Dame Nellie Melba Visits

During her 1924 visit to Tasmania, the greatest opera singer Australia has ever produced, not only stayed at the Bush Inn, she also sang there.

It is fortunate that the story of her visit was recorded by someone who was there at the time, a boy then, who would later become a journalist and New Norfolk historian, Joe Cowburn. His parents owned the Bush Inn at the time, so he was in the fortunate position of not only meeting the great singer and being with her on stage, but of recording those events in writing.

Joe tells the story himself, reproduced from an article he wrote that appeared in The Mercury, November 3, 1984¹³⁶.

I don’t suppose there are many people who can boast of having in their possession a picture of Australia’s most famous singer, Nellie Melba, signed by her own hand.

Maybe there are fewer people left who can say they were on stage with Melba during a concert. Both these interesting sidelights of the great singer are among my cherished possessions, the one in written photographic form, hanging on a wall in my home and the other tucked away in my memory still vivid and exciting.

The signed picture of Melba is interesting because it is linked with the history of Australia’s oldest hotel, the Bush Inn at New Norfolk, Tasmania. Melba stayed at the hotel in 1924 during her last farewell visit to Tasmania when she gave a concert at the City Hall, Hobart. As she left the hotel she gave me a photograph of herself, and written in her own hand was what she described as a “Momento of her stay at the Bush Inn.”

Looking back now I can see her writing it with a somewhat shaky hand, and an obvious feeling it would give me great pleasure in the years beyond her lifespan.

And this is how it happened.

Hundreds of my friends and associates have seen the picture over the past 50 years and many have offered to buy it as a historic record of the great lady of song. But still it hangs on my den wall. Often I look at it with sheer pleasure at having known a great artist and a wonderful Australian.

How then, you might well ask, did the signed picture come into my possession, and why should I have been picked out from the hundreds who flocked to see and hear Melba at that Hobart farewell?

This, of course, is another story, probably more interesting than the photograph itself.

When Melba made her visit to Tasmania my family owned the old Bush Inn at New Norfolk. All were amateur musicians in their own right in an age when music really meant something and my own special interest at the time was as a boy cornet player in a band, something which delighted Melba.

When Melba visited Tasmania she wanted somewhere to stay in quietness, and those who organised the concert decided that the Bush Inn at New Norfolk was the best place for her.

This is where I came in.

At the time I was a border scholar at the Hutchin’s School in Hobart and when the news reached me that Melba was to stay at my home with my family I was filled with exciting expectations of the great singer performing all sorts of arias and songs on the hotels doorstep. I remember I just couldn’t wait to get home for the great weekend Melba was there.

Every boy in the school was envious, and in those days status was a symbol of society, every parent of every boy would have given their bottom dollar to have Melba as their guest. Masters and schoolboys alike wanted to know what I intended doing if, by chance, Melba spoke to me. While I parried my way through the questions with obvious delight, I never for a moment dreamed anything like that would happen.

But as things turned out, fate led me to one of the greatest moments in my life.

On the day Melba arrived at the hotel I also arrived home by bus for a weekend break from school. I just could not wait to reach home, and I remember as the bus stopped I raced through the hotel, ran up the old wooden stairway two and three steps at a time, and straight into my mothers private suite to get the news of Melba. The door of the room was closed, and as I pushed it open with a bang I stood paralysed.

Instead of my mother, there was Dame Nellie Melba sitting serenely on my mothers favourite chair with a glass of wine poised as if to take a sip.

The next few minutes were as a lifetime.

What did I want? What was I looking at? Whatever was I in such a hurry for?

Maybe these were not the exact questions, but I’m sure they were the basis of the thoughts going through Melbas mind.

All I had in mind was to retreat, but there was no hope. Melba wanted it otherwise.

She asked me to be seated, tried hard to put me at ease, and seemed determined to make me talk.

For me it was a great moment.

We talked of my school, my hopes and my ambitions.

As I talked and steadilly gained confidence, I began to form an attachment to the lady.

I told her I had heard her sing on records, I told her how lucky my family felt as having her at the hotel, and while I tried several times to ask simple questions of her, she skillfully switched the questions back to me so that I would be giving the answers.

As we talked there was a knock at the door, after which a giant of a man entered. He was, I discovered later, Prince Oblinisky, a Russian bass singer, who accompanied Melba for the Tasmanian concert.

After a few moments the Prince left and Melba followed, leaving me to relate the unbelievable story to my family.

Next day guests at the hotel questioned me about my meeting with Melba, and as if by another stroke of fate, I ran face to face with Melba, walking in the hotel garden leading to the Derwent.

Still apparently anxious to talk about the fruit and flowers and the history of the hotel, I was able to tell Melba the story of William Vincent Wallace and his composition of the theme song “Scenes That Are Brightest” from the opera “Maritana” as he sat on the hotel veranda in 1838.

This delighted her immensely.

“I must sing it. I must do it while I am here.” she said.

As we walked through the pathways of flowers and berry bushes, Melba asked me if I would be at her concert in the City Hall, Hobart, that evening.

When I said “No” she seemed upset.

“But you must come,” she said, “Just come to the stage door, ask for me, and you will be shown in. I will arrange that.” Needless to say I said I would accept.

Still bubbling over with excitement, I related the story to my brother, William, the hotel licensee.

At first he would not believe me, but when I convinced him he consented to take me to Hobart for the concert that night.

Just before eight o’clock we called at as arranged at the stage door.

We told our story of the invitation to the doorman and in a few minutes we were inside.

My brother, now more nervous than I, wanted to get out before the concert started, but we stayed in the wings.

Melba passed us as she went on the stage. She sang. We were stunned with her poise and splendour, and although the lyric “Lo Hear the Gentle Lark” was slightly above my head as a schoolboy, the fact of hearing her sing and being within yards of her while she was performing was truly fascinating and absorbing.

The audience applauded as we watched from the wings.

Then after a pause came the great moment. Melba was to sing “Home Sweet Home.”

The crowd hushed as the piano softly played the introduction, and in the next few minutes a great feeling of serenity gripped me.

Handkerchiefs among the audience were clearly visible as I watched from the wings in amazement.

Never have I witnessed such a moment, and Melba, on the final note, seemed to sense the dramatic climax. She made a hurried exit, and it was then that I realised fully the majesty of her presence and the fullness of her artistic talent.

Next day was Sunday. She was happy at the quiet old country hotel. She made an appearance for the 40 guests who sat on the stairway leading to her private suite.

Melba did what she promised. She ended her stay at the hotel with a memorable rendering of “Scenes That Are Brightest” from the opera “Maritana.”

So now, if you are wondering who I think is the worlds greatest singer and the most dynamic lady I have met, I will leave you to guess.