CHAPTER VII.

"CAMILLA URSO HAS ARRIVED."

What were they to do next? They could not speak a word of English and

had not a dollar. They would gladly return to France could they manage

the tickets. It was impossible. Something must be done. A concert or two

must be given. Camilla would surely succeed if she had a hearing. The

American must not desert them utterly. He might, at least, act as their

business agent and assist them in giving a few concerts.

They could repeat the plan that they had tried with such success in

Germany. Camilla might play before some of the wealthy families and then

give a concert. It did not meet their expectations. The customs of the

country were different, and though she visited Commodore Stevens, then

living at Hoboken, and played for him, nothing came of it. He was

greatly pleased with the child and on taking her to a jeweler's bid her

select such a ring as she fancied. A ring with a variety of stones, a

sentiment ring, took her girlish eyes and she chose it in preference to

a more costly one.

And that was all that came of it. Her visit did not lead to a concert

and their fortunes seemed as desperate as ever. M. Urso went everywhere

among his countrymen and told his story and endeavored to find a chance

for Camilla to play. He could not give a concert on his own

responsibility. Some artist must be found to bring Camilla out before

the American public.

Fortunately, Madam Alboni was in New York about this time and through

her kindness an opportunity was found for Camilla. Three concerts were

arranged in which Camilla might make her bow before the American people.

Child violinists were not unknown in New York. Paul Julian had played in

the city and had attracted much attention. The announcement that a new

child-artist--a girl and a violinist would appear only roused curiosity

and people were eager to see how she compared with the boy Julian. They

called her Camilla--Camilla Urso. Who was she? Where did she come from?

No one seemed to know. Madam Alboni was to bring her out. The child must

have some talent to be patronized by such an artist as Madam Alboni.

Only ten years of age. Certainly a marvelous child. And a girl. It must

be a sight worth seeing. They would all go to the concert. In this

shallow style did the people of New York talk. They looked upon her as

some kind of natural wonder, or curiosity. That she might have an

artist's soul, that her playing might be something more than mere

display did not seem to enter their comprehension.

In due time the concert came off and a slender, blue eyed girl hardly

four feet high appeared and played a fantasia or themes from Somnambula.

They had expected she would play fairly well, they looked for tolerable

skill. What they did see and hear so far exceeded their expectations

that they could not find words to express their admiration.

The steady position, the vigor and grace of her bowing, the strong, firm

tone, and more than all the wonderful delicacy and lightness of her

touch. The splendid technical ability, and her simple manners, the

demure and serious eyes and the slight, girlish figure, these captured

their hearts and won their respect.

The concert was a great success and Camilla in a single night

established her reputation in the United States. This was her first real

step in her artist life. She here laid the foundation of her reputation,

a reputation that was first American and afterwards European.

The next morning the New York Herald gave her the first newspaper notice

she ever received in this country.

"Little Camilla Urso, the wonderful child violinist, divided

honors with the prima donna. Of the same age and country as Paul

Julian, whose masterly performance on the violin attracted so

much attention here, this new candidate for public favor

promises to be a powerful competitor with him. Her execution of

the fantasia or Somnambula was most admirable and drew down

vociferous calls for an encore which were honored. Several

bouquets were thrown to her on the stage and the greatest

enthusiasm was manifested in respect to the marvelous little

artist."

Then some one suggested that they try Boston. That city was a musical

centre and Camilla would be sure to meet with a good reception there.

Accordingly under the guidance of the American the entire party went to

Boston. Mr. Jonas Chickering, the piano-forte manufacturer kindly

welcomed her and invited her to call at his residence on Boylston

street, two doors from the building now occupied by the Art Club. So

much pleased was he with her simple manners and her wonderful playing

that he opened his elegant warerooms and invited a select company of

musical people to hear her play. This private concert first brought

Camilla before us. She had, as it were, come before us. Hitherto, it had

been a strange story that had been told to us. We could now see and hear

for ourselves.

The Boston Transcript and Dwight's Journal of Music, then our best

authorities upon art matters thus spoke of this occasion:--

"Her violin playing is not that of a child,--even a remarkable

child--but that of an _artiste_ cultivated and accomplished. Her

bowing is extremely graceful and free, her execution neat and

clear, her intonation perfect."

Dwight's Journal of Oct. 9th says:--

"Little Camilla Urso, the violinist, but eleven years old,

announced a concert at the Masonic Temple for last evening, just

too late for notice in this paper. But we had the pleasure,--and

a choice one it was--of hearing her the other evening in a

company of some forty invited guests, in Mr. Chickering's

saloon. Her playing is not only truly wonderful, but wonderfully

true;--true in style, expression, feeling, as it is true in

intonation and all mechanical respects. She played Artot's

_Souvenirs de Bellini_, and never have we listened to a long

fantasia of several themes, worked up in all manner of

variations, with a purer pleasure. It was masterly; the firm and

graceful bowing, the rich, pure, refined tone, the light and

shade, the easy control of _arpeggio_, _staccato_, _double

stops_, etc., were all such as we could only have expected from

the maturest masters we have heard. We could scarcely credit our

own eyes and ears.

The little maiden is plain, with strong arms and hands enlarged

by practice of her instrument; yet her appearance is most

interesting; a face full of intellectual and sedate expression,

a large forehead wearing the 'pale cast of thought' etc. Pity

only that such fine life must be lived out so fast, and always

in the blaze of too much sun for plants so young and tender!"

Then followed two concerts at the Masonic Temple. Concerning her playing

at these concerts we may quote from Dwight's Journal of October 16th.

CAMILLA URSO. "Two concerts have confirmed all we have said of

this wonderful girl violinist. Two concerts, attended by an

intelligent, nay, an exacting, audience delighted almost to

tears--and yet not money enough in the house to pay expenses!

Indifference to flaming advertisements of precocity is well; but

it is _not_ well, not worthy of the taste of Boston thus to

neglect one of the finest manifestations of genius that ever

seemed to come to us so straight from heaven. It was one of the

most beautiful, most touching experiences of our whole musical

life, to see and hear that charming little maiden, so natural

and childlike, so full of sentiment and thought, so

selfpossessed and graceful in her whole bearing and in her every

motion, handle her instrument there like a master, drawing forth

tones of purest and most feeling quality; with an infallible

truth of intonation, unattained by many an orchestra leader;

reproducing perfectly, as if by the hearts own direct magnetic

agency, an entire Concerto of Viotti or De Beriot, wooing forth

the gentler melodies with a fine caressing delicacy and giving

out strong passages in chords with ever thrilling grandeur."

The first of these concerts was on the 8th and the second on the 12th of

the month. Neither was successful and evil days again came upon them.

The concert company broke up and each looked out for himself as best he

could. As for Camilla she returned to New York with her father and aunt

and they settled down in poor and miserable quarters in a house on

Howard street--the Rue Lamartine of New York.

