Camilla: A Tale of a Violin Part 7

At the close of her tour with Mrs. Macready in 1855 Mademoiselle Urso left the concert stage, gave up playing in public and retired to private life in Nashville, Tenn., only appearing at occasional charity concerts.

Seven years later, in the Autumn of 1862, she returned to New York prepared to resume her artist-life. The musical world remembered with respect and admiration the Camilla Urso of her brilliant girlhood. The wonderful child-life had ended. The new artist-life now begins. Once more the swift fingers might fly over the mystic strings. Again the bow arm wield its magic wand.

Could they? Would the art come back after seven years of almost total neglect? Would the woman fulfill the promise of the child? She could not tell. It seemed a life-time since she had played in public. It was a doubtful experiment. She would not hesitate nor be afraid. She would try again.

"Father, I have come home."

Father, mother, daughter and dear aunt once more reunited. It was an humble home in the midst of the great city. It was home and that was enough.

"What now, my daughter?"

"Music, father. My violin. Give it me once more."

Once more the violin is placed on the young shoulder and the bow is laid with caressing touch upon the beloved strings. Ten and often fifteen hours a day incessant practice. No rigid Ma.s.sart to watch every note. No father to sit by to guide and help. Alone with her violin. She would have no master now. She would be her own master. Her genius should be her guide.

Again the long, slow notes. Again the patient finger exercises. From the almost forgotten years she recalled the lessons of the Conservatory and the instructions of dear old Felix Simon, at sunny Nantes. He was at hand and lived in New York. He might help her. No, she did not wish it.

She refused even her father's aid. She knew herself now. Times had changed since those old days in Nantes. Music had changed. Violin playing had changed. She could not tell exactly how or why, but she felt sure it must be so. If she was to succeed she must come up with the level of the age. The standard of musical taste had changed during the seven years of blank in her artist life. The playing of the "wonder-child" would no longer please the public, much less herself. If her music was then remarkable for a child it must now be equally remarkable for a woman. No half way halting, no inferior work. She had no longer the excuse of being a child. She must win her own place alone and unaided.

Thus thinking, hoping and toiling incessantly she spent the weeks, and then the toil become a pleasure and the hope fruition. To her surprise and joy it all came back. And with it came something else. A new discovery in her art. Her violin had a new voice. A wonderful something was in its every tone. What was it? The brilliant sparkle and fire of her girlhood-music was all there. Everything had returned and with it had come a lovely spirit born of love and sorrow. She love her violin.

She had known grief. Both lived in her music.

Three months of hard study and then she felt ready to once more try her fortune. The fame of her return had quickly spread, and early in 1863 a letter arrived from Carl Zerrahn the conductor of the Philharmonic Society in Boston, inviting her to play before the Society in our city.

She accepted the invitation and once more stood before us, violin in hand, and surrounded by hosts of kind and true friends ready to welcome her back again.

Here begins the new artist-life in our own city and at her childhood's second home where she had won such honors as a girl. Her first appearance was at the Music Hall on the 14th of February, and on this occasion she played the _Fantasie Caprice_ by _Vieuxtemps_ and the _Andante et Rondo Russe_ by _De Beriot_.

On the 21st she played again and gave the _Souvenir de Mozart_ by _Alard_ and the _Cappicco_ on themes from _Fille du Regiment_.

On the 2d of March she played a _Fantasie sur Lucrezia Borgia_ by _Stanton_, the _Souvenir des Pyrenees_ by _Alard_, a _Duet_ from _William Tell_, for violin and piano and repeated the _Vieuxtemps Fantasie caprice_.

Immediately after this she was called to New York to play at the Philharmonic concerts in that city. At one of these concerts the pianist Gottschalk, who happened to be present, became so excited over her playing that he jumped upon the seat and proposed cheers for Madam Urso, and at the close of the performance introduced himself to her in the ante-room and fairly overwhelmed her with congratulations and praise. It was a great surprise and pleasure to her, as the opinion of such a musician was of real value. She now grew more confident. The promise of her girlhood might yet be fulfilled. She would take new courage and go on with the work. She would practice and study every available moment.

