A Norse theatre with a Norse orchestra was what Ole Bull, in his enthusiasm, determined to realize in his birthplace, Bergen. He appointed committees, engaged actors, built and furnished a theatre. He himself led the orchestra, worked up public sentiment, and inspired the press, until at last, on the 2d of January, 1850, his National Theatre was opened with a representation which was acknowledged, by his opponents even, to have been a surprising success.[15]
[15] Among the correspondence of this period is a long letter from the well–known Norse poet, Aasmund O. Winje, dated at Christiania, December 3, 1849, and beginning thus:—
“Norse Ole! My naïve address will almost shock you; I could find no characteristic epithet for you, and, so far as I know, the peasants call you only Ole Bull—as if titles did not become this name. Therefore, Norse Ole!... May all go well! May the annoyances which necessarily attend your undertaking be as few as possible!”
The hasty, animated lines which he wrote to his wife that day, in which he mentions his exertions, his many disappointments, and his persevering, energetic hope for the undertaking, strike one very forcibly.
The selection of plays was restricted, since they were necessarily adapted to the limited powers of the actors. Ole Bull conducted the orchestra and played, as did also his friend, Möllar–gutten, or Thorgeir Andunson of Haukelid–Rock. Mr. Goldschmidt thus speaks of this peasant–violinist, celebrated all over Norway:[16]—
[16] Kristofer Janson has given a graphic and charming picture of Möllar–gutten in his “Spell–Bound Fiddler,” translated by Auber Forestier.
He used to play at dancing parties, and in him many of the old legends, pointing to the demoniac power of music, were revived. In order to understand this, one must have seen the national dances of Norway—the Halling–dance especially. It commences with a slow, majestic measure, and it is surprising to see with what dignity and grace the powerful forms of old and young move; by degrees it becomes quicker, the elder folk retire, and at last it turns into a leaping dance, which only the strongest young people can safely perform, and during which formidable leaps are executed by the lads.