Ada Crossley (1871-1929)
Ada Crossley (1871-1929)
(The Queenslander [Brisbane, AUS], 5th January, 1901)
THE STAGE
AUSTRALIA'S CONTRALTO - MISS ADA CROSSLEY
Miss Ada Crossley, the Australian contralto, who has so rapidly and so firmly established herself as one of the finest oratorio singers in England, has her home in a pretty flat near Portman Square, where, on a record-beating hot day in July, I greeted her on behalf of "The Young Woman" (writes an interviewer in that journal). After abusing the heat, she said: "It is not generous to abuse even the climate of a country which has been so kind to me as England."
Everybody sings in Australia, from the bushman as he rides through the great forest stretches to the boy on the milk run - the latter with freshly-plucked flowers in his hat, bearing some resemblance to the boys of that other great singing country, Italy. We all love it; and everybody understands it, too, for it is taught in all our schools, which are free and compulsory. That is what makes an Australian concert audience so wonderfully appreciative. All the great world-famous musicians who visit Melbourne, Sydney, and our other cities agree that no other English-speaking country provides them with such a sympathetic and critical public.
"And what of the teachers?"
"Oh, we have some excellent teachers out there, but, notwithstanding, there is amongst our young singers who meditate a professional debut a great desire to come here to give a finish to their style. Come they do, and in increasing numbers, as we have seen of late; and sing very well, too, to the credit of my country-folk, be it noted."
In talking with Miss Crossley, It is pleasant to remark how apt she is with a word of praise, or with a hint of excuse for the "unlucky," where others might have said "unworthy." His own good gifts, and, perhaps consequent good fortune, seem to ghave made her more than ordinarily sensitive for the defence of less happily-placed people. She speaks with a rapid flow of well-chosen words, and considerable vivacity.
When speaking of her childhood she said:
"I had no idea of ever singing in public, though from quite a littrte girl I used to sing, especially the old negro melodies, such as 'The Log Cabin,' of which my father and mother pretended they never tired. It was their habit to have me sing it to them every evening before I said 'Good-night.' Music and riding were my two pleasures. I would ride anything; and, when grown strong enough, I loved to play the organ at little churches in the bush, tearing there at breakneck speed on any sort of mount. However, eventually, our great teacher of singing, the late Madame Simonsen, discovered that I had a voice, trained it, and arranged for me to appear at a concert. I loved the life of a professional singer, even during my very brief career there; the freedom to visit other parts of Australia - since one had an object - the interesting people one met, the absence of convention, of acute class distinctions, of marked poverty, all delighted me; and tbe inspiring wave of progress sweeping over the new country made life so eminently enjoyable."
"Do they get a chance to hear much solid music in Australia?"
"Nothing like you do here, of course. That is one of the reasons why young singers do well to come to Europe for a while, at all events; it is so enlightening to hear the greatest works. Besides, the Australians do like their singers to get the 'hall mark' of English approval."
"Which of the singers best known in London do they like best over there?"
"Oh, what a question! They like all who sing well, and they delight in operatic performances. Several excellent Italian opera companies have been there, and most of your singers. You are not satisfied with that answer? I must particularise? Then Albani, so far, has been received with the greatest favour; she won a very marked success, and made crowds of private friends. But oh, how they do look forward to hearing Melba! The story of my short career in Australia - under three years - has been already told in print; but I must give you one incident which I shall always recall with amusement. It happened on the occasion of my farewell appearance at the Town Hall in Sydney, and was my first and only experience of public speaking. Sir William Manning (the Mayor) presented me, on behalf of the citizens, with an address and parting gift; and I, taking my courage in both hands, started to thank the representative donors there assembled. No sooner had I said the first words, 'Ladies and gentlemen,' than a member of the Cabinet, standing beside me, by way of encouragement, called 'Hear, hear.' Not another syllable could I utter, and I completely broke down! So much for my, powers of oratory. It is now five years since I first appeared in London, and Mr. Daniel Mayer was the presiding genius at my debut. I have always gratefully regarded him as a veritable Mascotte, for since then my fortune has invariably smiled, and occasionally even beamed, on me."
"What part of your work do you prefer?"
"I love it all! but especially oratorio singing, in which my chief successes have been made. The Handel Festival was a delightful experience, and I much enjoyed the festivals at Chester, Worcester, Hereford, and Liverpool. There is one drawback to my satisfaction; that I am ever increasingly nervous. How I envy the happy band of singers not so affected! At the end of each concert I long to put back the clock, and have the programme through again, for I always feel that I should be able to do so much better a second time. Some conductors have a wonderful power of helping the singers under their baton; they give such a restful feeling of security."
"What do you think of the young composers? Do you get overdone with offers of new songs and generally bored by them?"
"Oh, no, they don't bore me; on the contrary I am intensely interested in what they send for my Inspection. Very often, of course, composers do not accurately gauge the powers of the particular artiste whose help they seek. Many of the manuscripts submitted to me are full of promise, although I am compelled to refuse them. It is always a keen regret to me when I cannot offer young composers some substantial encouragement. I never regret the time and trouble expended in looking through their music, although I need hardly say that my life is a very busy one. There is plenty of splendid modern music by those whose names are household words with all music lovers. One composer, whose work is new to me, has lately produced come songs - Mr. Charles Willeby. I like singing new songs, and I like visiting new towns. A provincial tour is very interesting, especially when under the direction of Mr. Percy Harrison, the Birmingham Impressario, my oldest English friend in the musical profession, and one whose kindness has been unswerving. A tour under his management is in a sense a carefully arranged pleasure trip, so well does he see to the comfort of all his artistes; he looks after everything and everybody. I travelled under his auspices at the same time as Madame Patti, during my first year in England, and found her most charming and encouraging. The honour of singing to the Queen has been mine on many occasions, and I specially treasure the memory of 5th December last year, when, during the performance of 'Elijah' at Windsor Castle, her Majesty paid the tribute of her tears to my rendering of 'O rest in the Lord.' I have taken part in the State concerts of this and last year. I am afraid that my life has, from an interviewer's point of view, been dreadfully void of thrilling experiences. Encounters with snakes in the scrub, fights with bush fires in the forest, and endeavours to steady a wily buckjumper on the plains, don't count for much in Australia, and I fancy they would not command much interest here."