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He carried a letter from the prior of Santa Maria to the prior of the cloister there. In the course of that season, he visited the [63] famous baths of Lucca. Malibran, De Beriot, and Döhler, the pianist, had come all the way from Sinigaglia to hear him. After the introduction by the piano had been played, a buzz of conversation was kept up, in which the Queen Dowager was taking a prominent part.

Döhler whispered to Ole Bull not to mind it, and begin his solo; but he quietly placed his violin under his arm in the attitude of waiting. The duke stepped forward and asked if he desired anything. The Queen Dowager has probably something of importance to impart, and I would not disturb her. The next morning, Ole Bull met on the promenade Mr. Schmucker, one of the gentlemen in attendance on the Queen. He said he had come from her Majesty, who desired to see him, and proposed that he should immediately present him. The Queen opened the conversation by remarking that she supposed they [64] had a great many bears in Norway, to which Ole Bull replied that he had himself had the good fortune to be nursed by one, and that he should always hold in grateful remembrance its tender devotion to him.

I understood that you were offended; but you must overcome that sensitiveness. In Neapolitan society, conversation always goes on during music. I sent for you to ask you, and I assure you that you shall have none but silent listeners, for you deserve them. The Neapolitans, like the Bolognese, were reputed for their highly cultivated musical taste; but in Naples it was vocal music which was especially appreciated, and the city, when Ole Bull arrived, was ringing with shouts and plaudits for Madame Malibran.

He [65] waited for the conclusion of her engagement, and then played in the Theatre of San Carlo. He gave several concerts in Naples, but during his stay he met with a sad loss. His Santo Seraphino, his dear violin, which he had used in his first concert at Paris, which Chopin had helped him to procure, and with which he had won his first laurels, was stolen from him.

He saw it again, many years later, in Moscow, in the possession of a Russian nobleman, to whom he told its history. To take its place, he bought in Naples a Nicholas Amati. February 5, , Ole Bull went to Rome. He led a merry life among the artists there during the Carnival. He went to Rome soon after, and carried the vague conception in his mind, intending to arrange it there, and bring it out at his last concert. At Rome, he shared the apartment of a talented young artist, who became warmly attached to him. The intimate relation between music and painting was a favorite theme with this young man, and, to the musician, the sounds of an orchestra had always suggested colors. Thorwaldsen, who was then at Rome, loved Ole Bull with most devoted affection, and delighted in his genius.

These friends, of course, felt a deep interest in his success. From day to day they would ask whether he had done any thing toward completing the Polacca. But he would throw his arms around them, and laugh and jest, as if his musical reputation concerned everybody more than it did himself. The day before the concert his friends were in despair when they saw him prepare to go out after breakfast. They urged that the concert was to be the next day, and that the piece must be rehearsed.

The evening was far spent when he returned. A spirit of mischief had taken possession of the wayward minstrel. He plunged into bed, and soon pretended to be sound asleep. It is more than I can comprehend. I wish I could feel as easy about it as he does. The outline had long been in his mind, and new thoughts for the filling up came with a rush of inspiration. He wrote as fast as the pen could fly. For his violin part he trusted entirely to his own wonderful memory. Having arranged all, he crept quietly back into bed. The artist, who was an early riser, soon began to stir. Ole breathed sonorously, as if he were in a deep sleep. I wish we were safely through this evening.

At breakfast, Ole was full of fun and frolic; but Thorwaldsen and the artist were somewhat [69] impatient with what they deemed such thoughtless trifling with public expectation. Take it as lightly as you please; but you may be assured the public of Rome will not bear such treatment. He had an excellent band of musicians, who could play the most difficult music with the slightest preparation. The rehearsal went off to his complete satisfaction, and he returned to his friends as gay as a lark.

