Ole Bull Concert: 3rd, Farewell

“Ole Bull’s concert last night was crowded to the doors, and was altogether a decided success. The programme included some splendid selections, which were efficiently performed by the orchestra, under the direction of Mr. Bergmann. It is almost needless to state that Ole Bull’s wonderful display on the violin was received with loud manifestations of applause. His interpretation of the ‘Mother’s Prayer,’ an old favorite of his, was a perfect masterpiece of art. The concert was rendered additionally attractive by Miss Barton and Mr. Hall, the former by her pleasing rendition of ‘Ah, Mon Fils,’ and the latter in Dachauer’s aria, ‘Novembre.’ ‘Polacca Guerriera,’ in which Mr. Bull showed some brilliant execution, brought the concert to a termination.”

“Ole Bull was heard at Steinway’s last night in a ‘farewell’ concert. This farewell, probably, is only preliminary to a tour through the United States, and there is no doubt that the favorite violinist will be heard again in this city. He is too popular here for it to be otherwise.”

“The eminent violinist Ole Bull gave his last concert in this city at Steinway Hall on Tuesday evening. Not to have heard this artist is to be ignorant of the meaning of the term violinist. Before this wizard of the North most of the so-called violinists who have visited our shores of late years, ‘pale their ineffectual fires,’ sink into insignificance and become bores. In the hands of Ole Bull the violin becomes part and parcel of the artist. It is no longer a fragile piece of wood—an inanimate object. It and the player become one, and emit tones so wild and touching that they seem to be the outpourings of some stricken spirit. A few broken and artistically irregular chords intervene; in them we hear the pure and resonant voice of some happy child; again, we listen to the warbling of birds, singing a song to Spring. There is no thought any longer of violin or violinist—of strings and bow. We are in a dream, which terminates abruptly with the storm of applause at the conclusion of the piece. After hearing Ole Bull play, it is both useless and unpoetical to criticize his technics, or to seek after the means by which he produced his effects. He is a genius in the strict sense of the word, and that one fact is sufficient to give to the listener that exquisite pleasure which is only to be derived from hearing a sublime composition interpreted by a consummate artist. It is Ole Bull’s genius, and not any marvelous execution, that makes him the poet he is. The selections for violin on Tuesday evening were all of the player’s own composition. They were his ‘Concerto in A major,’ ‘Mother’s Prayer,’ and ‘Polacca Guerriera’—each of which met with the warmest reception. Miss S. W. Barton sang ‘Ah! Mon fils’ and ‘Il segretto,’ and Mr. G. F. Hall, Dachauer’s ‘Novembre,’ and an air from ‘L’Oeil Creve.’ Mr. J. E. Perring accompanied, and an orchestra under Mr. Carl Bergmann, lent its aid to complete the entertainment.”

“Ole Bull gave another—and ‘last,’ of course—concert on Tuesday evening, and Mme. Parepa made a second appearance on Friday evening. There was very little diminuation in the large audiences which always greet these artists.”