Camilla: A Tale of a Violin Part 8

GENTLEMEN: The present embarra.s.sment of your Society having come to my knowledge, and wishing in some suitable manner to show my grat.i.tude 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 a.s.sociation, 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' Inst.i.tute 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 a.s.sembled. The State a.r.s.enal 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 a.s.sumed 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 a.s.sociation 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 a.s.sembly 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 Ma.s.s. 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 pa.s.siveness 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 grat.i.tude for her splendid efforts in behalf of the Mercantile a.s.sociation 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 a.s.sembled 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 Sat.u.r.day.

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 Sat.u.r.day 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 cla.s.sical 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 cla.s.sical 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 a.s.sist 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 a.s.sociation. 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 princ.i.p.al 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 const.i.tution 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 pa.s.sed 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 cla.s.sical 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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-gla.s.ses and the rattle of more empty heads. It is very grand, exceedingly tiresome, and wonderfully profitable. A player or singer of first-cla.s.s 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 a.s.sisted 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 pa.s.sionate 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-sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sed 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 cla.s.sical. 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 n.o.body there. These remarks apply to the country generally. In some of the older cities cla.s.sical 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 l.u.s.treless, and the light tints on the walls are not very comforting. The orchestra of the Harvard Musical a.s.sociation 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 s.n.a.t.c.hes 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 pa.s.sage, 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-a.s.sertion 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.