The San Francisco call., 1898-12-11
CHMILLH URSO'S IDEH
 Of Her Hrt and the Public

"H HE hall was packed with an au-
 dience in merry mood. Variety
 had had it's swing, coon capers
 had been cut to ringing applause,
 the Belle of Honolulu was still
 vibrating in the air. Suddenly on the bare stage, empty of all but the accompanist's piano, there glided a lady with a fiddle. The lady was petite, unassuming, aglow with the magnetism of genius; the instrument was likewise small, as is the way of fiddles, but alive with the responsive soul that Joseph Guarnerius had imprisoned therein one hundred and seventy-one years ago. Within two minutes the little lady and her violin had filled the stage, filled the auditorium, filled the hearts of her hearers. Plaudits rang out, were hushed, rang out again, as chords leapt. harmonics walled, Paganinfs wild fancies tripped along with fairy foot fall, and the soul of the great audience lay enmeshed by the witching fingers of Americas favorite violinist.
 An" says Camilla Urso. leaning back in her chair an hour later, T think this has been the most satisfactory evening. the greatest triumph of my lifel Yes, the greatest" she persists energeticaly in answer to glance of incredulity, T am accustomed to tri- umphs; the public has spoilt and petted me for twenty-five years. but this is an altogether novel experience and an extraordinary test. You see, when you an up in a concert room filled with an appreciative. cultured au- dence, when you play for hearers with trained musical ears, you expect suc- cess, it seems natural. But here 1 come, for the first time of my life, into d vaudeville theater. Downstairs, l admit, there were many of my friends, but in the gallery sat an audience which does not habitually find its way into the concert room; the boys up there had never heard me before, to many of them my name was not la miliar, to them 1 was only an item in the usual vaudeville performance. And yet l was able to hold them spellbound with my bow, they listened in breath less silence and when the pause came they applauded Practically, not with the whistle of approval they bestow on q favorite variety artist, but with the respectful applause given to one who has helped them to uplift them selves. When l saw that, l was, in- deed, proud of my gift. Yes, it is great triumph!
 It is one of the singular charms of this fascinating woman that public betting has left her wholly unspoilt. She is as unaffectedly simple, as earn est in her wish to please, as humble in her desire for self -effacement as any timid young girl. trembling before a first audience. Praise is sweet unto her ear, not because it gratifies vanity, but because it proves her to be thor ough worker who has attained success by patient effort. Her mobile face asks for approval as wistfully as that of little child, who has striven to ac- complsh it's task faithfully.
 Nowadays the necessary wor.- Is terrific" she adds presently: your chnique must be absolutely perfect or nobody will listen to you. It is a great century. What a good time those old fellows had. to be sure, before every body knew how to criticize. Then if you played with your soul. if you be- ched the hearts of your audience, they were content without inuuiring about your method. But now. if a De Beriot or a Vieuxtemps or even a PGganini stood they would be told that they played like the children of the present day. And with the passion fer technique the violinist's repertoire has ch; ged. We must no longer utter t thoughts of Viotti and a Spohr, of a vic mist who understands his own in- strument and loved it; we must give the pubic Raff and Rubinstein. the works of composers, not violinists; of men who are barely scientific in their cor nositions, men who place tours de force before melody, technique before inspiration, and unless yC' can master their a lzing difficulties you are no musician. This is especially true in America"
 More than in Europe?"
 Well, yes. You see we are restless in America; we love novelty and detest antiquities out here In Europe your ancestral home is regarded with rever- ence, your ancestral lies are hoarded. your family traditions cherished as
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