Festival Week of Grand Oratorios and Concerts: 5th

Sixth and last Thomas symphony concert. 

Merits of the Handel and Haydn Society; lack of a similar choral organization in New York.

“At night the largest audience gathered at Steinway Hall since the début of Mlle. Nilsson in the United States, filled the place to overflowing. Mr. Thomas was greeted with rare enthusiasm, and the applause lavished upon his efforts throughout the concert was of unusual heartiness. We cannot but remark that the first portion of the bill was that fraught with most interest by its matter, and deserving of most approval for its interpretation. It included, suite No. 3, in D, by Bach, which embraces an overture, an air, and a gavotte, three enjoyable numbers; two very melodious movements, an allegro moderato and an andante con moto, from Schubert’s unfinished symphony in B minor, and ‘Sound an alarm,’ from Handel’s ‘Judas Maccabaeus.’  The band delivered the instrumental selections with infinite sentiment and precision; Mr. Nelson Varley, in singing the Handelian aria, seemed ill at ease, and once his voice betrayed him. The second half of the entertainment was occupied with Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Mr. Thomas did a brave though not, perhaps, a polite thing when he attempted a rendering of this colossal composition, for we do not think the complete success of the attempt would have rewarded him according to his deserts. To be candid, we share the opinion of Hans von Bulow, who argues that not one person in ten can understand the D minor, and it is not positive that comprehending it will compel one to admire it. Last night’s recital, satisfactory in respect of the orchestra’s work, was not particularly creditable to the quartet, formed by Mrs. Smith, Miss Cary, Mr. Varley, and Mr. Rudolphsen, nor to the Handel and Haydn Society. More frequent opportunities for rehearsal, and a closer rapport between Mr. Thomas and the choral forces yesterday, for the first time, under his baton, might have had a different fruition. Although it was clear, however, that the symphony and its exposition were not quite as ‘telling’ as was hoped, the gratitude which the audience felt toward the promoter of Festival Week, and sought to show when Mr. Thomas stepped upon the platform at the outset of the entertainment, found expression at its termination, and the gentleman was summoned to the front again and again.” 

“The crowd at this concert [the matinée] was enormous, but it was surpassed at the evening performance, when the festival reached its climax. Not only was almost every connoisseur in New-York present, but many persons came from other cities especially to hear the Ninth Symphony rendered by the first chorus and the first orchestra of the United States. As a great many of the seats in the front rows of the floor had been sold early in the season to subscribers for the whole series of symphonies, it was necessary to remove part of the extension of the stage built for the accommodation of the chorus on Tuesday and Wednesday, and the singers were consequently crowded very close together. Their number, we should judge, was also a little reduced. The audience filled all the additional seats thus obtained, occupied the small room at the rear, packed both galleries to the roof, and took up all the available standing room. Long before the performance began the full capacity of the hall had been strained, and the manager refused to sell any more tickets for the galleries. The only vacant places were a few seats held by the absent holders of season tickets and some benches in the extreme rear of the small hall, where the softer passages of the music were totally inaudible. This was the programme [see above].

What a selection it was! There is hardly anything more exquisite among all the older masterpieces than this charming little suite of Sebastian Bach’s. The beautiful fragments of Schubert’s unfinished work deserve a place with the most precious gems of symphonic music. And then came the colossal Ninth Symphony, greatest of all creations of the greatest of all masters. These three instrumental numbers fitted perfectly with one another, and the aria of Handel’s, sung with great dignity and truthfulness by Mr. Varley, relieved the programme just enough, without lowering its tone. The orchestra had been increased for the occasion to 100 performers. It was rather dangerous to add so many as 40 auxiliaries to Mr. Thomas’s skilled men; but they were chosen with extreme care, and the result justified the venture. The precise accuracy, the grand open tone, the susceptibility, the eloquence, and the fine feeling of the original orchestra were not sacrificed, if indeed they were sensibly impaired, by this temporary addition to its number. After the Schubert symphony the verdict was unanimous that such wonderful playing had never been heard before in New-York.