His apparent recklessness made them still more sad. The dreaded evening came. The house was crowded. Ole was full of that joyful confidence which genius is so apt to feel in effusions that have just burst freshly from its overflowing fountain. The orchestra delighted in the composition and played it with their hearts. The brilliancy of the theme and the uncommon beauty of the cantabile took the audience by surprise. The novelty and marvelous difficulty of the finale, in which the violin alone performs four distinct parts and keeps up a continuous shake through fifteen bars, completely electrified them.

There was a perfect tempest of applause. In the midst of his triumph, the composer, looking as quiet and demure as possible, glanced toward the door. There stood Thorwaldsen and the artist. The latter had a trick of moving tobacco [70] from one side of his mouth to the other when he was excited and pleased. It was now flying from cheek to cheek almost as rapidly as the violin bow through the continuous shake of fifteen bars. Only tell us that. Oh, it was too beautiful! Why did you come to witness my disgrace? The next day all Rome was ringing with praises of the Norwegian violinist. They knew not which to applaud most, his genius or his superhuman strength in performing the four distinct parts on the violin at once, and keeping up the motion of his bow with such lightning swiftness, for so long a time.

No person who has not tried it can conceive of the extreme difficulty of playing at once distinct parts on each of the strings. It requires muscles strong as iron, and elastic as india—rubber. Paganini had sufficient elasticity, but not sufficient strength. Ole Bull is the only man in the world that ever did it. When the Parisians first heard him produce this wonderful effect of four violins, it seemed so incredible, that a story was circulated that it was all a deception; that some other musician was playing two of the parts behind the scenes.

The Polacca brought its composer a brilliant reputation at once; and musical critics were obliged to content [71] themselves with saying that it was not written in the right measure for a Polacca. In May he went from Rome directly to Paris. The doors of the Grand OpĂ©ra were now open to him, and he gave several concerts there, making some provincial tours in the intervals. Wergeland says:—. In spite of the half ludicrous self—assertion of its author, and the unnecessary prominence given to his own personality, it is a very happy piece of art criticism.

Jules Janin had a wonderful power of making other people see, hear, and feel as he saw, heard, and felt. His opinions became the opinions of the world. In Norway we read this criticism with great delight. It was the legal rite duly performed. The last anxiety disappeared. Ole Bull was now in the eyes of all the world the great genius, the perfect artist. Il y a tant de larmes et tant de mélancolie dans ce noble instrument! On a beaucoup parlé de M. Paganini et de sa quatriÚme corde. Eh bien! Mais, que voulez vous?

La NorwĂšge est une bonne fille bien simple et bien honnĂȘte, qui ne met [73] pas de fard. Ole B. Il a Ă©tĂ© toute ma providence poĂ©tique. Baillot Ă  votre retour vous tend la main et vous dit: Mon frĂšre! He stumbled on a projecting piece of framework, and was thrown so violently forward that, to save himself from falling headlong, he was obliged to run out. It was as unconventional and awkward a manner of saluting the public as can be imagined, and especially unfortunate in that it was a Parisian audience, who have so keen a sense of the ridiculous. Nor was this all. Ole Bull turned deathly pale. Monsieur Habeneck immediately offered his violin to the artist; but he dared not use any instrument but his own.

With the courage of despair, he transposed the remainder of the piece, and finished it on three strings. The accompanists were startled, but the movement was finished without a change of reading, harmonics being substituted for the high notes of the E string. As they left the stage, Mr. Maurice Strakosch reminded Ole Bull, who stood over his violin—case in the dressing—room, that the audience were calling vociferously. I could not believe my ears. In the summer of he was married. He had felt the most affectionate attachment for Madame Villeminot and her granddaughter from his first acquaintance with them. He was very sensible [77] of the debt of gratitude which he owed this motherly friend, and felt that his life had been saved by her care when he had no one else to whom he could turn for help.

She thus writes him in —. Try to be careful of yourself on this long journey, if not for your own sake, for the sake of us, who feel so deeply interested in your welfare. Shall I confess to you, sir, that, since the day of your departure, the hours seem years to us? I can hardly realize that it is but one month since you left us. She goes on to assure him of her esteem and sincere attachment, begging him to remember her kindly advice that he should be economical.

