Program Notes

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)  

Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E minor, Op. 64 (begun 1838, completed 1844)

Scored for pairs of flutes, oboes. Clarinets, bassoons, horns and trumpets, timpani, strings and solo violin

Ferdinand David was one of the leading violinists of the mid-eighteenth century, a brilliant musician and much sought after as a teacher. It was while David was a playing with the Koenigstadt theater orchestra that he made the acquaintance of Felix Mendelssohn. It was truly a mutual admiration society. Both impressed by the other's ability, they often played chamber music together and established a close, lifelong friendship.

In 1835, Mendelssohn was made director of the Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig, and his first order of business was to appoint David as his concertmaster. The partnership was evidently a happy one, because Mendelssohn wrote to David in 1838 and had nothing but praise for his friend.

“I realized that there are really not many musicians who pursue such a broad, straight road in art as undeviatingly as you do, or in whose active course I could feel the same intense delight that I do in yours. It is sometimes discouraging to see so many with the noblest aspirations but inferior talents, and others with great talents yet low tendencies; so that to see real talent with right determination is doubly cheering. The very thought of your character rejoices me, and may heaven permit us to succeed more and more in expressing our wishes and out inmost thoughts, and in holding fast all that is dear and sacred in art, so that it shall not perish!”

David, no doubt flattered by Mendelssohn's words, was even more struck by what the composer said next: “I would like to write you a violin concerto for next winter. One in E minor keeps running through my head, and the opening gives me no peace.” David was stunned, but delighted. A year later, though, no concerto was forthcoming. After a little prodding, Mendelssohn showed David some of his ideas, which David liked very much. But for some reason, Mendelssohn kept putting the concerto aside to write other works. He assured David, however, that the project had not been forgotten.

In 1840, Mendelssohn was summoned by the King of Prussia, Frederick William IV, to work for him in Berlin. Mendelssohn was skeptical, but eventually accepted the post. It turned out to be four years of misery. The composer was constantly busy writing patriotic songs, hymns and incidental music, and was unable to find time for anything else. In addition, those who suggested Mendelssohn's royal appointment were trying to use him as leverage for their religious and political ambitions. By 1844, Mendelssohn had had enough and asked for, and eventually received, his release. When the permission to leave was granted, the composer commented, “The first step out of Berlin is the first step to happiness.”

One of the things Mendelssohn had been eager to return to was his duties with the Gewandhaus Orchestra, which David had been ably commanding since the composer left for Berlin. As soon as he could, he showed up at an orchestra rehearsal, and was overwhelmed by his reception. He wrote, "It was as if they were waiting for me! I came to rehearsal at the Gewandhaus. The winds had pursed their lips, the strings raised their bows and my friend David the baton. But when he saw me, he lowered it, picked up his violin and stepped into the first row of the strings." David's gesture was so moving to Mendelssohn that it brought back to his mind the violin concerto that had been promised his dear friend. This time he didn't let anything stand in his way. With David's advice, he completed the work in September of 1844 and the first performance took place in March of the following year. It was a success from the start, and its presence has graced the concert stages of the world ever since.

The concerto is filled with Mendelssohn's remarkable melodic invention, his impassioned emotion, a fiery brilliance and a noble beauty. From beginning to end Mendelssohn wears his heart on his sleeve and empowers the violin soloist to do the same. The great violinist Joseph Joachim once remarked, “The Germans have four violin concertos. The greatest, the most uncompromising, is Beethoven's. The one by Brahms vies with it in seriousness. The richest, the most seductive, was written by Max Bruch. But the most inward, the heart's jewel, is Mendelssohn's.”

The first movement begins with the violin soloist playing the famous opening theme, penetrating and intense. This opening theme satisfies two of the concerto's goals as expressed by Mendelssohn: that it be brilliant, and that the entire first solo would be played on the E string of the violin. As the intensity and beauty continue through the development section, suddenly we are, in a sense, taken out of time when the violin enters with a cadenza, traditionally held in reserve until the very end of the movement. As the cadenza comes to an end, the violin spins out a swirling arpeggio, and as the arpeggio continues its dazzling run, the orchestra enters with the main theme, and carries on as if the whole thing never happened. It is a stroke of genius.

A solo bassoon, held over from the final chord of the first movement is soon joined by other instruments in a transition that makes way for the violin's lovely song, punctuated by counter-melodies in the strings and winds. The middle section is more passionate and slightly more agitated, and then the opening melody returns in the violin and the movement ends in peaceful serenity. Just before the finale, Mendelssohn introduces a short intermezzo that smoothes the way between the sublime beauty of the second movement and the rousing music to come.

The finale is introduced by majestic chords in the winds. The violin enters with a flourish, which soon becomes the main theme. The violin's pace is exhilarating and despite an interruption from the orchestra, the pace barely slackens. Toward the middle of the movement, the music becomes less hectic, but it isn't long before the rollicking main theme is once more taken up. In a burst of enthusiasm even more frantic than before, the movement races to its glorious finish.