A TALK WITH NORDICA

Nell Nelson Interviews the
Charming Songs-
tress.
A Self-Reliant American Girl's Success-
ful Struggle With the
World.

What shall we do with our girls? is a question that Mme. Lillian Nordica is very competent to answer. She was at the piano in her private parlor at the Victoria, singing at the top of her voice, when I called. "Just running over 'St. John' for the Handel Society of Boston, where I am to sing Monday evening," she said.

Lillian Nordica "You want to know what I should do with 'our girls?" That's very readily answered. Make them work, every one of them! I don't believe in cuddling a girl. She has a place in the world and she should be made to fill it. If she has not been favored by the gods then let her do as her brother does – select some profession or occupation at which she can support herself." "Would you have her go out in the world?" "Of course I would if she is invaluable at home." "And struggle with men for a livelihood?" "What braver better competitors could she have?" "And lose her womanliness in the fight?" "No, not a trace of it. I have always had my way to make in the world and I know I am womanly. Association with men does not make a woman masculine. The sweetest, loveliest and most womanly women are the wives and mothers of America." "Supposing you did not possess your enchanting voice and lacked your knowledge of music, could you make a living for yourself?" "If I were turned into the streets of New York tomorrow, friendless and poor, I am satisfied that I could earn an honest living at once, and a good living in a few months. I am ambitious as well as proud, and as soon as I succeeded in establishing confidence I should have the employment best suited to my taste and ability." "Won't you be specific?" "Certainly; aside from my art I can do a hundred things, any dozen of which I could turn to profit. I am a capital housekeeper, if you will pardon my pedantry. I can cook like a chef. Don't you think I could get a place in a city the size of New York to make pancakes, bread, salad, croquettes, soup or gravy? Indeed I could. And if I put on a fresh cambric dress and went into an employment office as a candidate for the kitchen, nursery or dining room, I flatter myself I could select my employer. "I'll tell you this much, though, I wouldn't do housework the way the Hercules of the kitchen does it. I would do it my own way, and do it so well that the mistress would have too much respect for my skill to treat me discourteously. Then, too, I'd be vain, vain as I am now, and if I couldn't wear Worth gowns I would wear pretty calicoes, clean collars, bright aprons and light shoes. I'd wear a cap to keep my hair clean and gloves to keep my hands smooth. "But housework is hard and housewives are often unkind. I might do as many bright girls do – sell goods." "Could you sell goods?" "If my tongue was as active as it is at present." "No, I am intolerant of lazy, idle, aimless girls. They should be trained to do several things well, but one better than all others, whether it is to lay carpets, hang curtains, sew swoop, iron, dust or make garden. If I were less fashionable I should effect ignorance of all such work. As it is, I am inclined to be vainglorious, for I can lay carpets, cover furniture, hang curtains, drape portieres and lambrequins, and I can plant seeds and vegetables and coax them to grow and ripen into beautiful flowers and kitchen luxuries. I can run the machine, too, and sew lace or leather. You see I know what it is to be helpless. I have been one of the class you designate as 'our girls.' "About the indignities a self-supporting girl has to encounter," Mme. Nordica went on. "I did not receive any. I refused to see an incivility that I could not resent. Often my feelings were hurt, and there were times when I failed to get the consideration that later came with my success, but I not only escaped rudeness on the street, but rudeness that might have been offered in private parlors."