, for the last
time, from America. He was in poor health, but, contrary to all hopes,
the sea voyage did not improve his condition, and much anxiety was felt
until his home was reached. A few weeks later he died, and, at the
funeral, honours more than royal were shown. In the city of Bergen all
business was suspended, and the whole population of the city stood
waiting to pay their last respects to the celebrated musician and
patriot.

Ole Bull was a man of remarkable character and an artist of undoubted
genius. All who heard him, or came in contact with him, agree that he
was far from being an ordinary man. Tall, of athletic build, with large
blue eyes and rich flaxen hair, he was the very type of the Norseman,
and there was something in his personal appearance and conversation
which acted with almost magnetic power on those who approached him. He
was a prince of story-tellers, and his fascination in this respect was
irresistible to young and old alike, and its effect not unlike his
violin playing.

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: "W