SEVENTH CONCERT,
Under the Direction of the Duke of Cumberland, Wednesday, May 1, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

Vain the search after the name of Haydn or Mozart in a concert selected by his Highness of Cumberland! And as to Beethoven’s, the mere sound of it in the royal director’s ear would be as the piercing, the threatening din of the revolutionary tocsin. The illustrious Duke is perhaps quite right—we, possibly, quite wrong; but it seems to us that a discreet mixture of modern music (not by living composers) with that of older date, would be highly to the advantage of both, particularly in a programme consisting of from eighteen to twenty pieces—a number which almost unavoidably must be felt oppressive, unless that variety, which can only be found in composers of widely-distant periods, is as much an object of attention as contrast in the species, sentiment, and keys of the pieces brought together.

But though there was a want of a due admixture of schools in the present concert, the music was the choicest of its kind. The Anthem composed for the Duke of Chandos (Pope’s Timon) is one of Handel’s best, the only weak part being the overture. The lovely air, ‘O come, let us worship,’ is rather beyond Mr. Vaughan’s voice, as it now is: with a note or two more in compass, and a small increase of strength, he would have rendered it more effective. We felt some regret that the melodious fugue, ‘Tell it out among the heathen,’ and the gentle, the charming air, ‘O magnify the Lord,’ so well adapted to Mrs. Knyvett’s powers, were not included. The vocal parts of the Frost scene were taken rather too slow: and a little more point, more emphasis, in the chiding air, ‘Thou doating fool!’ would much have improved it, otherwise this fine specimen of the great English master’s dramatic music was very successfully performed. The Concerto was executed in a manner peculiar to the Ancient Concert band, the conductor and leader of which, and a few others among its members, possess the true tradition of the author’s times and style. We would not exchange one bar of the largo in B minor, as played by F. Cramer, for all the Friars’ Chants and Witches’ Dances that adroit charlatanerie can produce, or good-humoured credulity applaud. Mad Bess pleased us much, both as part of the present concert and by exciting agreeable recollections: we admire Miss Stephens as she is and remember, with unalloyed satisfaction, what she was. The piano-forte accompaniment, too, deserves honourable mention,—so modest, so judicious! The Madrigal is a chef d’oeuvre; it was sung by Mrs. Knyvett, Messrs. Terrail, Vaughan, Phillips, and Sale, in the chastest and most perfect manner. Warm as we are in our admiration of the madrigalists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we still must acknowledge that this lovely work of the elder Linley, by surpassing all that preceded it, proves the advance of the art; though, unfortunately, the kind of composition not having been encouraged, little has been gained by the exertion of his genius.

Hasse’s fine Bravura was sung with a neatness of execution which none ever yet exceeded. The most difficult passages proved mere playwork to Mad. Cinti, and she added to them others of her own,—very appropriate ones though,—to show how much more than equal she is to the task assigned to her. Her strength is not great, but the flexibility of her voice is surprising; and her knowledge, not merely of her own part, but of the whole of the score, is apparent in whatever she performs.

The Chorus from Jephtha wanted more support from the trebles. We advise the conductor in future to break through the trammels of custom, and accompany the point of the fugue, ‘They now contract,’ with the diapasons and principals only; that is, to spare us the mixture stops, which scream most abominably when only covered by a few sopranos.

Mr. Parry’s song from Samson was quietly and delicately sung. The glee, ‘O’er desert plains,’ could not have had more justice done it, but this really is little better than a psalm-tune. What a pity that the beautiful verses of Shenstone have never yet been wedded to more congenial music! The Recitative, ‘Ye sacred priests,’ was delivered with great judgment, and the following air, ‘Farewell!’ could not have been more delicately sung: it were, however, to be wished that the shakes, transmitted from one singer to another, could be lessened in number as they pass. And the cadence, another incumbrance, had better be at once repudiated; it is an ancient abomination, which now the English alone practise. Morley’s Madrigal is, both in melody and harmony, free as air—all hilarity, and not a glimpse of pedantry. The chorus should have repeated each stanza, and not, as on the present occasion, have been employed only in the last. Mr. Phillips, in the song from Deborah, was very nearly perfect. Bartleman in this was perfection itself; and so will our excellent living singer be, when he has acquired the deep pathos, the experience of his predecessor. In voice he has a manifest advantage; and this is not his only superiority. The aria, a bravura of John Christian Bach, (the Christian names should have been added,) has all the prettiness, and not a little of the weakness, of the composer, who, of the many sons of John Sebastian Bach, is least worthy of the name. It was executed with the utmost neatness, but not sung con amore. In fact, it has nothing in it to excite any ardour in a singer possessing Mad. Cinti’s knowledge and taste.

