Published! Brio is out

Last week, I received my hard copy of Brio, the Journal of the United Kingdom and Ireland Branch of the International Association of Music Libraries, Archives and Documentation Centres. This special issue focusses on the Claimed from Stationer’s Hall project and was edited by Karen McAulay and Martin Holmes. There is also a piece by yours truly in the issue!

Some of the articles appearing in the issue

There are some really fantastic articles in the issue, drawing attention to the vast potential for for research based on the music registered at Stationer’s Hall.

My article considers why the music registered at Stationer’s Hall is rarely performed but also highlights the importance of performance as a research and public engagement tool. Much of the music is of its time -the popular hits relevant in the moment, though many have aged badly. Even so, we cannot deny its cultural importance and through performance we can revitalise this music, allowing musicians and researchers to dig even deeper into Britain’s musical history.

I was delighted to be part of the project and the impressive issue certainly brings Dr McAulay’s AHRC-funded network to a satisfying close. However, I am sure she has plenty of plans for future projects and many of the articles offer plenty of avenues for research.

Curious Caledonians out now!

In June this year, I had the wonderful opportunity to return to Australia and continue my research work on music Scottish emigrants who took their music collections with them to Australia. It was a crazy, invigorating, inspiring and exhausting trip! On my previous visit, I was mostly working alone and could only imagine the music in my mind (though I did record two if the songs as well) but this time a whole team of musicians were also part of the process! We now have a stunning album, which not only showcases some fantastic tunes, but also brings to life some really unusual music that hasn’t been performed in almost two hundred years. Here are some further details, taken from the Evergreen Ensemble Facebook page:

Evergreen Ensemble continues their fascinating journey into the sound world of colonial Australia with this enchanting album of instrumental and vocal music drawn from the music collections of Sydney Living Museums and the State Library of New South Wales. Bringing together Australia and Scotland’s finest Early Music talent and iconic folk artists, Evergreen Ensemble weaves stories back through time, rediscovering the sounds of folk melodies performed on period instruments.

For their new album Curious Caledonians, ensemble director and violinist Shane Lestideau has invited four renowned guest musicians to bring their specialised knowledge of eighteenth and nineteenth-century performance styles to the recording. With the help of Scottish researcher, Brianna Robertson-Kirkland, they have delved deep into the nation’s musical archives to discover treasures hidden in the personal music books and manuscripts lovingly bound together by their owners for safe-keeping. Much of this music bears the unmistakable flavour of Scotland: strathspeys and reels, haunting Gaelic airs and arrangements of favourite Scottish songs and tunes. It gives us the chance to ‘listen at the window’ of a Scottish-Australian house in the nineteenth century and consider what place these songs, piano duets and quadrilles may have had in their lives.

The album features the dulcet tones of mezzo-soprano Allegra Giagu and soprano Claire Patti, with Claire also appearing on Celtic harp. Australian violinists Shane Lestideau and Ben Dollman (Australian Brandenburg Orchestra) are joined by Aaron McGregor of the renowned Scottish Baroque ensemble Concerto Caledonia, with acclaimed Australian Baroque cellist Daniel Yeadon completing the string section. Performing on an authentic 19th-century Collard & Collard square piano are historical keyboard specialists Neal Peres Da Costa (University of Sydney) and David McGuinness (Concerto Caledonia).

Curious Caledonians offers a rare insight into domestic and public music-making in Australia since 1788, honouring the extraordinary contributions of Scottish culture to Australian society and exploring Scottish music’s unique ability to reinvent itself in new surroundings. Part classical, part folk, part Scottish, part Australian, this album captures the musical – and emotional – landscape of the early Australian settlement.

