White: As much as there is room for in art, it is placed there.

By José Martí

At the stroke of a pen and at the last minute, the magazine entrusts me -and I gladly accept the assignment- the task of making a quick review of last night's concert at the Conservatory, of that unanimous and unusual success, of the new concert that, as a final farewell, will be offered tomorrow at the Conservatory itself by this giant artist, for whom art has no invincible difficulty, nor the germ of hidden wonders that he does not surprise and develop.

My misfortune did not allow me to hear Mendelssohn's trio in D minor, nor Hummel's piano duet for four hands, which, according to those who heard them, was performed as they know, by Mr. Ituarte and Mr. León.

White presented himself to play the CiaconnaI arrived at the salon when I arrived at the salon. I arrived in good time: nothing should have been heard before that titanic music, nor should anything have been heard afterwards, if there had not been something new to be astonished with in Mozart's quintet.

What was White playing Bach's music? As two stout wrestlers engage in hand to hand combat, and are engaged in the fight, and see nothing but their growing exaltation, and, inflamed with anger, do not cease in the fierce fight until the one falls defeated, and the other rises upright, victorious. Thus and in equal strife did battle before the astonished audience of the Conservatory, White and his violin: how can my words mean what is said in the music? White's bow first slipped on the strings, then rolled over them, then pressed them as it ran, went back and forth in ceaseless races: when all was exhausted, there was something more to exhaust, when all the voices of the instrument were groaning in defeat, and all were crying and murmuring, there were still new groans, there were still new rages in those weary strings, impotent already, already dominated by that proud and powerful hand that excites and revolts the strings against itself to fight with them, to hear them sob, to hear them groan, to bend them absolutely and not to rest until it defeats them.

The audience erupted in incessant bravos.

Who has any idea without hearing it, that once heard it is forgotten, of that fantastic struggle in which human effort found its limit, and an astonishing faculty its highest degree of perfection?

All that fits in art is placed there: all that the hand conquers, is conquered. I have heard Jehin Prume^[1] and Monasterio^[2]I have heard Fortuny^[3] and Sarmiento^[4]Everything is small before this coppery complexion, everything is small before this modest man who thus captivates the applause of a distinguished audience, thus chains to his will all attention and all honor, thus deeply moves me, so much so that yesterday I heard it, and it seems to me that I still have in my soul that powerful music of White.

White and Núñez then played^[5] a sonata in C minor by Beethoven: worthy of the eminent violinist is the Puerto Rican artist: well-deserved applause greeted the final notes of each theme, and the gallant Mr. Núñez applauded and introduced the violinist to the audience, as they were affectionately called to the stage.

Núñez then played the happy of a sonata by Hummel: he is not a distinguished amateur: he is a remarkable master to an uncommon degree. It is evident from the first notes that the artist has a complete mastery of the instrument he plays: he accumulates difficulties: he goes over the obedient and sonorous keyboard with an unsteady hand: it seemed to us the very short time he played it. happyThis is enough to announce an artist for whom renown has surely reserved a wide and splendid path.

And finally Mozart's quintet arrived. Why write in words? That is loved and sighed, that is heard and respected, and felt with the exquisite tenderness with which Mozart engendered and wrote it. Mozart broke through the dense rational atmosphere that reached such a high degree in the second half of the eighteenth century. Poets and philosophers threw out of themselves all pure spiritualistic doctrine: Condillac explained his system of sensations, and Voltaire his conventional incredulity; the beautiful soul of the artist drowned in that mortal and petty space - and he kept in his notes the sighs of the abandoned soul, and composed his works with the tears of the orphaned spirit. Not for an instant did the ever-active life of the imperishable author of Nozze-. Their music is a kind of angelic wailing.

And White knows this, White understands it, reveres it, loves it and touches it. The enthusiasm of the audience reached its height, the enthusiasm and amazement, at that most subtle manner in which White conducted and for the most part executed the larghetto of this beautiful piece, savored with true delight by those who were moved and engrossed as we listened, and then repeated amidst bursts of applause, attracting back to the hall a large number of people who had already left it.

All that is faint and soft, all that is vague and tender, all that is placid and tranquil, mingles and slips on those moaning strings, barely wounded as they pass, by a bow that has the secret of sighing and weeping.

Nothing more: I get irritated with my impotent words, which in no way give any idea of those moments of transported and moved amazement.

That divine music still resounds in my heart: the germ of infinite beauties still does not sleep in me at the wrong time, in love and awakened!

^[1] Frantz Jehin-Prume (April 18, 1839 - May 29, 1899) was a Canadian violinist, composer and music educator of Belgian origin. He began his career as a concert violinist in Europe. From 1852 to 1863 he had a highly successful career in Europe and Russia; performing at the courts of several monarchs and with the great orchestras of the time.

^[2] Potes (Cantabria, 20.03.1836 - 28.09.1903). Violinist, composer, conductor, professor and academic, one of the main promoters of instrumental music during the 19th century in Spain. Considered, along with Pablo de Sarasate, the most important representative of the Spanish violin school of this century.

^[3] Andreu Fortuny Fábregas (Sant Martí de Provençals, 1835 - Barcelona, 1884). Versatile instrumentalist who performed not only in theaters, but also in the halls of recreational societies and other popular leisure spaces frequented by both the general and specialized public.

^[4] Pedro Sarmiento y Verdejo (Madrid, 23.10.1818 - 11.02.1882). A very distinguished and highly regarded musician, he shone notably as a concert flute player; he acquired great fame for his interventions in the most difficult accompaniments of the fermatas and ornaments of the light sopranos of the time.

^[5] Pianist and composer Gonzalo de J. Núñez was the first Puerto Rican musician to achieve international fame. Born in Bayamón, Puerto Rico in 1850, he traveled throughout Europe and the United States, always celebrated by critics.

*Originally published in the Revista Universal de México, June 12, 1875.