In May, , he writes:—. Dear FĂ©licie, I cannot write a letter to your grandmother without sending you a friendly word to thank you for your letter forwarded to me from Geneva I should have returned before this to Paris, but I would not go back until I had made my reputation and some money, to carry out my plans; but Fortune did not smile upon me at first. It is better with me now In Bologna I performed a concerto of mine with full orchestra, the execution of which seemed impossible to those who heard it.

My style is much more animated and more refined than formerly Please write me at once, and tell me everything—how Mamma is, as I am in the greatest anxiety about you all. If I can be [78] of any service to you, dispose of me, and you will give me the greatest pleasure. I will even leave Italy if your welfare requires it, and come to you I shall stay here one month longer.

What a beautiful country Italy is! Speak sincerely to me, keep for me your esteem and friendship, and believe me always your true friend and obedient servant,. The letters following this were written after his engagement. During a serious illness of Madame Villeminot, he was called to her bedside. His letters during his engagement and married life express his tender, passionate devotion to wife and children. When a young man in the first flush of triumph and adulation, he suggested mutual study and work, that their heart and home life might year by year become the richer, more helpful to each other and those whom they influenced.

In speaking of his early ideal, we may also allude here to his later life; how he brought cheer and a tender thought of others ever to his home. His strong, impulsive nature was balanced by a kindly readiness to yield to the desire and happiness of another. His spirit and sense of justice would not brook personal narrowness of feeling, but a direct and dispassionate opposition commanded his respect, often his approval, always his consideration. A true, open—hearted friend might safely venture on severe criticism, and his love would bear the test even if this was sometimes cruel as regarded his motives. He readily forgave a wrong to himself, though an injury to a friend was not forgotten if forgiven. His faults and failings were always open and manifest, but his gentle courtesy in his most intimate relations, unfailing when most needed, cannot be told.

However trying or commonplace the circumstances of his life might be, his resources of thought, aspiration, and work gave him hours of experience in each day which transformed for him and those in sympathy with him the hard realities of life,. After a series of six concerts in Lyons in the early part of the year of , he had a severe illness, which nearly cost him his life.

On his [80] recovery he hastened back to Paris to play at the Italian Opera. He hurried to Rossini, who was one of the directors, and asked him what it meant. Have you a letter from Metternich? This will be a very favorable time for you there. Ole Bull always delighted to recall reminiscences of him. Laporte, the director of the Italian Opera, with whom he was soon on good terms, promised him the theatre, and the orchestra under the direction of Costa, for his concerts. This, however, stirred the bad blood of Mori, the first violin of the orchestra, who intrigued against Ole Bull, describing him to Costa and the critics as a mere charlatan, an [81] impudent and stupid imitator of Paganini.

He went even further. His object was to give the orchestra the impression that Ole Bull was indifferent to their convenience, and by the long detention to arouse their indignation. This partially succeeded. Ole Bull felt that there were influences at work against him, and determined not to be wholly unprepared, although he did not know on whom to fix his suspicion. He invited a number of friends and musical critics to the rehearsal, and a considerable audience had assembled at the hour. When he himself arrived he found but a remnant of the orchestra left, and no leader. Where was Monsieur Costa? Where was Monsieur Laporte? I can only accept your intention as a compliment, and express my thanks in our mutual language—that of tone.

Some persons in the street heard the noise and rushed in to learn what it all meant. Among them were Lord Burgesh and Moscheles. The members of the orchestra present now felt chagrined, and offered to accompany him, but there was no leader. Lord Burgesh urged Moscheles to take the bĂąton, which he did, applauded warmly by the audience; but only a few bars had been played when Costa rushed out upon him with bitter taunts and insults. Pale with anger Ole Bull approached the director, and expressed to him his indignation that he had failed to perceive the generous service Moscheles was rendering them both. At the next rehearsal the orchestra did their duty, and the house was crowded at the concert, which was a brilliant success.