TRACKLISTING
1. Miss Susanna Baird’s Reel / Miss Johnston’s Reel
2. Black Mary
3. The Emigrant Highlander’s Wife *
4. The Blue Bell of Scotland
5. Morag
6. Laddie Oh Leave Me *
7. Hit Her on the Bum
8. The Favorite Scotch Rondo *
9. The Hen’s March / Sir George Murray’s Favorite / The Duke of Wellington
10. The Marquis of Huntly’s Welcome Home / [No] 6 Dance
11. Ye Banks and Braes *
12. Jenny Dang the Weaver
13. The Banks of Clyde *
14. Lord Moira’s Welcome / Miss Jeann Stewart of Bohally’s Reel
15. The Horse-man’s Port
16. Queen of France’s Lamentation *
17. Blackbird Waltz
18. La Fenella
19. Don Alphonso

Evergreen Ensemble
Shane Lestideau violin
Ben Dollman violin & viola
Allegra Giagu mezzo-soprano *
Claire Patti soprano & Celtic harp

Guest Artists
Aaron McGregor violin
Daniel Yeadon cello
Neal Peres Da Costa 19th-century square piano
David McGuinness 19th-century square piano & harpsichord

Research: Brianna Robertson-Kirkland

1CD + Digital album | Available 4 October 2019 | ABC 481 8774

Here is a link to the album playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_mkVPeV0hxkV4Bh0EmZWQK5Rz7obURGogg

EAERN at BSECS PG conference ’17 at Swansea University

The rain hammered down outside while I blearily woke from a restless night. Restless, not because of noise or lack of comfort but due to being in an unfamiliar place. I arrived late the night before after a near 8 hour journey from Glasgow to Swansea that involved all manner of public transport except a boat! But, I am pleased to say the long travel and sleepless night was well worth the trip. And yes, this is another, albeit brief, research adventure! 

Apologies for being away for a while. The summer has been spent writing, searching for employment and unfortunately, dealing with a close family bereavement. The adventures that I had so enjoyed at the beginning of this year feel almost a lifetime away now and as time passes some of the inspiration I felt is beginning to dwindle. That being said, this short trip away has reinvigorated me once again, reminding me that there are many scholars working on a whole host of fascinating material. 

It was fairly late on when Elizabeth Ford and I (who together make up our Royal Society of Edinburgh funded network – Eighteenth-century Arts Education Research Network) decided to submit an abstract to attend the British Society for Eighteenth-century Studies Postgraduate and Early Career Researcher conference and quite serendipitously, they offered us a longer slot that anticipated. We were invited to delivery a 40 minute workshop. We wanted to make the workshop useful to both the scholars in the room as well as our own network agenda. Ideas discussed had ranged from staging a music lesson, or doing a large roundtable discussion but neither felt like it would fit the variety of research interests in the room. We finally settled on an introduction to EAERN talking about why we came up with the idea, how it was inspired by WELEC (which if you don’t know anything about, has its own dedicated website https://welec log.wordpress.com) and what we hope to do in the future. We then invited everyone to get into smaller discussion groups and tell each other about their research, if education featured in their work and the challenges they faced, which a more interdisciplinary approach could solve. This turned out to be quite fruitful. Not only did Elizabeth and I get to hear more in depth about people’s work, I think the question triggered just how much a person’s education, whether they be from the 18th, or the 21st century, influenced their later professionalism, domestic life and/or parental motivations. We also were able to learn about other networks that focus on different aspects of education but do not consider specific branches of the arts and I wondered how we could bring these all together. Would our research not be more beneficial and cohesive if the individual networks were more connected? 

But, the main point that sealed how important EAERN could potentially be to researchers is that there is a consensus that having a database or a way to get in touch with area specialists who were happy to collaborate was a must and something that EAERN could facilitate. Dance, theatre, opera, music – these are only some of the areas that regularly intersect, and yet researchers and practitioners tend to work in isolation creating their own methodologies of working and using a variety of terminologies that essentially mean the same thing. And yet, a conversation across these disciplines reveals so many more ideas creating a shared discussion of research experience. How far can we extend this discussion? In doing so, will we gain a better understanding of our research as well as the wider 18th century? I think we would!

A truly fascinating conference and I am grateful to Jack and Jessica, the organisers, for inviting us to come along! 