As the critical period of the evening approached the excellence of the performance seemed to increase. A merely pretty good rendering of the choral symphony, in fact, is impossible. When it is given as it ought to be by skilled and sympathetic musicians, it inevitably excites the performers to extraordinary efforts. When it fails to elevate them above their everyday level of achievement, it may be set down as a fiasco. But it was very soon apparent that there would be no fiasco on Saturday. The allegro was superb. As the mysterious movement went on, in which darkness and light seem to strive for the mastery and the soul, to quote Richard Wagner’s commentary on the symphony, ‘struggle after joy against the pressure of the hostile power that stations itself between us and all earthly bliss,’ a sort of inspiration seized upon the orchestra; Mr. Thomas abandoned his usual impassiveness and showed a nervous energy to which he seldom gives rein; and it was hard not to believe that every man in the band felt unwonted fire burning in his veins and a new force giving power to his hand. The joyous scherzo betrayed a still more perfect sympathy and a still increasing spirit; and the indescribably beautiful and touching adagio was not the mechanical execution of a set task but the eloquence of deep emotions poured out of full hearts. The three instrumental movements of the symphony are progressive, and the close of the adagio leaves us at the elevation where the strain upon the feelings becomes almost painful. The short pause which precedes the choral movement has always seemed to us an awful interval. The music has almost reached the point of exaltation where its sentiment passes the limitations of the expressive power of the orchestra and demands a new interpreter. But it becomes instinctively a question in the mind whether this vague sentiment, this striving with super-human emotions, this tending towards the joy of the infinite, can ever find an interpreter through human agencies. We stand appalled at the constant reaching upward into the starry spheres. We wait trembling for a disastrous fall. All musical readers know how Beethoven solved the difficulties in his wonderful combination of the orchestra with the mighty chorus. At the beginning of the movement he abandons at once the common forms of instrumental music. The strain which the bass-strings take up is like a recitative measure for the human voice. It soon passes into the theme which is to be the burden of the chorus. The splendor of the performance of this portion by the band on Saturday night is beyond all praise. The ten double-basses opened the song as if handled by a single man. The ‘celli and violas are soon joined, then the violins, and the swelling theme moves onward to the terrible vocal quartette. Probably no more difficult music than this quartette was ever written for the voice. It is divided from the impossible by a margin so narrow as to be scarcely perceptible. It taxes every resource of the ablest artists, and even when it is sung correctly it exacts such painful effort from the singers that it rarely satisfies the average listener. We never heard it but once when it seemed to us all that Beethoven meant it should be; that was when Madame Parepa-Rosa sang in it for the Handel and Haydn Society in 1868. The four artists who grappled with it on Saturday achieved no such triumph as Madame Rosa secured for herself and her associates five years ago; but they did themselves great credit, and it is high praise to say that in the frightful passage where one always trembles so much for them, they were not overthrown. But the chorus, the chorus! With this the glory of the night burst forth. There was no fault to be found with it. Imperfections there doubtless were, trips now and then over some of the many stumbling blocks which the relentless composer threw all about the score; but petty mistakes were swallowed up in the overwhelming talent of song, which was not like the music of earth, but the awful shouting of the joyous hosts of heaven. Voices and instruments vied with one another in magnificence. The sensation produced by the last movement of this symphony is never a sensation of pleasure, at least while the performance is going on. It is a sensation of [illegible line]. Whatever delight is to be gathered from it comes afterward. But we may [illegible] say that the effect upon the audience of the interpretation on Saturday night will not soon be obliterated.

The Handel and Haydn Society carry back to Boston the sincere gratitude and good wishes of the public whom they have done so much to instruct and entertain. They have fully sustained the greater reputation which preceded them, and we hope they have aroused a becoming spirit of emulation among our own societies. There was a disposition at first, in some quarters, to look upon them with jealousy, but their merit was so conspicuous and the hospitable and appreciative temper of the public was so overpowering that this absurdity was conquered before it could fairly show itself. Mr. Carl Zerrahn has already become a general favorite in New-York, and if Mrs. West has received scant justice it is because in a city which knows so little about the true oratorio school her excellent method is not understood. It is pleasant to learn that a feeling of warm cordiality has sprung up between Mr. Theodore Thomas and the chorus. If we can believe the letters and reports in the Boston newspapers, the Handel and Haydn Society are equally pleased with his arrangement for their personal comfort and the extraordinary accompaniment which he has furnished for their singing; and the prospect is fair that the two organizations may often be brought together hereafter. The singers cheered Mr. Thomas lustily when he came upon the stage on Saturday night, to act for the first time as their leader; and during the intermission they presented to him a basket of flowers with a few complimentary remarks, their President, Mr. Barnes, acting as the spokesman. There was a great deal of enthusiasm also among the audience, and Mr. Thomas was vehemently called for at the close of the symphony, accepting his triumph with his habitual modesty. It is hardly necessary to add that in a pecuniary sense the Festival has been successful; not that Mr. Thomas has made money by it; that was out of the question and was not expected; but he has paid his expenses, great as they were. He has won something better than money,--fame, respect, and public confidence,--and he has given to his regular symphony concerts an astonishing prestige which will have its value another season.

Of the six months’ series indeed which came to a glorious termination in the performance of Saturday night we can hardly speak too warmly. Mr. Thomas has now so far surpassed all other musical leaders in the department to which he devotes himself that he can no longer be said to have a rival in America. Even the noble old Philharmonic Society, to whose inestimable services in the cause of art we have never hesitated to bear ample testimony, is at last eclipsed by this enthusiastic and accomplished man, who while still in the flush of youth has succeeded in creating and placing upon a firm footing what our country has never had before,--a permanent orchestra, capable of doing full justice to any music ever written, and keeping well abreast with the progress of musical thought. It is no disparagement either of the management of the Philharmonic Society, or its members, or of its admirable leader, Mr. Bergmann, to say that it does not reach the high position of the Thomas Orchestra; for it is impossible that a company of players brought together periodically for specific purposes and engaged during the greater part of the time in widely different pursuits should rival a band whose life is passed practicing in mutual association. Critical observers have watched for several years the advance of Mr. Thomas to the eminence which he now occupies; but during the present season he has secured a recognition from the general public which has scarcely been accorded him before. The Symphony Concerts have drawn large audiences of highly cultivated people, of the same class which supports the Philharmonic Society; and although we have no information as to the pecuniary results of the season, we cannot doubt that Mr. Thomas’s enterprise has been suitably rewarded. The concerts began on the 9^th of November; and, as an illustration of what this orchestra can do in a single Winter, it may be worth while to put on record the whole six programmes [listing follows].

Here is a magnificent season’s work, but it is not half of what Mr. Thomas has done, for, beside the remarkable Wagner concert in March and the phenomenal festival of the past week, he has given two series of performances in connection with Rubinstein and Wieniawski, making about 20 concerts during the six months, each one a model of its kind. A review of the programmes [illegible] show how much reason there is in the complaint occasionally heard of his overweening devotion to the Wagnerian theories. Out of 23 orchestral compositions played during the Symphony series, 11 belonged to the new school; not one of the 11 was the prominent feature of the concert in which it was produced, nor did Liszt, Berlioz, and Wagner predominate on any evening except the second. The places of honor were invariably given to Beethoven, Mozart, Schumann, and their follower, Raff. In the concerts with Rubinstein the classical element was still more conspicuous. Whatever may be thought of the methods of Wagner and Liszt—and we certainly are not of those who believe them to be eternal—we cannot shut our eyes to the influence they have exerted and are still exerting in the world of art; we cannot stand with our fingers in our ears waiting for the great controversy to be stilled. These strange forms may pass away; this turbulent and painful music may cease to vex the soul; but whether [illegible] to a revolution or bring us back by a natural reaction to a new love and a keener appreciation of the great masters of the past it will have a permanent effect upon the [illegible] of music, and work many important changes in the laws of composition. It is folly to pretend ignorance of what our generation is doing.”

“With the concert given on Saturday evening at Steinway Hall closed the most memorable week of music that this city has ever known.

