Rubinstein Matinee Recital: 6th

Includes program for all seven recitals.

“The sixth of Mr. Rubinstein’s piano recitals attracted to Steinway Hall, yesterday, an exceedingly large and demonstrative audience. The pianist interpreted a programme made up almost wholly of compositions by Liszt. Three nocturnes by Field—pretty and graceful numbers, but in no way characteristic—four pieces by Henselt, and two by Thalberg were the only works selected for performance with those of the Abbate. Mr. Rubinstein’s fancy, and the variety of his touch found largest scope for display in the nocturnes above referred to, and in Rossini’s ‘Soirées Musicales,’ reset by Liszt. The tremendous fantasia on themes from ‘Don Juan,’ tested his vigor and endurance with unusual severity, but the demands upon the pianist were met with unfailing readiness, and the results were of a kind to content even the composer should a similar ovation follow a delivery of his own work. In spite of Mr. Rubinstein’s inclination for purely classical music, the writings of the present—and it seems that no productions are classical in their day—have much of his sympathy and admiration. Hence it was not without reason, we suspect, that he prefaced Liszt’s ‘Don Juan’ with an arrangement by Thalberg, whose formal treatment of themes, it must be admitted, had little charm when compared with the highly-colored and grandly-scored succession of Mozart’s motives, as handled by the romanticist. Mr. Rubinstein rendered, in addition to the before-mentioned pieces, [see above]. It is rather ungenerous to find fault with a performer who, when executing about 200 pieces from memory, departs occasionally from the text, but it was clear, yesterday, that Mr. Rubinstein’s skill as an improvisatore did him good service in ‘Cujus Animam’ and ‘Lucia.’ The ‘Soirées de Vienne’ were played with plenty of brilliancy, but with a greater rapidity than, in our judgment, was desirable. A number of lesser pieces completed the bill.”

“The scene at Steinway Hall yesterday would convince the most skeptical of the high appreciation and esteem in which the New York public hold one of the greatest, if not the greatest, of living pianists. For an hour before the recital commenced hundreds of ladies thronged the stairs and lobbies at the entrance of the hall, numerous carriages formed into line on Fourteenth street, and by three o’clock there was assembled at Steinway Hall one of the largest audiences ever known there at a matinée. Both balconies as well as the floor were crowded, and, although the programme was of sufficient length to satisfy any reasonable mind, yet there were at times indications of encores, which, of course, were not responded to, applause being liberally bestowed upon the efforts of the pianist. The concert commenced with three little nocturnes by the best pupil of Clementi, the favorite of St. Petersburg for many years, John Field. Rubinstein’s interpretation of these delicious waifs of musical posey was more beautiful than ever. Their very simplicity and delicate grace keep them out of the hands of our pianists, who wish only for effect, and to that end seek the turbulence of Liszt. They were succeeded by five of the most characteristic works of Adolph Henselt, full of that sound, deep feeling, elegant finish and vivid imagination peculiar to that much-neglected composer. They were ushered in by the agitated measures and odd harmonies of ‘The Storm,’ to which the lovely ‘Cradle Song’ formed an agreeable foil. The left-hand passages of the latter, as played by Rubinstein, formed a diaphanous drapery over the tender subject. ‘The Fountain’ and ‘Liebeslied’ followed next, charming in their variety, and the ever popular ‘If I Were a Bird I’d Fly to Thee’ was an Anacreontic sonnet in music, limned in the most delicate shades of color. After this Rubinstein seemed to get off an unknown coast, a sort of Mars Head, where his genius was entirely at fault. The two works of Thalberg on the programme, the A minor etude and fantasia in ‘Don Giovanni,’ were not given with the power, finish and brilliancy that might be expected. There is a flavor of the salon about the fantasia, perhaps, that offended his delicate sensibility, and he seemed only anxious to rid himself of a disagreeable task. There were touches of beauty, however, to redeem the general coarseness of the conception, notably, in the rendering of the favorite serenade. But those figures of ornamentation with which Thalberg so plentifully bedecks his fantasias, and which are so liberally copied by modern ‘transcribers,’ were flung by Rubinstein over the main themes with an utter disregard to the anatomy of the latter. Perhaps he wished to cast ridicule on the school of salon music to which Thalberg gave birth.

Leaving the dangerous coast of Thalberg, the pianist found himself in greater peril amid the maelstrom of Liszt. He commenced with the ‘Don Giovanni’ fantasia of the eccentric abbate, a work which, we suppose, was never designed to be played by the present race of men; for its technical difficulties approach so near the bounds of the impossible that it is natural to think that they sometimes step out on the other side. It is more like a work written for two pianos than within the compass of ten fingers. It may be called by enthusiasts, ‘colossal! marvelous! Titanic!’ but in our humble judgment there is a superabundance of noise and aiming after orchestral effects such as place it outside the pale of true piano music. Rubinstein fared no better with it than have others before him, and it proved to be the least interesting work on the bill. After this whirlwind of noise there followed in rapid succession a number of Liszt’s lesser works, principally consisting of transcriptions. Among them were ‘Auf dem Wasser,’ ‘Erl King’ and ‘Evenings at Vienna.’ Three gems from Schubert, ‘Soirées Musicales,’ a half dozen bits of Rossinian melody, ‘Cujus Animam,’ from the ‘Stabat Mater,’ ‘Lucia,’ a rather flashy setting of the beautiful sestetta; an impromptu waltz and ‘Rhapsodie Hongroise,’ in D flat major.”

Includes program.