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.’”