In time she would become indeed a great artist. She would not now stop to dream of future success. She must work and work hard.

Success and triumph were near at hand and almost before she was ready to receive them, engagements to play flowed in upon her from every direction. The days of poverty and trial were over. A steadily increasing financial success followed her efforts and, taught by the sorrowful experience of her childhood, she managed her affairs with wisdom and laid the foundation of her present independence. In May she gave a concert in Boston on her own behalf at Chickering hall and played _Grand duo brilliant_ for piano and violin, _La Mucette de Portici_ by _Wolff_ and _De Beriot_, _Reverie_ by _Vieuxtemps_, _Elegie_ by _Ernst_, and the _William Tell Duo_ by _De Beriot_.

These were the most popular pieces of the day. They all belong to the transcription or fantasie style. Enormously difficult and well calculated to please the fancy and amuse the ear, they give a hint of Madam Urso's ability at that time and show just about how far American culture had risen. It is interesting to notice them as we shall see how rapid and how great have been the changes in violin music in the last ten years that are included in this part of the story of a musical life.

In June she made a short tour through the Provinces and then returned to New York and spent the Summer quietly among friends and in practice upon her violin.

Nothing satisfied her in music. The true artist never is satisfied, but is ever urged onward by a n.o.ble discontent. The concert pieces demanded by the public, were not to her taste. She could do better work. She knew and played finer works than these. The people would not listen to them.

She would wait. In time they would grow up to something better. In all this she was ever urged on higher and higher, trying new feats of technical skill, drawing forth even finer tones and continually advancing towards the higher standard of excellence she had set for herself. In all this she met with obstacles and difficulties. She could not have instruction from others. There were none in the country who could teach her anything and her concerts broke in upon her time seriously. She was studying for public appearance and appearing in public at the same time.

On the opening of the musical season in the fall of 1863 Madam Urso was engaged by Mr. P. S. Gilmore to play at his concerts in Boston. The summer of apparent idleness had been well spent. Her study and practice bore splendid fruit and her genius bloomed out into new and wonderful music that seemed to exhale a perfume as ethereal and delicate as it was peculiar and original. The woman's hand and heart lived in the music. To all the brilliancy and technical skill of a man she added a feminine lightness of touch, that in airy lightness, and grace, melting tenderness and sweetness is past description. Her violin now seemed to breathe and sigh. The tears would come to the listener's eyes he knew not why. The tears were in the tones. The sorrow of her life exhaled in chastened sweetness from the strings. Her heart ran out on her finger tips and lived in her music.

It is not surprising that at one of these concerts the musicians of Boston should have united in presenting a testimonial of respect and admiration and personal regard to her as an artist and a woman. The letter was signed by the musical people of note resident in Boston and was accompanied by a handsome gold watch.

However interesting the details of these events may seem it is impossible to dwell upon them all. We must take the more salient points in Madam Urso's artist life, choosing such events as best ill.u.s.trate her character and best explain the secret of her success that we may learn the true artistic lesson of her life and works. After traveling under Mr. Gilmore's direction through all the princ.i.p.al towns of New England, Madam Urso left his company and spent the summer months in traveling in her private carriage with a small party of her own, and giving occasional concerts by the way.

She reached New York late in the fall and at once organized a new company, and visited Canada. This trip was a remarkably successful one, and extended till January, 1865. She then appeared at the Philharmonic concerts at New York and Brooklyn, and on reorganizing her company visited Northern and Central New York. She was at Syracuse at the time of the a.s.sa.s.sination of Lincoln and moved by the event composed an elegy for the violin that was afterwards performed with great success at Rochester.

The early summer of this year was spent among friends and in retirement and was entirely devoted to incessant and long continued practice.

Practice upon her violin is the one thing that is never neglected. If it is not reported on every page it is because it is always present, never forgotten. This is the one price every great artist must pay for his or her position. What a commentary on our American haste to reach results does Madam Urso's life-work present? She has genius. Genius without labor is worse than vain.

In June Madam Urso sailed in the China from Boston and pa.s.sing through London returned once more to France her native land. Returned to live in dear old Paris but not in the Rue Lamartine. The city of her childhood sorrows and trials now became the city of her triumph. Her reputation both as a wonder-child and an artist had been almost wholly American.

Now she was to take a bolder flight and win a European reputation. The opinions of our musical people were to be more than confirmed at Paris.

Her first appearance in Paris was at the invitation of the Count of Niewerkerke, then Minister of fine arts. The concert was a private one given at the Louvre before a select audience of artists, authors, musicians, officers and members of the government, diplomatic corps, etc. Every one appeared in uniform or decorated with medals or other insignia of rank, "and the young woman from America" whom n.o.body knew, and n.o.body ever heard, whose name even, was hardly known quietly took a seat in a corner as if she was only some stray person who had wandered into the grand a.s.sembly by some mistake. No little surprise was manifested when the Count sought her out and offered his arm to the young stranger to escort her to the seat of honor. Her violin case. It laid at her feet on the floor. If he would kindly ask a servant to bring it? Servant, indeed! No, he would be proud to carry it himself.

And he did while the interest and curiosity was roused to unusual excitement, and every one asked who the young American could be that she should receive such attention. A prophet is always without honor in his own country, and the poor flute player's daughter who had struggled through their own famous Conservatory as a child was almost unknown as a young woman. Rumors of an American reputation had invaded Paris, but who were the Americans that they should venture to hold opinions concerning Art. What did they know about music? Nothing, of course. How could such a wild, barbarous country know anything at all?

The violin was taken out and with a few strokes of her bow the almost unknown young woman was admitted to be a peer among them all. Never was an artist received with greater honors and distinction. One performance and her reputation was established. They suddenly found she was, as it were, one of themselves. France was her native land, Paris her home and so no honor they could bestow upon her would be too great. Pasdeloup, the orchestral director, was present and then and there invited her to play with his famous orchestra. So it was that the doors of fas.h.i.+onable and artistic Europe were thrown open at one wave of the magic bow. Our artist played the great Concerto in E by Mendelssohn with Pasdeloup's magnificent orchestra at the hall of the Conservatory and won a splendid triumph on the very spot where in the days of her poverty-tinted childhood she first drew her bow before her severe old masters who had tried so hard to bar the young feet out of the paths of art.

For a year Madam Urso remained in France studying, listening to the best music to be heard, mingling with players of her own artistic stature and, as it were, renewing her musical youth by drinking deep at the fountains that flow from one of the great art centres of the world.

Dear, sleepy old Nantes was visited and once more she played in the same old place where she first drew her bow in those almost forgotten days of her childhood. Not a thing had changed. It seemed as if even the same cats sat on the sunny walls and as if the same old women filled their water jars at the fountains and toiled up and down the steep streets.

There were the geraniums in the windows just as she had seen them in her childhood. Her father's organ stood in the dusty organ loft at the church of the Holy Cross, and even the same grey cobwebs festooned the arches above the seat where she used to sit and listen to the music. All her father's old friends came to see her and brought their grandchildren. The Town Hall would not contain the hundreds that besieged the doors to see the Rose of Montholon, the woman who had made their town famous.

Many places in France were visited, and many concerts were given in Paris and other cities. It was a life of success, honors and happiness.

More than all, it was home. For all that, another home claimed her, she must return to her adopted home, and in September 1866, Madam Urso returned to this country with renewed musical strength, increased ability and her talents brought to even higher culture than ever.

