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: