An American Singer

In 1854, a poor rausic teacher, with a sad face, sat in the Peoría, 111., depot consoling a sick wifs and a group of restless children. The fatlier, hoping o better his condition, had left the busy city of Chicago and bronght llis little flock of helpless chüdren with him. Among the children was a little, bright four-year old girl. They ealled her Emma. The little thing, surrounded by overty, sang and humraed and pratled, f or, like her father, she was fond of music. The poor music teacher moved uato a little wooden house on the hill, and, after a while, Providence put enough pupüs in his way to keep povery from his door. At night Mr. Abbott ame home tired and discouragedj but ;he warblings and happy chatter of litle Emma cheered him up. From her earliest infaiicy the little child had taken nténse delight in music. A song or an )rgan in the street would draw the little hing hungry from the table. A touch on a guitar would set her in ecstasy. At ihe age of six little Emma had dreams of singing in public. At six she was constantly singing about the house, catching every tune she heardher father )lay, 8nd at nine, to the surprise of sverybody, she began to play the guitar aerself. She became so profleien t with ;he guitar, and created so mtloh talk among the neighbors, that her father thought he would better his circumstances by bringing her out with her litle brother George in a concert in Peoria. The night came. The little hing, not much taller than her guitar, amazed and deüghted the audience. Her debut was so successful that her father :esolved to take her on a concert tour. Chis he did, and the child singer ap)eared hundreds of times before deighted country audiences before she was ;Mrteen years old. At the age of thireen little Emma was invited to visit some school friends at Mount Pulaski, not a great way from Peoría. While ihere, knowing the poverty of her father and wishing to surprise him. with money earned entirely by herself, she resolved o get up a concert " on her own book." ihe went to the Pulaski printing office in short dresses, got trusted for her own handbills, and then went and osted them around town herself. On one of these handbills now before me is rinted : Miss Abbott will sing "The Merry 3wiss Girl," a chorus ! The little girl didn't know what a chorus meant, but it looked nice, and so she had it put on the bill. She drew quite a house; took $10, and took $7 lome to her mother. Her father now ecoming sick and discouraged, little imma went down to Lincoln, sang in a school house, and thon came home to jive guitar lessons at twenty cents per esson to pay her own tnition in a select school. At ñf teen little Emma secured a class of twenty poor children, who carne to recite at her mother's house. Dn Sundays she sang in the Hebrew synagogue - a kind old rabbi, Marx fioses, teaching her to pronounce in Hebrew and Germán. The spring of her sixteenth birthday 'ound Emma's father poorer than ever aefore, and the little woman, to lelp her mother, tried to secure a clerkship in a store, but failed. ■She saw her father sick t and discouraged, her mother sick, ánd brothers and sisters hungry. In the midst of tier great distress she heard of a school nine miles from Peoría which needed a teacher. Thither she went on foot through the mud and slush. She found the principal trustee, a kind old man, at dinner. "What do ycu want, my little woman ?" asked the old farmer, as he laid down his knife and fork to survey our little heroine. "I live in Peoria, sir, and I've walked " " What ! walked, child? wa-1-k-e-d !" interrupted the old man in astonishment. p " Yes, sir; and I want to teach your school. " "Well, I declare! But, my child, there are fifteen applications in ahead of yours." 11 But I don't think that any of them need it as bad as I do," said Èmma. " No, and you are the smartest-lookin' one in the whole lot, and as plucky as Julius Oiesar. Have you got your certificate V' " No, sir," faltered Emma. "Well, my girl, if you've walked nine miles through this mud and slush you '11 do to teach school for me. Sit up and have some dinner !" Emma began the school the next week, won the respect of the parents and the love of the children, and in four months took $40 back to her mother in Peoria. After school closed, Emma, asiisted by her father, gave her flrstlarge concert in Peoria. Quite a number of amateurs assisted her, Rouse hall was fllled, the people cheered, and her poor father and mother received $100. This was all used by her father and mother, except $3. With this amount in her hand, she left her father sick at homo and started for Rook Island, to visit a young lady f riend whothottght she might get np a concert in Koek Island. She found her young lady friend absent and her money dwindled to twenty ceutfl "What shall I do?" Bhe