If you haven’t checked out the EAERN website yet, I encourage you to do so! There will be many exciting activities coming up in the next few months (though it may distract me, once again, from blogging!) https://EAERN.wordpress.com.
 

Music in the Lushington Manuscript & a very productive day

Today has been rather productive overall. I spent my time filming new vlogs (coming soon on my YouTube channel) and uploading a new video all about my work at Chawton House Library, which is available to see here. As much as I love sharing my work through a written form i.e. a blog post, a video allows me to think about my work in a different way. I need to tap into the reason why I am doing the work and explain it in a clear, efficient way. Also, if a picture tells a thousand words – video has the advantage of combining both words and image! But enough on that!

After a trip to the Jane Austen House Museum, where I spotted a very sleepy feline friend in the garden, I came back to Chawton to do some more work on a manuscript I have not as yet mentioned in my blog series. This manuscript is a journal written by Louisa Lushington, who was the daughter of Sir Henry Lushington (1812-1855), British ambassador to Naples. The journal commences on the 4th March 1821 with the family’s departure from Naples for London on board H.M.S. Active. Chawton House Library have a particular interest and connection to this manuscript as it describes a visit to Godmersham Park, where she stayed with Edward Austen Knight (former owner of Chawton House) and his family.

Throughout the journal Louisa discusses music in great detail, particularly on board the ship. Though it would seem that she did not partake in lessons herself while on board, she does note that her brother Frederick frequently had music lessons:

I then hear Frederick’s lessons, read, play the guitar, write music, draw, be sick, or go on deck, according to the state of the weather, the others pursue their different employments in the same manner, except that they go on deck more than I do (Lushington MS, 1821).

Clemnti Square Piano, Jane Austen House Museum

 

She doesn’t pretty up the realities of life at sea, with several mentions of just how sea-sick she felt. But, the fact that she notes music being performed on deck particularly on beautifully evenings is a strong suggestion that this activity served to brighten her time on board. Indeed, it would seem that she rarely ventured out of her cabin except when music was being performed.

After arriving in England, she continues to discuss the musical activities going on around her, including a performance she gave at a friend’s house.

We dined at Sir James’  & he had the guitar brought in the evening, but the coal fire, close shut, doors, & windows, of an English drawing room almost suffocated my musical powers (Lushington MS, 1821).

Home of the Lushington MS – Lower Reading Room, Chawton House Library

 

One might expect that Louisa was used to performing in a drawing room setting, but this quote would suggest the confined space and stuffy atmosphere created an unusual environment and did not have a positive affect on her performance. Was Louisa now used to the open space of the ship deck or was the setting for domestic music making in Naples very different to an English drawing room? More work will need to be done to find the answer to this question!

 

The music master and the lady instructress

The 18th-century may appear to be a very male heavy world. Adam Smith, the Hunter Brothers, Captain Cook, Mozart, Haydn, George Washington, Napoleon, Robert Burns, Casanova – these are all the common figures that may spring to mind when we think of 18th-century history. Some very lucky women such as Austen and Wollstonecraft have made it into the history books but when it comes to female musicians in the 18th-century, there is very little public knowledge or discourse. I almost hear you groaning that old adage – ‘but women didn’t perform music publically in the 18th-century, so why would we know about them?’ and perhaps even: ‘Women weren’t musically educated so there were no female teachers’. Sorry folks – this simply isn’t true and here is why.

To have a famous music master was fashionable and sign of status and wealth for the elite. But for the rest of upper and middle class society music education with a female instructress had the potential to save young women from the lecherous clutches of a male music master. There is plenty of evidence in memoirs and conduct books that women did teach music, particularly mother’s teaching their daughters. The Mother’s Book written by Lydia Maria Child, written as important and considered advice states:

If a child discovered a decided talent for any accomplishment, I would cultivate it, if my income would possibly allow of it. Everything we add to our knowledge, adds to our means of usefulness. If a girl have a decided taste for drawing for example, and it be encouraged, it is a pleasant resource which will make her home agreeable, and lessen the desire for company and amusements: if she marry, it will enable her to tach her children without the expense of a master; if she live unmarried, she may gain a livelihood teaching he art she at first learned as a mere gratification for taste. The same thing may be said of music, and a variety of other things not generally deemed necessary in education’ (Child, 1832: 136).

