Lexington.
My dear Sir,—I am truly sorry that my bad cold, which the change of weather and the prospect of rain induce me to apprehend I might increase by going out at night, deprives me of an opportunity of witnessing your performance from which I anticipated so much pleasure to–night. All the other members of my family, who are not indisposed, have gone to enjoy that satisfaction.
I made an unsuccessful effort to see you to–day, but left no card. I hope to pay my respects to–morrow, if you do not leave the city before the afternoon.
I am, respectfully, your obedient servant,
H. Clay.
Mr. Ole Bull, Lexington.
Ole Bull the next morning went to Mr. Clay’s house, taking with him his violin. He went into the room adjoining the one in which Mr. Clay was seated, and played in a low tone the great statesman’s favorite melody, “The Last Rose of Summer.” Mr. Clay’s interest was immediately aroused, and he asked if some one was not playing in the street. As the air continued, he remarked, “Ah, that must be Ole Bull; no one but he could play the old familiar air in that manner.” When the artist finished, the doors were thrown open, and they embraced.
The following correspondence is interesting from the association of distinguished names:—
Senate Chamber, Washington, March 15, 1852.
Ole Bull, Esq.:
Sir,—Understanding that your present visit to this country is not made with any professional purpose, we take occasion to state that it would give us sincere gratification to be afforded an opportunity to witness a display of your peculiar powers in that art in which, by acknowledgment of the world, you are allowed to be a master. We wish to express the hope that you may find it convenient to give a public concert, during the course of your stay in Washington, in such manner and at such time and place as you may choose to indicate.