My violin did not fail me. I was never more thrilled by its tone
myself, and I cannot describe to you the pitch to which the
excitement ran, or the warmth of my reception. I am so thankful
that I have not disappointed my old friends.
From Florence he went to Rome to see Liszt, and he found there quite a
colony of his countrymen.
The year following was spent in Norway. He had many vexations and
troubles at that time; but the hospitable cheer and ever–affectionate
welcome of his dear Lysekloster neighbors made these easier to bear.
During the summer he visited the North of Norway—the “Land of the
Midnight Sun”—for the first time. That trip was ever afterward a source
of delightful reminiscences, and, every successive winter, a repetition
of it for the coming summer would be suggested. He used graphically to
picture for us the morning which gave him his first sight of the Lofoden
Islands: the changeful, illusive beauty of sea and sky through the long
day, every feature and outline of isle and coast being sharpened or
softened by the play of brilliant light, now and then dimmed by the
fitful shadow of a fleecy cloud; and how, towards midnight, all this
culminated in a glory indescribable, the warm prismatic colors flooding
sky and sea, not followed by twilight, but kindled anew by the beams of
the rising sun suddenly shooting athwart the sky, the warmth and glow at
last giving way to the tender flush of morning, and then to the white
light of day. Then, too, he would tell how his fellow–travelers, mostly
Englishmen, were _ennuied_ and indifferent the first days of the trip,
but as they approached the North, and felt the influence of the
champagne–like atmosphere, how they gradually yielded themselves to the
charm of a new sensation, becoming social and even gay, some of them
climbing the shrouds like boys, and confiding to him that they had never
beheld a scene comparable for beauty, or felt such exhilaration.
At one of the coast villages, which was so small that a concert had not
been thought of, they found the whole population turned out, and, with
the recruits from the surrounding country, making an imposing array on
the quay, which was decorated with evergreens and flags. Surprised at
such a welcome, the captain and passengers good–naturedly agreed to wait
till the concert could be given. As the steamer, gay with flags from
stem to stern, passed out of the fjord, the mountains echoed with the
repeated shouts and peals of cannon.
His countrymen received him everywhere with the warm–hearted hospitality
they know so well how to dispense. But the dream of a repetition of that
trip was never realized. Three years later he went as far north as
Throndhjem, but mists and rain prevented a continuation of the voyage.
The celebration of his birthday in 1876 deserves some mention here. The
following account is taken, with a few corrections, from Adolf Ebeling’s
“Bilder aus Kairo” (Stuttgart, 1878):—
On a beautiful September day in 1875, Ole Bull, by invitation,
visited Drotingholm, the charming summer palace near Stockholm,
and a favorite residence of the queen. A fine park and inviting
gardens separate it from the busy world. Still it is only
necessary to climb the heights near by, and a glorious panorama is
spread out below. The bay of the Malar is seen filled with
islands, and the sea dotted with large and small sails; and, on
the other side, Stockholm itself, with its towers and palaces, its
forest of masts in the harbor, and the dark–green mountains in the
background.
The queen, now convalescent from a recent illness, was giving no
audiences, but had expressed a desire to see the artist, and
invited him to breakfast with the royal family. While at table the
queen happened to mention Ole Bull’s “Saeterbesög,” her favorite
composition. He was on the point of telling her that it was on the
programme for one of his Stockholm concerts, but a glance from the
king checked him, as she was not yet permitted the excitement of
hearing music. At the same moment his majesty laughingly
suggested: “You are about to undertake a new professional trip,
Ole Bull. Perhaps you will visit Egypt. What do you say to playing
the ‘Saeterbesög’ on the top of the Pyramid of Cheops? Nothing of
the kind has ever been done, and it seems to me that the idea
might tempt a virtuoso.” Ole Bull accepted the plan heartily, and
the king further suggested the 5th of February, the artist’s
birthday, as an appropriate time for the pyramid–concert. On
taking leave, the royal pair most warmly wished him all success on
his trip, especially the Egyptian portion of it.
After playing in Copenhagen, Berlin, Stettin, Hamburg, Lübeck, and
Bremen, awakening the same enthusiasm as of old, we find him on
the last day of January, 1876, in Brindisi, taking passage for
Egypt, accompanied by an impressario and his pianist, the young
Emil Bach. The trip was a pleasant one. At early dawn on the 4th
of February Ole Bull stepped on shore at Alexandria, determined to
carry out the “royal idea,” as he called it. The same evening he
reached Cairo, where the Swedish consul, to whom a telegram had
been sent, met him at the station and took him to his hospitable
home. Early the next morning, the 5th of February, several
carriages were ready before the villa of the consul, who had sent
word in haste to a few friends to invite them to share the trip;
and about ten o’clock the party found themselves at the Pyramids,
the goal of Ole Bull’s journey. Some of the company were to ascend
the Pyramid, and some to remain below; the latter were in the
minority, and were mostly ladies with a few elderly gentlemen. The
oldest of all was Ole Bull himself, but he had already mounted the
first ten blocks of the huge structure alone and unaided. The
powerful son of the Norse mountains, to whom, in his boyhood, no
crag or peak was too high to be scaled, declared that, in spite of
the sixty–six years which he was celebrating, he should be ashamed
to have foreign arms help him to the top. But the carrying up of
his violin was a matter of great concern and anxiety to him.
Wrapped in a silk handkerchief, it was intrusted to one of the
most stalwart of the Bedouins, and the bow, protected in the same
way, was given to another muscular fellow. After a quarter of an
hour’s climb, Ole Bull stood first of all upon the small
world–famed plateau, and greeted the Norse flag which the consul
had had raised there. Gradually the rest of the guests came also;
but from all sides clambered and crowded the Bedouins, for the
report had quickly circulated that a king of the North had sent a
player down to the Pyramids. Had they known of it in Cairo, the
tourists would certainly have flocked thither in crowds.
Ole Bull had now taken his violin and given two powerful strokes
to assure himself that it was in good condition after its
dangerous journey. He then drew himself up to his full height, and
let his penetrating glance wander along the horizon for a few
moments, to scan the wonderful scene below. At his right lay the
valley of the Nile with its bright green fields stretching into
vanishing distances, the waves of that broad, majestic stream
gleaming like molten silver; to the left lay great, boundless,
golden deserts and the Libyan Mountains; before him, at his feet,
he had the wide–spreading city of the khedive, with its minarets,
domes, and palm–gardens, all bathed in the brilliant sunlight. Now
he suddenly began to play a hymn of praise, as it seemed; it was
like a cry of joy to the Fates who had vouchsafed him to stand
there and to behold, with his own eyes, the magnificent picture,
the goal of so many desires. Then he turned towards his home in
the North, and began his own mountain–song, the “Saeterbesög”....
In the pure, calm air of this height,—the loftiest of all
structures made by human hands,—the tones were so clear and
penetrating, and at the same time so powerful, that we felt
ourselves moved as by magic power and thrilled to our inmost
souls; then, again, they wailed like soft maiden voices—it was the
home longing, the cry to the Norway mountains; and then, again, we
heard the hero’s song of triumph, proud of his beautiful
fatherland.
As Uhland makes the Münster Tower shake when the young Goethe
writes his name upon it,—
“Von seinem Schlage knittern
Die hellen Funken auf,
Den Thurm durchfährt ein Zittern
Vom Grundstein bis zum Knauf,”—
so those tones must have reverberated to the centre of this royal
grave of six thousand years within the Pyramids. And that this
beautiful, poetic moment should lack nothing, there rose, just as
the master gave the last strokes of his bow, two majestic pelicans
from the valley of the Nile, which swept with the silvery sheen of
their wings towards the north, as if they would take the message
of this happy event to Ole Bull’s home. The Bedouins, children of
nature, who, during the playing, lay in a circle, motionless as
fallen statues, sprang up when the master had finished, as if
electrified, and shouted aloud and repeated “Allah! Allah!”
Thus Ole Bull had kept his promise. Returning to Cairo he
telegraphed the king, and the next forenoon received the royal
reply. The telegrams were as follows:—
“To King Oscar, Christiania, Norway,—
“According to my promise at Drotingholm, I played, on this my
sixty–sixth birthday, on the top of Cheops’ Pyramid, in honor of
Norway and its beloved king, my ‘Saeterbesög.’”