In regard to his playing, his technical proficiency was such as very few violinists have ever attained to. His double stopping was perfect, his staccato, both upward and downward, of the utmost brilliancy, and though he cannot be considered a serious musician in the highest sense of the word, he played with warm and poetical, if somewhat sentimental, feeling. He has often been described as the "flaxen-haired Paganini," and his style was to a great extent influenced by Paganini, but only so far as technicalities are concerned. In every other respect there was a wide difference, for while Paganini's manner was such as to induce his hearers to believe that they were under the spell of a demon, Ole Bull took his hearers to the dreamy moonlit regions of the North. It is this power of conveying a highly poetic charm which enabled him to fascinate his audiences, and it is a power far beyond any mere trickster or charlatan. He was frequently condemned by the critics for playing popular airs, which indeed formed his greatest attraction for the masses of the people. He seldom played the most serious music, in fact, he confined himself almost entirely to his own compositions, most of which were of a nature to meet the demand of his American audiences.
When Ole Bull played in Boston in 1852, after having been absent for several years, during which time other violinists had been heard, John S. Dwight wrote of his performance thus: "We are wearied and confused by any music, however strongly tinged with any national or individual spirit, however expressive in detail, skilful in execution, and original or bold, or intense in feeling, if it does not at the same time impress us by its unity as a whole, by its development from first to last of one or more pregnant themes. As compositions, therefore, we do not feel reconciled to what Ole Bull seems fond of playing.... He cannot be judged by the usual standards, his genius is exceptional, intensely individual in all its forms and methods, belongs to the very extreme of the romantic as distinguished from the classical in art. He makes use of the violin and of the orchestra, in short of music, simply and mainly to impress his own personal moods, his own personal experience, upon the audiences. You go to hear Ole Bull, rather than to hear and feel his music. It is eminently a personal matter.... Considered simply as an executive power, he seems, after hearing so many good violinists for years past, to exceed them all—always excepting Henri Vieuxtemps."
It may be said with truth that Ole Bull achieved his reputation at a time when it was comparatively easy to do so. There was very little musical cultivation in this country when he first appeared here, as may be easily imagined by a glance at the extracts from criticisms, given here and there. By his strong personality, apparent mastery of his instrument, and by being practically the sole occupant of the field, he became famous and popular. He prided himself on the fact that his playing was addressed rather to the hearts than to the sensitive ears of his audiences, and during his later years he adopted certain mannerisms by way of distracting attention from his somewhat imperfect performances. He never made any pretension to being a musician of the modern school, nor of any regularly recognised school of music, but his concert pieces were his own compositions, of no great merit, and he still more delighted his audiences by playing national airs as no one had ever played them before. He was a minstrel rather than a musician in the broad sense of the word, but he held the hearts of the people as few, if any, minstrels had previously done.
[CHAPTER VII.]
1830 TO 1850.
One of the most noticeable features of the biography of the violin virtuoso is that he invariably displays great talent at an early age and plays in public at any time from eight to twelve years old. There are doubtless more who do this than are ever heard of at a later day, for the idea of the infant phenomenon is alluring. The way of the violinist is hard. He has many years of study and self-denial before him, if he is to excel as a musician. Therefore the infant who can be exploited in such a manner as to make money provides for his future education, unless hard work or flattery kill him physically or intellectually before he is ripe. Many prodigies sink into oblivion,—some few rise to celebrity. It will be noticed that the violinists who played in public while very young have invariably settled down afterward to serious study, and at a more mature age have thus been able to take their place in the musical world.
Year by year, too, the demands upon the violinist have been greater. A virtuoso is judged rather by the standard of Beethoven's concerto than by his ability to perform musical gymnastics with operatic selections. Nevertheless, it is a fact that many of the best known violinists were those who catered to the taste of the multitude, while many better musicians have been comparatively unknown.
Among celebrated violinists few have led more romantic or adventurous lives than Edouard Remenyi, whose name is not yet forgotten in this country. Born at Hewes, in Hungary, in 1830, he possessed the restless spirit of his race, fought in the insurrection of 1848, escaped to the United States when the insurrection was crushed, but was received into favour again a few years later, on his return to his native land.