MADAM MELBA'S CAREER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXV, Issue 10848, 3 September 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

MADAM MELBA'S CAREER.

TOLD BY HERSELF. I suppose "the days of my youth" began with my birth, and so, although I fail to see how it will interest anybody, I may tell you that I was born at " Doonside," a dear old rambling house with a large garden at Richmond, which is still my family's town residence in Melbourne, Australia. But the wealth of my childhood's memories always rashes to Steel's Flat, Lilydale, one of my father's country places in Victoria, which he sold some years ago to Mr. David Syme, the wealthy proprietor of the Age newspaper, to whose generosity the visit of the Victorian military contingent in Jubilee year was mainly due. In this charming country place—free from the restraint of Melbourne school life— was my delight to spend hours in galloping barebacked across the plains and through the winding bridle tracks of the bush. I am sure my wanderings were only limited by my pony's endurance, and not 'by any sense of satisfaction or fatigue on my part. Although unusually high-spirited, I loved to be alone, and have often spent five or six hours on the edge of a creek, fishing with bait that rarely brought me a good return. But I was quite happy; the silent plains, the vast ranges of eucalyptus forest, the sunny skies, and the native wild birds were nil one glorious harmony, and the time seemed all too short as I rode or fished, singing, singing all the time. I was never at the homestead, nor indeed anywhere else, when I should have been, and the question, "Where is Miss Nellie 2" grew to be a firstclass conundrum. I was an unusually naughty child, absolutely incorrigible, unreasonable, and unmanageable. Never once—no, not even by accident—did I hit on doing the right thing; mischief of the most inexcusable, boisterous kind came to my mind as an irresistible inspiration, ' And, naturally, I was always in trouble.

Music was the only reasonable thing in which I showed any rational interest, and owing to my dreadful perversity in every other matter, I bolievo my musical taste aroused quite an antagonistic feeling in my mother and father.

They were both intensely musical themselves. My mother, who was of Spanish descent—and noted for her remarkably beautiful feet—was a very accomplished pianiste, and I have spent many an hour crouched under the pianoforte while she played for her own amusement. The necessity for food at a proper time, and the threats of various and fearful punishments, failed to draw me from my favourite ambush. In passing, I may say that out of a large family I am the only one who resembled my mother. I am dark—almost dark enough to be a "black sheep"— all my sisters and brothers are remarkably fair. In the few docile hours of my obstreperous childhood, it was a great delight for me to sit on my father's knee and pick out the treble notes on the harmonium while he sang the bass. At six years of age I .was, by some strange freak of parental favour or childish despotism, allowed to appear at a concert, and my singing of " Shells of the Ocean" was so kindly received that I had to give an encore, my extra number being no other than " Coming Through the Bye." The next day I was playing about with a little girl who lived opposite and, elated with my concert succeiss, I waited eagerly for some comment. 'The minutes passed— I thought them, but I my child chum continued to ignore what i was to mo the chiefest thing in the world. Unable to curb my eagerness any further 1 at last blurted out: " Well—the concert, you know ;—I sang at the concert?" She inclined her face towards mine, and lowering her voice to a significant pitch, answered: Nellie Mitchell, I saw your drawers I .have never forgotten the spontaneous malice *!li tho criticism of my little playmate. (Since then I have had many occasions to be amused in recalling the malicious innuendo of my first critic.) My wilfulness and aggravating contrariness on all occasions eventually led to my being sent to a boarding-school, where it was hoped some sense of docility might enter into my rebellious head. But it was no use; it seemed impossible to teach me anything •except music. I was always at the bottom of tho class, and generally in disgrace. From the balcony of the school I could see tho turret of "Doonside," and my father, who rode past each day, considered it wisest not to acknowledge in any way so fractious a pupil. This was perhaps the bitterest experience of my younger years. To bo in sight of my home and unable to go thereto see my father and not be noticed by him, so filled me with sorrow that I was constantly in floods of tears. During this time of banishment the most marked kindness from those in charge of the school failed to bring me any comfort, and when I was allowed to return home my delight was unbounded.

My later and principal school days were spent at the Presbyterian Ladies' College, Melbourne, an institution regarded as unapproachable in the colonies, but to the records of which I failed to add any lustre. In fact, I believe I was generally regarded as "the very worst pupil in the college." During the hour and a half allowed for lunch, it was my daily custom to ignore the necessity of a mid-day meal and devote the time to practising 011 the organ m the Scots Church, of which my people have always been regular supporters. This going without food from breakfast until dinner so affected my health, that I was threatened with consumption, and my organ practices were summarily ended. It was while on a holiday from the college that I was once entrusted with the duty of playing some selections of sacred music during a solemn family celebration. The proper music was spread out on the stand, but instead of playing it I devoted myself to a very lively interpretation of various polkas and jigs, to the amazement and horror of the sedate assemblage. Later on, when I was allowed to attend concerts and other musical performances in Melbourne, it appeared to my childish imagination that I could very easily surpass the efforts of) even the first art/istes (I heard, and I was not at all diffident in expressing this conviction to my mother, who endeavoured to curb my presumption by various forms of punishment. From my family I certainly received no encouragement whatever, and the concert of my sixth year remained a brilliant memory untfl nearly ten years later, when 1 again managed a public appearance. With my people I was spending part of the summer at Sorrento, a pretty little watering-place near the entrance to Hobson's Bay One day, when driving round the township, I noticed that the fence of the local cemetery was in a deplorably dilapidated condition, and I determined on getting up a concert to provide funds for a new railing. I had very flaring posters printed, and as a solution of one question of "ways and means," I took charge of them myself, and with paste and brush set out to stick them in the best positions, a task which I successfully accomplished. I raised £20 by this exploit, and later on when I saw a nice new fence round the cemetery, I felt it was more due to my tact as a bill-sticker than to any attractions my concert had to offer. Not very long afterwards I decided to give a sort of drawing-room cor cert in my native city of Melbourne, from v hich I take my name, and I wrote to all my friends asking their presence. My father heard of the scheme, and determined to thwart the desire for a public career, which was even then faintly manifesting itself. He wrote to them all, too, and as a personal favour begged them not to attend. All unconscious of this parental strategy, I repaired to the scene of the concert, and when I stepped out on the platform I was greeted by an audience of two! All the same, I went through with my programme, and sang as. well as I knew how for the loyal duo— ever since I have had larger audiences. At seventeen I was married to Mr. Charles Armstrong, youngest son of the late Sir Andrew Armstrong, Bart., of King's County, , Ireland. My husband was not musical, and as I soon found that domestic life did not fill the entire range of . my girlish fancies, the old love for music returned with renewed force, and I sang whenever I could.-;sl.may mention,. too, that I was the first lady to perform on the grand organ of the Melbourne Town Hall, my ap-1 pearance being at a charity concert.' • j, ... j