Her reception in Boston had not been a pleasant one. There seemed to be

a prejudice against her. The good people could not quite forgive her for

being a girl. It was well for Paul Julian--he was a boy. Camilla's

appearance disturbed their nice sense of propriety. This is only the

more remarkable when we come to see that later in her life Boston became

her second home. It was here that she afterwards laid the foundation for

her reputation and here she won her greatest triumphs. Since, she has

played in our city over two hundred times and here her greatest and

latest artistic efforts have been made. Little did she think as she left

the city that she should afterwards enter it twice under most peculiar

circumstances and afterwards make it the home of her girlhood and

sometimes her residence in womanhood.

Heaven helps those who try to help themselves. It was useless to cry or

sit down in despair. Camilla at once resumed her practice under her

father's guidance. The violin was taken out again and the wretched

alley-ways about Howard street reechoed with the strains of the

marvelous instrument. By the hour the music floated out the dismal

chamber window where the wonder-child toiled over the seemingly hopeless

task. The thin, pale face bent over the music book all the day long.

Practice, practice, practice. Life seemed made for that.

What was the good of it all? It had only brought them poverty and

sorrow. Not for a moment did she pause. The art was reward enough

without the money. She would wait.

It happened just at this time that Paul Julian, not in the most happy

financial circumstances came to New York and for a week lived in the

same humble boarding house with the Ursos. Camilla's room was up stairs

and Paul's just under it. Both practiced incessantly, and Camilla's

father while attending to her lessons would often say:--

"Hear that boy! He loves to practice."

Paul's father in the room below would bid the boy stop and listen to the

girl artist overhead and say:--

"Hear that girl! See how she loves to practice."

When the lesson hour was over the two children met on the stairs or on

the sidewalk for their brief play hour and would exchange notes

concerning their two fathers.

"Was your father cross to-day?"

"Yes. Cross as a bear!"

"So was mine."

Camilla did not remain in obscurity and poverty long. Archbishop Hughes

heard of her and arranged a charity concert in which she was invited to

appear. The concert was for the benefit of the Catholic Orphan Asylum

and as Camilla had contributed largely to its success a share of the

proceeds were given to her father. This fortunately saved them from

immediate want and in a few days after a still greater piece of luck

came to them. A letter came from Philadelphia inviting Camilla to play

at a concert given by the Philharmonic society of that city. She at once

went to Philadelphia in company with her father and aunt and there

received one hundred and fifty dollars for a single performance on her

violin. This was the largest sum she had ever received at one time and

it seemed as if their day of small things was nearly over.

While they were in Philadelphia an agent of the Germania Musical Society

of Boston visited them and invited Camilla to join the Society in a

series of concerts that they proposed to give in the New England cities.

A handsome salary was offered and they all three started once more for

Boston.

They took rooms at the United States Hotel and prepared for a long stay.

Camilla's return and reappearance in our streets was not happy. They

arrived on Saturday and the next day having nothing in particular to do

Camilla took aunt Caroline's hand and they went out for a little walk.

The streets, so strangely quiet in their foreign eyes, seemed dull and

they walked on thinking they might come to some garden or pleasure

ground where the people would be listening to a band, drinking coffee

and making merry in a proper manner.

They could not find the place. The stores were all closed and it seemed

very stupid and gloomy. They would return to their hotel. It was down

this street No. It was that way. Which way was it? The streets were so

very crooked that really they were quite lost.

They stopped a gentleman and said as best they could--"Unated Statis

Hotel?" He did not seem to understand and passed on. Then they tried a

lady and repeated the words "Unated Statis Hotel?" The lady talked about

something but they could not understand a single word. Again and again

they stopped people on the walk and repeated the strange words. Every

one shook his head or talked rapidly about things they could not

understand and not one could show the way to the "Unated Statis Hotel."

Poor Camilla began to cry with the cold and they were having a sorry

time of it. They met an Irish servant girl going home from church. They

repeated the words to her and the quick witted girl soon led them back a

few steps and showed them the great brick block with its gilded sign

"United States Hotel."

Now it was that we became familiar with Camilla's face in our streets.

Her black felt hat and long dark green plume that was at once so

singular and so very becoming, her big blue eyes with the sly twinkle in

them, the smiling mouth and sweet tempered expression of her face won

unusual attention and admiration. Children in the streets said "there

goes Camilla Urso," and ran after her to see the pretty French girl who

had come to live among us. Traditions of her girlhood days are still

treasured up in many Boston families and pleasant stories are told of

this part of her life. She here grew in mind and stature and she was no

longer little Camilla but Mademoiselle Camilla Urso.

The first concert with the Germanias was given on the evening of

December 11th, and from that time there was a brief space of financial

happiness for our young Mademoiselle. For several months she had more

leisure than she had ever known in her short life. Their headquarters

were in Boston and the tours were short and easy.

There seemed to be no immediate prospect of returning to France and

something must be done about Mademoiselle's English education. The

family made their home at the United States Hotel and during the

intervals between the short concert trips a private tutor came to their

rooms to instruct her young ladyship in the language of the country.

Nothing had been done even in French and she found herself woefully

ignorant for a ten year old girl. It made very little difference for she

took up the matter with enthusiasm and learned to read in an incredibly

short time. Within three months she could express herself with tolerable

ease in English and learned to read almost anything that was put before

her either in French or English. How it happened she could hardly

explain. It must have been the intuitive grasping of a mind prematurely

active and retentive. She could read music as easily as a Boston girl of

her age could read the daily papers, and it did not seem to her in any

sense difficult to understand the much more simple alphabet of spoken

language. She had only one objection to her tutor. He helped her over

the hard words and all that and was not cross but as she confided to her

aunt, "he was very disagreeable--she didn't like him for he chewed--and

it wasn't pleasant."

At the same time such a demure puss, with such proper notions about

manners was not above joining some of the other girls in grand romps in

the corridors of the hotel, nor afraid to join them in the glorious

mischief of changing all the boots put out at the doors of the rooms and

then listen at the top of the stairs at the fine uproar caused by their

pranks.

It was during this residence in Boston that Camilla was confirmed at

Church and she passed the allotted weeks of preparation at the Convent

of Notre Dame at Roxbury. Her father thought it a sad loss of time on

account of her violin practice, but for Camilla it was a period of

unalloyed happiness. She was the pet of the school, and her simple,

childlike nature bloomed out freely in the quiet atmosphere of the

place. Here for the first time she learned to use her needle. Pen,

needles, pen-knife and scissors had been carefully kept out of her hands

for fear of possible injury to her fingers and yet she learned to sew

quite well in a very few lessons. It was merely a mechanical operation

and it came to her in a flash. She astonished the good sisters with her

feats of embroidery and fine sewing and they could not understand how

such an one could learn so quickly. The manual skill of playing and the

quick eye in reading music had probably much to do with it. The weeks at

the convent were like a charming oasis in the dry and dusty plain of her

public life and she came out of the school blooming with health and

happiness.

On the 4th of April, 1853, the Germanias started out on an extended tour

through the Western States and with them went Mademoiselle Camilla, her

father and aunt. It was upon this trip that Camilla Urso's face became

familiar to the people of this country. She had visited nearly every

important city and town in New England and now she played in every large

city through the Northern and Western States. She went as far west as

St. Louis and as far south as the Ohio. It was a stirring, eventful

life. Traveling constantly, playing four or five times a week, meeting

new friends every day, practicing steadily and growing in mind and

stature she seemed to have found the desire of her young heart. Finally

the trip ended at Rochester, New York, on the 11th of June, and the

company separated. The Germanias went to Newport for their summer

campaign and the Ursos returned to New York.

