By way of Odense, Flensborg, Schleswig, and Kiel, Ole Bull went to
Hamburg, where he appeared three times; then to Bremen, Brunswick, and
Hanover. He also went to Cassel, having received an invitation from the
prince and Spohr, who now received him in the most kindly manner, and
seemed anxious by his cordiality to blot out all memory of their former
meeting. The following letter will show their friendly relations at this
time:—
CASSEL, _den 19^{ten} Januar, 1839_.
WOHLGEBORENER, HOCHGEEHRTER HERR,—Gleich nach Empfang des Briefes
von meinem Bruder habe ich Seine Hoheit den Prinz–Regent um das
Theater für Ihr Concert gebeten und selbiges für den ersten freien
Tag, nämlich nächsten Dienstag den 22^{sten} bewilligt erhalten.
Sollte dieser Brief Sie nun noch in Hannover antreffen, so werden
Sie freilich zum Dienstag nicht hier seyn können; dann würde die
Bewilligung aber auch für Freitag den 25^{sten} oder Dienstag den
29^{sten} übertragen werden können. Da Sie nun jedenfals einen
freien Tag und das Theater zu Ihrer Disposition finden werden, so
lade ich Sie nochmals ein, uns mit Ihrer Hierherkunft zu erfreuen.
Eine vorläufige Anzeige derselben in der hiesigen Zeitung werde
ich sogleich veranstalten. Alle übrigen Veranstalten zum Concert
lassen sich dann sehr bald besorgen. Da die Nachricht Ihrer
Hierherkunft unter den Musikfreunden grossen Jubel erregen wird,
so darf ich wohl hoffen, dass Sie auch mit dem pecuniären Erfolg
des Concerts nicht unzufrieden sein werden. Mit vorzüglicher
Hochachtung,
Ew. Wohlge., ergebenst,
LOUIS SPOHR.
Ole Bull gave two concerts to crowded houses in Cassel, and then went to
Berlin. There were some difficulties in making terms for the theatre
here, the king himself being proprietor and supreme manager. The
musicians, moreover, were not favorable to Ole Bull, because of certain
one–sided reports of an intrigue against him in Stockholm, which he had
wholly overcome, and which had resulted in making him more popular in
Sweden than ever. Last of all came the attack of the critic Finck. When
Ole Bull played in Berlin Herr Finck was ill, and unable to attend the
concert. He sent and asked the artist to visit him. He went and played
for him, and also explained his method, and the changes he had made in
his bow. Shortly after he left Berlin the criticism appeared in the
_Leipsic Musical Gazette_. Herr Finck said that the technique of the
artist was indeed astonishing, and that he was not lacking in certain
points in his execution, as some had said. He found his tone absolutely
pure, and his staccato, pizzicato, etc., marvelous and incomparable, but
claimed that his art, when before the public, was artifice, a kind of
astounding legerdemain. His chief attack was directed against his
compositions. It might well have been thought a criticism against
Paganini revived, so similar was it to the charges made against that
violinist.
Mendelssohn wrote to his sister Rebecca, from Berlin, February 15, 1844,
as follows:—
The musical public here are just like Finck, editor of the old
_Musical Gazette_; they are capital at finding out the weak points
of what is good, and discovering merit in mediocrity, which annoys
me more than anything.
In spite of the animadversions of the critic, the public crowded the
concerts of Ole Bull, whose only answer was through his violin. He
traveled closely on the heels of the celebrated violinist, Lapinsky, the
idol of the _Musical Gazette_. Whenever they met, Lapinsky was sorely
defeated, and at last he determined to keep altogether out of Ole Bull’s
way. The latter next gave five concerts in Breslau, and sixteen in
Vienna. His rendering of the clarionet adagio in Mozart’s “Quartette in
D flat, transcribed for Violin,” was so much admired, that he was
obliged to repeat it at all his concerts in Vienna.
Not a note of the score was changed, and the reverence for Mozart,
revealed in his performance, made a very deep impression. It may be
remarked here that those who have made the masterpieces of Mozart the
study of a life–time, who have edited his works, and dwelt upon the
perfection of their instrumentation, have also said that Ole Bull’s
rendering of these, especially of the adagios, showed a deeper, more
appreciative understanding of them than had ever been attained before by
any instrumentalist. Ole Bull used to say that Mozart was his religion.
To him, there could be no more beautiful, no loftier expression of human
thought and aspiration than he found in the works of that master. He
felt that no mortal could write Mozart’s “Requiem” and live.
From Vienna Ole Bull went to Hungary, giving concerts in Pesth, Raab,
and Presburg. He purchased a rare violin in Pesth labeled “Antonius
Stradivarius Cremonesius faciebat, anno 1687.” This instrument was
unique, being the only one which the master had inlaid with ebony and
ivory. It had been made to order for Philip the Sixth of Spain, and
remained in the possession of the Kings of Spain until the reign of
Charles the Fourth, when it was stolen by the French. Ole Bull bought it
of Herr Rorats, an amateur, who had purchased it because of its
beautiful appearance, its tone not recommending it. But in Ole Bull’s
hands its noble and pure tone was soon restored.
He returned again to Vienna, giving five concerts to full houses. A
critic remarked that his “Norway’s Mountains” and his playing of Mozart
had conciliated his few obstinate opponents, and united all voices in
his praise.
From Linz he went to Salzburg, the home of Mozart. He had the honor of
proposing and giving the first concert for the Mozart fund, and the
great satisfaction of having the wife of Mozart present at the
performance.
Being engaged in Paris for January, 1839, for concerts at the Grand
Opéra, he hastened there via Munich, Baden–Baden, and Strasburg, giving
concerts in these places.
He returned to Germany soon after, giving one concert in Carlsruhe and
two in Stuttgart. The King of Wurtemberg gave him a ring set in
brilliants. He also visited Cassel again, where two concerts were given
with great success; also others in Augsburg, Bonn, Mannheim, Landau,
Carlsruhe, and Heidelberg, after which he returned to Paris in the
autumn of 1839.
A few extracts from letters to his wife, during this season of 1839, may
be added here:—
PRESBURG, _April, 17, 1839_.
Instead of arriving at five o’clock we did not reach this place
until eight; the driver got asleep on his seat and fell down under
the carriage wheels; the horses ran against a post, breaking the
carriage, and finally got away, giving us a good deal of trouble
to catch them. The weather is fine, and I have taken fresh horses
in order to reach Raab this evening. To–morrow morning I shall
reach Pesth.... The surrounding country here is most beautiful and
the journey very interesting, many of the old monuments being well
preserved....
PESTH, Sunday, _April 21_.
I arrived in Pesth yesterday evening: it seems that I was
impatiently looked for. I waited a day and a half in Comorn for
the steamer to Pesth, visiting the wonderful fortifications
there.... I wanted a distraction from my suffering, God knows how
much I have suffered! I still hope and work, not for myself, for
you, my family, my country, my Norway, of which I am proud. Why
should I dwell upon my sad thoughts? You indeed have more than
enough yourself. You share with me the memory of our little Ole[9]
waiting for us on the other side.... You must come as soon as
possible.... God have you in his keeping.
[9] They had received the news of the child’s death soon after their
departure from Copenhagen.
MUNICH, _October 19, 1839_.
A letter just received from my mother, announcing the death of our
dear, good grandmother.[10] It occurred the same time that they
received the tidings of our child’s death. Mother tries to console
me and sympathizes with you....
[10] His love for his mother’s mother was one of the strongest and
tenderest of his heart–ties. He loved, respected, and admired her. She
had from his earliest childhood sympathized with him. At her knee he
learned the folk–songs and folk–lore of Norway. Her teachings influenced
his thoughts and life, and to dream of her or his father gave him great
happiness. Her dear face, he used to say, seemed to be near him when he
played his “Mother’s Prayer.”
MUNICH, _October 21, 1839_.
My concert was a great success; it seems that the enthusiasm never
reached such a pitch before in Munich. At Carlsruhe I called upon
Baron Moltke; he offered to contract with the manager of the
theatre for me. In Stuttgart I saw Madame Merlin and the Prince of
Montfort, and expect the answer of the intendant....
_November 4, 1839._
I have so much to tell you I don’t know where to begin. Mozart’s
widow was invited to Munich by the king to hear the opera of “Don
Giovanni” performed. She and her sister made me a visit, and she
invited me to sit with her in her box, that we might hear the
opera together. The director has been working against me, because
I went the evening after my second concert to a festival given by
the artists in honor of the celebrated Schwanthaler the sculptor,
who now rivals Thorwaldsen, and played two pieces. Germany’s most
gifted artists gave me their loudest plaudits, but the director,
having been recently decorated by the king, thought I ought to
have limited my performance to his establishment. He visited
Madame Mozart in her box, turning his back upon me the whole time.
I afterwards told him my candid opinion of his behavior, and added
that I would play no more in his theatre.
The artists and their wives made an entertainment for me later,
and as they regretted they were not to hear me more, I played for
them. I also played at the house of the celebrated painter
Cornelius. The _literati_ of Munich were present, and it was a
great honor and delight to me to be able to hold the attention of
these men; but some of the aristocracy are not pleased with me,
and think I have not bowed sufficiently low to the powers that be.
Day after to–morrow I give my first concert in Augsburg, and hope
to give a second one. I am very anxious about you....
Having received word of the birth of a second son, he writes from
Augsburg, November 16, 1839:—
My dear, think of my surprise and delight when I received the
happy news! Let us praise God for his goodness to us, and let us
hope that He will preserve our son to us! I write a large hand
that your eyes may not be tried. I received a letter yesterday
from Dr. Dufours, just before my concert, but was so moved that I
could not write. I had to go out and walk, to catch my breath. Be
careful, my dearest friend. You must not worry or be disturbed,
for both your dear sakes. Dr. Dufours is a rare man, and I am
proud to call him my friend. So much self–denial, frankness, and
honesty, allied to such force of character and originality, are
gifts seldom to be found united in one person. Tell him how
grateful I am to him, and that I can hardly wait until my return
to Paris to express my thanks.
I give one more concert here on Saturday, and then go to
Stuttgart....
STUTTGART, _November 18, 1839_.
Your last letter has given me the greatest joy, but I fear you are
not prudent enough.... I arrived here last evening; concert next
Tuesday. A warm invitation from Nuremberg and Frankfort. My route
will be as follows: Nuremberg, Würzburg, Frankfort, Darmstadt,
Mannheim, Heidelberg, Carlsruhe, Strasburg, and Paris. In Augsburg
I received an invitation from the Queen Dowager of Bavaria to
return to Munich. I played for her, and her manner at parting was
most cordial. She gave me a pin set with brilliants as a souvenir
of the visit....
FRANKFORT, _December 1, 1839_.
Now I am a moment alone! ... the whole day long one continuous
reception of visitors! I dined with an old friend from Paris,
Hiller, the composer....
_December 7, 1839._
You will find many alterations in the finale of my Bravura
Variations. I have still much to do as regards my compositions
themselves, and my playing of them, before they are satisfactory
to me. I find every day that there are improvements possible, and
grave errors to be corrected, but I have a firm will, and am
trying to do better and better. It is very fortunate that none of
my compositions are published; I shall take good care not to have
this done for some time.... I bought a fine Nicolaus Amati in
Nuremberg, very much like the one I left in London.... Its tone
thrills me. Vuillaume will be astonished at its beauty. He must
put it in order for me according to my own method. Should it
compare favorably with my large Guarnerius, it will be well worth
the eighty louis d’or that I paid for it. This would be a high
price for an Amati of ordinary size, but the large form increased
its value.
MAYENCE, _December 13, 1839_.
I have so much to attend to that I have no time to eat or sleep
except when in my traveling carriage, and you know that does not
give real rest when over–fatigued from concerts....
I must correspond with the directors of the theatres; must obtain
information regarding the people with whom I am to deal; I must
make my appointments for concerts and rehearsals, have my music
copied, correct the scores, compose, play, and travel nights. I am
always cheated, and in everlasting trouble. I reproach myself when
everything does not turn out for the best, and am consumed with
grief. I really believe I should succumb to all these demands and
fatigues if it were not for my drinking cold water and bathing in
it every morning and evening.
The detailed account that has been given of the years 1836–1839, may
afford the reader an insight into the life of the artist, his struggles,
his labors, his inspiration, and his reward. Many, indeed most, of the
seriously disheartening experiences which Ole Bull suffered, were the
results of his lack of early training. No inexperienced woman could be
more fearful of asking or accepting securities for business obligations
lest it should be considered a lack of confidence on his part. He made
no attempt to order his business in detail, but left to others what he
could have readily mastered, always waiting for results to justify the
enterprise; and this dependence was an unfortunate habit for a generous,
sensitive, trustful man. It made him too unjustly suspicious after
painful experiences. He was apt, when he found himself unfairly
treated, to break off a business relation, without regard to the
consequences, and thus often exposed himself to much annoyance and
trouble.
His anger had no taint of narrow vindictiveness or revenge, but often
served to free him from the toils of others. Then they might find him on
the vantage ground of work or influence, to which his ready resources
had led him, and where they could not follow him. He was not suspicious
by nature, and lent too ready an ear to the suggestions or pretensions
of others; his sympathetic nature and his needs making him an easy
victim for designing persons, and giving rise to his chief troubles.
Curiously enough, those who had grossly betrayed his confidence often
found that they could not do without the charm of his presence after
once having known it, however they might disregard his interests and
happiness; and they knew that he could not but be generous to a
vanquished foe. He used to say, “I will not, because one man has failed
me, expect the like of another, until it comes.” His trust in the good
impulses of human nature never failed him long. Leaving home at the age
of seventeen, wholly untrained in practical affairs, he worked out many
a problem of life, as of art, at the hardest—through bitter experience
in poverty and tears; but the ideals and aspirations of his youth were
those of his age.
On his return to Paris, in the winter of 1839, his engagement at the
Grand Opéra was broken up, through an intrigue of Schlesinger, the
publisher of _La Revue Musicale_, and he gave a few concerts at the
Théâtre de la Renaissance. In the spring of 1840 he went to London,
taking Mr. Morandi, a harpist, as his secretary; but finding him
unreliable in some respects, he determined to break loose from the
connection at the risk of losing twelve hundred francs, which he had
already advanced to Morandi. The latter, knowing that he could hold him
on his contract, acted accordingly.
One day when Ole Bull was playing with Franz Liszt, in the latter’s
room, the manager of the hotel was announced, who told Ole Bull that a
policeman was outside with a warrant obtained by Morandi, and that the
latter himself was standing at the corner of the street to watch the
arrest. The artist spent a pleasant afternoon and evening with Liszt,
and returned quietly to his own hotel at midnight, the officer and
Morandi having meanwhile become tired of watching for him. The following
day he went to his ambassador, Count Bjornstjerna, and Morandi’s lawyer
was sent for, who demanded sixty pounds, for breach of contract. Ole
Bull was indignant, and refused to pay a penny; but what was to be done?
It was two o’clock. At three he was to play at St. James for the queen,
and at the corner of the street two policemen were waiting with the
warrant for his arrest, if the claim of the lawyer should not be
conceded. A cab was summoned, and one of Count Bjornstjerna’s footmen,
wrapped in Ole Bull’s cloak, entered the vehicle and moved rapidly off,
followed by the policemen; while five minutes later, the artist himself
was driven quietly to the palace, in the count’s carriage. In the
evening the matter was compromised, Ole Bull paying twenty pounds, in
addition to the twelve hundred francs already advanced.
In a letter to his wife, dated in London, May 15, 1840, he writes of
Liszt as follows:—
I have not spoken to you of Franz Liszt, with whom I have formed
the warmest friendship in a very short time. We have played
together and are mutually inspired with admiration and sympathy
for each other. You will make his acquaintance....
Ole Bull used to tell an amusing incident concerning Liszt and himself.
They had played a good deal together, often giving concerts without the
aid of a manager. On one occasion when a manager had been employed, and
many distinguished artists appeared, Ole Bull had been advertised with
special prominence as the “eminent” violinist, but did not know of
this. On going to his friend’s somewhat late to supper, Liszt remarked,
in a cutting tone, “Ah, our _eminent_ friend has arrived!” Ole Bull saw
that the feeling of the company was not cordial, and that Liszt had only
been the spokesman of their discontent. At last he arose and said: “I do
not understand the drift of your conversation, but can readily see that
my presence is not agreeable. I am pained in proportion as I have
entertained the warmest admiration and friendship for you, Monsieur
Liszt;” and he courteously took his leave. As he was walking rapidly
away he heard his name shouted two or three times on the street, and,
turning, saw Liszt running after him, hatless, and waving his napkin as
he shouted, “My good friend, there must be some mistake. I beg you to
come back, and let us discover who has played us this trick.” He then
explained the cause of their irritation, and Ole Bull, in his turn, made
it clear that he was not responsible for the offense. Cordiality was at
once restored, and Liszt was the life of the evening. At its close he
insisted that the company should breakfast with him the next morning.
The invitation was accepted, and, after the breakfast and many pleasant
topics had been discussed, Liszt suddenly turned to the manager, who was
present, and said: “We have decided to have a trial. I am to be judge,
and you shall be permitted to answer, if you can, the charges brought
against you as to that announcement of yesterday.” After an examination
and cross–examination, in which the man denied all responsibility in the
matter, the judge pronounced sentence solemnly: “Ole Bull, I charge you
to take this man, and hold him at arm’s length out of the window”—they
were in the third story—“until he do confess.” So said, so done; and,
dangling over the street, the man did confess a plot to breed jealousy
and ill–will, in order to break up a combination of two names which, as
already stated, had sometimes made the services of an _impressario_
unnecessary. The torment of the culprit was heightened by an occasional
query on the part of Ole Bull if he was not soon to be relieved, as his
arms were too tired to hold out much longer; but Liszt kept the poor
wretch hanging there until the last moment, when he released him only on
the promise that he would never offend again.
During this season, Liszt and Ole Bull played the Beethoven “Kreutzer
Sonata,” at one of the Philharmonic Concerts. There was a great
diversity of opinion among the critics as to the performance. The
Philharmonic Society themselves gave expression to their judgment by
the presentation of a piece of silver plate to the violinist.
The following note from Liszt is a pleasant reminder of the engagements
of that time:—
MON CHER OLE,—Arrivé hier à 3 heures; concert à 8 heures et demi.
Leurs altesses le grand Duc de Bade et le prince de S. l’ont
honoré de leur presence. Du reste assemblée très–choisie,
aristocratique—mais non pas très–nombreuse.
Benazet pourtant m’a assuré qu’il y avait là toute la bonne
compagnie de Baden.
D’apres cette épreuve, et quelques conversations, je crois pouvoir
dire que vous ferez surement un ou deux bons concerts ici, et je
vous engage beaucoup à ne pas rester d’avantage dans les environs
sans vous faire entendre ici.
Mardi prochain je donnerai mon 2[^me] concert. Mercredi je
partirai pour Mayence où mon concert est annoncé pour le
lendemain, et vendredi je compte être à Ems.
Ce que vous auriez donc, à ce qu’il me semble, de meilleur à
faire, ce serait de venir ici lundi ou mardi, de jouer votre
concert dans la semaine (peut–être jeudi ou samedi); et ensuite de
repartir pour Ems, où je vous annoncerai de mon mieux.
À revoir donc, probablement bientôt, mon cher prodigieux artiste;
gardez–moi votre bonne amitié et comptez bien sur toute la mienne.
Tout à vous d’admiration et de sympathie,