Free from the opposition which I had always encoutered at home, my apperaances became very frequent, and 1 won considerable success as an amateur, and, later, gave a few concerts on ordinary businesslike lines. In 1887 my father was appointed by the Government of Victoria a Commissioner to the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in London, and I accompanied him home, I had a letter of introduction to Madame Marchesi, and 1 lost no time in going to Paris. She heard me sing, and from the first gave me the most generous encouragement. After my second song she rushed excitedly out of the drawing-room, and. calling to my husband, she said: " Salvatore, j'ai enfin une etoile!" When I had finished singing, she asked me very gravely: " Mrs. Armstrong, are you serious? Have you patience?" "Yes,' I answered. " Then, if you stay with me for one year, I will make something extraordinary of you," and she divided the long word in quite a curious staccato way. To Madame Marchesi I owe more than I can say, and the great teacher who encouraged me so warmly remains my cherished friend. When 1 look back on the nine years of my professional life, many memories crowd upon each other, and in the tangled jumble it is not always easy to recall any particular event. I have a very keen recollection of a little incident that occurred at Philadelphia, when I was once singing there during the blizzard season. The opera had been "Lucia," and when the performance was over, I felt very glad to escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the crowded theatre, and hurried to the stage door where my carriage was waiting. My arms were laden with roses, and as 1 stepped into the quiet street I noticed that the only person near was a refined, distin-guished-looking, but poorlv-dressed woman, who stood close to the stage door.

She approached nervously, and almost inaudibly asked, " Madame, will you give me a rose?" As I held out the flower I looked at her face, down which the tears were streaming, and in an instant I recognised her as a woman whose appearance, as she sat in the gallery, had attracted my notice during the performance just concluded. She was once a siuger of distinction, I had been told, and moved by some irresistible impulse, I leant forward and kissed her pale, tear-stained face. " God bless your beautiful heart!" she murmured, and as the tears rose to my own eyes the pool creature hurried away. During my briel stay in Philadelphia I made sevefal attempts to seek her out again, but never succeeded in tracing this "star of a buried night." Let me sec! Well, I never thought it was so difficult to keep on talking about one's self. I have been rather successful, but as my career has not yet reached the dignity of a decade, most people know of any events of interest that have crept into that short time. Personally, I think 1 have been most impressed by my first appearances at La Scala, Milan, where I sang "Lucia," and at the Grand Opera, Paris, where " Hamlet" was the opera. Both occasions were trying ordeals for a singer of very little experience, but in each case I received generous inducement to push ahead; in fact, the people were more than kind. Once, during a brief season at Stockholm, it happened that all the dates on which I sang were evenings on which the King could not possibly be present. When His Majesty returned 'to town, I received a Royal message asking if I could by any chance give an extra performance, so that lie and the members of the Court might attend. Circumstances permitted me to do so, and mv desire to please so popular a sovereign gave tremendous delight to the people. The theatre was packed to suffocation point, and the enthusiasm of the audience—in their excessive kindness—was really overwhelming. After my chief scene tho King rose in his box, and facing me where _1 stood on the stage, bowed very low. This act of courtesy Kis Majesty repeated several times, everyone in the house having risen meanwhile, and their cheers were almost too much for me. On the following morning I was summoned to the Palace, to receive the personal congratulations of the King and Queen, and a decoration from the hands of His Majesty. A pin was necessary to fasten the ribbon, and as none had been provided, I offered one to the King. " Oil! I must not take a pin from you," lie said smiling, " it might mar our friendship.' Then, after a (moment hesitation, he added, as he took the pin, " I will break the evil spell, though, with a kiss, and we will be friends always." When I was leaving the city a little later, I had further evidence of the people's goodwill. The way from my hotel to the railway was so crowded that traffic was completely stopped, and at the station itself there were over five thousand people, who did everything possible to enhance the memory of a really delightful visit. . So much for past days! As to the future, I think my warmest wishes centre themselves round a visit to my sunny, southern home. I have a great dislike to sea travelling, or probably I should have taken that long trip already. That visit will be more a matter of sentiment than business, and I look forward to it with the very keenest pleasure. I intend to take out with me a complete, but small opera company of the very best artistes. I shall take my own orchestra, chorus, and scenerj, and I'll sing with all my heart for dear old Australia. Nellie Melba.