Rubinstein-Wieniawski-Thomas Concert Combination

Final New York appearances of Rubinstein and Wieniawski. 

“The last of the present series of these highly interesting entertainments was given last evening. Liszt’s concerto in E flat was superbly played by Mr. Rubinstein; and Mr. Wieniawski, whose violin had recovered from its indisposition, played Ernst’s fantasia on themes from ‘Othello,’ and his own Russian airs. Mr. Thomas’ orchestra was heard to the wonted advantage. A detailed reference to the performance is forbidden us by lack of space.”

“The last of the series of concerts given by Rubinstein in connection with Theodore Thomas’s orchestra took place last evening. It is a matter of regret that they have come to an end, for surely no other piano concerts of equal excellence will again be heard in this city for many a day. The programme was of that uniform high standard which has marked those of every concert in which Rubinstein has been interested since he came to this country.

The piece de resistance was Liszt’s Concerto in E flat, so much played here at one time by Miss Alide Topp, and later by Mr. Mills. It is a composition that gives scope to every faculty and art of the pianist, and is a marvel of technical construction. Rubinstein played it superbly, with all-sufficient fire, energy, and bravura. In itself, and regarded simply as music, the Concerto has all of the Lisztian peculiarities. It is a musical nonthorougfare, full of blind groping, long passages that lead to nothing, interrogations without answers, suspensions and discords that are never resolved—in fact, a crazy kind of work. But such an interpretation as Rubinstein gave it made its discordant but brilliant passages seem almost coherent.

In the latter part of the programme Mr. Wieniawski played some Russian airs, and being recalled, gave as an encore a smooth and beautiful rendering of the andante movement from a suite by Bach, which composer’s works he plays with extraordinary ability and sympathy.”

“The above combination, in many respects a powerful one, brought a most interesting series of concerts to a termination last night. Three evenings of classical music, with a matinée, in close succession, attended on almost every occasion by overflowing audiences, speak well for the gradual but sure development of taste, if not of knowledge, in a community as diverse in comprehension and feeling as a conflict of nationalities and traditions can make it.

The programmes comprised works of the greatest contrast in character, typical of each composer’s particular style and mode of treatment. We had music by the graceful and brilliant Cherubini (the Anacreon overture), the noble inspirations of the great musical poet Beethoven (Piano concerto in E flat, Leonora overture, No. 3, and the dramatic prelude to the Egmont music), and the impassioned infusions of the ardent composers, Mendelssohn (Piano concerto in G minor), Schumann (overture ‘Genoveva’), and Rubinstein (the ‘Ocean’ symphony). Bach (the Chaconne for violin) and Spohr (concerto, ‘Gesang Scene’) have been superbly represented by that prince of violinists, Wieniawski; and Theodore Thomas, with his highly-finished orchestra, has, with characteristic obduracy, indicative of Teutonic instincts, and a persistency worthy of a better cause, forced upon the attention of our native citizens, much against the tastes and the intelligence of very many of them, the not-yet-appreciated styles of Wagner, Liszt and Berlioz.

With Rubinstein and Wieniawski we have had a wonderful illustration of how genius in execution can adapt itself to music in a style best suited to express its varied character. In this lies the secret of the triumphs achieved by these two great artists during their sojourn here, in playing compositions that have previously wearied the public when in the hands of merely mechanical performers. In these men it is curious to observe that ‘neither clime nor race’ denies to any country the production of genius to excel in art; for within the past week we have enjoyed, in a remarkable degree, the union of two eminent musicians—the former a Russian and the latter a Pole. They come from regions remote from the sunny south of Europe; but endowed with the most perfect organizations and the most ardent temperaments. In executive art both these geniuses have clothed not only the highest, but the most common thoughts and familiar images, so as to give them unexpected charm. Take for example Beethoven’s concerto in E flat, and the Turkish march (Ruin of Athens) by Rubinstein, and Bach’s ‘Chaconne’ and the fantasia on ‘Faust’ by Wieniawski. The concerto, a poetical creation, so beautiful and grand, with melodic forms and brilliant passages taxing the skill of the pianist to the utmost. The march, a piece of great difficulty, requiring a degree of muscular strength which the general conformation of Rubinstein’s hands and arms alone could overcome. Then, Bach’s ‘Chaconne,’ a wonderful piece sufficient to have puzzled Paganini at his zenith, and with which no modern composition can compare in legitimate difficulty; and the fantasia on ‘Faust,’ a bevy of melodic forms scattered throughout, fresh and exhilarating, and by which Wieniawski in his treatment so aroused the enthusiasm of his auditors as to completely set logic at defiance and disarm criticism. With two such magnificently endowed and gifted artists no wonder that the public, on such occasions, has more sympathy with the genius-executive than for the genius-creative.

