Camilla: A Tale of a Violin

He laughed; and then, with demure seriousness, she began to play some of her more difficult exercises from memory. She was a bold and sturdy player, and astonished the master with the graceful sweep of her thin, childish arm. He complimented her in a cordial manner, and hoped she would go on with her studies. “Oh! she would, she would; she meant to study all the time. Some day she would learn to play better still.” And then she went home, well pleased that the master had approved of the method of instruction she had pursued. Let the gossips talk. She was on the right road, and she didn’t care for them.

This was the only time that Camilla played to any one outside her own family during the first year of her musical life. Many musicians and others asked to hear her, but M. Urso thought it best to refuse them. No one was ever allowed to hear her practice, and her musical progress was kept a profound secret. Naturally enough, this only excited curiosity, and the gossip ran wilder than ever.

Her outward life was unchanged. She appeared regularly at the theatre with her father, and sat by his side through the performance. The other players often teased her, and asked her perplexing questions about the music. What note was that? What key were they playing in now, and now and now? Every time the music modulated from key to key, she followed it, and named the notes and keys correctly, without hesitation.

Then something happened that made them think it might be well to let her have a piece to play. And such a splendid piece! Not a mere child’s song for the violin, or a little dance. Nothing like that. A grand concert piece such as the Masters played. De Beriot’s famous “Seventh air varié.” A melody with variations, by the great composer De Beriot. To be sure it was not equal to some of the grand works of Haydn or Beethoven, but for those days it was considered a remarkable composition. Since the little Camilla has grown up people have learned more about violin playing, and what was then thought to be a great piece of music would not now be considered as anything very remarkable.

As it was, Camilla thought the piece something quite wonderful, and took it up with the greatest eagerness. Utterly absorbed in her work, knowing little or nothing of what was going on outside her lessons, she studied and practiced day after day without a thought of anything else. The new piece and the exercises took her whole time for the next two months. That one “air varié” was in hand every day. She played it through hundreds of times. Every phrase was studied. Hours were spent over one note. A week on a single page was good progress. One little passage cost her many a sorrowful hour. Somehow she could not get it right for a long time. Once she played it over forty-seven times before her nervous and irritable master would let her off. Other pupils were waiting. They could wait. She was to play that measure just right if it took all day. It was useless to cry. If she was obstinate and naughty about it she should be punished. She must play it right. How her arms ached over that passage. The tears dropped on the violin. It didn’t do any good, and only made the master still more angry. At last she did it right, played it over several times, went home and never played it wrong again in her life.

Such was the child’s artist life for the first twelve months. Outside of it the gossips fairly raged and warred with their nimble tongues. Salvatore Urso’s experiment with his little girl was much talked about. Some could not say too hard things of him. Felix Simon was blamed, her mother was blamed. It was all wrong. It was wicked to teach the child to play. Others said no, let her try, if she failed they would be well punished for their work. If she succeeded it would be a fine thing. It was rumored that the girl had great talent and would in time do wonderful things.

In such a dull, sleepy town as Nantes, where there is nothing in particular going on, and where the people have little or nothing to talk about outside their own petty lives, such an experiment as this was naturally the subject of much talk. It was such a bold step, and, really, there was nothing else to talk about. Imagine the excitement when it was announced that the little Camilla would give a public performance at the Hotel de Ville.

It came about in this way. The Bassoon in the orchestra died. That was the curious way they expressed it. The instrument had not died, but the man who played it. He left a widow and one child, and no money. Nobody had ever heard of an orchestral player who had left much. The pay was too small for him to save anything, and so the poor widow was left without a franc. Of course, they must give her a benefit concert. M. Urso heard of it, and on talking it over with Felix Simon they decided to prepare Camilla to take part in the charity concert for the benefit of the widow of the Bassoon. So it happened that she took up the “air varié” as her first piece.

It takes a long time to do anything in Europe. Here we would decide to give a concert, advertise it, and hire the hall all in the same day, and have it all over within a week. In Nantes it took six weeks to arrange everything, see who would offer to play, and to properly announce the event. This slow and deliberate way of doing things was an advantage to Camilla as it gave her plenty of time to study the piece and to commit it to memory past forgetting.

They collected a grand orchestra. Mdlle. Masson, who was quite a fine artist volunteered to sing, and the little Camilla would play the famous “Seventh air varié” from De Beriot.

The excitement was tremendous. Everybody wanted to go. The Italian opera company, the French opera company, the dramatic company, all the grand families, every musician in town, bought tickets. There was not a seat or standing place in the Hotel de Ville to be had, and the Bassoon’s widow received a most remarkable benefit. All the friends of the Urso family were there to encourage the child, and all her father’s enemies were on hand ready to laugh at her failure.

