It is always darkest just before dawn. They struggled through a few more days of bitter poverty and then came a sudden burst of wealth and good fortune that fairly took their breath away. It seemed as if a shower of gold actually rained down upon them and a new and most remarkable experience came in the history of the Urso family.

The last term at the Conservatory was nearly finished. She must give her whole energies to her studies. The Directors had given out the piece of music that was to be played by the pupils at the examination in July and she must go to work upon it. Eight weeks was little enough time to give to such a piece of music. It was the 24th Concerto in B Minor for violin by Viotti. Besides being a work of great difficulty it began with one short note followed by a longer one. They must all get that place right, if nothing else. The jury would not forgive them if they slighted the first note in the piece. How they did try over that one passage. The two notes echoed from every room in the Conservatory all day long. The boys tried it over at every spare moment and it did seem to Camilla as if those were the only notes in the piece. For herself she practiced it carefully and very slowly, feeling sure it was better to trust to her own coolness and steadiness at the trial than to go over it so many times as to become too confident.

About a year before this a man, who said he came from America, had appeared at the Conservatory to see Massart in relation to some music lessons he wished given to his sons. For convenience we will call this man the American. He is now dead and as his share in this story is not the most happy this title may take the place of his real name. His two sons played the violin and the father wished them placed under Massart's instruction. Camilla came in during the interview and quietly waited till it was over. The two boys played for the master and Camilla sat near by in silence. Then Massart asked her to play. She did so and the American was so much pleased that he asked her name and residence. A day or two after that he called upon Camilla's father and proposed to him that Camilla should visit the United States as soon as her lessons were finished at the Conservatory. He thought she would attract great attention there and offered to take her to America on a concert tour. This was all very fine but Camilla could not go now and so the matter was dropped. When the term was over there would be time enough to talk about it. So the American went away and the Ursos thought no more about it.

Suddenly in the Summer of the last year and just before the term was finished he reappeared and repeated his offer to take Camilla to America. She was to go with him for three years and was to play at concerts in all the principal cities of the country.

In consideration of which he would pay M. Urso the sum of thirty thousand francs the first year, sixty thousand francs the second year and one hundred thousand francs the third year. Traveling and hotel expenses for three people were to be paid and altogether it was a flattering offer.

Thirty thousand francs in one year! It was too wonderful! They had never dreamed of so much money! Sixty thousand francs! A hundred thousand francs! Such sums were too vast to be taken in at one sitting. They must consider the matter. After much discussion it was at last arranged that when her lessons at the Conservatory were finished Camilla and her father should start for America.

During the last Spring in Paris they changed their residence and moved into more cheerful and comfortable rooms on the Rue Montholon, a street that makes a continuation of the Rue Lamartine. Here they had front rooms in the attic and in the sixth story. There was a broad balcony at the foot of the steep mansard roof and here Camilla's mother arranged a pretty row of plants in pots so that the iron railing in front was half hid by flowers. Poor as they were they always managed to have it as bright and pretty about them as possible. With all their poverty they always contrived to look neat and pleasant. M. Urso arranged a temporary shed on the balcony for a kitchen and here in the bright sunshine high up in the air above the noisy street Camilla used to watch the birds and the clouds and peep through the geranium leaves down into the street so far below. This change of scene was a great advantage to her. It brightened her spirits and gave her thin cheeks a bit of color. As she went through the streets with her violin, and gay in a new chip hat and blue ribbon the people turned to look at the demure eyes and the half smiling mouth and said: "She is the Rose of Montholon."

The Rose could not be suffered to bloom alone in the alley-ways and lanes of the old city and invitations to play at the houses of some the grand families came in. One of these was to the residence of Madam Armengo and another was the residence of Napoleon then known as the Prince President. At Madam Armengo's Camilla attracted great attention and won many friends. Her playing was a surprise to all and the company could hardly find words to express their pleasure and admiration.

Then came an invitation from the Prince President to take part at a grand concert at the Palace de Elysee before the Prince and the great dignitaries of the court. There were Generals and Marshals, Princesses and grand Court ladies, artists and gentlemen with decorations and many other notables. A place on the programme was assigned to the little Rose of Montholon and in her usual simple and natural manner she played her best before the honorable company. They paid her the best of attention and she quickly captured all their hearts by her childish manners and wonderful playing. They had never heard any such playing from one so young and they crowded around her to thank her and congratulate her upon her skill.

The Prince Napoleon came and spoke to her, praised her music and asked what she intended to do next. Go to America. Ah! No. That was not right. Such talent as hers must not leave France. M. Urso replied that the contract had already been signed with the American and they must go with him.

"Puisqu 'il en est ainsi, depechez vous a aller gagner de l'argent, et revenez vite en France. A votre retour ne manquez pas de venir me voir."

These were the very words of the Prince in reply. They thanked him heartily and then the party broke up and they went back to their home on the Rue Montholon.