said to herself, almost disnoartened. Then a new thought seized her. She remembered her fatlier had once taught music in a family of the name of Deer. who jived over the Mississippi ïirer in Moline. "Mr. Deer vil' sttrely help me," she said, ' ' and I w ül get up a concert there. " Ten cents took Ëmma to Moline, but Mr. Deer -was absent. Mrs. Deer, a crotchety-faced old woïnan, ■was very cross. She looked iusihuatingly at Emma, and said; "Ido'-l't know what a pretty young wornan like you wants of my husband. I guess he hain't got no time to fooi a way gettiug up coneerts." Just then Miss Abbott spied the piano, and asked if she might play something. In a moment sho was warbling a sweet' song. The old woman listened, then diopped her dishes, wipod her hands on her apron, and came and looked over her glasses in astonishment. Just then Mr. Deer entered. " By Jove, Matilda, that's nice singin'," he exclainied. "Who's doin' it?" " My name is Etnma - límma Abbott, sir. Father uBed to teach- - " "Thiindel", yes! I remember Mr. Abbott; but what are you doin' herO? What " [ O ff kü " Well, pa and ma are very poor now, and I've come here to see if you'd help me get up a concert.''' ïiuJMW "Help you? Why, of course I wül. You shall have our church. You're a brave girl, and we'll get yon up a big house,"" And she did have it. She got her bilis printed, went arohnd personally and announted the concert in the schools, and the house wap orowded. The next night Miss Abbott sang again, and at the end of a week she returned to Peoría with $60 in cash. When she showed her money, her astonished mooier held up her hands, and, with joy and sadness ia strange comblnation, exelaimed : " Oh, Emma, I hope you haven't been robbing somebody ?" Little Emnsa was now past sixteen years old. She saw her father and mother getting pparer every day. She knew she had talents, but she had no one to bring them out. Her father was too f eeble to help her. So she started on a concert tour through Ulinois- all alone, accompanied by her faithful guitar. Arriving in a town she would announöe her concert in the schools, sometimes with poor success, sometimes successfully ; but she was always hopeful. She always sent home all the money she did not need to use. At Joliet a Chicago opera troupe came up bebind her, saw her bilis and heard such praises from the people that they engaged her to sing with them for seventyüve nights through Illinois, Indiana and Michigan, where the troupe bxoke up and left her out of money. The next town was Grand Haven. Out of money and 200 miles from home, she determined to give one more concert alone and rftise money enough to take her bome. Poor, friendless and discouraged, it was to be her last effort. The audience came late, and among them was a kind-hearted railroad man, who listened with enthusiasm. " My child, you have the voice" of an angel!" he said. " You must go to New York." "But I have no money." "Well, I wül give you a pass to Detroit. From there you can sing through Canada to the Falls, and some way get to New York. Truat n Providence, aad go and see Parëpa. She ïs in New York. She'll help you," With thanks for the advice, and sanguine with hope, little Emma landed the next day in Detroit, and then crossed over to Canada. Contrary to her sanguine expectations, she found Canada a poor place for her. She stopped at several towns, but hard luck stared at her everywhere. Many times she walked, hungry, from place to place, and once, to raise money, she cutoff her hair and sold it. Music was her love, and she f orgot every discomfort in the midst of of her beautiful songs. Once she f roze her f eet and sang while they ached with the intense pain which follows. The applause of the audience overéame hunger, sorrow and even the pains of frozen feet. Her one intense desire to get to New York and see Parepa. On she was wafted toward the big city. At Lyons, in Wayne county, her money gave out, and she stopped to j sing in a school house. All day long she went without food. She actually sang when f aint and hungry. With the proceeds she bought a good supper, and continued on her way to New York. After two weeks of singing and hoping and struggling, Miss Abbott fmally arrived ia New York, alone and in the night, putting up at the Washington house. The next night she paid her last money for a ticket to tho opera ; but, to her great disappointment, Parepa did not sing. She rinally heard Parepa at Steinway hall, but never succeeded in meeting her face to face. Failing to interest any one in her voice in New York, and solicitöus for thé welfare of her father and mother. Miss Abbott resolved to return to the West. What could she do? She wás out of money, with no friend, except her sweet, bird-like voice. Many a time this voice had been her salvation bef ore, It had opened