She was expected to fail. She might be able to struggle through the piece without really breaking down, but of course she would stand awkwardly, handle her bow like a stick, and do everything else that was bad and inelegant. They might assert that she would play like an artist – she could not do it. And so they waited to see Salvatore Urso’s silly experiment come to a wretched end.

How amiable in them! We can forgive them. There was nothing else to talk about in Nantes, and it was certainly a very bold thing to bring out the six year old girl in this public manner. She must be a truly wonderful child, or her father and teacher had quite lost their heads.

The concert began and went on very much as concerts do everywhere. The orchestra played and the artists sang, and then there was a little rustle and hush of expectation as they brought in a box or platform for the child to stand upon so that all could see her. The piano was rolled out into a convenient place, and then the slight, blue eyed girl, gay in a white dress, white satin shoes, and a pink sash, appeared. They placed the dot of a child, violin in hand, upon the raised platform before them all. Felix Simon, with trembling fingers, sat down to the piano to play the accompaniment. Her father stood near to turn the leaves of the music book, though he was so nervous and excited he hardly knew what he was about. In the audience sat her aunt Caroline, surrounded by a few of her friends, and all of them in no enviable frame of mind. Her mother was too nervous and excited to appear, and remained in the ante-room.

As for Camilla, she was absorbed in that remarkable pink sash and those satin shoes. There was never anything quite so fine, and she did hope all the people noticed how very becoming they were. That they were really watching her, never entered her head. With perfect self-possession she put the violin to her shoulder, and stood ready to play. No awkwardness, no fear, no attempt at display; a simple girl, with a girl’s manners. The critics admitted to themselves that she knew how to hold her instrument, and could handle her bow with a certain amount of grace. But, then, that was to be expected. Could she play?

There was not much doubt of it. The tone came, strong, full, and true. The notes came in exact time, and with precision and certainty. The people were hushed to a painful silence, as the child went steadily on with the work. M. Simon was breathless with excitement, and her father hardly knew where he was. In his haste, he turned two leaves of the music-book at once. What a dreadful disaster! It was all over now. She would break down at once, if the accompaniment should falter.

Not much danger; for she quietly turned her head, and in a hurried, lisping, whisper said: “You’ve turned two pages, papa.”

The whole house heard every word, and a smile spread over the company. Little did she care. She went straight on; not a note lost, not a break or a sign of hesitation. The page was turned back without a pause, and the music went on.

This piece of music begins with an introduction in adagio. The opening bars are smooth and graceful, and then the melody becomes more difficult, and moves in sixths and thirds. It ends in a brilliant cadenza, that leads to the theme in moderato time. This part is not very difficult in rhythm, and is bright and pleasing in character. The first variation is poco piu lento, and at once demands great skill to execute its difficult running movements. The second variation is still more difficult, and abounds in rapid scales and open chords. The third variation is in G, and in adagio time, and is full of trills and abrupt changes from high to low notes. A long cadenza leads to the last movement in moderato time and in the key of E. It finally ends in an allegro coda that abounds in brilliant and difficult writing.

What a dreadful uproar they did make over the child. It seemed as if they never would stop clapping and cheering. She could not go, but must stay and bow in a demure fashion, that was perfectly captivating. They did not expect her to play the piece again. That was not the custom in Nantes. M. Sollie, the leader of the orchestra, in the name of all the musicians, offered to crown her young head with a wreath of white camelias. The attempt was amusing, and they all laughed and cheered again. The wreath was too big, or she was too small, and it slipped over her head and shoulders, and fell to the floor, and there she stood in the middle of it.

Some enthusiastic ladies presented her with a tiny ring for her finger, and a handsome bracelet; and more wonderful than all, they brought out a magnificent Paris doll, in a big white box, and set her quite wild with joy by presenting it to her. With the doll under one arm, and her precious violin under the other, she bowed her thanks from the middle of the wreath. Then they cheered again, and laughed, and offered her flowers. She was taken down from the platform and led away, but they had her back again three times, doll, violin, and all. Altogether, it was a very remarkable experience for father, mother, teacher, and wonderful little girl.

Perhaps you think this overdrawn. This is a true story. Here is an extract from one of the newspapers of Nantes, that only says the same thing:

– “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 Variee of the celebrated 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 faithfully rendered. Here comes more energetic passages, the feeble child will find strength necessary, and the voice of the instrument assumes a fullness of tone 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. Repeatedly interrupted by applause and acclamations, she was saluted at the end by salvos of bravos and a shower of bouquets.”

As for the anti-Urso party, they were completely demoralized and had not a word to say. Camilla was a success, and they gracefully retired from the field.