Every life has its dull spots-its period of uneventful living. Even public life with its exciting experiences, perpetual change and scenes, its endless procession of new faces may in time become monotonous. The artist life of Camilla Urso has been active and varied to a remarkable degree, but to repeat the details of such a succession of concert tours would be simply wearisome. Events are of small consequence except as ill.u.s.trative of character and we must only select such as serve to show the woman and the artist in her true character. On returning from Europe Madam Urso at once resumed her concerts and appeared in New York and others cities. In January, 1867, she was engaged to play the _Mendelssohn Concerto_ at one of the concerts of the Harvard Musical a.s.sociation in Boston, and in order to be present in good season for rehearsal started two days before from New York by the way of Springfield. On the road she encountered a severe snow storm and was blockaded thirty-six hours between Worcester and Boston. Determined to keep her engagement with the Harvards she pushed on as long as the train would move. Again and again they were stopped, in gigantic drifts that came up to the tops of the cars. The train people resolutely shoveled their way through and pushed on again The day of the concert came and still they were twenty miles or more from Boston. The fires gave out and not a thing could be obtained to eat or drink. Still she would not give it up. Perhaps the train would yet reach the city in time for the concert. Finally the city came in sight. The wind had blown the the snow away from the track on the marshes behind the city and the last mile was made in good time and then the train plunged into another drift just beyond the junction of the Providence Railroad and where the Dartmouth street bridge now stands. It only lacked 60 minutes of the concert hour.

She would leave the cars and walk into the city. Perhaps she might be in time yet. One of the gentlemen of the party took her violin case and they set out to reach the houses on Boylston street that were in plain sight not twenty rods away. It was a desperate undertaking but she resolved to try it. She must get to the Music Hall if possible. The snow might be overcome but she had not reckoned on the temperature, and before she had gone twenty yards down the track she found her hands were rapidly freezing and she seemed ready to faint and fall in the terrible cold. The gentlemen at once took her up and after a tremendous effort succeeded in carrying her as far as the signal house. She must get into shelter or perish almost in our streets. The burly signal man saw the party and opened the door of his round house and took them in. Madam Urso's hands were stiff and bloodless and in their fright her friends thought they were forever lost. Even Madam Urso's strong, brave spirit was utterly broken down over the appalling disaster. Of what use was her life if the cunning of her fingers was to be thus rudely destroyed. It is small wonder that the disaster almost crushed her and brought the bitterest tears to her eyes. The grimy signal man took in the situation at once and resorted to measures that were at once as effectual as they were grotesque and amusing. Kneeling down on the floor and taking off his cap he bid the gentlemen rub her hands in his tangled and matted hair. It was a most ludicrous remedy but it worked to a charm. The gentle heat brought the blood slowly back and after half an hour's rubbing on the man's big head she entirely recovered.

"Thet's the way we always does, mum. Many's the poor brakeman's fingers I've saved by rubbin 'em in some one's thick head o' hair."

Whatever the philosophy of this wonderful method of treatment, Madam Urso can give her testimony to its perfect success, and within an hour she was so far recovered that she could laugh as heartily as any over the adventure. The concert hour had come and gone while the party were sheltered in the signal house on the Back Bay and there was no help for it. She had done her best and even risked her life to fulfill her engagement. There was nothing more to be done except to reach the city in safety. The signal man helped the party over the tracks and up the banks and they set out once more for Boylston Street. After a severe struggle the party reached the first house but as the cold was intense they decided to get under shelter as quickly as possible and at once rang the bell. A woman put a frightened face out the door and gave one look at the sorry looking party and slammed the door in their faces.