EIGHTH CONCERT,
Under the Direction of the Earl Fortescue, Wednesday, May 8, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

The overture to Esther and Corelli’s concerto belong to a school which has always been protected and exhibited to the best advantage in these concerts; both were now performed in their true spirit. The immortal chorus from Deborah is a composition which can only receive justice in this orchestra: the great number of vocal performers collected at our grand provincial meetings certainly give more force to it, but are unable to perform it with that precision, that nicety, on which its effect so mainly depends. We never hear the passage where the voices take up the point, ‘to swift perdition,’ accurately executed but at the Ancient Concerts. The song from Judas Maccabeus is generally considered to be one of Handel’s happiest thoughts; but it rolls and rumbles so much, and the base instruments are so continually in unison with the voice—a defect not peculiar to this composer, but to the period in which he wrote—that the only pleasure which it affords us is entirely attributable to the singer, provided that singer be Phillips. Dr. Cooke’s lovely and most masterly glee was a decided failure: it is not at all suited to Mrs. Bishop; her school is of a totally different kind. To Mrs. W. Knyvett this should have been assigned.

The ‘Requiem’ and ‘Agnus Dei’ of Jomelli did not find the choral performers quite at home in their parts, although their occasional want of confidence was only discernible to very experienced and close observers. How ingenious, how effective, and yet how simple, the whole of the base accompaniment to the first movement, the Requiem! Not less admirable, but in another style, is the ‘Agnus Dei,’ and full of original melody, which is still new, because, fortunately, never yet imitated. The fugue, too, at ‘Lux Æterna,’ is of that kind which, while its musical learning is as indisputable as great, possesses the superior merit of being pleasing. Mrs. Bishop is not yet familiar with Handel; her ‘Wise men, flatt’ring’ was not what it doubtless will be when she is become more accustomed to this music—though it was far from displeasing. It is much to be wished that the singer would have the courage to get rid of about two-thirds of the shakes which the composer himself, we admit, has written. We are certainly bound by the author’s text, which is permanent, but not by his embellishments, which belonged only to the age that produced them. A singer in the present day who should venture to introduce the double relish and the back-fall of the seventeenth century,—both of which, as well as other ‘graceless graces,’ are constantly found in the old writers,—would be laughed at for his scrupulous adherence to the original. The madrigal of Luca Marenzio is still fresh, and exceedingly elegant; its only fault is want of modulation. The performance of this did great credit to the singers. The fine chorus from Hercules was executed in a most perfect manner. So was the charming quartet from Samson. Here science is turned to the best account: none but a great musician could have worked out such effects, yet the whole is free from every thing that smells of the lamp. It is the true offspring of genius highly cultivated. We are old-fashioned enough in our taste to be pleased with Avison’s concerto, the soli parts in which were nicely played by Mori, (in the absence of F. Cramer,) who was ably seconded by the band, and most judiciously supported by the organ, which Mr. W. Knyvett always manages with taste and discretion. The song from Samson is beyond Mr. Horncastle’s physical powers, and only fit for such a voice and such energy as Braham possesses. Indeed, we so little like its incessant divisions, and especially the puerile attempt to give expression to the word ‘thunder,’ that we should not repine were we never to hear it again.

NINTH CONCERT,
Under the Direction of Lord Burghersh, for the Archbishop of York, Wednesday, May 15, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

This was a very fine concert, for the music was well chosen, both as regards diversity of school and contrast in style. An infusion of Mozart and Beethoven as moderns, of Paisiello and Zingarelli who may be said to belong to the middle age, and of Handel and Scarlatti as of the ancient class, produced a mixture that suited every taste, and presented a fair prospect of great amelioration in the system by which these concerts are regulated.

The selection from Handel’s anthem made an excellent beginning; we should have been glad to hear the whole of it, for it is one of his best. The scene from Athalia is a good specimen of that fine but comparatively little known oratorio, the magnificent air in which, ‘When storms the proud,’ is exactly suited to Mr. Phillips, who sang it admirably. Paisiello’s delicate quartet was not very thoroughly understood by all the parties engaged in it, nevertheless it proved very satisfactory to the audience. Madame Pasta, who made her first appearance here this season, was as great as usual in the calmly impressive scena from Romeo; and in the air, ‘Ho perduto,’ gave every advantage to the work of a composer who ought again to be brought forward. The song, as it is called, of Alessandro Scarlatti produced quite a surprise. Who ever supposed that an air of so much beauty could have remained thus long unknown in a concert established for the preservation of ancient music? Who ever imagined that a composition upwards of a century old could exhibit so many of the best features of the modern school, that it might be mistaken for the work of Haydn or Mozart? To Signor Rubini we are, it is said, indebted for the introduction of this antique gem, and he placed it in a highly favourable light by his manner of performing it, which, for him, was remarkably chaste.