Then came the final examination at the Conservatory. It did not differ materially from the one described before except that it was much more difficult. The questions in harmony were more searching. The piece of music to be sung at first sight was more perplexing than ever before and the new quartette for strings in which she was to take the first violin far exceeded the others in technical difficulties. Each day of the trial was a triumph for her. She received the first prize and never were a family more pleased with the success of a child. It was a great day for the Ursos and it seemed as if all their labor and sacrifice was to be splendidly rewarded. Camilla had never faultered through it all, and now that it was over the three years of study seemed as nothing. It had been a hard struggle but she did not care. It was happily over and soon she would go to America and gratify her father by winning a great store of money. Then she would return to Paris and to dear old Massart. In spite of his severe discipline he was a good man at heart and she loved him dearly. She owed everything to him and she could never half pay him for his generosity in helping her in her days of poverty. He was very unwilling to part with his favorite pupil and wanted her to stay in Paris and continue her lessons. It would cost her nothing. He would be only too glad to teach her. It could not be. She must fulfill her contract with the American.

America. Where was it? So far, so far away. Would she ever come back from such a distant country? It seemed in those days a very serious undertaking and their friends could hardly believe them when they said they were going to New York.

The Director Auber was also very sorry to part with her and kindly wrote a letter of introduction for her. The following is a copy:—

PARIS, August 12th, 1852.

"Mademoiselle Camilla Urso is a young pupil of the National Conservatory of Music. Although still at a very tender age, she has obtained brilliant success at several concerts in Paris, and above all at the Conservatory, where the jury have decreed to her by election the first prize at the competition for the prizes of the year.

"Learning that she is soon to depart for the United States, I am delighted to state the happy qualities which ought to ensure a noble artistic career.

"The Americans have already nobly proved that they are not only just appreciators of the fine arts, especially of music, but that they know as well how to recompense with generosity the merits of the celebrated artists who are heard in the hospitable towns of their rich and beautiful country."

AUBER.

Member of the Institute and Director of the Conservatory."

Finally everything was arranged. Aunt Caroline was to go with Camilla while her mother was to remain in Paris with the boys. The three years would soon be over and then they would all be reunited and could live happily together once more.

The American was liberal in everything. He supplied them with money for their outfit, and it really seemed as if their days of trial and poverty were at an end. There was nothing to do, but to accept and enjoy the great reward that had crowned their exertions.

The new dresses, the parting with dear old Massart and the anticipation of the voyage absorbed Camilla's thoughts, and the sailing day arrived almost too soon. The trunks were packed and the carriage came to the door. It was a sad parting for fond mother and affectionate little girl. She cried bitterly and would hardly consent to leave her mother's arms. As the carriage drove away she looked back up at the lofty balcony where the geraniums put their red eyes through the railing and watched her mother's handkerchief fluttering so high in the air till a turn in the crooked street shut her dear home from view. Two weeks later, on the 15th of September, a little girl, her father and aunt and a violin landed from the Steamship Humboldt in New York and a new life began for Camilla.

It was like a dream. They couldn't believe it, nor understand it. It seemed as if they lived in a palace. They had three parlors furnished in the most costly and elegant style. There were yellow satin chairs in one room and blue in the next. Obsequious servants waited upon their every want. Camilla's room looked out on Broadway and the view from the window afforded her unending amusement She hardly dared to sit in the satin chairs. They were almost too fine for use. Such splendor and luxury was really oppressive. And the people! What a strange language they spoke. She was sure she could never understand it. She listened and tried and only succeeded in pronouncing the name of the hotel which she gave as the "Ir-ving House."

The first few days they gave themselves up to sight seeing. The American called frequently and said that the first concert would come off very soon. He had advertised it extensively and the whole troupe must prepare for the great event. In the meantime they must be prepared to receive company, for the authorities would soon call upon them. This they thought would be quite proper and they felt sure they would receive the dignitaries of the city with becoming respect.

In order to give a proper variety to Camilla's concerts other talent had been engaged. Oscar Comettant and his wife had been invited by the American to join the troupe. He was to assist as accompanist and his wife was to sing. There was also a M. Fetlinger a buffo singer. This enabled them to present with Camilla's assistance the best of programmes.

While they were thus waiting at the Irving House for their first concert, the whole party M. and Madam Comettant, M. Urso, Camilla, and Aunt Caroline all went out to walk one bright sunny morning. As they strolled through the streets they suddenly came to a dead wall where in gorgeous letters six feet high was printed the startling announcement:—

"CAMILLA URSO HAS ARRIVED."

They all stopped and gazed with feelings of wonder and awe, upon this remarkable sentence.

Oscar Comettant was the only one who could translate it and when he had done so they all repeated it over to themselves. As for Camilla she committed it to memory as the first sentence she had ever spoken in English. They returned to the Irving House remarking to themselves that America was truly a wonderful country. The intelligent natives appreciated music. They welcomed artists in a truly royal manner, and published their names in letters six feet high. While they were talking over the matter the American suddenly came in. He seemed greatly excited over something. Was the Mayor coming? Were the authorities coming to visit them? Should they dress for company?

Ah! No! Something had happened. He was very sorry—but—his partner—who supplied the money, etc. had—failed?

Failed! What did he mean! Failed?

No money?

No, not a dollar left!

They couldn't believe it. Were they to give no concert? Was not Camilla going to play? Was the grand scheme a failure?

Yes. It was all over. Everything had failed.

The whole party was utterly stupified and hadn't a word to say. What should they do? Where were they to go? The disaster was too great for comprehension. They hardly knew what to say much less what to do. The American could do nothing. He had not a dollar in the world.



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.