagner was given, thus confirming the truth of the assertion made in the February number of the Atlantic Monthly, to the effect that Mr. Thomas takes almost a personal interest in hastening the time when the ‘music of the future’ shall become the music of to-day.”
"New York, Feb. 4—The programme of Thomas’s fourth Symphony concert, at Steinway Hall last Saturday evening, began with Schumann’s ‘Cologne’ Symphony in E flat, No. 3, op. 97, which was rendered in a style that could not fail to satisfy the most critical. With such treatment, Schumann’s music bids fair to obtain the recognition which it deserves, and, perhaps, would have had ere this but for the fact that most of our orchestras are incapable of interpreting the composer’s language with clearness. Two weeks ago the Symphony in C, which is generally considered as Schumann’s greatest work, was performed by the N. Y. Philharmonic Orchestra, and I believed then that the lack of interest manifested by the audience was more than half owing to the badness of the performance. At the Thomas concert, the ‘Cologne’ Symphony excited a lively interest, and the audience called for a repetition of the beautiful Allegretto, which however Mr. Thomas wisely declined to accord. I may as well state, also, that a young man and a young woman who sat in the next row back of me refrained from loud conversation during the Andante, thus giving me nearly five minutes uninterrupted enjoyment of the music, for which delicate consideration I desire publicly to express my thanks.
Second on the programme was Chopin’s Concerto, No. 2, in F minor, for piano and orchestra, with Miss Anna Mehlig at the piano. Comparing her performance with that of Mr. Mills, who played the same composition at the Academy of Music, two weeks ago, I find far more warmth and poetry in her rendering than in his, but less ease and elegance of finish. Her interpretation of the first movement was too labored to be thoroughly enjoyed, and, although the Larghetto was beautifully played, her performance of the Concerto must be regarded as less artistic than that of Mr. Mills. The general effect of the Concerto as played by Miss Mehlig was, however, better than when it was played by Mr. Mills; for he was hampered and harassed by a wretched orchestral ‘accompaniment,’ (if it can be so called when the instruments are half a bar behind the piano), whereas she was aided by the orchestra, according to the composer’s intention.
Part Second began with the Coriolanus overture, which cannot be heard too often; and then, in strange contrast came Liszt’s Symphonic Poem: ‘Orpheus.’ An attempt was made to elucidate this piece by printing the composer’s preface in the programme; but as this only serves to involve the hearer in greater uncertainty, I am forced to give it up as ‘one of those things that no fellow can find out.’ The printed description of the ‘Vorspiel zu die Meistersinger,’ which ended the concert, was really useful, and explained the music so well that I copy it [quoted paragraph follows].”