Rubinstein-Wieniawski-Thomas Concert Combination

First New York performance with the composer conducting.

Includes program.

“The performance of Rubinstein’s ‘Ocean’ symphony last night, by the Thomas orchestra under Rubinstein’s own direction, was an event of phenomenal interest in musical circles, and though it did not attract such an overpowering audience as we should naturally have expected to see, it drew together a somewhat remarkable assemblage of artists and connoisseurs, among whom were probably nearly all the prominent professional musicians in the city. We must say at once that the brightest anticipations were more than satisfied. The execution of the symphony was as grand a piece of work as we have ever heard from any orchestra, and we cannot imagine any particular in which it could have been better, while under the magnetic influence of the composer the work itself developed strength, variety, and beauty far greater than we had previously found in it. The truth is, however, that the ‘Ocean’ symphony had never before been played here in full. It was first introduced to New York by the Philharmonic Society two years ago, as a composition in four movements. It now has six, the allegro con fuoco and adagio which stand as numbers three and four having been added by Rubinstein as after-thoughts, and the performance of the work in its present form fills a good hour. Yet it certainly is not too long—at any rate when played as it was last night—and there can be no question that it has been greatly enriched, and even improved in structure, by the additions. It does not belong to the class of compositions known as Programme Music. It has no trivial mutations of the sounds of the sea, roar of the angry waves, whistling of the winds, or dashing of the surf. There is not even a representation of a storm, or of what Mr. Moddle called the tempestuous sailing of the sailors. But just as Beethoven called to our minds the music of pastoral life, and Schumann, in that beautiful ‘Cologne’ symphony which we heard a few weeks ago, suggested the bright and changing scenery of the Rhine, so Rubinstein conveys in the broad passages of this superb work the illimitable expanse and depth of the sea, the irresistible force of the elements, the immensity of God’s most fearful creation, and the terrors of the tempest alternating with the melody of splashing waters. It is not such a grandiose and overstrained composition as Liszt would have written on the same subject. It is, on the contrary, clearly classical in form and for the most part subdued in expression; the modulations are rarely extravagant, the thought is always distinct, and the utterance of it as direct as possible; and every movement abounds in exquisite melodies. The new allegro con fuoco is the nearest approach to the grotesque which the symphony affords, but even this does not pass the bounds of the legitimate. The new adagio is one of the most graceful and spontaneous movements in the whole work, and like the second movement (andante assai), and part of the first (allegro maestoso), breathes the very soul of tenderness. The scherzo has long been popular. The finale leads up to a magnificent climax in Luther’s choral, gradually introduced with many ingenious progressions and scored with surprising richness—a hymn in recognition of the Almighty, who holds the sea in the hollow of his hand.

To hear these splendid conceptions interpreted by Mr. Thomas’s players guided by Rubinstein’s own baton was an experience long to be remembered. For Rubinstein is hardly less eminent as a conductor than he is as an executant. There is abundance of nervous energy in his motions, but no extravagance. He never looks at the score—at least in leading his own symphony—and he puts the desk away at one side. Standing in an attitude of command before his men, he guides them with quick but not at all ungraceful gestures, using both hands, and conveying unmistakable signals with the eye and the head. He knows exactly what every separate instrument has to do, and he never fails to bring each one in at the right instant. He trusts nothing to the memory, the judgment, or the study of the players. Eccentricities of tempo, shades of expression, all the delicate nuances which are so abundant in this symphony he marks them all. With one hand he seems to draw a plaintive phrase from the distant reeds, while with a turn of the other, accompanied by a curious bending and swaying of the body, he gets a quick sweeping passage out of the violoncello at his feet. It is curious, indeed, to notice how he indicates an emphasized phrase for the strings by the precise motion of the wrist which he wants his players to imitate. But these things are only the technical peculiarities of his conducting. The secret of it is not in them, but in the magnificent power of the man in power which cannot be explained, cannot be described, and can only be felt.

