Theodore Thomas Matinee: 2nd

Includes program. 

“An excellent programme was offered at Mr. Thomas’ matinée concert, which was largely attended, at Steinway Hall yesterday. Nothing new except Rubinstein’s ‘Ouverture Triomphale’ was recited, but the music Mr. Thomas’ forces interpret is of such a character that it can with pleasure and profit be listened to time and again, while its performance by his splendid band takes on fresh excellences at every repetition of their work. We have never heard Raff’s ‘Lenore’ symphony rendered with such wonderful sentiment and precision as were noticeable yesterday. Never was the delicious second movement invested, to our thinking, with an equal beauty of tone, and never was the shading of the marsch-tempo more skillfully managed. Loud applause followed each of the divisions of the composition, which ought to have been placed at the close of the programme, for nothing could have left a stronger impression. The orchestral selections commenced with [lists works]. The soloists of the entertainment were [lists soloists]. The gentlemen executed on two pianos an exacting but old-fashioned and formal duet by Moscheles, known as ‘Homage à Handel,’ and Miss Cranch sang [lists works]. Miss Cranch is a young lady of promise, but we apprehend that through want of feeling no less than through want of breadth in style, she will never cope successfully with the classics.”

“The matinées and concerts of Theodore Thomas offer a positive compensation to the baffled and long suffering concert goers of our metropolis, as do the promised joys of Paris to the good Bostonian, who is rewarded, as we all know, for a life of painful decorum by the final privilege of unbending in the relaxing atmosphere of the French capital, when once this mortal coil, together with Boston and dullness, are shuffled off. The docility of the American public in sitting through tiresome programmes is at times touching to behold. Programmes that would irritate the French and Italians beyond control and are only endured by the Germans when under the soothing influence of tobacco smoke and the witchery of beer, are accepted by the mercurial New Yorker with amazing fortitude. The matinée of Thomas given yesterday at Steinway Hall was interesting in its choice programme and satisfactory in execution. The ‘Lenore’ symphony of Raff, which was given by request, is already, and deservedly, an established favorite. It is founded on Burger’s well known ballad of ‘Lenore,’ and opens with two movements introductory to the final catastrophe of the poem. The first, an allegro, descriptive of love, happy and prosperous; the second, followed by an andante, wherein doubt and anxiety and undefined sense of coming evil begin to steal their way into the Eden of tranquil delight. Then comes the second division, entitled ‘Separation,’ opening with a march, to whose triumphant strains the young lover must inevitably march, either to glory and a victorious return, or glory and a soldier’s grave. The third movement, by its gloomy title, ‘Reunion in Death,’ leaves no doubt as to the disastrous nature of the campaign, so far as our hero is concerned. This is, in fact, descriptive of the early stanzas of Burger’s ballad, the previous movements merely serving as preludes to the actual theme of the poem. The distraught Lenore, alternately buoyed up by false hopes and then a prey to deep despair, as expressed in the symphony by change from major to minor key, is at last borne off on a fleet steed by her ghostly lover, who returns to life for the purpose of claiming his bride and of making her his own, amid the cheerful surroundings of a remote churchyard, well stocked with tombstones, skeletons, skulls, and all the paraphernalia of horrors. As regards musical composition the famous ride of the lovers is not the strongest part of the symphony. The usual resources for weird effects, the unexpected use of the shake on wind instruments, syncopated movements, and descriptive rhythm are not of striking originality, and recall at times the incantation scene of ‘Der Freischutz.’ But the work as a whole is exceedingly interesting. The first allegro is full of charm, mingled with a pathetic interest which pervades the entire symphony, and the vivacious treatment of the march movement just saves it from the charge of commonplaceness, which at times threaten to cling to it. The other orchestral pieces of the matinée were a suite by Bach and a triumphal overture by Rubinstein. The former is a quaint and elegant composition, opening with a fugue which is skillful in treatment and uninteresting in effect, as fugues are wont to be. Rubinstein’s overture is not especially characteristic, if it depends on its own merits, but terminating as it does with the Russian national hymn, it serves as an imposing and fitting finale to a concert. A romanza of Beethoven, played by the violins, though originally written as a violin solo, was another pleasing item on the programme. A grand duo, for two pianos, by Moscheles, was contributed by Mr. H. C. Timm and his pupil, Mr. Schelling. Mr. H. C. Timm has been long and favorably known in the city as one of our leading musicians and pianists, and Mr. Schelling is certainly not the first pupil who has profited by his admirable instruction. But the ‘Duo of Moscheles,’ a refined composition of technical merit, belongs to a past age, and can create little positive interest to an audience in a concert hall who are accustomed to the ‘virtuosity’ in piano playing which belongs exclusively to our day, and are consequently inclined to overlook performances which are more adapted to a conservatorium. The soloist and singer of the occasion, Miss Emma Cranch, has already been heard and tested in concert. She gave us yesterday an aria of Gluck from ‘Orfeo,’ and an aria from ‘Semele,’ by Handel. Her voice is pure and fresh and of excellent quality, but the very indispensable gift for a contralto, that of declamation, seems to be at least undeveloped. On an encore she sang a pathetic little ballad, with harp accompaniment, which was more adapted to her powers than the requirements of breadth in style which characterize the old masters, and which are not yet discernable in her training. We can only hope, however, that all of Mr. Thomas’ vocalists for the ensuing winter will be as just in their intonation and as sympathetic in tone, and that we may be able to record future matinées of similar success and interest to that of yesterday during the coming musical season.”