Madam Henrietta Sontag was at this time traveling in this country. She

had given a series of very successful operatic performances in Boston

and New York during the Winter and Spring, and proposed to make a

concert tour through the West and South during the Fall and Winter. M.

Urso while in New York received a letter from her agent inviting Camilla

to join the troupe. Accordingly she set out with her father and met

Madam Sontag's party at Cincinnati. Aunt Caroline traveled with them as

far as Louisville, Ky. Madam Sontag, who was greatly pleased with

Camilla here offered to have a motherly eye over her and accordingly her

aunt returned to New York and only M. Urso remained to be guide and

helper to our young Mademoiselle.

For Camilla this trip was a season of great happiness. She was earning

money rapidly, her mother in far away Paris could share in the golden

store and her father was pleased and satisfied.

Madam Sontag became a second mother to Camilla and treated her with the

utmost kindness. Every day Camilla must come to her room to practice and

receive instructions in singing. Camilla's instrument was the violin.

She could sing with more than ordinary skill and in perfecting her

phrasing and in improving her style in vocal music Madam Sontag

insensibly improved her violin music. All of Camilla's music was

examined by the great singer and in those stray hours picked up between

the demand of concerts and travel much of art and happiness was enjoyed.

Camilla was the favorite of the entire company. There was Pozzolini, the

tenor, fat Badially, the bass, jolly Rocco the buffo singer and Alfred

Jael the rising young pianist, merriest of them all. With each Camilla

was a pet. Every one seemed ready to please the young girl and in their

society life passed happily. Freed from anxiety and the excessive and

wearisome practice her nature expanded and she began to show that sweet

and amiable character that so brightens her maturer years.

Giving concerts at every city the party took their triumphant way down

the Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans. The brilliant concerts, the

strange people, the mighty river, the life on the palatial steamboats,

the perpetual change of scene awoke Camilla's fancy and imagination and

developed her character rapidly. The publicity, the glare and the

excitement only brought out her intellectual and artistic power. Most

young people would have been upset and spoiled by vanity. Her young

days in the orchestra at Nantes had accustomed her to public life, and

the poverty and trial she had gone through served as good ballast to

keep her steady when riding on the topmost wave of success.

The tour ended at New Orleans with even greater triumphs. Camilla

appeared eighteen times in company with Madam Sontag and each concert

was a perfect success in every sense.

Then in a moment the bright dream came to an end. Madam Sontag and her

opera company set out for Mexico, leaving Camilla and her father in New

Orleans. She would return soon and in the mean time Camilla could wait

and by study and practice prepare for a new tour through the Northern

States in the Spring.

In a few weeks came the dreadful news that the good and amiable woman,

and the great _artist_ was dead. She had died after a brief illness in

the city of Mexico and all of Camilla's hopes were destroyed. Again she

was without employment and without money. Her father was not

distinguished for sound financial ability. He was too generous and

liberal, and in spite of the large sums of gold that had been paid to

him on Camilla's account he found himself in actual distress at the

breaking up of the Sontag combination. With reasonable prudence they

could have saved enough to enable them to retreat to the more prosperous

field in the Northern States. As it was Camilla was obliged to begin

again, and slowly, and painfully win her way back alone to the North and

to happier days. An agent was found to take her through the Southern

cities and thence by the way of the seaboard to New York. It was not a

happy trip. There was no longer a great singer to attract attention,

there was no obedient and skillful business man traveling ahead to

prepare the way and secure hotel comforts and financial success.

Camilla's violin was the only attraction, and to fill out the programme

they were obliged to call in the aid of such local talent as they could

find in the various cities they visited. Mobile, Savannah, Charleston,

and other places were visited and after a slow and disagreeable journey

they arrived in Baltimore in the Spring of 1855 almost without a cent.

Here came a singular episode in Camilla's life that will illustrate the

perfection of her schooling at the Conservatory of music at Paris. A

gentleman and a public singer heard of Camilla's difficulties and

arranged a concert for her benefit. At this concert Camilla for the

first and only time laid aside her violin and appeared as a singer. No

one had thought of her in this character and her duet from the opera of

L'elisir d'Amore, by Donizetti, was a great surprise. She exhibited a

fine, clear voice almost as well trained as her fingers. The performance

only showed how thorough had been her instruction in solfeggio at the

Conservatory. Every true artist is a singer. No matter what his or her

instrument may be, no matter how skillful their fingers may be with bow

or keys, singing must form a part of their education. This is the theory

of Camilla's study in music. The practice of solfeggio gives clearness

and accuracy to the ear, and teaches the eye to read with certainty and

speed. Much of her understanding of music has come from such practice

and it should form a part of every musician's education.

Finally father and daughter reached New York after an absence of nearly

nine months, and almost as poor as when they started. The Summer season

was at hand and there was very little opportunity for concerts. In

company with her father she then went to Canada and there traveled from

place to place giving occasional concerts and everywhere winning many

friends. Invitations to visit the homes of private families came to them

freely and for Camilla the trip was a very happy one. So happy indeed

that she was unwilling to leave her new friends even when the news of

her mother's arrival in New York was received. M. Urso went on to

receive his wife, but Camilla persisted in staying where she was. She

was the admired and sought after young girl. Every one seemed ready to

offer her every pleasure and attention and she was far from willing to

return to the life of concert giving and practice.

Concerning the music that Mademoiselle Urso played at this time, we may

mention a few of the pieces usually given at her concerts. They give us

not only an idea of her musical ability, but serve to illustrate the

character of the concert pieces in vogue at that time. No musical life

would be complete, even if it is that of a "wonder-child" without some

information concerning the actual work performed. Mademoiselle Urso was

not in any sense limited in her range of pieces. She did not have a mere

stock set that she always played. She could and did play everything that

had been printed for the violin. In her girlhood's concerts she chose

those most popular without much regard to their actual position in the

art. She had not then reached her true artist-life and was not, as now,

in a position to lead the public taste into the higher fields of classic

music. She played then such pieces as the _Violin Concerto_, by

_Viotti_, _Alard's Souvenir_ the _Daughter of the Regiment_, _Souvenir

de Gretry_, _Souvenir de Mozart_, by _Leonard_, and the _Tremolo_, by

_De Beriot_. She also gave at times the _Witches' Dance_, by _Paganini_

and _La Melancholie_, by _Prune_.

After some delay Camilla joined her father and mother at New York, and

the family were once more reunited. It was at this time that they had

the misfortune to have their rooms entered, and all the presents,

including the pearl cross that Camilla had received on that almost

forgotten German tour, were stolen.

The family were not united long. In the Fall Mrs. Macready, the reader,

invited Camilla to join her troupe on a tour through the West. As mother

and daughter had been separated for a long time Madam Urso traveled

with Camilla a portion of this journey. Unfortunately Madam Urso was

taken sick at Cincinnati and for a while Camilla traveled alone with

Mrs. Macready. This tour was quite a successful one for Camilla and it

finally ended in Nashville, Tenn., where the party separated.

