MDLLE ANTONIA DOLORES

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1798, 22 August 1906, Page 25

MDLLE ANTONIA DOLORES

AN IMPRESSION

(By Dorien; in the Sydney “Mail.”) A cheery lady, rounded, rather below average height, brightly quick in movement. word, glance, conies forward, smiling and stretching her hands in welcome. The fair, plump face, brown hair parted simply back, lips with their quick smile, tranquil, hazel eyes, all harmonise in Hie first impression she gives—that of placidity. No lines of euro or worry mar her clear appearance. This queen of a thousand triumphs, who has swayed audiences in all the civilised world, has the candid trustful look of a happy child. It is clear that demands upon the singer’s time are many. Already visitors await her at the other end of tiie drawing-room. in rapid review, laughing now and again at a happy memory, Aldlle. Dolores reviews the eventful years that have passed since, after her South African, tour, she first visited Australia. There were American travels, concerts in San Francisco, then in its pride, in the States and Canada, and then work in Europe. (hi one occasion Hie Kaiser and Kuiserine were to have been present when Millie, sang, but a member of tlie largo Royal family died, and the German Emperor was obliged to send Ins representative instead. Then English tours, full of quaint and interesting incidents. On one occasion, travelling to Doncaster, the concert train was snowed up, and when reaching the hall an hour later Aid lie. found an audience still waiting, but growing impatient, she walked on to the platform, and sang just as she was, in her travelling clothes. In London she gave four recitals in St. James’s. Her tone is full of regret as she speaks of the hall —“the best in London” — n ow pulled down to make room for an hotel. “It was perfect for sound. A whisper could be heard all over it.” Then to Paris. “I was born there. Yes. I sang. Ah! I sang all the time when I was quite young. My grandmother—she brought me up—used to say: ‘Do not sing! Do not sing! you ivill break your voice!’ (Again the bright laugh). But no harm came. Still young ones should not sing. Think, it is putting too much on their delicate voices. If they use their little legs soon they bend —yes ? But no harm came to my voice, and when I was old enough Wuretal gave me lessons. But not many. . . It was natural, this voice—always easy. Waretal was an old friend, the son of my mother’s master.” “Mr Tail; has just been telling us that within the last two years you have learned German, and speak it well —that you have added Brahms to your repertoirecan please a German audience?’’ “But that was nothing! The Countess lioogerwoerd, who was connected with a court, taught me to speak pure language. I am prouder that in Scotland the people understood and were pleased!” “How large is your repertoire, now?” Millie, hesitates, and Air Tait answers, looking for confirmation: “Five hundred songs of four languages!” “They are not all up to concert standard. I select some, and work at them. Some are old English. Arne, Purcell, and Sterndale Bennett wrote beautiful music. Even an old ‘Willo, Willo, taken from a manuscript in the British Museum, is fine. I have sung those English songs in Berlin on the same programme with Rameau, Lotti, Scarlatti, Haydn.” . , „ , Rarely indeed lias a singer such perfect command of her art, su jd l , ca V! peftoire and knowledge of the best that has been written in the classic end romantic schools. One is tempted to inquire how new songs are added. “I play any that attract me many times. Then it stays by for months. And I learn it very carefully. Never am 1 content to present it in public without full study, and until the phrasing is perfect. And from memory. You have read tlie funny notice, which, remarking oil the terrible English habit of singing Glome, Sweet Home/ at the end of every programme (I have sung it too!). added that prima donnas singing it for the

7000th time, as many have done still need the sheet in their hands! There is to be a complete change of programme at each concert—that will mean at least 50 songs in Sydney. The ‘Laughing Song’ —yes, I shall sing that, but I have brought another which will perhaps be as popular. And, of course, audiences make demands sometimes for favourite songs—demands which naturally are cornpied with.” Conversation drifting back to Sydney topics, Aldlle. Dolores said: —“You know I have often spoken abroad of this wonderful climate, and the dozens of voices one hears that are almost phenomenal. The outdoor life has a great influence oa these gifts.”