“I thank you heartily for your telegram, and the queen and myself
are rejoiced at all your successes.”
The artist’s singular journey to the Pyramids was soon known in
Cairo, and the khedive, during an audience, complimented him on
his courage and youthful strength. Ole Bull gave a concert at the
Opera House, and harvested laurels, flowers, wreaths, and poems.
His “Tarentella” and “Carnival of Venice” were especially admired.
He played them with unwonted fire, accompanied as he was by the
admirable Italian orchestra, under the leadership of his old
friend Bottesini; but his Norse “Saeterbesög” was not heard again.
Ole Bull returned to America in time to visit the great Centennial
Exhibition at Philadelphia. Offers from managers came at once, desiring
him to appear in concerts. He arranged with local managers in the
principal cities, and he never assumed again the burden of his own
concert company. His engagements were made on a new plan, which relieved
him of all responsibility outside his own performances. The time had
come when it seemed right that his own comfort and pleasure should be
the first consideration. He played by contract never more than three
times a week, and the hours for travel were limited. It is but just to
mention in this connection that all the engagements filled from 1876 to
1880 were satisfactory as to the management and courtesy of the
gentlemen who arranged for his concerts, and he had the pleasure of
being associated with many distinguished artists.
He first appeared in Music Hall, Boston, and after an absence of six
years the audience seemed most kindly determined to convince him of
their warm welcome. As he entered they rose to their feet, and the
applause was long continued. He gave that season, in Boston, nine
concerts to crowded houses, and the great desire of the public to hear
him so often was a surprise and a pleasure to him. One occasion should
be specially mentioned.
The great interest which he felt in the recognition of the Norsemen’s
discovery of America, not only in and for itself, but because it may
have given a hint to Columbus, who visited Iceland, made Ole Bull desire
to bring this subject before the people of Boston; and an invitation
signed by many gentlemen, prominent in social, political, and literary
circles, urging him to give one more concert, afforded him an
opportunity of doing this. The matter was therefore talked over with
friends, and subsequently a committee was appointed for the erection of
a monument to Leif Ericsson, commemorative of the event.
It is hoped that this undertaking is to be carried out and completed in
the near future. Ole Bull’s friends know how earnest he was in promoting
it; and in Mr. Thomas G. Appleton, the chairman of the committee, he
found a liberal and enthusiastic helper. Many others, beside his own
countrymen, were interested in the plan, as will be seen from the
remarks made by Rev. Edward Everett Hale at the concert, and reported
below.
The concert was given in Music Hall, which was elaborately and
tastefully decorated for the occasion. Mr. Curtis Guild, who introduced
the artist, said:—
I have been deputed by his Excellency Governor Rice, his Honor
Mayor Cobb, and other members of the committee, with whom I have
the honor to be associated, to present to you one of whom it with
truth may be said that he needs no introduction to a Boston
audience.... From the commencement of his career in this country,
when an entranced audience listened to his wonderful melody at the
Melodeon, in May, 1844, to the present time, a period of more than
thirty years, the citizens of Boston, more especially those of
musical culture, have recognized Ole Bull as a great musical
artist, and one whose composition and performance commanded the
tribute that only true genius can exact....
Ole Bull’s reply in acknowledgment of his reception was thus reported in
the _Daily Advertiser_:
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—I see here among the audience stars of the
first magnitude. Why should they address me? What am I that I can
stand before this audience and address such stars as these? I am
but an atom of failure in the universe; yet you are all united
with me in that failure in that you have indorsed me. You belong
to me and I belong to you. [Applause.] But to explain to you the
relation in which I stand here, and the names you see about me
[referring to the names Thorvald, Thorfinn, Leif, and Washington],
and how they are connected together, I allow myself to say a few
words. Everybody in this audience knows that in the year 984
Bjarne sailed to meet his father in Greenland. He was driven
south, and after a long voyage came at last to a beautiful land,
which he went back and reported he had seen. Fourteen years after,
in 1000, his son, Leif Ericsson, took his ships and proceeded to
seek that land; and he came along by Newfoundland and the coast of
Nova Scotia, and further down to what he called Vineland, because
he found vines there. He remained the fall and winter there, and
then sailed back again to Iceland. Then two years after, his
brother Thorvald went over and met his death near Martha’s
Vineyard. In 1831 they discovered his body in armor. His body was
taken to Boston, and the armor was analyzed, and they found it was
the same metal that the Norsemen had used in the ninth and tenth
centuries. It had the same ornaments they had used, so there
could be no doubt to whom it belonged. But, unfortunately, the
armor was lost by fire, and that calamity which we both share
together was an atom of fate that clings to us. You lost the
armor, but there was one who could give it to posterity, and I
say, almost to eternity, and that was our illustrious star,
Longfellow. [Applause.] It was given for him to do it in his
“Skeleton in Armor.”
Now what connection has the name of Thorfinn to Washington?