PART II.

CHAPTER I.

INTO EACH LIFE SOME RAIN MUST FALL.

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 Massart 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 noble 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 illustrate 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 principal 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 assassination 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 passing 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 nobody knew,

and nobody 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 assembly 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 fashionable

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

illustrative 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

Association 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-shore 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 passed 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 illustrate 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 passed 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 classical 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 institution 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 Association of San Francisco_:

GENTLEMEN: The present embarrassment of your Society having come

to my knowledge, and wishing in some suitable manner to show my

gratitude to the people of this city for the kindness and

appreciation I have met with during my visit, I have thought of

no better method to do so than in offering you the benefit of a

grand musical entertainment such as I originally intended giving

here, with the sincere hope that it may prove a help towards

relieving the Mercantile Library of its present difficulties.

Should my offer be accepted, I will, gentlemen, consecrate all

my time during the two months necessary for its preparation, to

make it a grand success. I am gentlemen, Yours obediently

CAMILLA URSO.

This generous offer was at once accepted and without delay the officers

of the Association, the city government, and in fact, the whole

community united with her to make the proposed festival one of the great

musical events of the Pacific Slope. Boston had given its musical

festival, why not San Francisco? There, it had been comparatively easy.

Here, it was an undertaking almost too vast and difficult for

comprehension. There was not a choral society in the State. If there

were a few choirs of male voices they had never sung together and though

there were many individual singers and performers in different parts of

the State they had never been brought together. A hall must be prepared,

the orchestra drilled, the music for the chorus selected and printed,

and the whole festival lasting three days be planned, laid out, and

carried into effect.

Never before has a single woman been so made a queen over an army of

men, women and children. The moment the event was announced the

Occidental Hotel was besieged by editors, musicians, officials,

contractors, carpenters, decorators, chorus masters and a hundred others

who thought they might be of use in some way. Madam Urso held high state

in her rooms and heard each one in turn, gave him her commands, and bid

him move on to his appointed work. The Mechanics' Pavilion, a huge

wooden structure erected for the Mechanics' Institute Fair in 1868, was

still standing. Orders to take it down had been given, but at her

request they were revoked and a host of carpenters swarmed into the

building and began to remodel it for the great Festival. Railroads,

Hotels, and Telegraph companies were ready to obey her every wish in

regard to the reception of the great company to be assembled. The State

arsenal opened at her command and a whole park of artillery was ready to

speak at the wave of her baton. An organ was built to order, and a drum

more portentous than the Gilmore affair was manufactured. The firemen

met to pound the anvils in the "anvil chorus" and Camilla herself

drilled them in the work. And at the head of it all was the one woman,

mistress of the whole kingdom, and with the resources of a State at

command. As if this was not enough she personally assumed the entire

expense and was responsible for the whole vast sum of thousands and

thousands of dollars that the festival involved. Had it been a failure

the Mercantile Association would not have lost a dollar. Every bill was

in her own name, be it for organ, contractors, printing music books or

agents' fares by rail or boat.

The event exceeded expectation and was one of the most marked musical

successes ever recorded. On Washington's birth-day, February 22d, 1870,

ten thousand people filled the Mechanics' Pavilion to listen to Camilla

Urso's concert. A chorus of twelve hundred composed the choir, and an

orchestra of two hundred good musicians furnished the accompaniment for

the choral members.

The programme was popular in its character and each piece was given with

unexpected effect. The concert was opened at half past two by the

performance of Von Weber's Jubilee Overture by the orchestra under the

direction of Mr. Harold, the conductor of the festival. This was

followed by a chorus for men's voices by the united singing societies of

the State. Next the orchestra and military bands gave a selection of

national airs and at the end the chorus and the entire audience rose and

sang "My country 'tis of Thee." The chorus, organ and orchestra then

united to give the chorus "Night shades no longer," from Moses in Egypt,

which was given in a skillful and effective manner. A chorus of men's

voices from "Eurianthe" with horn obligato was next performed and then

came the Anvil Chorus, with chorus, bands, orchestra, organ, battery and

all the bells in the city united for accompaniment.

It was an event in its way and the irrepressible enthusiasm peculiar to

the Californians found vent in cheers and the waving of hats,

handkerchiefs and whatever was in hand. Certainly Madam Urso had never

in her whole experience seen such enthusiasm and she may have well

wondered if it was not all some strange, fantastic dream. The band gave

a selection from "Tannhauser" and then the concert closed with the "Star

Spangled Banner" given with cannon, big drum, church bells, organ and

great chorus.

The concert on the second day was honored with an audience of fifteen

thousand persons, the largest assembly that had ever met in California.

The programme began with the overture to "Ali Baba" which was followed

by the "Gloria," from Mozart's Twelfth Mass. Then the orchestra gave two

movements from the symphony in C, by Gade. "Sleepers wake," from St.

Paul, and the "Prayer," from "Moses in Egypt," were next given in such a

superior manner by the chorus, that the last number won an encore.

At this point Madam Urso appeared and met with a reception that for wild

enthusiasm and fervor has probably never been exceeded by any concert

audience. The very proper coldness and passiveness of Eastern audiences

finds small favor beyond the mountains. The fifteen thousand people met

under that roof tendered her an ovation the like of which has probably

never been given to any artist in the world. Respect and love for the

woman who had done so much for them, admiration for her genius, and

gratitude for her splendid efforts in behalf of the Mercantile

Association roused the people to a pitch of excitement almost past

belief. For a few moments it seemed as if they would never cease

cheering, nor stop piling the mountains of flowers at her feet.

Then she took her violin and played for them, giving the Beethoven

Concerto. The building was too vast for all to hear her instrument but

they listened in eager silence and at the close there was another

tempest of applause and showers of flowers till the stage about her was

literally "knee deep in fragrance." She was twice called out after the

performance, but the excitement and fatigue were too much for her and

she declined to play again.

The chorus--"The Heavens are Telling," the overture to "Der Freyschutz,"

the Anvil Chorus, and the "Hallelujah" chorus, from the Messiah

concluded the entertainment and the vast audience quietly dispersed.

The third day of the Festival was perhaps the most remarkable of all.

The chorus on this day consisted of two thousand public school children,

under the musical direction of Mr. Elliot, of San Francisco. The

programme consisted of orchestral selections and choruses from the song

books used in the public schools, sung by the children. The Hall was

packed to its utmost limits and the concert was a perfect success, both

in the high character of the music given, and the excellent manner with

which it was rendered. We have Madam Urso's testimony that the singing

of the children was fully equal to the singing heard in the schools of

Boston and other Eastern cities. Madam Urso played a selection of

popular airs, including "Home, Sweet Home," and the national melodies,

to the great delight of the young chorus, and the immense audience

assembled to hear them. This children's concert was very successful and

to gratify the great number of people who wished to attend it was

repeated on the following Saturday.

On Thursday evening the seats were removed from the Pavilion and a grand

ball was given in compliment to Madam Urso. The next day, Friday, the

chorus and the orchestra volunteered and gave her a benefit concert.