“Thomas’s second matinée was given at Steinway Hall on Saturday with the following programme [lists program].

All the selections for the orchestra had been played here before, but all seemed as fresh and interesting as if we heard them for the first time—more so, indeed, because good music always gains by repetition. The interpretation of the Symphony was unusually sympathetic, The charming suite of Bach’s was even more fascinating than at the recent Symphony Concert; and the Beethoven Romanza, written for a violin solo, but played by all the first violins in unison, with orchestral accompaniment, illustrated, as it has so often done before, the marvelous precision and refinement of this virtuoso band. The elegant but somewhat antiquated piano-forte duet brought out in clear relief the exquisite touch of Mr. Henry C. Timm—which somehow always reminds us of the high-bred courtesy of a gentleman of the old school—and served at the same time to exhibit the proficiency of one of his young pupils, an accomplished lad of 12 or 13 years, whose playing was both correct and polished.”

“On Saturday afternoon Mr. Theodore Thomas gave his second matinée this season in Steinway Hall. The work on the programme which created the most interest was the celebrated symphony in E major, by Joachim Raff, entitled ‘Lenore.’ It was magnificently played. From the soft tremulous sounds of the viole and violoncelli, with which it begins, to the final pianissimo chord not a single flaw was perceived. Previous performances of this symphony by the Thomas orchestra have been very satisfactory, but a higher point of perfection than ever before was reached on Saturday afternoon. Theoretically improvement is possible, but who shall say in what respect? New effects may appear, but these may, after all, only be for the first time perceived.

The great executive ability of this body of instrumentalists is never obtrusively thrust forward. The inner meaning of the composer is always made the chief end. Yet one cannot avoid being gratified at the ease with which the greatest technical difficulties are overcome; and the freedom from obscurity and confusion with which the most involved melodic progressions and rhythms are rendered.

The performance, like the composition itself, in common with all truly artistic works, will bear microscopic criticism from almost every conceivable point of view; and its real worth will not be fully known until these are all regarded. For this reason, with increased acquaintance, our powers of appreciation of any one work or performance become enlarged, and our pleasure not only become more intense, but also more voluminous. We may, therefore, assume that the higher enjoyment of Saturday’s performance was partly due to the fact that the audience was more conscious of the beauties displayed. It is scarcely possible to become familiar with this symphony and avoid amazement at its many-sidedness. At first we may be occupied chiefly in regarding the general effect of the whole as a musical composition, and also with reference to the characteristic significance of the music. Subsequently the details in a technical sense may receive attention, such as the harmonic tissue, the complicated web of melodies, the rhythm, the formal structure, the orchestration, &c.; then the details with reference to the general and special intentions of the composer, and thus new beauties which had hitherto remained concealed are brought under notice. Eventually we become fully conscious of considering the composition in many aspects, and, as it were, simultaneously, while listening to such exceptionally good performances; and then the underlying poetical idea appears to us to come forth with constantly increasing clearness. Let it be granted that some parts of this work are realistic, yet those preceding the March can only be fully received by those in whom a natural organization or course of training has elevated to the perception of the ideal.

The artist here cannot record all he feels, nor can the performers completely supplement his statements. The spiritual revelations accorded to the composer—the inmost experience of his soul—can only in such a case, after all, be divined as it were by kindred spirits; and these again can only perceive them and feel their truth and beauty. They cannot communicate them to others, or even demonstrate satisfactorily to themselves all of which they are conscious. Volumes might be written in such attempts, but they would end in failure, for the highest emotions are partly inexpressible. Yet the enjoyment of a work of art is so utterly unselfish that one can hardly listen even to a single passage, such as the mingling of the ‘farewells’ at the close of the Andante, without having an intense desire that others should hear it and that experiences should be compared.

The Bach Suite in B minor, Beethoven’s Romanze in G and Rubinstein’s Russian overture were all equally well delivered; and the ‘Homage à Handel’ by Moscheles was contributed by Mr. H. C. Timm and his gifted pupil.

Miss Cranch sang the celebrated aria ‘Che Faro senza Euridice,’ from Gluck’s ‘Orfeo,’ most admirably. This song, like the one from ‘Rinaldo,’ which we noticed last week, is extremely popular, and its almost inexhaustible vitality is also equally proved by its appearing as fresh and juvenescent now, as when it was first penned. Miss Cranch’s voice and singing and the good music selected for performance combined to make an entirely satisfactory impression on the audience. A certain charm attends either the quality of her voice or its judicious use, or both, which makes the continued exercise of the critical faculty difficult. There is also an absence of all attempts to create astonishment by the display of some special power and one is soon involuntarily induced to enjoy the music thoroughly rather than to criticize. At one point in Gluck’s aria some rather low notes must be sung forcibly. At this point the lower register of Miss Cranch’s voice was heard with good effect. The reservation of this resource for important occasions is worthy of remark, for it gives evidence of very considerable artistic insight and discretion.”