To the Handel and Haydn Society and to the noble orchestra of Theodore Thomas every praise and honor are due. It was a week of great successes, and was fitly crowned with a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony such as none who heard it will be likely to forget or ever again to hear so perfectly done. The Bostonians have gone home, and so far as we hear have been entirely pleased and satisfied with their visit. They have effaced, too, the unpleasant remembrance of that unfortunate affair at the Rink two years ago. They certainly have been received with no illiberal spirit and with no tinge of jealousy. Their merits have been frankly, fully, and enthusiastically acknowledged both by the public and the press, and they have brought to us but one painful feeling, and that was that we had no choral society at all to be compared to them. But let us hope that this may not always be.

To return to the subject of the concert. The programme was short in the number of works performed, but great in the merit of them. It was as follows [see above].

Nothing that can be said of Bach’s delightful ‘Suite’ would at all express its beauty, quaintness, and charms. It was rendered faultlessly by the orchestra.

Mr. Varley hardly had sufficient force or range of voice for Handel’s great aria, which truly must be sung in trumpet tones. He was, perhaps, over anxious to sing at his best, feeling the occasion to be a great one, and so failed to sing as well as he might have done in a quieter and calmer moment. The delicious fragment of Schubert’s unfinished symphony fitly preceded the great work of the evening, the Choral Symphony.

The magnificent tone-power was made on this occasion thoroughly intelligible. All the entanglement of themes in the first movement was unraveled and the thought clearly and beautifully expressed. So also the vivid and joyous scherzo and the spiritual and heavenly andante were presented in all their meaning and beauty. It is in the final movement that the symphony finds it highest point of expression, and here the chorus and orchestra worked together in true artistic sympathy to reveal the grandeur of Beethoven’s thought. The result was as we have said—as nearly perfect a performance as any of us can ever hope to hear of this great work. It can never be adequately given; for Beethoven lived when he wrote it, on account of his deafness, in the ideal, and he wrote for the ideal and without sufficient consideration for physical imperfections and limitations. Therefore the solo quartette, however well sung, will never be satisfactorily given. On Saturday evening it was performed in a manner that reflected the very highest credit on the artists who sang it, Mrs. Smith, Miss Cary, Mr. Varley and Mr. Rudolphsen; but in the nature of things it could not be made smooth, and none but the very foremost vocalists can hope to get to the end of its almost unsingable passages without a positive fiasco. The choral portion is in places almost equally trying and difficult, and in nothing that they have done in their whole week of triumphs have the Handel and Haydn Society shown the splendid results of their discipline and the high standards that they have attained so conspicuously as in the performance of this final achievement of the greatest of composers.”

“There can be nothing so distressing to the feelings of a true artist as to see the partial failures of great men, many of whose productions are the ornament of the art they have cultivated. The Mass in D, well performed by the Church Music Association last season, under the direction of Dr. James Pech, and the Ninth Symphony, given so effectively under the baton of Theodore Thomas on Saturday evening by the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, are works akin in their extraordinary character. But though they delight and astonish, they fall definitely short of the effects they are intended to produce. This is entirely owing to the very great difficulty of performing them. Their length alone will be a never-failing cause of complaint, the symphony requiring more than an hour and a half in the performance, a drawback not compensated by any beauty or unity of design, taking the composition as a whole. Their gigantic merits are, however, equal to their proportions, and they will ever be regarded with reverence, even where they cannot be accepted with faith.

From the year 1819 to 1823 Beethoven was occupied in the composition of this symphony. It is a work of grandeur, pathos and fantastic vivacity. It has been more the subject of discussion than all the other productions of Beethoven, and in it Beethoven resolved to give to the world a work which in greatness of proportion, design and signification should surpass everything he had done before. He selected Schiller’s Ode as a vehicle for the conduct of his plan, and introduced voices as an addition to the instrumental orchestra.

There are four different movements. The first is in F, Ma non troppo e un poco allegro; the first thirteen measures displaying the well-known eccentricity of the composer. The latter part of the movement is masterly and full of ability.