Ole Bull writes to Madlle. Villeminot, May 20, —. To—morrow is the day for my first concert. I have to—day had the third rehearsal with full orchestra. It is impossible to tell you all the intrigues I have had to encounter. I had everybody against me, even the director; but the papers have spoken much about the base treatment I have received, and everybody who sees me, even at a distance, now raises his hat.

He and De Beriot were surprised at the large sale for my concert. Dearest FĂ©licie, Victoria!!! I never had a greater success, hardly so great, as that of last Saturday night. Wreaths, bouquets, and applause! Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache sang, but Grisi did not sing as promised. In spite of all intrigues the journals have pronounced me one of the first violinists of the world. To—morrow I play for the Duke of Devonshire I have also agreed to play for the Philharmonic Society. Fearnley goes to Christiania Tuesday next. He came to my concert, and was almost crazy at the furore I made. Yesterday I played for the Duke of Devonshire; Rubini also sang.

The duke said that I had performed the miracle of endowing the violin with a soul. Many [84] of the first nobility of England were present, and the ladies were much moved. James T. One of the chief triumphs which Ole Bull won in London, in , was on the occasion of a Philharmonic concert in which he appeared with Malibran and Thalberg. He writes in August, —.

I have just presented some souvenirs of regard to Rubini, Tamburini, Lablache, and Madame Assandri, who have assisted me gratuitously in my concerts here. They are the best people in the world, and immensely talented. They have told me to command them at all times, and as often as I please. The following criticisms of his first appearance in London are taken from the Times , which said, in its issue of May 23, —. A more completely successful performance of the kind we have never attended. He played three pieces—a grand concerto in three movements, allegro, adagio, and rondo; a quartette for one violin; and a grand warlike Polish movement introduced by a recitative and adagio.

His varieties of movement seem almost unlimited; and much as Paganini has done, this artist has certainly opened a new field on that instrument. His style is essentially different, and, like that of every truly great master, is of his own formation. Perhaps his most remarkable characteristic is the quiet and unpretending manner in which he produces all his great effects.

There was no trick, no violent gesture, nor any approach to the ad captandum school. It seemed so easy, that to those not acquainted with the mechanical difficulties he mastered it was not easy to comprehend that anything extraordinary had been done. In long arpeggio passages and others made up of rapid and minute divisions, his bow scarcely seemed to move on the string; his hand, too, was almost motionless, yet our ear was charmed with a succession of distinct and sparkling notes, which kept the whole audience fixed in mute and almost breathless attention.

His command of the instrument, from the top to the bottom of the scale—and he has a scale of his own of three complete octaves on each string—is absolutely perfect; in passing from one extreme of it to the other, however rapidly, he never missed a note. This movement made such an impression on the audience that an encore was called for, instead of which Mr. Bull, as a mark of respect, which he probably thought appropriate, favored us with our National Anthem. The applause he received was unbounded, as little forced, and as sincere, as any we have ever heard bestowed.

Bull is still a young man, his age not being more than 26 or 27, and his appearance, on the whole, prepossessing. The performance of Saturday was, perhaps, as wonderful for the specimen afforded of the power of the instrument as for that of the player It should be mentioned that the audience included nearly all the distinguished members of the musical profession now in town, whose judgment, as they applauded most cordially, is the proper ordeal of a musical reputation This air, with variations, is the first instance in which Ole Bull has challenged a direct comparison with [87] Paganini, by playing a movement of his composition, every note of which, as delivered by that great master, is fresh in the recollection of the musical audiences of this metropolis.

To say that he bore up manfully under the comparison is sterling praise, and he deserves it. His arpeggio passages had less tone than Paganini, but were equal to him in neatness, rapidity, and distinctness; and in his pizzicato, in alternate use of bow and finger, difference of effect, if any, was extremely small His second performance, on the whole, fully sustains his reputation Ole Bull gave his third, announced also as his last, concert yesterday evening; but it was so good and so highly successful, that we are quite sure that more concerts will be called for, and that they must be granted. A more perfect performance can scarcely be imagined. To the confidence which, from the first, Ole Bull possessed in his own resources is now added a confidence also in the public—a persuasion that he is thoroughly understood and estimated, and that conviction has evidently enabled him to surpass all he hitherto has done.