stonyhearts: So, borrowing $15 from a lady in the hotel, our Iittlo wanderer started for the West. Her money took her to Monroe, Mich., where she hazarded every thing' in advertising three coneerts. The nights were stormy, and Bhe lost all her money. She couid not pay her hotel bill, and tho unfeeling landlord held on to her guitar. With tears in her eyes she1 leit it, and went on to the next town, where she sang in an ioe creara saloon, making money önough to go back and redeenaher guitar. This was one of the niost dismal episodes ia Miss Abbott's life. Sö discouraged was she that when a theatrical troupe came along she was glad to join it for seventy nights, to sing in iown, Kansas, and even out among the Nebraska Indians, sending the proceeds to her motlier. Ambitious of success she now tried, with poor luck, three coneerts alone in Milwaukee and Chicago. The people had never heard of her wonderful voice, and they would not come out to hear one young lady sing. - Her ill success in Chicago and Milwaukee induced her to try the provincial towns again, so little Emma started I for Plymouth, Ind. , where she advertised to sing in the parlors of the United States hotel. The audienco was small, and she had to pawn her gnitarfor $2.50 to pay her hotel bill. She also pawned her concert d'ress, the only nice dress she had, to get money enough to go to Fort Wayne, Ind., a few miles beyond, whore she advertised f or another concert. The concert was in the parlor of the Evelin House, and having no guitar, she engaged tJie nlerk m the music store to play Üer acCorapaninaentB. The few who came were delighted, and her receipts were $18. With. this she went back to Plynionth, reileemed her guitar and dress, and sent $5 to her mother. With bad luck all around hel-, and the future "alihosi; hopoless, Miss Abbott now álinost gave úp in despair. Then the thought that her poor mother and sisters depended upon her impelled her to make one inore effort. " I wül go to Toledo," slie said, "and make one more effort and trust in Providence fbr the rest." Arriving at Toledo, slae advertised to sing in the parlor of the Oliver house. Fate was against her. The small audience, though enthusiastic, did not pay expenses, but the chivalrous landlord refusod to take her guitar. ' ' No, sir 1" said he, forgettinisr that he was addressing a young lady, " George Brown ain't going to take no young lady's guitar- and mor'n that, you can stay and try it again I" Things now looked dismal enough. Her splendid courage began to give out. Behind her fihe sftw nothing büt a three years' struggle with poverty. The future looked as black as midnight. Tho kindness of George Brown brought tears to her eyes, but after it came the dreadf ui thougbt of - suicide. The idea of f ailure in the schcme of her life was dreadful. That day little Emma went with a bursting heart and looke.d off the great Toledo pier, and the thought of jumping off strnggled in her bosom. Sadly she turned away. Howe was gone, but she thought of her mother, and love for her still buoyed hef up. Returning to the Oliver house, she caught a glimpse of Clara Louise Kellogg, then in the zenith of her fame, but in -a moment she was gone. She disappeared, with a piece of music, in the Oliver house. Following after, little Emma enoountered Miss Kellogg's maid. ' Oh, I do want to see Miss Kellogg so much!" she exolaimed to Petrilla. "Oh, can'tlseeher?" " She's just gone in to dinner with her mother, but she will be out in a moment," answered Miss Kellogg's maid. In a few minutes Miss Kellogg came out with her mother. " I'm Miss Abbott," said little Emma, half frightened, "and I do wish to see you so much I" " Kever mind, come in. What can I do for you !" asked thekind-hearted Miss Kellogg. "Iwant you to try my voice. I do think I can sing, and if you only say so I shall be sure," said little Emma, looking up pleadingly with her clear blue eyes " Why, certainly, my child," said Miss Keüogg's mother, who gotup and opened the piano, but soeing little Emma's shabby dress and wild, sad look, she held up her hands and exclaimed : " Why, Louise, wkere has this poor child been wandering?" In a moment Miss Abbott was singing one of her beautiful bailada, full of native sweetness and pathos. As her magical voice toüched tliose high, clear notes which have since astonished the kings and princes of Europe, Miss Kellogg's mother sat in mute wonder. The ears of the good mother of the great singer seemed to feast on the clear, sweet strains ; then she burst out enthusiastically : "Louise! Louise? Do you hear that voice- -how clear - no break there! That 's the voice for me I" That night Mis Kellogg kin Jly gave Miss Abbott a letter to Errani, a singing teacher in New York, and money onough to pursue her studies for for two years. With tears in her eyes, little Emma