The second movement is in D minor, Molto vivace; the style is lively and brilliant. The design, however, is not pleasing after passing the first few measures.

The third movement, an Adagio con moto e cantabile, in common time, is decidedly the best and most satisfactory part of the symphony. It flows in a melodious style of plain but excellent harmony, in simple counterpoint of many real parts. There is nothing, however, particularly novel in the melodies thus interwoven, yet they are elegant, and move in ‘liquid sweetness’ to the end of the adagio.

The fourth and last movement, upon which the violent admirers of Beethoven’s Choral Symphony place all their approbation, is one of the most extraordinary instances ever witnessed of great mind and wonderful science wasted upon subjects infinitely beneath its strength. There are, however, parts of this movement extremely fascinating, one especially, where the basses lead off a sort of fugal subject of about twenty measures in a bold and commanding style, afterwards answered by the other parts. These are really beautiful, and would be sufficient to have raised the fame of any composer. But we are not long allowed to enjoy the delights of so much science and melody, such fleeting pleasure being soon interrupted by wild, crude and extraneous harmonies that may to some express a great deal; but to us are a reminder of the poet’s figure, ‘Chaos is come again.’ Ever and anon we have strong rays of elemental order, as when the bass, vocal part, commences a pleasing and uncommon passage, taken up by the other parts as a ‘round.’ The chorus that immediately follows is also in many places exceedingly imposing and effective; but then there is so much of it, so many sudden pauses and odd passages for the horn and bassoon, so much rambling and vociferous execution given to the violins and other stringed instruments, without any decisive effect or definite meaning. The boisterous jollity of the concluding part, with cymbals, triangles, drums and trumpets, aided by sforzandos, crescendos and accellerandos, create a fearful uproar, so that, when the concluding notes have ceased to vibrate, we feel a sort of painful, melancholy sensation, similar, perhaps, to those feelings that an enthusiastic lover of the sublime in nature and art would experience on viewing some splendid ruin.

The audience of Saturday evening, a very large one, was made up of nearly all the most eminent professors and amateurs of the city, a large proportion of whom evidently enjoyed the performance. There must, however, be different feelings and opinions on musical, as well as on political, scientific and literary subjects. We are as zealous admirers of this great composer as any one of those who would exalt this symphony above everything else Beethoven has written; but the work is unequal, abounding in noise, eccentricity and confusion of design. In it we miss the grand and lofty touches he so well knew how to make us feel—such as those in the symphony in C minor, in most of his splendid slow movements, and in the fine movement, the ‘Eroica’ of the Seventh Symphony; these will always remain enduring monuments of his amazing genius.

Thus ends the festival week of oratorios and concerts—a series of performances, from many points of view, of unexampled splendor. A more efficient orchestra, whether strength or numbers be taken into consideration, was never brought together under the baton of Mr. Thomas. His coadjutor, Mr. Zerrahn, in presiding over the performances of the oratorios given during the week by the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, has also shown a familiarity with the works which a long period of association with his chorus could alone enable him to attain. The singing of this grand body of choralists has been in every case simply magnificent. Their rendering of the Ninth Symphony exhibits a devotion to the cause of musical art which may be fairly regarded as a new and legitimate triumph for Boston. In earnest truth they gave themselves up to the study of a composition which must ever remain to them a work so diffuse, so clogged with detail and so crowded with ideas, that the mind is at a loss to grasp them all. Indeed the ear at times becomes perplexed no less than satiated with Beethoven’s attempt to portray the workings of the human heart, its alternate joy and sorrow, its mysterious forebodings, bright imaginations, and dark despondencies.

The solo-quartet of the Ninth Symphony, like Beethoven’s Mass in D, [is] amazingly difficult, its various parts and intervals being exceedingly unvocal. Great credit is therefore due to Mrs. H. M. Smith, Miss Cary, Mr. Varley and Mr. Rudolphsen for the able, although not always satisfactory, way in which they accomplished their task.

We had almost forgotten to mention that this symphony was preceded by a Suite in D, by Bach, and the two movements of the unfinished symphony by Schubert. The interest of the evening, however, was concentrated in the Choral Symphony.” 

“To say that Steinway Hall was crowded on Saturday, on occasion of the two last performances of the Thomas festival, would give but a faint idea of the attendance on those two memorable occasions. Memorable as they are to every lover of art who was present, and highly creditable, not only to the cultivated musician who directed them, but also to the musical public of New York, who so largely patronized them. The risk undertaken by Mr. Thomas in this festival was one of great magnitude, and the financial result has proved the truth of what we have again and again asserted—it is only necessary to give the New York public the best in art, at any cost, to attain a pecuniary success for the management. The failure of musical enterprise here can only be attributed to the poverty of the materials employed. It is the same story from Malibran down to the festival just closed, that musical genius will ever find prompt recognition here. The crowd in the evening thronged both balconies and extended far back into the smaller hall. In the afternoon… [see the event listing for the matinee for brief comments on that performance].

But the great feature of the performance of the evening was Rubinstein’s playing of his own concerto in D minor, No. 4, a cheval de bataille for fleet-fingered pianists. He was in his best mood, and, if possible, grander than ever in his Titanic grasp of the colossal difficulties that are so thickly sown in the first and last movements. The fingers that evoked thunder from the noble instrument in the impetuous storm of the finale became in the delightful andante as tender as the caressing touch of a mother on her infant’s brow. The work itself has all the nobility of style and variety of treatment that one would expect from the composer of the ‘Ocean’ symphony. The coloring of some of the phrases in the first movement is decidedly Chopinish. In the second part of the concert Rubinstein played the three works which have probably, with the general public, attained a greater popularity than any of his other selections. They are [see above]. To speak of his rendering of these works would be but a twice told story. It was simply the perfection of piano playing. Mrs. J. Houston West sung ‘With Verdure Clad,’ from ‘The Creation,’ without giving any particular interest to the hearer. Two movements of Raff’s bright pleasant symphony ‘In the Forest’ were splendidly played by the orchestra.

Although the first part of the evening’s programme was interesting from the presence of Bach’s quaint old suite in D, No. 3, and Schubert’s unfinished symphony in B minor, two movements of which were given, yet the attention of the vast audience seemed to be wholly concentrated upon the lion of the occasion, the last and greatest work of Beethoven, the ‘Choral Symphony.’ The elements brought together for the performance of this work were the best that America can afford, and rarely have they been equaled for completeness and ensemble in Europe. The fame of the orchestra, on this occasion increased to one hundred strong, is worldwide; The Handel and Haydn Society were in full force, and had the advantage of thorough rehearsals; and the solo quartet [see above], whatever their shortcomings in other works may have been, sung the difficult music allotted to them in the last movement promptly and correctly. The ninth symphony is a rara avis in public on account of its surpassing difficulties. A conductor of the highest order, with all the necessary materials, could only present it in proper shape. Such a conductor took the baton on Saturday night, in the person of Theodore Thomas, and such materials covered the immense stage from the organ gallery to the edge of the platform. The four movements [titles listed] have a boldness and majesty that lift them above all other creations of the human mind. According to Richard Wagner’s interpretation of the ninth symphony the predominating idea is the struggle of the soul after joy and happiness. Nothing can be more vivid than the illustration of this struggle at the very commencement of the work. It is declamatory in every measure to the close, and the gradual unfolding of the colossal theme keeps expectation up to the most eager point. The scherzo is considered the highest morceau in the world of music, a downright carnival of jollity, in which the orchestra of Thomas fairly reveled. The brilliancy of the march in D major which occurs in this movement forms a delightful foil to the sportiveness of the phrases by which it is introduced. The gem, however, of the symphony is the third movement, than which nothing can be imagined more touchingly beautiful. Its simplicity of thought and the easy and natural continuation of the motives can never fail to produce a lasting impression on the ear. The andante of the symphony in A major, lovely though it be, pales before the calm beauty of the movement, adagio molto e cantabile, of the ninth. The ingenious manner in which all the motives of the three preceding movements are presented in bouquet fashion in the introduction of the last movement is only equaled by the unexpected outburst of the voices in Schiller’s ‘Hymn of Joy,’ in answer to the recitative of the contrabasses and the overwhelming crescendos of all the instruments. When the bass declaims without accompaniment, ‘Friends, no more of these tones; let us sing together more pleasant and joyous strains,’ the effect on the hearer is indescribable. The strain on the voices is intense, as all the parts are written up to the highest note attainable to soprano, alto, tenor or bass. Although the volume of tone produced by the Handel and Haydn Society was unduly small for their numbers—and here we may remark that the individual quality of the voices of this society is not commensurate with their high training in music—yet the promptness and correctness with which every choral phrase was taken up and finished formed no inconsiderable feature in the performance of the work. The same may be said of the solo quartet, who had an arduous task to perform. The applause which greeted the talented young conductor before the performance of the gigantic work, and the presentation to him of a handsome basket of flowers, testified to the appreciation of the American public of his single minded, disinterested exertions for art in this country. We were nearly forgetting to state that Mr. Varley sung, or attempted to sing, at this concert the celebrated aria, ‘Sound the Alarm,’ from ‘Judas Maccabeus.’ It is entirely beyond his reach, and the defects we have previously pointed out in his voice became more painfully apparent in this selection. Those who have heard Sims Reeves’ glorious rendering of the aria will hardly be inclined to accept Mr. Varley as a competent singer to undertake it. This closed one of the most important musical festivals ever given in this city. The weakness of the soloists was far more than counterbalanced by the artistic finish and spirit of the chorus and orchestra. To Mr. Thomas is due the credit of having given the New York public a feast of music of more artistic value than a dozen Boston panjandrums.”