 Such artists of sensibility and matured judgment take their hearers by storm, and the intellect of these men surprises by an excess of beauty which imparts new emotions at every fresh performance.

The principal feature of these concerts has, however, been the production of Rubinstein’s ‘Ocean’ symphony. In this effort Mr. Rubinstein, unlike his contemporaries Wagner and Liszt, does not seem to be ambitious of the title of a sonorous prophet. He is satisfied in obtaining effects truly grand, without an undue use of superfluous modulation. For him the orchestra, although used with serious import, is a mere plaything. He handles it with all the authority of science and experience, with great fire, and above all, with the fanaticism of an apostle. He very rarely, however, seeks for any novelty of sound. Wagner and Liszt are the seekers in this department, and succeed much more frequently in astonishing the ear than in touching the heart or informing the mind. Wagner and Liszt fatigue their audiences by an immoderate use of the chromatic and ascending modulations at the expense of an almost complete want of melody. When melody appears Messrs. Wagner and Liszt repel it as though it were something contemptible; and the hearer who fancies he is just about to breathe has merely just caught a glimpse of the oasis, to set out again more panting than ever, and to be incessantly tossed about by a host of symphonic formulas which never end. Not so with Rubinstein. The melodies that embellish the score of his wonderful symphonic production are elaborated with a fluency only possible to a matured contrapuntist. The transitions, though bold, are never crude, and the modulations are artistically prepared. There is no check to the rhythmical flow of ideas, and the most dashing passages in the movements—Presto and Allegro con fuoco—are never obscured by boisterous ‘reed’ and ‘brass’ combinations. If in this composition there is found to be a tendency to over-coloring in working up to each provocative climax, Rubinstein’s ardent temperament must not be forgotten. It is the result of excess of passion and enthusiasm. His Cantabiles are enriched with a profusion of chords adding to the breadth and grandeur of the general effect, and his themes enter and re-enter, it is true, somewhat capriciously, on diatonic and chromatic descent in the basses. His crescendos bring out a tremendous power of tone; and the true melodic cadences, largely expressed in well-sustained phrases, greatly contribute to the spirit and brilliancy of the composition.

His slow movements—the ‘adagio’ and ‘andante assai’—are poetical reveries, affording delightful repose, in key and expression, after the intervening numbers. The sustained notes of the stringed instruments are richly harmonized, and gradually merge into flowing periods of exquisite combinations powerfully worked-up in sequences of imitations and emphatic cadences of harmony. The ardent spirit of the composer, however, manifests itself chiefly in the restless and animated effects of the electric finalé in which, with increased force, the stringed instruments plunge overwhelmingly into ascending and descending passages of octaves, etc., in close and vigorous imitation, against the energetic phrases given, con forza, by the wind instruments. The whole work is admirable in its harmonies; the melodies are nicely contrasted, and the scoring evinces a knowledge of effect that few writers ever surpassed or even equaled. The work was conducted by Rubinstein, and listened to with unabated interest to the end.

As a pianist Rubinstein is remarkable for the force which, by some almost unparalleled gift of nature, he is enabled to exert to a degree of muscular strength which his general conformation would have induced us to suppose he could not possibly possess. With Bach, Handel and Beethoven he is equally at home as with Field, Schubert, Chopin, Mendelssohn and Liszt. The touch of Rubinstein is delicate and souple in the extreme, where the character of the music demands delicacy and elegance of expression (as instanced in his rendering of Mendelssohn’s concerto in G minor); and in music of impassioned coloring (as in the concerto of Liszt in E flat) his ardent nature yields to the impulse of the moment. It is this temperament which is at once recognized both in the character of his compositions and in the vigorous expression of his playing; a playing at all times faultless in its correctness.