Like the other concerts of the Festival it was a great success, and gave

fifteen thousand people an opportunity to listen to her playing, and to

testify to their admiration of her work in their behalf. With the

children's concert on Saturday afternoon the Festival week was brought

to a successful close. There was not an accident to mar the pleasure of

the occasion and the cause of music in California received an impulse

that may be felt to this day. The Mercantile Library received a gift of

$27,000 as the result after every bill had been paid and everything

promptly and thoroughly cleared up.

In looking at this singular episode in the life of Madam Urso we hardly

know which to admire the most, the business skill and energy that

carried it through to a financial success, the womanly qualities that

could win and hold the willing services of so many people in every walk

of life or the artistic culture and insight that arranged the programme

so as to at once please and instruct. The concerts were not too

classical to drive the people away nor were they wholly popular. In all

Madam Urso's art life it has always been her aim to lift up and instruct

her hearers. First allure the people with simple music that they can

understand and then give them something from the masters, something a

little above their comprehension; a taste of classical music. They would

receive a little of the pure and true art and in time they would learn

to ask for nothing else. If she gave them nothing but high art they

would be repelled and would not listen to any art at all. The concerts

in California and those of the festival were arranged on this plan, and

she remained on the Pacific coast long enough to see the wisdom of her

method and to find that the people came to hear her gladly when she

preached the gospel of true and high art. She has ever pursued this high

aim and has lived to see a remarkable change come over the American

people in their love of music. Of this more farther on.

Soon after the festival Madam Urso made an extensive concert tour

through the interior towns of California and everywhere met with a most

flattering reception. The musical societies that had sprung into

existence at her command to assist in the festival turned out to welcome

her in every town, the general interest in music that the event had

awakened throughout the State seemed to have spread to most remote and

out of the way corners among the mountains, and every town seemed to try

to out-do the rest in showing her attention and in crowding her

concerts. At Virginia City the choral Society gave her a reception and

elected her an honorary member of their association. Each member was

expected to wear a badge of a miniature silver brick. They presented her

with a real silver brick, (life size) and as it was too heavy to wear or

even lift from the floor, they presented two bricks of smaller size, in

the shape of ear rings. Certainly it was a most extraordinary present,

in admirable keeping with the place and the people.

After visiting all the principal places of interest among the mountains

and having a most delightful and interesting journey, Madam Urso

returned to San Francisco in May. Here she gave a few concerts and on

the 16th of the month started once more for Paris and taking with her,

the famous silver brick, a most beautiful diamond pendant, and gold

chain, a gift from San Francisco friends, the respect and good wishes of

thousands of people whom she had charmed with her music and her warm

heart, and $22,000 in gold as the net result of her visit.

On the 18th of the following month she was once more in the quiet of her

own home in Paris.

It is not a matter of surprise to find that after Madam Urso's seven

months' experience in California there came a severe physical reaction.

The labor and anxiety of the trip were tremendous, and even her iron

constitution gave way, and she broke down utterly the moment the

excitement of her journey to Paris was over. For three months she was

confined to her room with brain fever, and only left it when she was

driven out of the city by the events of the Franco-Prussian war. She was

hastily removed from her house on a stretcher, on the 15th of September,

and took one of the last trains that left the city before the siege, and

was carried on her bed to Boulogne. The change was a fortunate one; the

sea air brought a favorable change in her illness, and her health was

restored. In October she was sufficiently recovered to bear the journey

to England, and she took up her residence in London.

The winter of 1870 and '71 was passed in private life, but not by any

means in idleness. It seemed as if she had now won a position in which

she could command her time for study and practice. This great artist,

who had commanded the plaudits of two continents, quietly gave herself

up to renewed study, to more faithful practice, and to still greater

efforts towards perfection in her art. In London she could hear the

greatest players in the world. The finest and most scholarly programmes

were to be heard every week. She had nothing to do but to hear the best

music, study the styles of the masters, catch the splendid inspiration

of their works, and to transfer to her own heart and hand whatever of

the great and fine in music they had to offer to her. It was a winter of

hard work upon her violin, and a season of peace and rest from the

dreadful wear and tear of public artist life, and its fruits may to-day

be seen in the eminence she has attained in the very highest walks of

violin music. The classical concerts that she gave in Boston three years

later testify to the conscientious labor that was bestowed upon her

instrument during this quiet winter in London.

Here do we see the true artist-soul. We here catch the earnest meaning

of Camilla Urso's life--the intense love of music, the devotion to its

highest aims, the eagerness to work, to study and to learn all that is

best and true. Genius, indeed, shines in her music, but without these

years of honest work the genius would only be a delusion and a mockery.

With work it becomes almost divine.

In June of 1871, Madam Urso returned to Paris and spent the summer there

in comparative retirement. She gave no public performances, but held

musical receptions at her own house once a week, that were attended by

all the most noted artists who lived in Paris or visited the city during

that summer.

In the early winter, in reply to a summons from London, Madam Urso

appeared at the Memorial Concert to Mendelssohn, and played his great

concerto at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham. This was her first appearance

in England, and, as we can well understand, it immediately placed her in

a foremost position among the artists of that country. After giving a

few concerts in Paris, she again took up her artist life, and appeared

at the St. James' Hall in February, 1872.

These two concerts in London and Sydenham at once opened wide the door

to a new field in which her talents found general recognition and

constant employment. If the California experience seemed like some

Eastern dream, this season in London was like stepping back into the

last century, when princes and dukes gave banquets to musicians and

entertained minstrels with royal liberality. Invitations to play before

both the Old and New Philharmonic Societies, and at many other notable

musical gatherings came to her faster than she could accept them. She

played for the Royal Society of Musicians, the Duke of Edinburgh

presiding on the occasion, and she was also asked by the Duke of

Edinburgh to play at Montague House at a reception given in his honor by

the Duchess of Buccleuch. Other persons of distinction in London invited

her, and everywhere she charmed them all by the grace and beautiful

finish of her playing, and by her unaffected and simple manners.

Invitations to play at private houses came so fast that a carriage was

kept in waiting to take her from house to house, that she might appear

and play at several different places the same night.

To republican readers, this appearing at private houses for pay may

seem peculiar and perhaps beneath the dignity of the true artist. It is

the custom of the country. Persons of wealth wishing to entertain their

friends give a musical evening, at which a programme of choice music is

given by artists hired for the occasion. Usually each performer gives

one piece and then retires. He is not expected to appear till just

before his turn comes, and then he briefly presents his respects to the

lady of the house, plays his little piece and gathers his wedding

garments about him and flies away in a Hansom cab to the next house,

where he does it all over again. Then he rattles through the deserted

streets at break-neck speed to be on time at another palatial mansion,

where his piece appears near the end of the programme. The audiences

hardly have time to learn who is playing or singing before the bird has

flown and a new one, just out of his carriage, is ready to sing and fly

again. The very much dressed audience comes and goes at each place, and

the music is often drowned in the clatter of half empty wine-glasses and

the rattle of more empty heads. It is very grand, exceedingly tiresome,

and wonderfully profitable. A player or singer of first-class reputation

who is willing to follow up a London season in this style, can win more

money than by a year of concert giving. Each house pays for its one

piece of music, and as many as five houses can be visited in one

evening.

