My first appearance on any stage took place at the Town Hall, Richmond, which is a suburb of Melbourne, and I was aged six at the time. What did I sing? Let me see now! Yes, I sang Shells of the Ocean first, followed by Comin’ thro’ the Rye. It was a great occasion, and I am by no means certain that I am not prouder of it than of anything I have done since.
Even as a child of three or four, I was so passionately devoted to music that I remember frequently crawling under the piano and remaining quiet there for hours while listening to my mother’s playing. Yes, my mother sang also, though she had not a particularly notable voice. But her sister, my Aunt Lizzie, possessed a soprano voice of extraordinary beauty and quality. Indeed, I feel sure my Aunt Lizzie would have enjoyed a brilliant career as a public singer, had she adopted it.
I remember once our family moving into winter quarters at one of my father’s outlying stations. I was 10 years old at the time, but I know I felt furious, on arrival, to find there was no piano. My gentle mother consoled me with the gift of a concertina which I taught myself to play during the three months that we lived there.
One Sunday, I was perhaps 13, we were visited by a worthy man, who chanced to be a particularly poor preacher. At the conclusion of his very long and (as we children thought) somewhat wearisome discourse, he suggested that we should sing a hymn. My mother asked me to play a familiar hymn but in revenge for having been so bored, I played – to the horror of some and the secret delight of others – a music hall ditty which had succeeded in penetrating our wilderness. It was called You should see me Dance the Polka. In the sequel, I received the well merited punishment of being sent to bed for the remainder of the day.