That of all living violinists now before the public, Wieniawski is the most accomplished—whether as a virtuoso possessing all the secrets of modern mechanical display, or as a master in the great and lasting school—is indisputable; and that his reading of Spohr’s concerto (‘Gesangs scene’) on Tuesday night, was incomparable must be admitted by all, without a dissenting voice. Not only were the passages given with faultless accuracy, but the melodious phrases were delivered with a sentiment that left nothing unexpressed. His playing was, on that occasion, as enthusiastic as it was remarkable for all the rarest qualities of execution. He calculates upon no effects except those which spring from a strictly legitimate fulfillment of the composer’s design. In this particular is to be found one of the violinist’s most enviable acquirements; and to this acquirement, amid all his other qualities, he is indebted for the reputation he has won, not only as a virtuoso performer, but as the first classical violinist of the day. His reception, throughout the week, at Steinway Hall, has been a continued series of triumphs.

The works assigned to the orchestra alone, under the direction of Mr. Theodore Thomas, have been those principally selected from what is termed the transcendental school, such as Wagner, Liszt and Berlioz. Besides the ‘Anacreon’ overture by Cherubini, previously referred to in this article, there have been [see programs for other concerts in this series]. This ‘music of the future’ is one in which the various different acts are supposed to sacrifice their independence for the benefit of the whole, and which, therefore, excludes music as an independent art. The pursuit of this class of composers after the incomprehensible in musical art is so fatiguing and distressing to any logically-constructed mind, that the constant repetition of these works by Mr. Thomas is wearing in the extreme. As in Berlin, in 1859, when Hans Von Bulow, supported by a small clique of this school, introduced and persisted in the performance of Liszt’s ‘symphonic poems,’ against the expressed disapprobation of a large portion of the Berlinese—so it is today in New York. The same arrogance and presumption displayed then on the part of a notorious coterie, in forcing on the public certain works in Berlin, is today enacting in this city. The ‘Wagnerites’ and ‘Lisztites’ infest our concert-rooms on every performance, and, distributed in various parts of the room, despotically force on our American public by pre-arranged applause the repetition of certain compositions of the ‘eccentric-dullness school’ to the almost entire exclusion of the more lucid works of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Weber, Spohr and Mendelssohn.

We suppose it is hopeless to complain; but a little more respect for the general intelligence of the public, and less exhibition of will-force on the part of Mr. Thomas, would assist very much in enabling him to retain a position in the public estimation to which his industry, patience and perseverance eminently entitle him.” 

“The audience at Steinway Hall last night had such a treat as seldom falls to the lot of concert-goers. In the choice programme offered on the occasion there was one commanding feature—the unequal rendering of Liszt’s concerto in E flat by Rubinstein. Such piano playing has never been heard here before. The work has been given frequently in this city by Miss Topp, Miss Krebs, Mr. Mills and, we believe, Miss Mehlig, but, without exaggeration, it may be said that not all the combined efforts of our resident talent could produce such a genuine artistic sensation as did the Russian pianist last evening. The work if the best of Liszt’s piano compositions, because it has one well defined and intelligible subject. This theme is only two bars in length and is simplicity itself, but its treatment is effective in the highest degree. Would that the composer could always be spoken of in such terms. Rubinstein’s rendering was simply grand. The long, trying trill in the second movement, such a bugbear to all pianists, was but child’s play to those steel wrists and fingers of iron to which mere technique or endurance is nothing. But the mere technical perfection of Rubinstein’s playing would be but a sorry idea of his wonderful genius. It is in the crystal-like clearness with which even the most complicated passages are phrased, that complete mastery of the piano by which it thunders, sighs, declaims and sings (and certainly the noble grand last night faithfully answered every throb of feeling communicated to it by the inspired player), and the inexpressible command of the work displayed on the occasion that compel us to place Rubinstein as king of all pianists. He played in the second part four of his own works [see above]. Wieniawski, who may rank with the best of living violinists, played his own magnificent adaptation of Russian airs and Ernst’s ‘Othello,’ fantasia. The orchestra rendered [see above].”