All pieces which he played last night were of his own composition, and have been heard before in public. It was all his own—new, and consistent, and beautiful; not an atom of charlatanism in it; nor was there any imitation of any other great master to be detected Ole Bull now went to Paris, married, as stated above, and returned with his bride to London. The little Alexandrine FĂ©licie Villeminot had developed into a woman of rare beauty.

Her oval face and fine features were thoroughly Parisian, while the sparkling brilliancy of her large black eyes betrayed her Spanish blood. In September a series of musical festivals was to be given in the cities of York, Manchester, Birmingham, and Liverpool. Falling back on Ole Bull, they came an hour too late. In connection with Bochsa, the celebrated harpist, he had engaged a company for a tour in the United Kingdom. Nothing remained but to engage Malibran for the festival. She was not well, but one night in Manchester she determined to surpass herself.

Singing a duet by Mercadante with Caradori [89] Allan, a soprano who held a high trill for a long time with great effect, Malibran forced a tone two notes higher, holding it with so much strength and for so long a time that the audience were astonished. The desperate effort proved fatal to the great vocalist. Hemorrhage followed, and resulted in death a few days later.

Feeling, as he did, an admiration approaching idolatry for Malibran, her death was a most painful shock to him. He writes:—. Yesterday the papers announced the death of Malibran. Poor woman! After having worked so hard for the public, which was often ungrateful, she dies the victim of her own success I cannot realize it. A woman gifted with a soul of fire, full of the highest passion, a ravishing singer, her dramatic talent and declamation—ah! But, as Wergeland says, it seemed as if Malibran had asked a chevalier to cross with her the river Styx, for he came near sharing her fate. The hall was large, the orchestral accompaniment too strong, and his violin could be heard only when he played fortissimo.

The Duke of Devonshire, hearing of his illness, sent his carriage to fetch him to Chatsworth, where he spent some quiet days, and recovered sufficiently to continue his concert tour. Dear Félicie, The duke insisted upon quiet and rest, that I should be quite at liberty; in short, he is as amiable and good as possible. But feeling that it would please him, I took my violin the same evening and played until midnight, in spite of my intense suffering. I was obliged the next day to write to Bochsa that I was so ill that the journey to Brighton would kill me.

The duke cares for me in a thousand ways, and has absolutely forbidden me to play. Many of the first aristocracy of England are here, and I might be taken for a prince, so much consideration and politeness do I receive. What magnificence! It is the most splendid place I know. Since my convalescence, the duke has shown me all about his domain. We went on foot. I spoke to him of our marriage He asked me if I had given you the ring which he had presented me, and wished me to do so My health is better, except that my chest feels worn out, but I hope to be well soon. How long does the time seem that deprives me of seeing you!

I embrace you very tenderly Among them was Thomas Moore, who not only sang for him his own songs, but also wrote out and sang for him the Irish popular melodies and ballads which he was to use in his concerts. His exertions during those years often threatened to break down his health. He suffered from nervous attacks and great depression at such times. His success everywhere, however, was of the same character which he had achieved in the capitals, and which has already been told at length.

He now decided to visit Germany, and, stopping en route in Paris, made the acquaintance of Paganini. His delight at this was so great that even the recollection of it in later years made others feel his sensations as he recounted them, especially his first meeting with the great Italian. Walking on the Boulevard one morning, he met Sind, the banker, who had just proposed to introduce him to Paganini, when they saw in the distance a strange and striking figure, which could be no other than that of the great violinist himself. As they met, he greeted Ole Bull, without presentation, so familiarly and kindly that the latter at first thought that he must have been mistaken for some well—known friend. But, thrilled and awed as he was in the presence of the renowned maestro , he could not help gratefully accepting his gracious and hearty words.