It is a rather startling method of procedure, but it is the custom of

the country. Madam Urso could not decline to do as all the other

musicians did, however much she might stand on the simple dignity of her

American name. She everywhere called herself an American, and, as it

always happens, won the more respect and admiration for her

independence. It is always an advantage to be known as an American in

Europe, and Madam Urso is only too glad and proud to acknowledge all

that she owes to the country of her adoption.

The English press could here be largely quoted, to give some idea of the

high position Madam Urso won in the musical world at that great art

centre. It is needless to give it, as it is well known that her American

reputation, great as it is, is not equal to that in England. The English

are even more willing to give Camilla Urso her honors due than are we,

and having said this we have said enough.

In July, 1872, Madam Urso returned to Boulogne, and after a short rest

returned to New York, early in September. A concert tour through the

Canadas was at once taken, and after a brief and most successful trip,

she returned to New York. She afterwards made a journey to New Orleans,

where she assisted at the opening of the new Exposition Hall.

Unfortunately, Camilla Urso was here taken sick with the chills and

fever, and was obliged to come North at once. She came to Boston, but

lost much valuable time, both from concerts and practice, by a long

illness at the St. James Hotel.

We now come, as it were, in sight of the present time. The year 1873,

though it was a disastrous one to art interests generally, by reason of

the panic, was one of uninterrupted success for Madam Urso. She took a

brief rest during the summer near New York, but during the remainder of

the time gave an uninterrupted succession of concerts in all the

Northern States, so that it seems as if the sound of her violin still

rang in our ears.

CHAPTER III.

THE GOSPEL OF WORK.

It is now in order to review briefly the events of this remarkable art

life, and to see what lessons it may teach to the musician, the student,

and the art lover. Whether we look at the child, gazing in large-eyed

wonder at the festival in the Church of the Holy Cross, the patient

girl, trudging day by day through the quiet streets of Nantes to take

her lessons, the pale student in the conservatory, the sober-faced

maiden who so won all our hearts so long ago in Boston, the brilliant

young woman who flashed out so suddenly into the highest walks of art,

the great artist born of a wonder child, or the simple American woman,

Camilla Urso, in whatever station we view her, we see the dignity and

reward of honest work. Everywhere we see the same passionate love of

music, the same eagerness to study, to learn the all there is of it, and

to play with ever increasing skill. Genius is the great gift that has

been bestowed upon her. She did not hide it in a napkin, but with heart

and soul she did her best to make it a good and acceptable gift to art

and humanity. Whether giving concerts among our prairie cities, resting

by the sea-shore at Boulogne, traveling among the mountains of

California, studying the great masters of the violin in London or Paris,

or among friends in Boston, she is always practicing upon her beloved

instrument. It is never out of her hands a day, unless ill or fatigued

by traveling. Each month she means shall show some improvement, and from

year to year she has gone on till the present standard of excellence has

been reached. To what perfection her skill has been carried, we shall

leave others to say at the end of this book.

The musician, in looking back over this life of an artist, naturally

asks what changes she may have seen in the art life of the world during

the dozen years or more she has been before the American public. We

purposely select the American public, because it is of the most interest

to us, and because the art life of Europe is somewhat different from

ours, and less liable to changes. Madam Urso's own views upon the

subject are instructive and encouraging, and we present them in very

nearly her own words. Taken as a whole, the people of this country are

somewhat crude and uneducated in their ideas of music. They certainly

love music; they like music even better than the Europeans, but they do

not exactly know what they want. If, when an orchestra or an artist is

visiting a Western town, you ask a man if he is going to the concert, he

will often say, "No, I have seen him once." Hearing the music given by

a splendid orchestra does not seem to be thought of any consequence.

Having "seen" the orchestra, there is no further interest in it. On the

other hand, with all their want of education, the people of this country

learn about music faster than any people she ever saw. They are greatly

interested in music, are willing to admit their ignorance concerning it,

are exceedingly eager to learn and anxious that their children should,

at least, study the rudiments, that they may enjoy and understand it.

They are ready and able to pay more for music than any nation in Europe.

If they think they are really to hear something that pleases them, they

will pack the hall whatever the price. The music that pleases them is

not always the best, for the simple reason they do not know what is

best. As fast as they learn better, they drop whatever is before them

and at once take up something else. The sudden disappearance of negro

minstrel music is an evidence of this. The people outgrew it, and it

passed away, as it were, in a night.

In instrumental music there has been a steady advance from the merely

showy and technical to the purely classical. Ten years since they would

crowd the hall to hear the "Carnival." Had Madam Urso presented the

Beethoven Spohr, or the Mendelssohn Concertos, the people would not have

listened in patience through a single performance. If they heard it at

all, it would be under a sort of silent protest, and the next time the

piece was offered there would be nobody there. These remarks apply to

the country generally. In some of the older cities classical music of a

high order would have found a certain proportion of listeners. From year

to year, all this has changed. By introducing into the lightest and most

popular programmes some short selection from the great masters of violin

music, Madam Urso has gradually taught her audiences what they should

admire, and, by persistent and gentle urging, she has led them to a

knowledge of the best and highest in art. In this Madam Urso is not

alone. All true artists do thus teach the people and try to lift them up

to something higher and purer. It is this that makes the divine in

music. Happily, our people are willing enough to be taught. The general

education, and our freedom from precedents enables all art to grow

faster here than anywhere else. We are still, as a people, crude and

musically ignorant, but we are fast learning. The changes in the

character of concert music may be seen almost from year to year; the

standard continually advances and, certainly, there is everything to

encourage and satisfy the most ardent lover of music in the country.

While we have such artists as Madam Urso among us we have much to be

thankful for, and may press on till we reach the high standard of

excellence she ever keeps before herself.

We may here offer a short sketch of Madam Urso's personal appearance and

manners, when free from the restraint of public life. The ideas

generally held concerning her "personally" are somewhat incorrect, as

the following will show:

* * * * *

It was a cloudy, winter's afternoon, and the place seemed dull and

gloomy. The Boston Music Hall is, at best, bare and vast, and by

daylight is particularly unattractive. The great organ pipes appear cold

and lustreless, and the light tints on the walls are not very

comforting. The orchestra of the Harvard Musical Association were upon

the stage, under the leadership of Carl Zerrahn, and a few privileged

subscribers, numbering a hundred or two, were gathered together at one

side, as if to keep each other in countenance. Over such a wide floor it

takes a thousand or more to make a comfortable and social company.

The orchestra were at work upon the 6th Symphony of Beethoven, placidly

overcoming its difficulties, stopping now and then to polish up some

delicate point, and taking things in an easy and rather indifferent

manner. In the midst of it entered at the side door a young woman in fur

cape, skull cap of the jauntiest pattern, and some plain dark dress. The

hackman came behind, bearing the great brown leather violin case. With a

serene and placid manner she mounted the stage, and bidding the man

place the violin case on the steps before the organ, she quietly took

off her outer garments and sat down on the steps. A friendly nod and a

smile to Zerrahn and then a cordial hand shake to the librarian of the

Society. She had brought the orchestral parts of the concerto she was

to play, and began to talk in an animated manner about their use. The

audience had no longer any ears for the symphony, and though it went

steadily on, they were all eyes to see and admire their favorite thus

"at home" among them.

