Dear Félicie, ... I arrived here Saturday evening, at nine
o’clock. 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....
At Chatsworth, at the duke’s town residence, and at Holland House, he
met the famous men and women of the time. 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.
In sixteen months’ time, Ole Bull gave two hundred and seventy–four
concerts in the United Kingdom. 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. He afterwards
learned that Paganini knew more of him and his work than he supposed,
as he spoke familiarly of Ole Bull’s performances to others, praising
his individuality of style, and foretelling his brilliant career. 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. Those familiar
with the usual rendering of his compositions must have marked the
difference in Ole Bull’s performance of them. He strove to give the fine
phrasing, the varied quality of tone, which he felt himself so fortunate
in having heard from the composer. In Nice, in 1874, Count Cessole, the
friend in whose arms Paganini died, gave Ole Bull a letter to Paganini’s
son, requesting him to show him the manuscript of an unpublished
concerto of his father’s, adding that he was the only person capable of
doing it justice. 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 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 _fête_, 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 1742, 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.
In December, and January, 1838, Ole Bull gave six concerts in the Stadt
Theatre in Hamburg. When he left on the 7th of January, a deputation was
sent to ask him to return. His reply, dated the 9th from Neumünster,
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 Neumünster, he returned to Hamburg and played in
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 Lübeck, January 23, 1838),
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
Neumünster and called on K.’s uncle.... I was so weary that I
could not help sleeping the whole day. The next day I played for
the poor at Neumünster....
I have bought an English traveling carriage. K. and I sleep like
two kings in it.... 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.
I have given one concert in Altona, and am to give two in Lübeck
to–morrow, and two in Schwerin; then to Rostock, and Königsberg;
and, in a month’s time, I shall be in St. Petersburg. Wherever I
have given concerts I have played to large audiences and received
double prices....
My dear, be patient! Two months only, and we shall be reunited.