Paganini insisted upon their returning with him to his lodgings, and spoke much to Ole Bull of his illness and troubles, and the persecution of the critics; in short, he treated him as if he were an old and confidential friend. The surprise of Sind at this cordiality may be imagined; but Ole Bull could only tell him that it was really the first time he had spoken with Paganini, and hurry away to live over again in the solitude of his own thoughts this memorable meeting. When or where Paganini had heard him he never found out. The sympathy he felt was too sensitive to permit him to intrude his own thoughts upon the master, who was always inclined to unbosom himself of his troubles to him; nor could he bring himself to ask the one thing he most desired—a sight of the famous violin.

Paganini never had a more observant or critical listener. He strove to give the fine phrasing, the varied quality of tone, which he felt himself so fortunate in having heard from the composer. Unfortunately, the opportunity of making the journey was denied Ole Bull that winter, and it never offered itself later. After leaving Paris concerts were given in Brussels and Courtray. At the latter place the [94] violinist was royally entertained by his host, Mons. Vermeulen, a passionate lover of music. A number of the principal citizens met him outside the town and escorted him to his destination. His coming was regarded as a fĂȘte , and he was received by the public at his concert with every expression of delighted admiration.

His host gave him a magnificent banquet, and the citizens vied with each other in doing him honor. Learning that Mons. Vermeulen, who was an amateur collector, was extremely desirous of obtaining one of his violins, Ole Bull made him happy by consenting to part with his Guarnerius. Tarisio, in Paris, supplied its place with another, a famous instrument, a Joseph Guarnerius labeled , which Ole Bull used as his principal concert violin for the next twenty—five or thirty years.

It is now in the possession of his son, Mr. Alexander Bull. When he left on the 7th of January, a deputation was sent to ask him to return. His reply, dated the 9th from NeumĂŒnster, stated that his route would be disarranged by his return, but that he could not hesitate for a moment as to his pleasure and duty; so, after one more concert in NeumĂŒnster, he returned to Hamburg and played in [95] the great Apollo Hall. The large proceeds from this concert he gave to the charitable institutions of that city. An extract from a letter to his wife from LĂŒbeck, January 23, , will show how constant and fatiguing were his labors at this time:—. I have been traveling and giving concerts every day without interruption for some time. I have the satisfaction of feeling that the result was never better.

I played six times in Hamburg the last time for charity , and every seat was filled an hour before the concert. I left in the morning for Kiel, where I arrived early the next day. I started at once for the rehearsal, although I had had no sleep during the night, after which I went to my lodgings, dined, and dressed for the concert. After the concert I rode in the coach to Schleswig. On my arrival there in the morning—rehearsal and then concert.

Left Schleswig about midnight and returned to Kiel, arriving the following morning, where a rehearsal and concert awaited me again. I then went to NeumĂŒnster and called on K. I was so weary that I could not help sleeping the whole day. The next day I played for the poor at NeumĂŒnster I have bought an English traveling carriage. We are to start in a moment, the postilion is impatient. I have to be in Schwerin to—night, as I have accepted an invitation from the court; the princess has promised me a letter of introduction to her sister, the Empress of Russia. Wherever I have given concerts I have played to large audiences and received double prices You will undoubtedly have received my letter from LĂŒbeck some days ago.

I came almost against my will, and quite unexpectedly, to Berlin. It happened in this way: While in Kiel I received an invitation from the court of Mecklenburg—Schwerin the Princess of Orleans is a sister of the grand duke , to play there; and knowing that I intended visiting Russia, the grand duchess promised me a letter of introduction to her sister the empress. After writing my last letter to you in LĂŒbeck I started for Schwerin. But that did not tire me much. I lay on furs, made up comfortably as a bed. After the rehearsal, and some hours after my arrival, the grand duke called and thanked me for coming to Schwerin.

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