We can hardly overstate the enthusiasm of the audience. It broke out after each movement of the symphony; it was redoubled after the scherzo; it was quadrupled at the end, when Rubinstein was recalled again and again. Mr. Wieniawski also received a cordial welcome. He played the Bach ‘Chaconne’ magnificently, and afterwards his ‘Faust’ fantasie, apologizing in good English for the loss of some of his music, which obliged him to substitute the ‘Faust’ for a fantasia on ‘Othello’ announced on the programme. The orchestra played several pieces under Mr. Thomas, including [see above], and played them of course admirably. There was nothing indeed to detract from the enjoyment of the evening, except the unfortunate and unaccountable lack of programmes—an incident which should not occur in a reasonably well managed concert.” [reprinted Dwight's Journal of Music, 04/19/73, p. 4]

“The first of a series of four concerts, enlisting the united efforts of Mr. Rubinstein, Mr. Wieniawski, and Mr. Thomas’ orchestra, was given at Steinway Hall last evening. The most interesting incident of the performance was the rendering of the ‘Ocean’ symphony, under the direction of Mr. Rubinstein, its author. Portions of this colossal composition had already become known, but it was a new and a great delight to hear the six movements of the symphony executed in succession, by so intelligent and highly disciplined an orchestra as Mr. Thomas has brought together, and with the players under the influence of the master mind who created the work. The brief record that the recital was impressive in an extraordinary degree is all the single hearing of the composition suggests. A perusal of the score does little toward enlightening one concerning the effectiveness of the symphony as executed under the bâton of Mr. Rubinstein, who leads with an earnestness of manner verging upon severity, and with abundant physical evidence of his music; and to write in detail of an effort in which mighty ideas are embodied in the most scientific, and generally in the most felicitous forms, would be mere presumption. The deep attention bestowed upon the work, the applause which marked the termination of each of the divisions, and the thrice-repeated recall of the composer and conductor ought to secure an early repetition of the symphony. Mr. Rubinstein, whose travels and triumphs have told rather severely upon a more delicate frame than his achievements seem compatible with, contented himself yesterday with directing the execution of this part of the bill. Mr. Wieniawski appeared twice. For his first contribution he played a chaconne by Bach, one of those immensely difficult pieces which a very few violinists care to handle, and to meet the exigencies of which Mr. Wieniawski’s surety of intonation, rapidity of fingering, and purity of tone, make him more than equal; his second number was his own setting of themes from ‘Faust.’ The finest reading of Cherubini’s ‘Anacreon’ overture it has ever been our fortune to enjoy, was supplied at the outset of the concert by Mr. Thomas’ orchestra, under the guidance of Mr. Thomas. Two excerpts from Berlioz’s richly colored ‘Damnation de Faust’ and Wagner’s overture to ‘Der Fliegende Hollaender,’ were the remaining selections done by the band.”

“The concert given last evening by Rubinstein in combination with Theodore Thomas’s orchestra brought the great pianist before the public for the first time in this country in a new phase of his artistic life, that of an orchestral conductor. It was a supreme gratification to every friend of music to see at last the great pianist and the yet greater composer standing, baton in hand, before one of the finest of modern orchestras, prepared to conduct his most elaborate work, the ‘Ocean Symphony.’ Those who remember Beethoven leading his own symphonies at Vienna and those who were at Birmingham when Mendelssohn directed his ‘Elijah’ cherish the remembrances as among the brightest they possess. It has never before happened in this country that any man so confessedly eminent in his art has stood at the conductor’s desk.

The result was all that could have been hoped for. The symphony received a finished and superb interpretation. Every point was made clear and emphatic under the composer’s wand. Rubinstein, as might easily have been anticipated from his ardent temperament, is an emotional conductor. His action is not excessive, because every motion has its meaning. He seems to pervade the orchestra, to be with the stringed instruments when the onus is upon them, to sway the reeds, to excite and sustain the brass, and in short to infuse his own fire and magnetic spirit into all parts of the band. Certainly no great work was ever before performed in this country so perfectly in accordance with the author’s intentions as was this.