Having arranged everything to her satisfaction, she came down into the

house and was quickly surrounded by a group of artists and others. For

all she had a hearty hand shake, a smile, and words of genial and

animated welcome. No pretty miss in the company more admired, no merry

talker more sought for than this unaffected, simple-minded woman.

Beating time on the back of the seat with one finger, nodding to

acquaintances, speaking to all in turn, now in French, and now in the

best of English, she sat the most observed and admired of all the goodly

company, and the most serene and happy.

Presently the symphony rehearsal came to an end, and, without the

slightest hint of affectation, she rose from her seat, smiled her

adieus, and went to the stage. Selecting a violin from its blue satin

wrappings, she threw a white silk handkerchief over her left shoulder,

tuned her violin, and took her place at the front of the stage in the

centre of the orchestra. Tall Carl Zerrahn on his stand seems

particularly giantesque beside such a little lady, and he pushed the

platform on one side and stood upon the stage, to be nearer to her. She

gave nods of recognition to members of the orchestra, shook hands with

Zerrahn, smiled and talked merrily with the leading violin, and then

explained something concerning the music to Zerrahn. With her bow she

gave the time, and the opening prelude began. She adjusted her

handkerchief to her shoulder, and with a light touch played snatches of

the orchestral part, as if to give a hint as to its proper rendering.

Now comes the solo. The accompaniment is hushed, that not a note of the

golden Mozartian melody be lost. Of her performance we will not here

speak in detail, as it is described a page or two further on. Our

present concern is with Madam Urso as a woman at home in her art, and

among friends. Suddenly, in the midst of a brilliant passage, she stops,

and lifting one finger she says, so that all can hear: "F natural." The

first violins are caught napping, and without a book, and while playing

her own part, she detects and corrects a mistake of a semitone in the

accompaniment. There is no self-assertion or parade, but only an arch

smile and a merry shake of the head, as if it was a good joke to catch

them thus. A hearty laugh from orchestra and audience, and then the work

is resumed. As the piece returns, she nods and smiles her approval, and

the music goes on again. At the end of the movement comes a long

_cadenza_ of great difficulty. She treats it in that masterly and

effective manner that seems so natural to her. Then follows a liberal

round of applause from orchestra and spectators. Next comes the

_andante_ movement, the most beautiful of the three. During the brief

interval between the two she talks merrily with one and another, and

when she is ready gives the time to the conductor. Zerrahn wields the

_baton_, but Madam Urso is the real director. Her spirit guides the

music and inspires the orchestra with unusual animation. The rather

listless manner in the symphony is exchanged for painstaking care and

attention. Camilla's earnestness and life seems to inspire them to

greater effort, and their playing gains in vigor and precision. "Not too

much fire, gentlemen." This is the slow movement, and she gently

represses their enthusiasm. The feather like touch, the airy delicacy of

her own playing, spurs them on to unwonted care and restraint. At the

end comes another long _cadenza_, that for soft, whispering tones,

sweetness, grace, and vanishing lightness, is almost unequaled. Her face

becomes serious. Her eyes have a far away expression, dreamy and tender,

that soon affects the music. The magic violin sighs and breathes in

melting tenderness. The melody floats upward, melting and fading away,

exhaled into palpable silence. Not quite, for just as it seems ready to

languish into nothing, a soft, sweet chord from the band completes the

cadence and brings it to a natural end.

Shouts of "bravo" and loud applause greet this splendid effort, and she

nods and smiles with a pleased and natural expression. Still, she is not

satisfied. The band are not sufficiently delicate and light in the

treatment of the last chord or two, and she bids them try it again.

Three times they go over it, before her exacting and lofty standard of

perfection is reached.

Then comes the last movement. Vivacious, animated, and merry, it seems

to suit her happy hearted nature, and she fairly revels in its brilliant

melodies. Difficulties vanish like mist before the sun. It becomes a

delight to dash through the sparkling passages. Clear, clean cut, vivid

and sharp, like cut glass, the music stands out in bold characters. Not

a note slighted or blurred. No obscurity or doubt about the most

intricate passage. Curious little effects of _staccato_ mingled with the

most linked together _legato_. Bold flashes through chain lightning

scales. Chords pouring forth in torrents, and then airy scraps of

melody, as if the theme had broken up into shining bits, glistening

drops, and sparkles of song.

An artist soul blooms before us. Her face is rapt, and almost severe. In

a moment it is over, and her features break into a pleasant, natural

smile. Amid the applause she returns to the floor and mingles with the

people. No affectation, no looking for praise; nothing but sweetness and

friendliness. No common-place woman, with brush or needle in hand, could

be more simple and winsome, no genius could be more self-forgetting.

We may now properly close the chapter, and bring this story of an artist

life up to the present time by a brief sketch of a series of classical

concerts given by Madam Urso in the Spring of 1874, in Boston. They

were remarkable concerts; both in the character of the music given, and

in the crowded and appreciative audiences that attended them. As an

expression of Madam Urso's present ability as an artist, we offer the

opinion of the _Boston Daily Advertiser_, our best local critical paper,

and, for the present, bring this story to its logical end. May it be

many years before it becomes necessary to add anything more to it,

except to record her continued success as an artist, and happiness as a

good and true woman.

The _Advertiser's_ criticism upon the first concert of the series we

present in full for the reason that it expresses the critic's opinion of

Madam Urso's general character as a musical _artiste_, directress, and

manager, as well as of her rank and position as a violinist:

"The Horticultural Hall was entirely filled last evening, and

Madam Camilla Urso was welcomed back to Boston with an

enthusiasm evidently as unaffected as it was hearty. The

programme of the concert was singularly choice, but it was

noticeable especially for the contrast which it presented to the

bills of most of our _virtuosi_: in three of its numbers only

did Madam Urso take part, and those three were a trio for

violin, piano, and violoncello, a sonata for violin and piano,

and a string quartette. Disappointment at not hearing the

principal musician in a solo performance may have marred the

pleasure of some of the audience; and at the other concerts of

the series it is very likely that some provision may be made for

the gratification of this natural desire. But the entire

arrangement of last night seemed to us significant--delightfully

significant of that noble, generous, self-forgetting spirit

which has always distinguished this remarkable performer, and

which is not the least of her titles to the grand name of

_artiste_. Here seems to be as little as possible of vain show

of self; nothing at all of that jealous littleness which

tolerates no companions either as composers or interpreters; the

_maximum_ of appreciation and reverence for the great authors,

and of devotion to the best and worthiest in music. In the

concert of last evening Madam Urso carried the higher principle

so far that, as has been said, her own name appeared alone

neither as author nor performer.

The three chief numbers of this fine programme were a trio in

C-minor, op. 102, by Raff; a sonata in F-major, No. 9, by

Mozart; and Schubert's posthumous quartette in D-minor. The Raff

trio was new to Boston. It is a long and elaborate work, the

absolute merit of which is not to be pronounced upon after a

single hearing. That it is startlingly brilliant and striking in

at least two of its numbers is plain at once, however; and there

can be no denying or doubting its great vigor and originality.