Washington not only belongs to the whole world of the present
generation, for that would be little to say,—he belongs to all
future generations. What you educate is not for you alone, but it
is for the whole world. The name of Washington stands as the
greatest pinnacle of glory. It signifies liberty, it signifies
every thing that ennobles man. [Applause.] We find in the recent
discoveries concerning his ancestors, that they came over in a
ship, but that his ancestors’ name was Thorfinn. Well, Thorfinn is
a Norwegian name, and it is not very easy to see how Thorfinn
could be changed to Washington. But we see every day that
strangers come here, and after some little time they change their
names to some other taken from the new surroundings. We see it in
Norway, often, that a man who has taken a new farm takes his name,
not from the ancient farm but the new farm. And this is the
connection of the ideas which prompted me to come here to–night
and have the honor to reply to the memory of Washington and the
memory of the Revolution, which delivered not not only America
from oppression, but the whole world. Now I beg leave to take my
instrument in order to explain the rest.
After an account of the concert, during which the artist “seemed
stirred, by the sympathy of his hearers, to a sympathy, intensity, and
vividness of style unwonted even to himself,” the _Advertiser_
continues:—
Near the close of the performance, the Rev. E. E. Hale rose in his
place on the floor, and said he supposed it was known to every
person present that the distinguished artist had spent almost the
whole of his active life in knotting those ties which connected
his country with ours. It was hoped that in some future time there
would be erected a physical memorial to the early discoverers of
whom he had spoken. It was the wish of those about him [Mr. Hale],
at whose request he spoke, that Boston should not be behind in any
expression of gratitude to him [Ole Bull] for his work, as well as
in expressing interest in our Norse ancestors. He was sure he
spoke the mind, not only of the audience, but of all New England,
when he spoke of the interest with which he regarded his
countrymen, whom they regarded as almost theirs. He remembered,
although it was nearly forty years ago, when much such an audience
as he saw about him cheered and applauded Edward Everett, when the
early discoveries had just been made, and, when in one of the last
of his public poems he expressed the wish that the great
discoveries of Thorvald might be commemorated by Thorvald’s great
descendant, the Northern artist, Thorwaldsen. The last words of
that poem as it died upon the ear were,—
“Thorvald shall live for aye in Thorwaldsen.”
He, the speaker, thought it was a misfortune for New England that
the great northern artist died before he could accomplish this
wish. But New Englanders had never forgotten it, and had never
forgotten their Norse ancestors. It was an enterprise which ought
to engage Massachusetts men,—the preservation of a physical
memorial of Thorvald, Leif, and Thorfinn,—and he suggested that
the committee which had arranged the meeting should become a
committee of New England, in conjunction with Mr. Appleton, to
take this matter in special charge. Mr. Hale put a motion to this
effect, and it was carried, and the committee constituted.
The holidays of that year were memorable. Thanksgiving found Ole Bull at
the home of Professor Horsford in Cambridge, and he shared the Christmas
cheer of Craigie House with the beloved poet; while on New Year’s Eve,
he watched the old year out and the new in with a few friends in the
library of James T. Fields.
In the early months of that year he made an engagement for thirty
concerts with his friend, Mr. Maurice Strakosch. He first gave four
concerts at Steinway Hall, in New York, and had the honor of being
assisted by Madame Essipoff. The _New York Herald_, of March 4, 1877,
said:—
Age seems to have been contented with scattering snow upon his
head, leaving untouched the fire of his genius. The lithe and
agile figure has lost none of its elasticity, and the nerves are
as steady as in the noon–day of life. There is still the same
nervous delicacy of touch and precision of execution, which, in
the years gone by, charmed two continents and led the people of
many lands in pleasant bondage after the car of the enchanting
musician. The triumphs of to–day are destined to be no less great
than those obtained in the past. Ole Bull, like a prince that had
wandered from his own land and returned after a long absence, is
restored to the throne he had abandoned by a delighted people; the
memory of his great feats is not forgotten.
The New York audiences were remarkable for their size, as were those in
the cities he visited east, south, and west. Miss Emma Thursby was now
associated with him, and this first acquaintance with that great and
charming artist resulted in a warm, personal friendship. The very last
engagement Ole Bull filled was in conjunction with Miss Thursby, who
was, he hoped, to accompany him to Norway, where he desired to present
her himself to his countrymen; but, overtaken by the last fatal illness
in England, he was so weak on reaching home that waiting friends were
advised of the impossibility of even a visit. The following summer, Miss
Thursby paid a most loving and tender tribute to her departed friend, by
visiting Ole Bull’s birthplace to add her generous gift to the memorial
his countrymen are to erect, and won for herself the admiration and the
affection of the Northmen, as she had that of Ole Bull before.
The press notices are reminders of the large audiences of 1876, and the
pleasure manifested at the efforts of the artists. In some places,—in
Brooklyn and Philadelphia, for instance,—not only the audience–room was
filled to overflowing, but hundreds of extra seats were placed upon the
stage, while large numbers were turned away. Describing such a scene,
the Philadelphia _Press_ said:—
And when Ole Bull appeared, what a right royal shout of welcome he
received! The wind waves almost could be felt, and the applause
could be heard blocks away.... There is yet the delicacy of touch
and the wondrous power that tells of genius without loss of
lustre, and of the marvelous sympathetic instrumentation of his
brightest years. Nardini’s Sonata was the first selection, and it
was superbly played.... The concert throughout was a most
brilliant success, and may fairly rank as one of the great events
in the musical history of Philadelphia.
