THIRD CONCERT, Monday, March 25, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

The Symphony of Mozart, No. 3 of the scores, was played with great spirit and the utmost precision. This is one of the most animating of the composer’s works, and seems always to inspire the band as much as it excites the audience. The Pastoral Symphony was never better performed; every movement produced its due effect; even the andante, long as it is, was not felt tedious. Still we are persuaded, and experience confirms our opinion, that about a third of this might be omitted, with the most beneficial effect on the whole. Some of the passages are repeated over and over again; the reduction of these would hardly interfere with the author’s design, and, having been twice heard, might be spared without at all being missed. At all events, it is better that an audience should wish for more than complain of redundancy.

The Overture of M. Chelard (director of the German company that performed at the King’s Theatre last year) was now produced for the first time. It is altogether descriptive, and as a novel attempt, we give his programme, or explanation of it:—

‘The knights of St. George, of Bavaria, returning from the Crusades, are bringing back to the castle of Wallersee the remains of the count, its former possessor, and the grand master of their order, accompanied by Everhart of Schoenfeld, the banneret knight and nephew of the count, and the betrothed of his daughter Iolanda, who is supposed to have perished when the castle was laid in ruins by the usurper, Rodolph of Trento. The overture opens with a funeral march of the knights, followed by the triumphal song of the apotheosis. It then returns to the march, and afterwards to the song of triumph. The dead march is repeated; and as the knights recount the deeds of the hero, the voices of departed spirits are supposed to be heard welcoming him to heaven. The knights separate; Everhart remains alone; he approaches the chapel, and while there, lost in meditation, is suddenly startled by the bell announcing the midnight hour; the voices of the nuns blending with the organ in the anthem for the dead—“Dona pacem, sancte Deus clemens: audi preces nostras; Pater, miserere!” Thunder is heard. He distinguishes among the voices one of a female repeating his name. She approaches, and he recognizes his lost Iolanda, who had here sought refuge from the usurper’s tyranny.’

It must immediately be evident that not one half, not one sixth of this, admits of description in musical sounds. The funeral march, the little bell on which the hour was actually struck, and the motet,—sung by four persons concealed from view,—were all understood well enough; but the connexion of these with the story must have remained an enigma which would have defied Œdipus himself, but for the printed plot insinuated into the room. The overture, however, is a clever work, and shows a great deal of imagination, as well as knowledge of orchestral effects. The descriptive parts are as successful in exciting images as the means employed would admit, and some very good, indeed new harmonies, are dispersed throughout the composition. The author undertook a work which most living composers would have rendered perfectly ridiculous; he has produced what some admired, many approved, and very few condemned, and has steered clear of any gross absurdity: he therefore is entitled to our thanks for the boldness of his enterprise, and to our applause for the manner in which he has carried into execution so hazardous an attempt.

The Overture to Prometheus, too good for a finale, delighted all who stayed to hear it.

Mr. Nicholson’s Fantasia was, we hardly need say, beautifully played; but is an air with variations fit for such a concert? The directors, however, we conclude, must sometimes give way, and, like other great men, be governed by existing circumstances. The Quartet—the 5th, in A, the andante of which is the foundation of Carafa’s air ‘Aure felici,’—was most delicately executed.

Mr. Phillips sang young Callcott’s fine Scene in a most impressive manner. Miss C. Novello did all that is to be done with Mozart’s Aria, a composition from his Operngesaenge (opera songs, a collection of detached pieces), and is which, we can easily believe, the author did not take much pride. It is one of those written for a temporary occasion, and is unnoticed in his own catalogue. Mrs. Knyvett’s ‘With verdure clad’ was admired for its purity, though all wished that a less hackneyed air had been chosen. The same feeling was excited by the Terzetto, which, beautiful as it is, ought now to be laid by for a while. Moreover, it was not performed in the best possible manner.

FOURTH CONCERT, Monday, April 15, 1833.

ACT I.

ACT II.

The extent to which the epidemic, the Influenza, prevails, was visible enough in the thinned benches of the room this evening. Some few of the band, sufferers from the general malady, were also absent, but the others made up by their exertions for deficiency in numbers, for never did the C minor of Beethoven go better; and Haydn’s lovely Symphony, in D, which, we hardly know why has been less used than most of the twelve grand, or Salomon’s, was performed with all the delicacy and spirit required to give due effect to it. And here we will observe en passant, that the last movement was rather too quick: the composer, it is true, marks it Presto, but moderates this by the caution ‘ma non troppo.’ His finales are now almost invariably hurried—an evil that was growing even in Salomon’s time, who in the last year of his life mentioned this to us in strong terms of reprobation. Unfortunately, when Haydn wrote nothing of the pendulum kind was in use, he therefore was only able to give his directions in the vague and often mistaken terms then and still employed in music.

The light and exceedingly pleasing overture to Preciosa abounds in original traits, and shows the versatility of the composer’s genius, as well as his great sense of fitness. Whoever hears this, will, without any previous information, conclude that it was written for a pastoral or a simple opera. The overture to the FreischÜtz at once announces the preternatural scenes, the magic, the diablerie, that are to follow. Thus he discriminated in his dramatic productions, which all, without a single exception that we are aware of, proved how much he thought, and how invariably to the purpose. The overture to Tito went off with splendid effect.

The novelty of the evening was the Septet of Mr. Moscheles, one of the pieces composed for the society, and an incontrovertible evidence of the wisdom as well as liberality of the members in engaging this gentleman, among others, to exercise his talents in their service. It consists of an allegro in D; a scherzo and trio in D minor; an adagio in B flat; and a finale in the major key. Clear as is the first movement, it made less impression on us than any of what followed. The scherzo is strikingly original; the adagio, full of feeling and exquisite taste; and the finale bounding with vivacity and joy. A work like this ought to be seen, or to be heard more than once, to enter fairly into all its merits, but we may venture to say, that this alone would be sufficient to establish the author’s reputation as a composer of the highest order, had he produced nothing else. It is long, certainly, and we should recommend that either the first movement be abridged, or that it be played without the repeat.

The concertante went off remarkably well. It is an able work, but lengthy, the nature of the composition being considered. Mori, in this, exerted himself very kindly in support of his young coadjutors: indeed his labours during the evening—as leader, and taking the violin part in the septet—were of no ordinary kind, and required as much corporeal strength as professional ability.

The aria, ‘Il mio tesoro,’ was passable. The scena of Mozart, ‘Misera! dove son?’ and following aria in E flat, ‘Ah! non so ion’ the seventh of his operngesaenge, possess, at least, the recommendation of not having been often heard, and Mrs. Bishop was not sparing, in exertion to do them every possible justice. Of the remaining vocal pieces, the less said the better; though it is fair to state, that Miss Shirreff was called upon at a late hour to supply the place of Mad. de MÉric, and sang without rehearsing.