With regard to the composition itself, we look upon it as one of great poetic beauty and of exceptional force and grandeur. It is a work to which Rubinstein has given his whole thought and power. Originally in four movements, he has expanded his first purpose and added two others, so that it is a work of great length and magnitude. But it does not flag in interest; On the contrary the last movement is the most exciting of all. It would be a mistake to suppose that Rubinstein intended to make it, in any strict sense of the word, a descriptive work. Those who look to find in it the moods and phases of the sea—calm and storm, wreck or prosperous voyage—will look in a false direction, for evidently the title is but a suggestive one, and the ocean that is typified is the soul of man. There is in the first movement, it is true, a certain restless heave and set that is like in effect to the swell and subsidence of the ocean, but in the other movements there is nothing to justify any literal interpretation of the title. There is a wealth of poetic thought and a masterly treatment of the orchestra, without any of those excesses of declamatory expression and false and shallow antitheses that mar so much of the work of modern German composers, and that reached their climax in Liszt’s symphonic poem entitled ‘Hamlet,’ which drove a good portion of an audience out of a concert room last Saturday evening.

With one exception the whole programme consisted of orchestral selections, of which all but Rubinstein’s symphony were under Mr. Thomas’s direction. The exception to which we refer was Mr. Wieniawski’s violin playing. This excellent artist added a fresh laurel to his wreath by the exquisite manner in which he played Bach’s Chaconne for the violin.

We have heard this composition played but once before at a concert in this city, and then the audience became so restless and nervous under it as to become positively rude to the player. But the fault was, after all, in the performer, and not in the composer; for Wieniawski was listened to not only with patience and interest, but with every indication of delight, and was twice recalled, and with a heartiness and fervor that audiences seldom manifest. So much for the good Bach after his rest of nearly two centuries.”

“Since Carl Bergmann, in 1857, first introduced the grandest work of the Russian pianist and composer to the New York public, at the Chinese Assembly Rooms, on Broadway, until the visit of Rubinstein and the production of the work under his own direction, with such superb materials as the orchestra of Theodore Thomas, we can only call to mind one performance of it here, by the Philharmonic Society, a few seasons ago. Here is a work by a modern composer which challenges admiration for its fertility of ideas, even if they prove occasionally transplanted ones, intelligibility of purpose, and wonderful yet always legitimately used power of instrumentation. This work has been laid on the shelf year after year by our conductors, while the sensational Berlioz, Wagner and Liszt have been thrust forward in spite of all remonstrances. Whatever eccentricities Rubinstein may indulge in he never wanders beyond the limits of true art. What though the reminiscences of elder composers that are scattered through the ‘Ocean’ symphony sometimes approach, and once or twice transgress the bounds of sheer plagiarism, yet the work does not contain one dull or uninteresting bar and there is real vitality in every movement. No one will be willing to take away the claims of entire originality in the ‘Faust’ symphonic works of Berlioz, Wagner or Liszt, but listening to such works makes the hearer wish for a clever plagiarism or adaptation of sublime ideas rather than a senseless, idiotic originality. Where Weber and Beethoven are pressed into service by Rubinstein they do their work faithfully and the adaptor knows how to use them to the best possible advantage.

The ocean symphony is in six movements—[names of movements]. There is no formal introduction in the opening movement. Rubinstein believes with Horace in plunging in medios res. There is nothing of the ‘Arma, virumque cano’ about his first themes. His remarkable power of instrumentation, in which he weds grandeur to beauty, is felt from the first phrase. At the same time there is no departure from established forms beyond the original and constantly varying treatment of charming themes. The instrumentation is very full, and in the basses it conveys a restless not inappropriate for an illustration of the ceaseless movement of the billows on the breast of the ocean. These figures in the bass communicate a striking grandeur to this movement. Once or twice he indulges in those modern brass discords which offend the ear and which form the leading feature in the works of Liszt and Wagner. An instrumental gap also occurs at the end of the movement, marring the finale. These are the only blemishes in the first part of the work. The second movement is in its multiplicity of themes un embarrass des richesses. One of these subjects with rich harmonies for the strings, backed by full chords on the reeds and brasses, is inexpressibly beautiful. The Scherzo, although it bears that name in the partition, is scarcely a true specimen of that well known movement. The last Allegro is full of nervous power and instinct with élan and brilliancy. The finale has many weak points in it, but the magnificent instrumentationof the concluding chorale, worthy to be placed beside the immortal ‘Eine Feste Burg is Unser Gott’ redeemed the defects that preceded. Altogether, the ‘Ocean Symphony’ is a grand work, and the principal fault that can be found with it is its exuberance. Six movements, two of which are unnecessarily spun out, are calculated to try the patience of any audience. But there is nothing dull in it—each movement revealing new beauties. We recognized here and there old favorites, such as thoughts from ‘Oberon’ and the ‘Pastoral Symphony,’ but they were used with admirable art. Rubinstein conducted with a degree of animation and earnestness which found a ready response from the unrivalled orchestra over which he wielded the baton. The nicety of balance of all the instruments which characterizes this orchestra, the spirit and warmth of feeling with which they enter into the ideas of a composer, and their unanimity in all the nuances of expression and phrasing, gave effect to the work such as to draw admiration from the composer himself.

