MELBA'S MESSAGE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 159, 4 January 1912, Page 3

MELBA'S MESSAGE.

I TO AUSTRALIAN GIRLS. i THE lIOLLOWNESS OF FAME. KOSINA BUCKMAN'S BRILLIANT FUTURE. The. grand opera season has come to a close, and within a week or so Madame Melba will leave for her Victorian home. Now that the strenuous time is past, she is sitting back, not necessarily resting, for her temperament forbids this luxury just now, but contemplative and reminiscent by turn, and prophetic anon. A representative of the Sydney , Daily Telegraph found her cosily ensconsed in a deep chair in her dainty sitting-room. "What have I to say?" said she, with a smile. "Well, much, and yet little; but I am glad to be afforded the opportunity of a farewell message to the dear people of New .South Wales, who have been so good to me. I leave by the Otway in March for England, and will arrive in, time for the Covent Garden season, which opens -on May 5. For the next two years I have full engagements; so Australia, my beloved, will not see me within that time, and after—well, who knows? I may come and sing again for you all.

"Talking of opera reminds me to reiterate what I have said so often of the Australian voice, and how it has helped us in our venture. The choruses here are the finest in the world, and Australia, being a garden of voices, ia second Italy, people sing because they cannot; help themselves. I could tell you of artists in embryo whom I have heaTd and am hearing every day; but I must not. There is so much behind it all. I want to discourage girls who aspire to singing fame. Tell them not to. Tell them I said, 'Pass it, pass it by.' The world is not kind to anyone who dares lift head out of the ruck of mediocrity. Tell the girls of this our Wonderland that Melba says, Tf you have Voices, if you must sing, and the singing in your heart -will not be stilled, sing if you must, hut not for the public. Home is best.' Husband and child, hearth and home, and the lullaby i s the sweetest of all melodies. Tell 'the jjirls that the I struggle-for fame is a path strewn with' thorns, tears, and tribulation; the way is long, hard, and dreary, and even when fame is reached that pinnacle but silhouettes one against the horizon, and the ipenalty in secret is dead sea fruit, The substance of life is home, I know it. Most -women know it, too, deep down in their hearts, and a career is a chimera, iSing, eing if you must, but sing for your husbands, and croon love-songs for your babies. Triumphs are inspiring,) but they do not stand for true nappi-j ness. You remember what 'Frances E.j Willard, that great woman, said before J she passed away: 'All that the worljl has <• brought me would I willingly have ex-( changed, for a pair of baby arms round j my neck.' She iknew, and" I want vour girls to know that, before they ; "cast aside the substance for the shadow. I* they wi>h to be happy, never wish to be famous. . ' 1

"But I should like to speak of one who will surely gather the laurel-wreath for herself, for she has tenacity of? purpose, c'ddrage, capability, and withal an exceptional voice. I mean Rosiria : Buckman. She is a brilliant exception, i Sydney should do something for her—should send her London.and help her to find her legitimate place in the rank of world's artists. I predict a great future for her. ' ; "My heart goes out to the dear people of Sydney as do my thoughts, and my 'adieu? .is only 'au • revoir,' after, all. Cherished memories I take with me, but again T charge you with the message to'your girlß, Triumphs are inspiring, but they'do not bring true happiness."'