“The programme of the Symphony Concert opened with the Suite in D, No. 3, by Bach. A noble work, one in fact which is quite above criticism, and which bears the same relation to most of our modern music that a mountain chain does to the Pyramids. It is grand and at the same time exquisitely graceful and refined. The performance was in every way worthy of the work. Next on the list was the Aria ‘Sound an alarm’ from Judas Maccabaeus, sung by Mr. Varley, who succeeded fairly, although his voice betrayed a tendency to slip on some of the high notes.

Part first of the programme ended with two movements from Schubert’s unfinished Symphony in B minor. The poetic ‘Allegro moderato,’ darkly suggesting some mysterious tragedy too terrible to be unveiled, and the lovely ‘Andante con moto,’ which follows, were both played to perfection.

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, which occupied the second half of the evening, was successfully performed both by orchestra and singers, although it seemed to me that there was less spontaneity on the part of the latter under Mr. Thomas’s leadership than under that of Mr. Zerrahn.

The audience was a very large one and the concert was a fitting close to a series which has not only added to the enviable reputation which Mr. Thomas bears, but has demonstrated the fact that a serious musical enterprise properly conducted will not fail in New York for want of patronage.”

“For a whole week and more the New York journals were ringing with the praises of our old Handel & Haydn Society. The manner in which these four or five hundred singers sang the choruses in Elijah and the Hymn of Praise, some of the grander ones from Israel in Egypt, and, above all, the choral portion of the sublime, almost impossible Ninth Symphony, seems to have been a new revelation to the impressible New York audiences, not much accustomed to the splendors of Oratorio adequately rendered. It is to be hoped that what they have now heard will prompt to the building up of one or more grand choral organizations of their own. If this should be the result of it, Mr. Theodore Thomas, to whose enterprise and skill the whole week’s noble Festival is due, will have conferred a two-fold benefit upon the great metropolis. We have no doubt that our singers did their very best, and that is very good indeed. And probably for this excursion the great choir was somewhat weeded of the weaker and less harmonious elements, so that 400 voices really sang better than the six or seven hundred gathered for the festivals in our own Music Hall. This time they had every motive to make a good appearance. The several masses of the great choir were placed in better relation to each other than our Music Hall stage admits of. And they must also have derived much inspiration from the superb accompaniment of the Thomas orchestra, especially in the Lobgesang and the Choral Symphony.” [Followed by a two-paragraph reprint from New York Tribune review, 04/28/73, p. 4]