Said the stranger, after pondering a few moments over the simple but sad
story of the young violinist, in whom he had taken a sudden interest:
"Well, I will do something for you, if you have courage and five
francs."
"I have both."
"Then go to Frascate's at ten; pass through the first room, enter the
second, where they play 'rouge-et-noir,' and when a new _taille_ begins
put your five francs on _rouge_, and leave it there."
This promise of an adventure revived Ole Bull's drooping spirits, and he
was faithful in carrying out his unknown friend's instructions. At the
precise hour the tall stalwart figure of the young Norwegian bent over
the table at Frascate's, while the game of "rouge-et-noir" was being
played. He threw his five francs on red; the card was drawn--red wins,
and the five francs were ten. Again Ole Bull bet his ten francs on
_rouge_, and again he won; and so he continued, leaving his money on the
same color till a considerable amount of money lay before him. By this
time the spirit of gaming was thoroughly aroused. Should he leave the
money and trust to red turning up again, or withdraw the pile of gold
and notes, satisfied with the kindness of Fortune, without further
tempting the fickle goddess? He said to a friend afterward, in relating
his feelings on this occasion:
"I was in a fear--I acted as if possessed by a spirit not my own; no one
can understand my feelings who has not been so tried--left alone in the
world, as if on the extreme verge of an abyss yawning beneath, and at
the same time feeling something within that might merit a saving hand at
the last moment."
Ole Bull stretched forth to grasp the money, when a white hand covered
it before his. He seized the wrist with a fierce grasp, while the
owner of it uttered a loud shriek, and loud threats came from the other
players, who took sides in the matter, when a dark figure suddenly
appeared on the scene, and spoke in a voice whose tones carried with
them a magic authority which stilled all tumult at once. "Madame,
leave this gold alone!"--and to Ole Bull: "Sir, take your money, if
you please." The winner of an amount which had become very considerable
lingered a few moments to see the further results of the play, and, much
to his disgust, discovered that he would have possessed quite a little
fortune had he left his pile undisturbed for one more turn of the cards.
He was consoled, however, on arriving at his miserable lodgings, for he
could scarcely believe that this stroke of good luck was true, and yet
there was something repulsive in it to the fresh, unsophisticated nature
of the man. He said in a letter to one of his friends, "What a hideous
joy I felt--what a horrible pleasure it was to have saved one's own soul
by the spoil of others!" The mysterious stranger who had thus befriended
Ole Bull was the great detective Vidocq, whose adventures and exploits
had given him a world-wide reputation. Ole Bull never saw him again.
In exploring Paris for the purchase of a new violin, he accidentally
made the acquaintance of an individual named Labout, who fancied that he
had found the secret of the old Cremona varnish, and that, by using it
on modern-made violins, the instruments would acquire all the tone
and quality of the best old fiddles of the days of the Stradiuarii and
Amati. The inventor persuaded Ole Bull to appear at a private concert
where he proposed to test his invention, and where the Duke and Duchesse
de Montebello were to be present. The Norwegian's playing produced
a genuine sensation, and the duke took the young artist under his
patronage. The result was that Ole Bull was soon able to give a concert
on his own account, which brought him a profit of about twelve hundred
francs, and made him talked about among the musical _cognoscenti_ of
Paris. Of course every one at the time was Paganini mad, but Ole Bull
secured more than a respectful hearing, and opened the way toward
getting a solid footing for himself.
Among the incidents which occurred to him in Paris about this time was
one which had a curiously interesting bearing on his life. Obliged to
move from his lodgings on account of the death of the landlord and his
wife of cholera, a disease then raging in Paris, Ole Bull was told of
a noble but impoverished family who had a room to let on account of the
recent death of the only son. The Norwegian violinist presented himself
at the somewhat dilapidated mansion of the Comtesse de Faye, and was
shown into the presence of three ladies dressed in deepest mourning.
The eldest of them, on hearing his errand, haughtily declined the
proposition, when the more beautiful of the two girls said, "Look at
him, mother!" with such eagerness as to startle the ancient dame.
Ole Bull was surprised at this. The old lady put on her spectacles, and,
as she riveted her eyes upon him, her countenance changed suddenly. She
had found in him such a resemblance to the son she had lost that she
at once consented to his residing in her house. Some time afterward Ole
Bull became her son indeed, having married the fascinating girl who had
exclaimed, "Look at him, mother!"
