The Irish standard., 1897-05-22
THE OLE BULL MONUMENT

THE OLE BULL M OINTMENT
The Grafton Of Mr.. John W.SArctan-
der at Loring Park.
The following eulogy on Ole Bull, the
great Norwegian violinist, whose statue
was unveiled at Loring Park, this city,
last Monday afternoon in the presence
of a large gathering Of citizens OF all
nationalities, was delivered by Attorney
John w. Arctander:
Like the Vikings of old he boldly
sailed his ship to foreign ports. He won
well-deserved laurel wreaths Of fame
and placed them on his country's brow.
He gathered untold treasures and
brought them to his native shore. there
with them to rear temples III which tho
cult Of the national spirit Of his father:
land could be for all time maintained.
He robbed sunny France Of her fairest
lily and brought her to Norway's noun
tain cathedral; there to share his throne
as the uncrowned emperor in the realm
of music and song: And when all Eu-
rope, from Cape Finisterre; to the Si-
berian frontier lay conquered at his
feet, he, like his prototype. Left Erick-
son, steered west-toward the new
world-to the great republic beyond the
SEAS, $50 - :
His tour was a trlumphal march
from Sandy Hook to Golden Gate; from
Montreal to New Orleans. Those Of
generation now fading fast away. who
have sat under the magic spell Of his
mighty bow can tell you the secret of
his power of conquest. twas not his
thorough school. for he had none: He
often said that his master on the violin
was "the mountains OF Norway" and
he was right. He had bent a listening
ear to the mysterious songs and melo-
dies of the weird nature Of Norway. He
had gazed deeply into the hearts OF .his
strange, melancholy race of. sturdy
Norsemen, dwelling in the shadows Of
the eternal snow, and the secrets which.
he thus had learned he set to music. He
sang on his violin new and unknown
song, as strong and robust as the noun
tain Businesses of his native land, as
fresh and breezy as the roar of the wild
waves dashing against its rocky shores.
He coaxed from his instrument wonder
full tunes that told of the joys and Of the
sorrows of primitive race. still chill
dren of nature whom the terminating
influences of an effete culture and: re-
finement has not yet reached or con-
taminated.
All those of us who ever had the priv
ilege of listening to him, will readily.
with vivid emotions, recall the moments
when he lured from out the deepest re-,
cesses of the violin the soft, soothing,
sympathetic strains of sadness. sorrow
and suffering. The notes fell from his
bow like shower of white flowers into.
our ears, into our hearts, into our souls.
They clogged the trickling streams Of
blood from open heart-wounds. They
covered with the beauty of their downy
softness the ugly scars of lacerated
souls. The beatitude of peace, of 10y
ing rest, of soothing harmony stilled
every aching nerve. Our hearts did
beat in sympathetic time for the sor-
rows of others, the surest, sweetest cure
for heart-aches of our own.
To us from Norway's shores, his
greatness is his smallest claim for our
favors. We love him most because in
all the solemn hours of his greatest
triumphs he hoisted high above his
head our Norway's flag with the SAME
spirit which animates the Briton to-
plant the union jack on every shore
where British ships have never touched
before. When highest honors came to
him he never failed to paint in warm
est colors, in language understood by
every human heart, the pine-clad noun
tain shores of Norway, it's deep and
winding fjords, the wild roar Of its
mountain cataracts. the soft sweet rip
pie of it's rivulets, the scented perfume
of its forest pine, the duets Of its night.
ingales, the virgin and eternal snow on
a thousand mountain peaks, it's long
and lonesome, dreary, dreamful winter
nights, the summer glories of it's mid
night sun, the song and story Of this
strange race of sturdy, stubborn yeo-
many, of fair and blue-eyed maidens,
the strife and struggles of this hardy
people, it's battle with the wind and
waves, it's battle for existence and it's
still more exalted battle for indepen-
dence and for freedom, until all Europe,
yea, until the civilized world turned its
sympathetic eyes toward the little
mountain kingdom close up under the
eternal snow, Of which it hardly had
heard mention made before.
Ole Bull was the ambassador of Nor
way, not only to the courts of Europe,
but to the hearts of all civilized nations,
with no royal mandate forsooth, on
parchment sealed and signed, but by the
hiolo, o,,thnr; ~ tho inonu1oo NJ hfo