There were three other orchestral works on the bill—the ‘Anacreon’ symphony of Cherubini, one of the best of the Italian composer’s; two scenes from ‘La Damnation de Faust,’ by Berlioz, a work more to be admired for its oddities than any positive merit, and the overture to ‘Der Fliegende Hollander,’ by Wagner, of which we have spoken before. Mr. Wieniawski played a chaconne, by Bach, which served more to give an idea of the gentleman’s complete mastery of technique on the violin than to afford pleasure to the hearer. In the second part of the programme he played in his best style the brilliant and effective fantasia in ‘Faust,’ which has made his name so famous here. This evening another concert will be given, in which Rubinstein will play a Beethoven concerto and Thomas’ orchestra a choice collection of works. It is a pity that so much of the energies of this orchestra should be wasted upon the study of works like those of the school of the future, which are offensive to the ear and conduce to no good. Even Father Haydn is too much neglected nowadays, because he knew nothing about modern tricks in instrumentation, and the crystal-like measures of Mozart are shelved for the same reason. The old masters of the Italian and French schools, who knew more of music than a legion of Wagners, are now seldom heard. Why not a return to the pure fountain and not this constant dabbling in the muddy, troubled waters of modern lunatics? From the charge of universal lunacy we honorably exempt Rubinstein.” 

“New York, April 13. Monday evening, March 31^st, is long to be remembered, for it witnessed the performance of one of the greatest of modern symphonies by an excellent orchestra conducted by the composer. This occurred at the first concert of a series of four, given by the famous Rubinstein and Thomas combination, which is by far the greatest organization I have ever known.

An evening so interesting as this could not fail to attract a large audience, and Steinway Hall was well filled with intelligent and appreciative listeners.

The programme opened with Cherubini’s stately ‘Anacreon’ overture, beautifully rendered by the orchestra, under Mr. Thomas. Herr Wieniawski played the difficult Chaconne of Bach in a manner which procured him an enthusiastic recall. Then—a moment of breathless waiting—and the hero of the evening strode across the stage, stepped lightly on the platform, and, with a quick nervous gesture, gave the signal to begin the ‘Ocean Symphony.’ This work, as it was originally written, consists of four movements: Allegro Maestoso; Andante Assai; Presto; and Finale. To these the composer afterwords added,--Allegro con fuoco and an Adagio, which figured on the programme as numbers four and five. No finer subject for a symphony could be chosen than that of the mysterious sea; for nothing is more impressive—and nothing gives rise to emotions more varied or intense. There is the summer sea, with its warm salt breath; the ripple and flash of waters upon the sandy beach, the white sails that flash from behind a veil of mist and drift onwards out of sight. There is the merciless deep which swallows up joy, hope and life,--a monster with flowing mane and teeth of jagged rock. There is breadth and depth, vast and illimitable. All of which is conveyed in the music of this magnificent composition. Throughout the whole work, however, there is no attempt at mere description. The music has a higher and loftier aim. The composer did not once look at the score during the performance of the work, which occupied nearly an hour. He gave his undivided attention to the orchestra and seemed to communicate his ideas to every member separately, by means of rapid glances and gestures peculiar to himself. The result was what might be expected; inspired by the magnetism of his presence, the players gave us an interpretation of the Symphony which was perfect and never to be forgotten.

After each movement of the work the audience applauded grandly, and, at the close of the famous Andante and the beautiful Presto, the plaudits were so long and loud that I could hardly believe myself in undemonstrative America. The second part of the programme comprised [see above].”