With the little money he had now earned he determined to go to Italy,
provided with some letters of introduction; and he gave his first
Italian concert at Milan in 1834. Applause was not wanting, but his
performance was rather severely criticised in the papers. The following
paragraph, reproduced from an Italian musical periodical, published
shortly after this concert, probably represents very truly the state of
his talent at that period:
"M. Ole Bull plays the music of Spohr, May-seder, Pugnani, and others,
without knowing the true character of the music he plays, and partly
spoils it by adding a color of his own. It is manifest that this
color of his own proceeds from an original, poetical, and musical
individuality; but of this originality he is himself unconscious. He
has not formed himself; in fact, he has no style; he is an uneducated
musician. _Whether he is a diamond or not is uncertain; but certain it
is that the diamond is not polished_."
In a short time Ole Bull discovered that it was necessary to cultivate,
more than he had done, his cantabile--this was his weakest point, and a
most important one. In Italy he found masters who enabled him to develop
this great quality of the violin, and from that moment his career as an
artist was established. The next concert of any consequence in which he
played was at Bologna under peculiar circumstances; and his reputation
as a great violinist appears to date from that concert. De Bériot and
Malibran were then idolized at Bologna, and just as Ole Bull arrived in
that ancient town, De Bériot was about to fulfill an engagement to play
at a concert given by the celebrated Philharmonic Society there. The
engagement had been made by the Marquis di Zampieri, between whom and
the Belgian artist there was some feeling of mutual aversion, growing
out of a misunderstanding and a remark of the marquis which had wounded
the susceptibilities of the other. The consequence was that on the day
of the concert De Bériot sent a note, saying that he had a sore finger
and could not play.
Marquis Zampieri was in a quandary, for the time was short. In his
embarrassment he took council with Mme. Colbran Rossini, who was then at
Bologna with her husband, the illustrious composer. It happened that Ole
Bull's lodging was in the same palazzo, and Mme. Rossini had often heard
the tones of the young artist's violin in his daily practicing; her
curiosity had been greatly aroused about this unknown player, and now
was the chance to gratify it. She told the noble _entrepreneur_ that she
had discovered a violinist quite worthy of taking De Bériot's place.
"Who is it?" inquired the marquis.
"I don't know," answered the wife of Rossini.
"You are joking, then?"
"Not at all, but I am sure there is a genius in town, and he lodges
close by here," pointing to Ole Bull's apartment. "Take your net,"
she added, "and catch your bird before he has flown away." The marquis
knocked at Ole Bull's door, and the delighted young artist soon
concluded an engagement which insured him an appearance under the best
auspices, for Mme. Malibran would sing at the same concert.
In a few hours Ole Bull was performing before a distinguished audience
in the concert-hall of the Philharmonic Society. Among the pieces he
played, all of his own composition, was his "Quartet for One Violin,"
in which his great skill in double and triple harmonics was admirably
shown. Enthusiastic applause greeted the young virtuoso, and he was
escorted home by a torchlight procession of eager and noisy admirers.
This was Ole Bull's first really great success, though he had played
in France and Germany. The Italians, with their quick, generous
appreciation, and their demonstrative manner of showing admiration, had
given him a reception of such unreserved approval as warmed his
artistic ambition to the very core. Mme. Malibran, though annoyed at the
mischance which glorified another at the expense of De Bériot, was too
just and amiable not to express her hearty congratulations to the young
artist, and De Bériot himself, when he was shortly afterward introduced
to Ole Bull, treated him with most brotherly kindness and cordiality.
Prince and Princess Poniatowsky also sent their cards to the now
successful artist, and gave him letters of introduction to distinguished
people which wore of great use in his concert tour. His career had now
become assured, and the world received him with open arms.
The following year, 1835, contributed a catalogue of similar successes
in various cities of Italy and France, culminating in a grand concert at
Paris in the Opera-house, where the most distinguished musicians of the
city gave their warmest applause in recognition of the growing fame and
skill of Ole Bull, for he had already begun to illustrate a new field in
music by setting the quaint poetic legends and folk-songs of his native
land. His specialty as a composer was in the domain of descriptive
music, his genius was for the picturesque. His vivid imagination,
full of poetic phantasy, and saturated with the heroic traditions and
fairy-lore of a race singularly rich in this inheritance from an earlier
age, instinctively flowered into art-forms designed to embody this
legendary wealth. Ole Bull's violin compositions, though dry and
rigorous musicians object to them as lacking in depth of science,
as shallow and sensational, are distinctly tone-pictures full of
suggestiveness for the imagination. It was this peculiarity which early
began to impress his audiences, and gave Ole Bull a separate place by
himself in an age of eminent players.