thanked her benefactor - the singing angel sent by the Lord to lead her out of captivity. Then she came to New York. A home at Dr. Elder's, two years with Errani, and an engagement to sing in Dr. Ohapin's Fifth Avenue church at $1,500 a year quickly followed. Sunday after Sunday that great congregition was melted by Miss Abbott's magie voice. Triumph after triumph came, but still beyond she hoped for more. She longed for fame - for recognition. One day (March 1, 1872) a rich business man, whose heart was bigger than his pocket-book - Mr. John T. Daly, whoafterward built the Windsor hotel - sat down in his office and wrote a little note to Miss Abbott. It was short, but it was worthy of Mr. Daly, who was always doing piinceïy things, and it filled ■her heart with a flood of joy. Mr. Daly told her how he admired her talent and respeeted her pluck, and that if she wished to go to Müan and study he would furnish her the money. "lwant to go," said Miss Abbott, when the writer talked with her, her eyes all the time beaming with gratitude. " It is the hope of my life, but I do not wish to receive so much from one person. If the whole congregation will interest themselves in me how gladly I will go." " Very well," said e leading member, Mrs. George Lake, on the morning of March 20, " I will give $1,000 toward it." Then Mrs. George Hoffman gave $500, Mr. C. P. Huntington $500, 'Mr. John Q. Hoyt $500, Mr. E. L. A. Wetheiell $500, Mr. A. J. Johnson $200, some others $100 each, and Mr. Daly made up the rest, all payable to the order of Mr. D. D. T. Marshall. On Saturday morning, May 20, 1772, a great crowd of friends with bouquets and b,enedictions thronged the city of Paris to bid God speed to Miss Emma A. Abbott on her journey across the Atlantic to Milan. On Miss Abbott's arrival in Milan, Lamperti pronounced her voice a marvei. Nara, to whom Stanley recommended her, after hearing her sing from "Mignon," said, " You must quit the music of Ambroise Thomas and take the grand scores of theraasters." San Giovanni finally became Miss Abbott's teacher. Losing her health, she took a trip to the Mediterannean and back to Paris, where one day she was invited to the palace of the Eothschilds by the baroness, who was so enraptnred by her sweet voice that she ombraced her and became her bosorn friend. The venerable Bolandi, the favorito instructor of Malibran, offered to instruct Miss Abbott in Paris, but Delle Sedie, to whom Nilsson recommended her, finally became her teacher. When he heard her sing he exclaimed, " Mademoiselle, you will y et have the world at your f eet," and Wartel, the distinguished French teacher, said, " When she is finished she will be without a rival in tho world." Madame La Grange said : " My child, you are very like Jenny Lind. Your voice is pure, limpid, powerful, sweet, charmante - charmante 1" Then all Paris becamo wild about the wandering child from Peoria. Adalina Patti ivited her to her villa, and when she sang an aria Patti foldtd her in her arms and said : " I love you because you love your art, and I see you will become great;" Tlien Miss Abbott's f amè went beyond Paris- to London and St. Petersburg. When Franchi, the renowned impressario of St. Petersburgh, heard her sing with Patti he offered her a big price to goto Itussia, and Patti said: "Come, iny child, with me, andt willbe in a box to applaud your debut and throw you your first bouquet. " But she chose to stay and study with Wartel in Paris. One day Wartel interrupted her singing by exclaiming: " O'est magnifique ! You sing like an angel, little one. You will be the glory of America !" A few days ago I picked up the Sun and read this cable dispatch, Mr. Gye, the renowned Oovent Garden impressario, having introduced our sweet Peoría warbler to the most critical court audience of England: " Miss Emma Abbott made a very successful debut as Daughter of the Kegiment at Covent Garden to-night. Though her acting leaves something to be desired, sho possessos a voice of great power and purity, and is almost perfect in her rendering of the charaotor. She was twfce recalled after the first act." And when the big-hearted öhristians in New York read this paragraph - they who, remembering our Savior, put their arms around this toiling woman and helped her up - when they read of her final triumph they said, "Verily, it is more blessed to give than to receive," and all the world responded, "Of such is the kiugdom of heaven I" And when little Emma shall one day stand in our Academy of Music, like Nilsson and Titiens and Lucca, her silver voice filling the air like a ohoir of angels, or hushing the audience by a holy repose, then the Ohurch of the Divine Paternity wiil strew the first bouquets at the feet of her who, loving both the church and the drama, improves all tbe gifts which God bas given her.