MELBA'S MEMOIRS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19196, 9 December 1925, Page 8

MELBA'S MEMOIRS.

OPEKA lN EI!RUN. MEETING THE KAISER. (Copyright). CHAPTER XV. I have almost finished with the nineteenth century, ( The date is the winter of 1899. The place Holland, and a very long time ago it all seems. But Ido not wish to linger on those last days of 1899, for my time in Holland, though eminently successful, was not altogether an agreeable one. The Boer -War was in full swing, feeling ran high, and though everybody was kindness itself to me I could not help feeling an awkwardness inseparable from the state ,of affairs. And I was glad when a letter arrived from Herr Wolff, the well-known agent, asking me if I would undertake a season of opera in Berlin. I wrote back saying that I was delighted and in an incredibly short time tine matter was arranged./ Even in those days German efficiency was highly developed. Although I made my debut in Berlin at the Philharmonic Hall, with Joachim playing my obligate in Mozart's " II Re Ijttfltore," it is of the Opera House that I retain the most vivid impressions, not beisause it was here that I first met the Kaiser, but because I first sang under the conductorship of Dr. Karl Muck. Muck—what an artist he was! If there was any one characteristic which distinguished him as a conductor from his contemporaries it was his extraordinary precision. Under his baton the orchestra played as one man. Everything was perfect, and his genius was even the more remarkable when one remembers he would conduct such totally different operas as " Lucia" and the " Walkyrie" on consecutive nights without turning a hair. And now as I am writing of Muck I think it my duty to throw a little light on an episode in his career which occurred in the United States during the war, and which must have caused him a very great deal of distress. For many years, of course, Muck had not been able to have the Imperial Opera House, although I know for a fact that Maurice Oran had offered him 1000 dollars a week to conduct at the Metropolitan in New York. But when he eventually did go, as conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he was a striking success.

Then the war came and even in neutral America Muck, although he had lived entirely for his art, must have suffered for his nationality. However, all seemed to go well until the rumour was suddenly spread abroad that at a very important concert at Providence he had been asked to conduct the " Star Spangled Banner," and had refused.

Muck denied that he had refused, saiu that there was no particular reason why the national anthem should have been played at that concert, and that he had never been asked to play it at all. Many people, because Muck was a German, did not believe him.

But Muck was speaking the truth. For my manager, Mr. Charles A. Ellis, himself told me that a telegram had arrived before the concert asking that the " Star Spangled Banner" should be played, that he had opened it himself, and that Muck knew nothing about it, because Mr. Ellis thought it unnecessary to give it at a classical I know that you may say it is no business of mine. But I cannot bear to hear a false rumour without endeavouring to scotch it. /

My debut in the Imperial Opera House in Berlin was made in " Lucia," but it was not till one night toward the end of the initial season that the Kaiser came to hear me. On that night when I reached the-theatre there was a great feeling of " tension and excitement in everybody I met, for it was a gala night, and the Emperor and Empress were to be present. I caught something of the thrill, too, though apparently I should have been more imj pressed than I was, for I did not then realise the extraordinary halo of dignity and importance that hung round the Kaiser's head. However, I was soon made to realise it, for as soon as I had entered rny dressing room, the manager made his appearance, and, speaking with evident excitement, informed me that I should be summoned to the Imperial box after the third act. I expressed myself duly gratified. And then suddenly the manager turned and said, very gravely: " Have you any scent on your handkerchief ?" I laughed, and replied: "I don't know. Why do you ask ?" " Because His Majesty intensely dislikes perfume," he answered. " Please remember that most distinctly." It struck me as very odd. However, as I shared the Kaiser's dislike of too strong a perfume, it did not cause me any great trenidation. And then at the close of the third act, with my hair still dishevelled from the mad scene, I threw a cloak over my shoulders and was conducted to the Imperial box. Here I discovered the Emperor standing up, a glitter of ribbons arid medals, and indeed a very imposing sight. If I had then known all that was in store for the world at the Kaiser's bidding, perhaps 1 should have felt differently. Perhaps I should have noted him more keenly, tried to find out more about this strarge personality from my own point of vie v. But in any case an extraordinary incident now occurred which would have probably made further investigation impossible. We had been talking for several moments —the Kaiser spoke perfect English—and I remember that he had just been discussing with considerable ability the per- , formance he had witnessed. Then, bidding me good evening, he walked abruptly .to the door. / I had apparently committed some faux pas. Perhaps I had not shown sufficient homage, perhaps I had not said " Sir" sufficiently oftfeii. Whatever the reason, he appeared offended. A little nonplussed I remained talking to the Empress, who seemed a charming and most sympathetic woman. But oui conversation was interrupted by a strange clicking noise. i looked round, and saw the Kaiser standing in the doorway flicking his fingers impatiently to signal to the Empress to follow him. I turned back to the Empress, and saw that there was a look of unspoken apdlogy on her tired face. However she followed obediently—l could not help thinking rather in the manner of a puppy dog—and I never saw either of them again. The next few weeks were among the fullest I have ever spent. From Berlin I went to sing at the Leipzig Gewandhaus, with Nikitsh, who conducted for me, and insisted on playing my accompaniments, from Leipzig to Dresden and Cologne, and then hack to Berlin again, where incidentally I cannot help recalling, with a smile, my satisfaction that on my return visit I was paid exactly double the fees which I received on my first appearance. Cne of the greatest pleasures of my ?sj' n visit was my re-discovery of Fritz fal "i ! \ a Australian boy whom my helped to go to Germany. One 1 of the unhealthy life which

infant prodigies lead, and the way in which they are segregated from the rest of their fellows; and when I learned something of Fritz Muller's life, my heart bled for him. He was then studying the pianoforte at the Hochschule, and 1 went over there to see his professors and to ask him how he was getting on. How grim and stein they were, those professors. They seemed to regard him, not so much as an Australian boy with blood in his veins, as a sort of automaton to be made to work day in and day out. I saw Fritz was rather pale, and 1 said to the chief professor, who was a generously proportioned man, with large white side-whiskers: " Don't you see that he gets any evercise ? He looks to me as though he were being worked too hard.' ... i The professor blew out his cheeks, and shrugged his shoulders. , ~ , "He has an extraordinary desire, he said, "to play cricket and football. "Well, don't you let him ? "Heavens! No," he said. „ Wha J might happen to his fingers ? But —and here ho patted Fritz with an elephantine gesture on the back —"we allow him in the summer to catch butterflies with his Pr pooiTi'ttle Fritz. I'm afraid he did not much relish the catching of butterflies, even in the most learned surroundings, for he was rather like a butterfly himself, and a few months afterwards he did actually fly away from school, but where he went I have no idea. But before he had gone he came to see me one morning after hearing me sing the Mad Scene from Lucia the night before. And he left a little note on mv table, with my own elaborate cadenza beautifully written out in full-* feat of memory which greatly astonished me. Incidentally, this cadenza, which has now been printed, was composed by Madame Marchesi and Taffanel during my student days in Paris. Many were the hours we spent in perfecting it, and 1 always think that it is one of the most bird-like passages ever written for the human voice, with its trills and its runs and its lightning arpeggios. To-Morrow: A Present from Mendelssohn.