The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1879-09-20
Tseinenyi.

| Much has been written of Remenyi's wonder
full playing of gypsy music and Hungarian songs
and dances, although, alas such music is rarey
to be seen on his public programmes. Last
year correspondent Of the Boston Journal wrote
that one evening he was dining at Hungarian
inn at Paris, in front of which band Of Hungari.
an gypsy musicians were playing, when in the
midst OF the maddest of all mad Strauss waltzes
arose the cry "Remenyi! Remeny." lie contin.
ues:
| Now Remcnyi is positively the greatest violin.
ist | have ever seen. He has Ole Bulls intense
spirituality, and he has added to 1t something
| " hich does not belong to the North-the volup.
tuous rythm and melody born of Southern moon
| lights and the perfumes Of rich blossoms. have
seen Remcnyi in parlOrs and adored his talent,
tut never have l seen him appear to such advan-
| tage as on this evening, when he stands before
the CZarda in tho open air, and, in response to
hundreds of solicitations, begins to play OH a vic.
lin handed up to him from the dusky musicians.
Remenyi has the face sf O priest; there Is moth
ing secular In his aspect; he seems apart from
the world; II certain austerity in his manner con
tradicts the sensuous poetry in his nature. lie
was born musician; no culture could ever have
improved or in any sense reformed his tempera-
ment. Poet and artist expression is for him an
absolute necessity. In his presence the crowd,
which has been rather noisily applauding the
lSlphnes, DcConcS Tranquil anu nusntu IHcrc
is sentiment OF reverence in the stiffness. While
the waiter serves us dessert, and murmurs some
thing which we must not listen to concerning
the seductive charms Of such wines as the Chat
eau Paluvgay, the Dloszeg Bakar and old-old
Tokay, Remenyi mounts Il char and begins. At
first he plays only simple melody over and over,
until people, puzzled, look at each other and
murmur. But that repetition is for the purpose
OF fixing the melody in our minds. Now, with
lightning rapidity, he has darted into series OF
infinite variations, through all Of which we still
hear the refrain returning with matchess pre-
cision. Then he pours fourth long current Of
appealing cries. OF inarticulate means, of the
spirit; Of the thousand things which the soul
thinks, but cannot utter for itself. And at last
he finishes with mad dance, in which ii requires
but little fancy to convince us that we hear the
clatter Of the tamborine, the wall Of the guzla,
the clink Of spurs as cavaliers dance on the hard
baked floors Of rustic cabins with pretty maidens
Loud is the applause. Remenyi bows and begins
anew. The Tsiganes, who have accompanied
him on the previous composition, now look puz
,led, smile, and shake their heads Remenyi Is
improvising. And what glorious improvisation
it is! 1t Is the very climax Of passionate express
sion Of the charm and beauty Of existence, wild
nature reveling in the mere enjoyment Of life.
Even the gypses are inspired by Remenyi's in
spration one by one they join in the music, and
go gradually from an undertone to the masters
Interpretation. He plays on and on, regardless
of time, space, people, everything and anything
in the world until al last the inspired moments
have passed, and he finishes the noble compost
ton with little madrigal the measure of which
causes the Gypsy faces TO light up with the
warmth of recognition Of familiar air. Then Re
menyi steps down from his chair, returns the
violin from which he has extracted such magic
to its owner, and is off to another section OF the
gardens, to escape the admiration Of his admir-