The _scherzo_ has remarkable ingenuity in its harmonic forms and

instrumental combinations; and the _andante_, amazing in its

melodic variety and richness, and reflecting, apparently, many

moods of the composer's mind, yet produces a unity of impression

which proves the presence of a strong and self-poised genius.

The Mozart sonata for violin and piano is exceedingly

interesting in all its three movements, light and airy in its

general character,--except in the _andante_, which is touched

with pensiveness,--and not striking very far down in its

suggestions, but full of fresh beauty and consummate in its

symmetrical grace. In the happiest contrast with the sonata was

the wonderful D-minor quartette of Schubert. No better

illustration of the marked divergence between the modes of

expression natural to two master composers could have been

chosen than these. The invariable law of Mozart's genius--in

spite of, or perhaps, in aid of its broad inclusiveness--is

condensation or conciseness; of Schubert's, it is expansion and

diffusiveness. But where the genius is so vital and inspiring as

that which shines in every line of the D-minor quartette, the

amplitude never degenerates into tediousness. There may be

profusion in the host's providing, but no surfeit in the guest's

appetite.

In considering the quality of the performance one is tempted at

first to the natural remark that Madam Urso's power cannot be so

plainly shown in concerted as in solo music. But in the very

utterance, we find ourselves hesitating and more than doubtful.

For purely mechanical effects and for all the immense variety of

mere instrumental and personal display the solo, of course,

offers unequaled opportunities. But, after all, of how little

real value and beauty are these pyrotechnics of the profession;

how shallow is the stream of emotion which flows from them, and

how barren, dry and brief is the pleasure which accompanies

their recollection! If proofs were sought that Madam Camilla

Urso retained her skill in all its amazing perfection and her

genius in all its vitality and inspiration, they were abundant

indeed at the concert of last evening. There was the same grand

steadiness and strength; the same absolute faultlessness in

purity of tone; the same fine discrimination and delicacy; the

same minute clearness and cleanness, so that in the most rapid

and difficult delivery nothing was slurred or confused; the same

docile yielding to the spirit of the composer and to the demands

of her fellow-musicians. And more than this, there was ample

room for the exhibition of the expressive and sympathetic power,

which was always the first title of Madam Urso--as of every

great violinist--to the highest rank in her art. Her violin in

these fine concerted pieces spoke with the same "golden mouth"

as of old, commanding, inspiring, defying and pleading by turns.

And in such music as that of the well-nigh incomparable "_Tema

con variazioni_" of the Schubert quartette, the highest

eloquence of the king of instruments is not only permitted but

demanded."

Another view of the professional and technical skill of Madam Urso is

given by the critic of the _Advertiser_ in the following words:

"We have said that Madam Urso's place as a violinist is in the

first rank; it is hardly necessary to add, that among performers

of her own sex she is unquestionably the very first in the

world. It is, indeed, only within a comparatively few years that

the claims of women to superiority as violinists have been

treated with anything better than sneers. And the supercilious

and intolerant spirit which dictated such treatment had at least

a much solider foundation than the narrow conservatism which

refused to admit women into the lists with poets, novelists,

sculptors, and painters: for power and force are the primal

conditions of the highest success as a performer upon the

violin, and most women would undoubtedly be weak players as

compared with most men. But the genius of art--who, after all,

is one and the same, whatever form the art may take--is no

respecter of persons; nay, more, he demands for his high tasks

those of every clime and rank, and of both sexes. And from each

and every one he asks a peculiar service which no other could

exactly render. And thus he has assigned to Madam Urso her own

functions as an _artiste_. There is no denying the remarkable

power and breadth of her style, which is far in advance of that

exhibited by the majority of the best male performers;--her

touch is at once as firm as steel and as soft as velvet; her

mere manual dexterity is extraordinary; and her intonations are

as faultless as the steadiest of hands and the correctest of

ears can make them,--witness, especially, her recent wonderful

playing of _cadenzas_ at a Harvard Symphony Concert. In all of

this Madam Urso may be said to be a man, or the equal and

compeer of man. But in the great expressive power to which we

have often referred as her chief title to the highest place, the

soul of the true and earnest woman finds its own exclusive

utterance; and we get a something of tenderness, of sweetness,

and of subtlety which is pre-eminently feminine. The world could

not afford to lose this, though great performers were twenty

times more numerous than they are. The age which has produced a

Dickens and a "George Eliot," a Holman Hunt and a Rosa Bonheur,

a Story and a Harriet Hosmer, must needs have added to the

scroll upon which the titles of Joachim, of Vieuxtemps, and of

Ole Bull are inscribed, the name of

CAMILLA URSO."

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

THE SOPRANO.--A Musical Story.

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An illustrated musical series for young people and others.

Cloth, price per vol. $1.25

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GARDENING FOR MONEY.--How it was done with Fruit, Flowers and

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In cloth, $1.50

A SIMPLE FLOWER GARDEN.--A practical guide for every lady.

In paper covers, 25 cts.

Transcriber's Note: The table below lists all corrections applied to the

original text.

p. 5: [normalized] into the shady archway -> arch-way

p. 26: not very difficult in rythm -> rhythm

p. 28: rapid appeggios -> arpeggios

p. 28: Repeatedly nterrupted by applause -> interrupted

p. 30: The Director Auber, received him -> Director, Auber, received

p. 32: Persistance finally carried the day ->Persistence

p. 34: compete with grown up lads, -> lads.

p. 50: Salvator Urso would play the flute -> Salvatore

p. 63: paler and thiner than ever -> thinner

p. 65: given her at Manhiem -> Manheim

p. 66: 24th Concerto in B Minor for violin by Viotto -> Viotti

p. 69: the half smilling mouth -> smiling

p. 70: M Urso replied -> M. Urso

p. 75: Something had happend -> happened

p. 80: the greatest enthuasiasm -> enthusiasm

p. 81: flaming advertisements of pecocity -> precocity

p. 82: so natural and childlke -> childlike

p. 82: so selfposesed and graceful -> selfpossessed

p. 83: sit down in dispair -> despair

p. 85: They stoped a gentleman -> stopped

p. 85: Again and again they stoped -> stopped

p. 87: wofully ignorant -> woefully

p. 87: incredably short time -> incredibly

p. 89: It was a stiring, eventful life -> stirring

p. 91: and the povery and trial -> poverty

p. 92: L'elisir 'd Amore -> L'elisir d'Amore

p. 94: Witches' Dance, by Paginini -> Paganini

p. 99: Souvenir des Pryrenees -> Pyrenees

p. 99: [normalized] to her in the anteroom -> ante-room

p. 103: before a seclet audience -> select

p. 103: beseiged the doors -> besieged

p. 100: fulfill every engagemet tno the letter -> engagement to

p. 114: the orchestra, drilled -> orchestra drilled

p. 115: beseiged by editors -> besieged

p. 115: The Mechanics' Pavillion -> Pavilion

p. 115: a drum more portentious -> portentous

p. 119: the Festivale week -> Festival

p. 124: the Old and New Philarmonic Societies -> Philharmonic

p. 127: an unrupted succession -> uninterrupted

End of Project Gutenberg's Camilla: A Tale of a Violin, by Charles Barnard