To the last, these great audiences welcomed Ole Bull in the Philadelphia
Academy, under the able management of Mr. Pugh.
The entire season was to the violinist an enjoyable one, since he was in
perfect health and condition for his work. He had time to see his
friends and to visit them, playing, as he did, at intervals only. He
renewed many of the intimacies he had formed on his first visits to
this country, which incessant work in previous years had compelled him,
against his wish, to drop; and he found that he was not only not
forgotten, but even better loved than he had thought.
After finishing his series of concerts, and only three days before his
departure for Europe, a request came, signed by many distinguished names
in New York, asking for still another appearance. He played, on the
evening before he sailed, in Booth’s Theatre, to a very full house, the
stage and boxes being occupied by his friends. The artists were all
inspired to do their best, and, after the “Ave Maria” of Gounod had been
sung by Miss Thursby with Ole Bull’s obligato, the audience seemed more
determined than ever to recall the artist and to demand familiar airs.
After the sixth encore he made a little speech, but it was not until he
had responded to the tenth recall, for which he had given, “We won’t go
home till morning,” that the audience, with the last waving of
handkerchiefs and cheers, said good–by. Later, at a little supper at the
hotel, the paper written by Dr. Crosby (printed in the Appendix to this
volume) was produced and read for the first time—a surprise to Ole Bull.
This labor of love so generously given when it meant hours of toil to an
already overworked physician, with illness at home, was the crowning
kindness of the many showered upon him by loving friends. No man ever
filled a larger place in Ole Bull’s heart than Professor R. Ogden
Doremus, who was present, and had made Dr. Crosby known to the artist;
and how he wished that he might carry the two with him to his own
beloved Norway, when they bade him good–by the next morning on the deck
of the steamer! He felt a concern for Dr. Crosby’s health which proved
only too well founded, for in June came the sad news of his death, the
result of overwork.
The Atlantic voyage was a rest in itself, for sea–sickness was unknown
to Ole Bull, and he was a good person to cheer others who were unhappy
on shipboard. The inevitable concert would be given the last evening of
the voyage, and often on very stormy passages he had played to make
others forget the fear and discomfort of the hour.
The summer of 1877 was quietly spent in Norway, and the winter was
passed on the Continent in travel. In Brussels, among the friends who
called on the artist was Vieuxtemps, then suffering from the effects of
a paralytic stroke. When he would himself try Ole Bull’s instrument his
poor, numb hand could not obey his will; and at last he exclaimed, as he
handed it back, “’Tis no use, I _cannot_ command my fingers!” His talk
concerning style, composition, and virtuosity was most interesting, as
were also the incidents of travel which he recalled. He said of
Mendelssohn and Schumann, “Ils sont virtuoses parce qu’ils connaissent à
fond leur art; ils sont virtuoses parce qu’ils sont de grands poètes.
Ils le sont parce qu’ils ont le génie. Virtuosité, génie, sont deux
termes à peu près synonymes, deux notions presque identiques.”
Vieuxtemps’s indignation at the constant abuse of the term may be
imagined.
Ole Bull had planned to go to Italy and Sicily for the winter, as he had
long desired to revive and live over again the memories of his first
visits to that sunny clime; but on his reaching Vienna in January, the
time from week to week passed so delightfully, and old friends were so
cordial, that all thought of going further south was given up. He had
not intended to appear in public, and did so on a few occasions only.
The general interest taken in his visit there and elsewhere by the press
and the people surprised him. He busied himself while in Vienna with
repairing violins for friends, with so much success that his
acquaintances would urge him to direct the work on their instruments,
which they wished adjusted according to his method, and he could seldom
refuse such a request. It sometimes seemed as if he were happier at
work on an old decrepit fiddle, which he saw could be restored, than
when playing on his own superb instrument.
While in that city he celebrated with friends the birthday of Madame
Mathilde Marchesi. Among the guests at the musical party was Madame
Christine Nilsson, and the hostess told with pride of a telegram she had
just received from her favorite pupil, Gerster, whose brilliant success
in America she predicted.
Nilsson recalled how when a little girl she had been admitted by the
stage–door to one of Ole Bull’s concerts in Sweden, and how, while the
artist stood talking to a friend, she had asked to look at his violin,
which he left in her hands when called away for a moment. On venturing
to draw the bow she found to her delight that it “almost played itself.”
The courtesy of Mr. Joseph Hellmesberger, Kapelmeister, with whom the
artist played in public, was an incident of his stay which he remembered
with much pleasure.
A visit was made to Pesth, where each day was sure to bring a charming
note or thoughtful message from Liszt, whose kindly face often looked in
upon his friend. The following missive was sent on the morning before
Ole Bull left the city:—
_Mardi, 19 Février._
MON ILLUSTRE,—Je vous prie amicalement de passer la soirée
d’aujourd’hui avec Madame Ole Bull chez votre vieux collègue et
dévoué ami,