They at once rang the next bell but here the people wouldn't even open the door though they slyly peeped out the window at the forlorn looking party on the steps. Madam Urso's hands were again growing intensely cold in spite of the fur gloves she had accepted from one of the gentlemen; and his own hands were bare. They must get in somewhere or perish in the storm. The next house opened to them at once, and in spite of their rather battered looks they were welcomed and offered the best the house contained. The bath-room, chambers and dining hall were free to them and it seemed as if the daughters of the house could not do enough to minister to the wants of the unhappy party. The discovery of whom they entertained only added to the warmth of the reception and finally a sleigh was found and just at night fall Madam Urso was once more with friends. Singular as it may seem, she has not found out to this day who so kindly opened their house to her in her distress. In the storm and excitement of the occasion the number of the house was forgotten and there was no name on the door. The family did not give their name and if it should so happen that they read this, they may know how pleasantly Madam Urso cherishes the memory of their kindness.

Carl Rosa who was then in Boston took Madam Urso's place at the Harvard Concert, and on the next morning Mr. Dwight the Treasurer called and paid her the usual honorarium, just as if she had been present. Madam Urso remained in Boston and appeared at the next concert as she makes it a rule always to fulfill every engagement to the letter, whatever may be the expense and inconvenience it may cause her.

Immediately after the little adventure in Boston, just mentioned, Madam Urso was engaged by Mr. P. S. Gilmore to travel through the New England States. This tour was a very successful one and at its close she spent the Summer quietly at Saratoga and Long Branch. The season of 1867 and 1868 was an exceedingly busy one and engagements were made in all parts of the country with uniform success. In the Spring she found the labor and travel were telling upon her health, and in June she sailed once more for Europe where she spent three months in Bologne and Paris, in retirement. Though not giving concerts she practiced as steadily and earnestly as her health would permit. The quiet sea-sh.o.r.e life at Bologne, the drives on the beach and the charming social life rested her fully and in September she was once more ready to resume her profession in this country. To report it all is quite beyond our limits.

Engagements to play crowded upon her from all parts of the country, and every concert seemed to be more successful than the last. One given as a complementary testimonial to Madam Urso by the musicians of Boston, in January 1869, brought out all her friends and packed the Music Hall with an audience such as it never saw before. About the same time she was elected an honorary life member of the Philharmonic Society of Philadelphia. This Summer, like the last, was pa.s.sed in Bologne and Paris and was wholly devoted to study and practice, with some recreation.

CHAPTER II.

THE SILVER BRICK.

On the 24th of September (1869) Madam Urso started from Paris for a new and untried field. Stopping one week only in New York she pushed on towards the Pacific and landed in San Francisco on the 22d of October.

Only four weeks from Paris to San Francisco including six days in New York. This will ill.u.s.trate her power of physical endurance, and the experience that followed this rapid journey will serve to show her business capacity, her executive talents, and her indomitable energy.

The seven months pa.s.sed in California make one of the most remarkable episodes of her life and it must be examined in some detail.

The party took rooms at the Occidental Hotel and the very first evening Madam Urso was honored by a serenade, though no announcement of her arrival had been made. Certainly, the musical people of the Pacific Slope were eager to welcome her. It seemed so, for on announcing a concert at Platt Hall, there was a greater demand for tickets than had ever been known in that part of the country for any entertainment whatever its character. Three more concerts were given with every available seat and standing place occupied, and then three sacred concerts on successive Sunday evenings at the California Theatre, were announced. All of these concerts were of a cla.s.sical character, the first of the kind ever given in the State and to bring them out properly the best talent to be found was engaged, including the Brignoli Opera Troupe then traveling in California.

Never in her experience had concert giving been more successful and profitable than here. It seemed as if she had captured all their hearts and brought the golden State to her feet by one wave of her violin bow.

Deeply sensible of the feelings of respect and admiration entertained for her by the people she resolved in some way to testify her appreciation and to give material expression of her thanks. She looked about for some worthy inst.i.tution upon which she could bestow the benefit of a series of concerts, or musical festival. After some investigation and private correspondence Madam Urso wrote the following letter that was dated at the Occidental Hotel, San Francisco, December 1st 1869.

_To the President and Board of Directors of the Mercantile Library a.s.sociation of San Francisco_: