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,
F. Liszt.
Soyez assez bon pour faire mes plus affectueux compliments à M. Heinefetter et priez–le de ne pas annoncer mon concert pour lundi ainsi que nous en étions convenus. Lors de mon passage à Mannheim (mercredi soir) j’aurai soin de l’informer du jour que nous puissons choisir. Si par le plus grand des hazards on pouvait m’annoncer un concert mercredi, je crois que je pourrai être à temps à Mannheim—mais il vaut mieux, je crois, ne pas forcer ainsi la chose. En tout cas n’oubliez pas de prevenir Heinefetter que lundi il me sera impossible de tenir ma promesse.
Ole Bull now went over to Brussels, where he had a warm friend in Monsieur Fétis; thence to Antwerp, the Rhine towns, and Heidelberg, joining company with Liszt. He then returned to Paris, but was soon called to Berlin, where he had been specially invited to participate in the festivities of the coronation of King William (the present Emperor of Germany). He gave six concerts to the royal family and their visitors. In Leipsic he also gave six concerts, where the musical society, “Der Tunnel,” presented him with a silver vase, surmounted by a figure of Apollo with the lyre.
It was in Leipsic that the Cellini Caspar da Salo violin came to him. Mendelssohn and Liszt were dining with Ole Bull, when a servant placed by his master’s plate an envelope bearing a great seal. “Open your letter, Ole Bull! it may be important,” said Liszt. It was from the son of Rhaczek, the owner of the violin, and imparted the news of his father’s death, adding that a clause of his will directed that the instrument should be offered to Ole Bull. Delighted, he told the news to his friends, who, when they learned the value set upon the violin, advised him to be cautious as to its purchase. “If it is really worth the price you mean to pay for it,” said Mendelssohn, “we must dedicate it together by playing the ‘Kreutzer.’” When it came, and had been put in order, Mendelssohn’s suggestion was carried out. He and Ole Bull played Beethoven’s “Sonata,” which was the first work performed on that wonderful instrument. The following description of the violin, by Mrs. Childs, is entirely faithful and correct:—
The violin, now in possession of Ole Bull, was made to the order of Cardinal Aldobrandini, one of a noble family at Rome memorable for their patronage of the fine arts. He gave for it 3,000 Neapolitan ducats, and presented it to the treasury of Innsprück, where it became a celebrated curiosity, under the name of “The Treasury–Chamber Violin.” When that city was taken by the French, in 1809, it was carried to Vienna, and sold to Rhaczek, a wealthy Bohemian, whose splendid collection of rare and ancient stringed instruments had attracted universal attention in the musical world. The gem of his museum was the violin manufactured by Da Salo, and sculptured by Cellini. He was offered immense sums for it by English, Russian, and Polish noblemen, but to all such offers he answered, “Not for the price of half Vienna.”
A few years ago Ole Bull gave some fifteen concerts in Vienna, with the brilliant success which usually attends him. The Bohemian, who went with the crowd to hear him, was an enthusiastic admirer of his genius, and soon became personally acquainted with him. Until then he had considered himself the most learned man in Europe in the history of violins, the peculiar merits of all the most approved manufacturers, and the best methods of repairing deficiencies, or improving the tones. But with Ole Bull, love of the violin had been an absorbing passion from his earliest childhood. He never saw one of a novel shape, or heard one with a new tone, without studying into the causes of the tone, and the effects produced by the shape. Through every nook and corner of Italy he sought for new varieties of his favorite instrument, as eagerly as an Oriental merchant seeks for rare pearls. He had tried all manner of experiments; he knew at sight the tuneful qualities of every species of wood, and precisely how the slightest angle or curve in the fashion of an instrument would affect the sound. He imparted to the Bohemian amateur much information that was new and valuable; and this sympathy of tastes and pursuits produced a warm friendship between them. Of course, Ole looked with a longing eye on the oldest and best of his violins; but the musical antiquarian loved it like an only child. He could not bring himself to sell it at that time, but he promised that, if he ever did part with it, the minstrel of Norway should have the preference over every other man in the world. He died two years afterward, and a letter from his son informed Ole Bull that his dying father remembered the promise he had given. He purchased it forthwith, and it was sent to him at Leipsic.