Central Park Garden Concert

Long article on the forthcoming concert. 

Includes program. 

“A ‘Mendelssohn Night’ at the Central Park Garden was certain to prove an irresistible attraction, and the concert last evening was received with something like rapture by an assemblage of the hugest dimensions. The programme was as follows [see above].

Of all composers, Mendelssohn probably touches the sympathies and seizes the affections of the greatest multitude of listeners. His exquisite creations are grateful alike to the tyro in art and to the most accomplished musician. The one admires the perfect finish of all his work and the rare beauty of form which results from the very highest artistic sense, while the other loves the play of his fine fancy and the inexhaustible flow of his melody. Imagination and culture were his in almost equal degree. Inspiration never deserted him and never led him into excess. His thought was always distinct, his expression always clear, and his fertile invention was always controlled by the instinctive perception of the rules of proportion which distinguishes the true masters of classical art. To make up a programme exclusively of the works of one composer would be in most cases a dangerous experiment. There are a few, however, whose range is so extensive and whose variety is so vast that we can listen to them in the concert-room for a whole evening without any loss of relish. Wagner, as we saw last week, is one of these exceptional masters, and Mendelssohn, as we saw last night, is another. The selections illustrated a large part of his short and brilliant life, and almost the entire development of his powers as a writer for the orchestra. The Symphony in C minor is one of the very earliest of his productions, a boyish work which he was apparently not anxious to have remembered. It is almost unknown in this city, for it is very seldom played, and hardly has a place in the classical repertory. We found it lacking in Mendelssohn’s characteristic elegance and polish—as indeed was to have been expected—yet it was clearly an interesting study, and a marvelous example of precocious powers. Almost any other boy composer, attempting a symphony, would have exhausted himself in the first movement, but Mendelssohn went on doing better and better to the very end, his hand growing firmer, his treatment of the instruments more ingenious, and his melody richer and more graceful. The Finale is a real gem.

The other works on the programme are all familiar. The Horn Quartet is an arrangement of of a well-known part-song. The Octet, written for four violins, two tenors, and two ‘celli, was played by the full string orchestra (double basses omitted) with a stupendous effect. This also is an early work, having been written when Mendelssohn was only 16, and yet it ranks as one of the noblest in thought and most perfect in texture of all his instrumental compositions. The Scotch Symphony, published when he was 33, but begun many years before, is often considered the ripest of his orchestral works, but we have never found in it the indescribable charm which belongs to the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ This is genuine poetry of which the world can never tire.”

“Yesterday evening’s programme at the Central Park Garden was wholly made up of works by Mendelssohn. There was a very large audience, and its appreciation of the music and of its interpretation was shown not merely by its presence, but by its close attention, its judicious applause, and its unwillingness to depart until the last note had sounded. The selections, though among the most familiar of the Mendelssohn répertoire, were felicitous, and the performance was one of unimpeachable taste and precision. The octet, which Mr. Thomas’ men have often executed in the concert-room, was rendered with a degree of finish akin to that exacted of a soloist, and the third symphony (‘The Scotch Symphony’) was given with as much eloquence in the matter of tone as delicacy in the handling of the elaborate passages. A splendid delivery of the music to ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’—the fairy-like scherzo with which the band deals with as easily as with the broader measures of the ‘Wedding March’—brought the evening to a close.”

“Quod licet Jovi, not licet bovi. And if the great Zukunft apostle only thought of this when he ventured to decry the genius of Mendelssohn, that composer who, in what might be called the tender years of the mind, climbed up to a pedestal in the temple of fame from which he can always look down upon more ambitious but less gifted souls, he would not have exposed himself to the ridicule of the world. Nothing could be more gratifying than the respect, nay, reverence, shown to the great composer last night at Central Park Garden, on the occasion when the programme consisted entirely of his works. And a magnificent selection it was, as may be seen from the following [Contents listing: see above].

The beauty of symmetry, high mastery of style and innate charm of form which in Mendelssohn’s works are the offspring of a moral earnestness make him one of the most polished types of artist the world has ever seen, and will always be a silent rebuke to the delirious extravagances of some of his successors.

Chopin on the piano; Mendelssohn in the orchestra. Such is the climax of tone poetry. The chief point of interest last night was the octett and nearly 3,000 people went to hear it in its amplified form, glowing with the additional warm blood infused into it by the accession of all the strings of Thomas’ orchestra (contrabasses excepted, and it is a pity they were left out). This bold invasion of the domain of chamber music was as successful as former raids by the same bold conductor on the preserves of the violinist and pianist; vide ‘Rhapsodie Hongroise’ and ‘Fantasie Caprice.’ The performance was matchless in the first three movements, each part standing out in silhouette relief, and the whole rendering pulsating with expression. In the last movement the tempo was taken, we opine, rather too fast; so much so that some of the celli passages were unintelligible. The general effect of the playing of this lovely work was so fine that Mr. Thomas will likely have many calls for it before the close of his season. And here is a subject of regret. Just as the time that the majority of metropolitan musical public come back from the country these fascinating entertainments at Central Park Garden are brought to a close. There is no reason why we cannot have a winter garden as well as a summer garden, and why during the regular musical season concerts of this kind should be few and far between. We say nothing of the performance of the Scotch symphony and ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ as it has been been a fruitful theme for years for years in these columns. They were played last night to a charm.”

“Thursday evening was a Mendelssohn night at the Central Park Garden, the entire programme consisting of works of that composer. The following were the pieces performed [see above].

The programme was one that increased in interest as it progressed. It illustrated Mendelssohn in his weakest and in his strongest moments. The first symphony was a work on which later in his career he turned his back, as poets often do on their juvenile productions. He would probably have cancelled it if he could. It serves only by contrast with his later works to show how much greater the man afterward became, and when it was brought into such sharp contrast with the Scotch symphonythe difference was immeasurable.

The quartette for horns was only a male voice quartette, ‘The Cheerful Wanderer’ (Der Frohe Wandersmann), which gained nothing by being transferred to the horns, but of which the performers piously performed all the verses.

The octette for strings, lovely as it is, lost its delicate aroma in that large and densely crowded hall. The place was too full and [flaring?] for a composition so quiet in tone and spirit.

The Scotch symphony was superbly played. The great audience testified its appreciation of the composer and his works by their attention and cordial and sympathetic applause.”