CAMILLA URSO.

BY MARY A. BETTS.

"THE violin is the violet," says the Chevalier Seraphael in that most imaginative and fantastic of musical novels, "Charles Auchester." How came the fancy to the writer's brain? Was it because the violet, with its trembling blue petal and its evanescent fragrance, reminds one of the woods, the mingling harmonies of brook and bird-voice, of wind-swept trees and restless wind? Or, was it because to the artist the violet was the most perfect of flowers and the violin of instruments?

An instrument it certainly is of torture and delight. How we have all groaned at the melancholy squeaks of a poor fiddle in the street! With what a rapture have we followed the violins in the orchestra, as their penetrating and aerial tones completed for us the harmonic pictures or the wordless songs! And in the hands of a genius whose thoughtful brain and ardent heart have comprehended and mastered its powers, what a magical shell is this crooked, stringed, sonorous thing of wood!

The brain and heart of a true violinist came into the world one summer-day in the city of Nantes, France. This beautiful old Huguenot city was then the residence of Salvator Urso, a musician from Palermo, Sicily, and his Portuguese wife, whose maiden name was Emilie Girouard. Signor Urso was an organist and flutist of rare merit, educated thoroughly

in all the principles of his art by his father, who had done hearty service to music in younger days. On the 13th of June, 1842, Camilla Urso was born, -the first child of a happy union. Though four brothers followed her, the little daughter was most passionately beloved by her father, who gloried in her inheritance of that gift which had been his resource and constant pleasure. The warm Southern sky never looked upon a more attractive child than the little Camilla. Young geniuses are not always charming. Precocity is often accompanied by conceit and nervous irritability. But Camilla's bright cheerfulness was even more fascinating than her talent.

She was alive to all the subtle mysteries of sound at an age when the "Cradle Song" is the favorite melody of most children. Her father was first flutist in the orchestra of the opera, and carried her to the theatre almost every night. Through the long performances she sat, rapt in childish happiness, never growing tired, never weary of repetition. Madame Urso now declares that she heard more operas then than she has listened to ever since.

At the age of six she found and proved her vocation. Her father was organist at the Church of the Holy Cross. One day she stood listening at his side while the choir performed the mass of St. Cecilia. Solemnly, slowly, the organ tones swelled and died. Clear voices of soprano and tenor rose upon the air with the saddening plaint of Kyrie Eleison. The orchestral harmonies interwove their pathetic or triumphant music. The dark-haired child, with the broad brow and sweet, parted lips, listened, not awed by the under-wave of the mighty organ, not following with curious, imitative mouth the soaring voices and melodious words, but enchanted for life by the inarticulate passion and sorrow of the violin's changing vibrations. The last note of the mass floated into silence, but the little Camilla did not mingle in the crowd of depart

ing worshippers. Her father's hand aroused her, and she walked home announcing in a firm tone, which was most amusing, coming from that tiny figure: "I wish to learn the violin."

Her studies were immediately begun, and her progress was most rapid. In a year she appeared at a concert given for the benefit of a widow, whose husband had been one of Signor Urso's friends.

The announcement of the concert astonished the citizens of Nantes. It was considered the height of absurdity for a child to attempt to play on so difficult an instrument. Friends came to applaud, enemies to laugh, but all were amazed and. delighted. Little Camilla had no timidity, no anxiety for success. Her new white satin shoes, the first she had ever put on, were much more engrossing for the time than the violin she was to handle. The principal journal of Nantes spoke thus of the performance:

"Never had violinist a pose more exact, firmer, and at the same time perfectly easy; never was bow guided with greater precision than by this little Urso, whose delivery made all the mothers smile. Listen, now, to the Air Variée of the celebrated De Beriot; under these fingers, which are yet often busied with dressing a doll, the instrument gives out a purity and sweetness of tone, with an expression most remarkable. Every light and shade is observed, and all the intentions of the composer are faithfully rendered. Here come more energetic passages: the feeble child will find strength necessary, and the voice of the instrument assumes a fulness which one could not look for in the diminutive violin. Effects of double stopping, staccato, rapid arpeggios, - everything is executed with the same precision, the same purity, the same grace. It is impossible to describe the ovation that the child received. Repeatedly interrupted by applause and acclamations, she

was saluted at the end by salvos of bravos and a shower of bouquets."

Soon after this Signor Urso went to Paris, resigning his position at Nantes for the purpose of giving the most thorough musical education to the daughter of whose genius he was so proud. He proposed that she should be received into the Conservatoire.

The professors met the proposition with incredulity and amazement. "Absurd, indeed!" they said; "she is too young, and a woman cannot be a pupil of the Conservatoire." But Signor Urso persisted. "Only hear her," he said, "before deciding." So the little sprite appeared before the most exacting, the most critical of juries. Auber, Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Massart were among the judges.

They retired for a decision, and at the door the little appli cant and the trembling father waited. At last the answer came. The new pupil was accepted unanimously. The father's hat went into the air with triumph.

No

For three years Camilla studied almost incessantly. advantages were wanting to the young aspirant for musical honors. Simon was her first teacher, but her chief instructor was Massart, who took an extraordinary interest in the development of her powers. He received her into his class, and gave her, in addition, private lessons. All this instruction was gratuitous.

From this time she had no opportunity for the amusements other children enjoy. She practised ten and twelve hours a day, learning harmony, solfeggi, and mastering difficulties far beyond her years. To acquire that steadiness of position for which she is now so remarkable, she placed one foot in a saucer while playing. Fear of breaking the dish was a sufficient motive to keep her feet motionless; and to this simple

contrivance we are indebted, in part, for Madame Urso's wonderful accuracy and agreeable repose of manner.

The years of training were interrupted by a series of concerts in the departments and a three months' tour in Germany. This was a special indulgence, as pupils of the Conservatoire are not allowed to play in public. Camilla performed at Heidelberg, Baden-Baden, and Mayence, receiving everywhere the recognition due to an artist, not to a prodigy. That German public, so devoted to music in its highest forms, led by masters of such varied genius, took the child to its heart. Nobles and princes paid her compliments and bestowed beautiful presents upon her. A countess, who took the most affectionate interest in her, insisted on giving her an ornament she had worn at her own confirmation, a large cross of pearls attached to a long chain of red coral.

From these triumphs she returned to Paris and her studies with Massart.

In a few months she appeared at the public concerts of Paris, at the Salle Herz, the Société Polytechnique, the Conservatoire, and the Association of Musical Artists. Her success was great. A critic, speaking of her at this time,

says:

"She is walking in the steps of the greatest virtuosi. She plays the violin, not as a well-organized child might play after a certain period devoted to study, but, indeed, with a skill truly prodigious. Her pose, her energy, her bowing, reveal the consummate artist. But what is most surprising is the sentiment of her execution; she excels in that essential expression which comes wholly from the soul, and which the composer, from lack of means to note and write out, abandons to the discretion and intelligence of the executant."

At the age of nine she performed before Louis Napoleon, then President of the National Convention. He was greatly