The Ode (a much better term for it than glee) to Melancholy is one of Webbe’s chefs-d’oeuvre, and shows how well that great composer understood the words. It was most perfectly sung by Miss Stephens, Mrs. Knyvett, Messrs. Terrail, Vaughan, Elliot, and Sale. Miss Stephens, in the song from Acis and Galatea, pleased as usual by her captivating simplicity. The Magnificat of Mozart was well performed, and a very grand work it is. The concerto of Handel, every part of which abounds in beautiful melody, and not less masterly, though not extraneous harmony, was most ably executed. The two fugues in this prove how possible it is to unite the learned and the agreeable. The andante of it is delicious, and here the oboe is rendered almost vocal; as is the bassoon in the last movement. The Kyrie of Beethoven wanted rather more rehearsing; and the overture to Idomeneo required the immense power of the Philharmonic band; nevertheless it produced considerable effect. But the stupendous chorus from Solomon was perfect, though wasted as a finale.

TENTH CONCERT,
Under the Direction of the Earl of Cawdor, Wednesday, May 22, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

The overture to Ariadne owes its chief attraction to the graceful minuet with which it concludes, and this we cannot but think is commonly played too slow at the Ancient Concert. Andante in Handel’s time was a term indicating greater quickness than it is now understood to imply. The recitative, ‘O, thou bright orb!’ contains that risible attempt to describe the arrest of the sun’s course by a long holding note. The chorus, however, is a masterly work, but the voices were not now very firm in it. Mrs. Bishop succeeded well in the air from Athalia. The accompanied recitative, ‘Hark! the horrid sound!’ was delivered in Mr. Braham’s energetic manner; and the following song, one of the most striking proofs of the composer’s genius, is foremost among Mr. Phillips’s triumphs. The air of Gluck was a novelty, and of no ordinary merit. Set to the same words that afterwards exercised the genius of Mozart,—in La Clemenza di Tito—it not only bears a comparison with an admired air of the latter, but in our opinion was superior to it. Mr. Braham, at whose recommendation we believe it was introduced, entered thoroughly into the composer’s design, and gave the true effect to this. But, having an unquenchable antipathy to concerted cadences, we would willingly have spared the two, between the voice and trumpet, added on this occasion. The glee, ‘See the chariot at hand,’ was sung with great correctness. Madame Malibran’s scena and aria of Cimarosa was a most unequal performance: some parts were beyond all praise; others proved the uncertainty of her judgment. Her semitonic passages, neither to be found in the author nor in any way in keeping with his style, were a most unhappy evidence of her occasional want of taste and discrimination; and the broderies she introduced, though not so abundant as is common with her, were misplaced: but her recitative was admirable, and, with the exceptions we have mentioned, the aria was not less splendidly sung. We have heard ‘Gird on thy sword’ better executed: there was a want of shortness in the staccato passages; and in some others the whole band seemed deficient in confidence. The concerto of Handel—a composition which might furnish ample materials for half a dozen of modern growth—was the most perfect performance of the kind we ever heard. This is in fact a violin concerto, and Mori (who led for F. Cramer) played it in a manner that words cannot describe or do justice to. His two cadences, of modest length,—in one of which was an arpeggio, that Paganini, whose chief excellence is in arpeggiando, could not surpass—moved even this audience to a general expression of applause.

In the scena from Mozart’s Tito, Madame Malibran again exhibited her vast powers and unrestrained confidence in her own opinion. The declamatory part of this was superb, though a little hurried; and the immense compass of her voice gave an effect to the air, that, we are almost inclined to say, has never been equalled. But though the conductor took care that the latter opened in the exact time, the singer thought fit to change the movement, and most injudiciously to convert a larghetto (as marked) into an andante. Mr. Knyvett should have shown his independence by checking this, and his respect for the author by insisting on maintaining the time in which he set out. Who, in the name of reason, metamorphosed the round for three voices, ‘Chi mai d’ iniqua stella,’ into a glee for four? This should, of course, be sung by equal voices, one coming in after the other, as the author intended, or else the original design is entirely defeated. The ‘Movement from the Lessons’ is a charming orchestral arrangement of Handel’s lovely air in E, (vulgarly called The Harmonious Blacksmith,) made in excellent taste by the late Mr. Greatorex. The selection from Esther was not interesting, and the remainder of the concert demands no further observation. The room was much fuller than it has hitherto been during the present season.