Ole Bull Farewell Concert

Brief.

“As the spring season passes on and there are event hints of the summer—that period when the voice of the concert singer is mute—there is manifested a sudden activity on the part of concert givers. Several interesting entertainments are announced…

“Ole Bull will give his farewell concert in this city, at Association Hall, next Saturday evening. He expects to leave soon for Europe.”

Several cards; special note that the ticket price is the same whether reserved or unreserved.

“Mr. Ole Bull’s concert at Association Hall this evening will afford the public the last opportunity, for the present at least, of hearing the great maestro of the violin. No one should let the occasion slip lest it never returns. Mr. Ole Bull will be assisted by the excellent artists who have accompanied him during his late travels, and have everywhere earned hearty applause.”

Brief.

“To-night, it should be remembered, Ole Bull will give his farewell concert in this city. The affair will take place at Association Hall, and the violinist will be assisted by Miss Hattie Safford, soprano, Mr. William McDonald, tenor, and Mr. Edward Hoffmann, pianist.”

Brief. “Ole Bull gave his farewell concert at Association Hall last night. It is long before ‘we look upon his like again.’ He sails for Europe on Wednesday.”

“Ole Bull took leave of us on Saturday night at Association Hall. A very large and very enthusiastic audience attended his last concert, greeted the kindly face and noble figure with true heartiness, recalled him again and again, and bid him good-by with every demonstration of respect and admiration. We trust he will revisit us in the course of another season; but time, though it has touched him gently, cannot spare him forever. Stately and erect still, as in his youth, he shows in his features, much more plainly than he did a year ago, the burden of days which he has borne so bravely. But age has not weakened his hand or impaired his wonderful art. If there is any change, it is that his playing becomes more pathetic, his tone more tender and mellow, his style perhaps a trifle more dreamy, as he approaches that period of life when man ceases to look into the future, and turns his gaze thoughtfully back upon the past. When the great artist is recalled after one of his marvelous performances, his fingers seem to wander a while about the strings, and the soft three-part harmonies, with which he loves to preface encore pieces, shape themselves gradually into fragments of old melodies, as if he heard the echo of music that rang through concert halls half a century ago, and voices that have long been hushed. It is at such moments that Ole Bull seems to us greatest, and we feel how much higher is a true genius like him than the accomplished artists with which some critics are accustomed to compare him. We doubt whether it would be possible to measure Ole Bull by the standard of any other violinist who ever lived, except Paganini. And even with Paganini his chief point of resemblance is that like the wonderful Italian he is entirely independent of all schools, and is the master, not the servant, of technical laws. He violates countless canons of composition, but it is the privilege of genius to do that, and to make rules for itself. He teaches the violin to sing like a human creature; he moves his audience at will to laughter and tears; he trifles with feats which, according to well regulated musicians, ought to be impossible; he draws out of his instrument tones which no other player has ever been able to find in it; why should we complain therefore if he refuses to confine himself to the orderly measures of the classical composers, or the florid neatness of De Beriot? In the profoundness of his poetical perceptions he is without an equal to-day; perhaps he has never had an equal. If the true aim of music is to influence the feelings, he is one of the greatest musicians of his time. We hail him as a phenomenon, to be judged by none of the acknowledged scientific standards, but to be welcomed with gratitude and unquestioning admiration. Wherever he goes, we believe he plants the seed of good, for he inspires his listeners with a love for the beautiful and teaches them something of the poetry of music.

“Of his performances on Saturday evening there is no criticism to be made, for none of the pieces were new. His Scotch fantasia, a Largo posato and Rondo capriccioso, the ‘last Rose of Summer,’ and so on, were the chief solos, and he accompanied Miss Hattie Safford in a song of Lucantoni’s, Pensier d’Amore. Miss Safford sang one or two other pieces also. She has an excellent voice, clear, true, and sympathetic, and though her culture is not yet all that it should be, her style is good, and she is a young lady of decided promise. Mr. William Macdonald, the tenor, has a sweet voice and good taste; and Mr. Edward Hoffman, though his solo playing lack character, is a careful and agreeable accompanist.”

“It has been the good fortune of Ole Bull to have been the musical idol of our people ever since his advent among us. We go to hear him as a devout architect would go to Athens to see the Parthenon, not to criticise [sic] but to admire, expecting him to evoke from his great instrument sounds as sweet as the beams of the rising sun drew from the statue of Memnon.

“His concert at Association Hall on Saturday evening was attended by an immense concourse of people, who made him the focus of their anxious eyes and the object of their unbounded applause. Large audiences, when lit up by great enthusiasm, demand quite as much in quantity as in quality, and as a natural consequence the ten new pieces on Ole Bull’s programme was [sic] very nearly multiplied into twenty.

“To every demand of the audience for a repetition, the great Scandinavian artist responded with all the grace and agility of a youthful shepherd on Mount Ida.

“Ole bull must think that the fruit he shakes from his own tree is the sweetest, as he scarcely allowed his violin to echo anything but his own compositions. Whether Homer was as gifted in the recitation as the composition of his poems is fortunately too mythical for an answer; and by parity of reasoning we shall relegate to the region of the unknown the question whether Ole Bull is more skilled in playing his own compositions than those of Chopin or Beethoven.

“Miss Hattie Sandford [sic] was not only warmly received, but was greatly applauded for her vocal efforts. The Romanza from Rossini was tastefully sung, and best accorded to the quality and compass of her voice.

“Mr. Macdonald was up to his usual standard, but was most successful in the beautiful melody of Abt’s ‘Schlafe Wohl.’

“As an accompanist, Mr. Edward Hoffman has few equals in delicacy, adaptation and rhythm. Few voices are without certain inequalities, half-concealed discords, and it is in toning down these and shading them that his musical intelligence is seen. The best solo piece played by him was that of Wehli, which had the double merit of excellence as a composition and of beautiful interpretation by Mr. Hoffman.”

“Ole Bull gave his farewell concert in America on Saturday evening, April 23d, at Association Hall, to a large audience, the receipts from which will help to enable him to fare well for some time to come.”

“Ole Bull sailed for Europe on April 27th. A number of ladies and gentlemen were at the wharf to see him off. Prior to his leaving our shores he was presented with a beautiful silken flag, a compound of the national flags of Norway and the United States, and bore the inscription ‘To Herr Bull from the New York Philharmonic Society.’”