She goes onto note that if her daughter requested music education, providing that her father was in agreement that the expense should be invested, it would be with the proviso that she would educate her other siblings and this in turn would prepare their daughter for her role as a mother or future teacher of the art (1832: 137). This is very practical and economic advice, where educating a daughter in music is not just an investment in her social elevation but could be used as a mode of professional employment or the future professional employment of her children.

Novelist Mary Brunton become a proficient musician under her mother’s instruction and indeed music is a major topic of conversation throughout her novel Discipline (Brunton, 1832: 5). The music education the protagonist of the novel received in her youth turns out to be her saving grace. After being forced to leave her position as a governess, she  ‘applies to every music shop and makes known her qualifications at every boarding school’ before finding employment with Mrs Boswell, whose only interest is that her daughter learn piano and singing (Brunton, 1815: 306).

I already discussed in a previous post about the scandals of the music master, from whom parents were frequently warned to protect their daughters and while this may not have deterred some families from employing a male music master, there was plenty of advice such as that written by Anna Letitia Barbauld, who strongly recommended in her Memoirs that young ladies should have their ‘education super-intended by a well-bred woman’ (Barbauld, 1826: 22).

So it may not have been fashionable to have a female teacher, but there were plenty out there in the 18th century who were in employment and who also taught their own children. But it is only now that these women are being recognised for their influence and importance in the discourse of music history and the shaping of music education.

Some reflections and the motives of a music master

In this blog, I mainly discuss my adventures and research – hence the name, but this evening please permit me a short reflection on the past year. This time last year was one of the most difficult periods of my life. Nothing particularly bad had happened. On the contrary, I had submitted my PhD at the end of January and was awaiting my viva. Several of my friends had already passed their vivas and were waiting for the June graduation. I made a somewhat ambitious decision to graduate with them, but considering my viva was in April, it would mean I would need a straight pass or VERY minor corrections to make the graduation deadline. If anyone wants to know exactly how I was feeling during this period, you can read my blog posted on the SGSAH site from last year.

I dug myself a hole of self-doubt, which lead to an ugly spiral of feeling completely out-

Chawton Countryside

of-control. I didn’t know how or where to look for academic positions, what the next step was in terms of research, and at every turn questioned if I was good enough for the education I had just undergone. In a period of what should have been freeing and relaxing, I felt nothing but dread and panic. After the viva and graduation, this feeling lifted a little, but I still didn’t feel like myself and was desperately searching for opportunities to gain back structure, confidence and self-worth.

I tell you this because if it had not been for that period of ‘desperation to achieve’ I would not have pushed myself to apply for the current Visiting Fellowship I am on, which allows me to sit in a beautiful four-poster bedroom looking out into one of the most picturesque countryside’s I have ever seen. Nor would I have had the opportunity to travel to the other side of the world as I did last month. I may not have a permanent academic position as yet but I have achieved a lot since completing my PhD and this will hopefully stand me in good stead for positions that do arise. I also feel revitalised and filled with ideas that can be turned into larger, long term research projects. I realise I will not always feel in-control while I don’t have a permanent job, but this period away has helped me to centre myself once again and recognise my achievements. So, if there are any PhD students or recent graduates reading this who are feeling the same – there is light at the end of the tunnel and don’t let self-doubt get in the way of opportunity.

I will leave my reflection there and move onto the scandalous music masters!

There are a number of literary accounts that paint a sordid image of the music master. Les Liaisons Dangereuses [Dangerous Liaisons] is one of the most famous examples where the young Cécile falls for her dashing, young music tutor Chevalier Danceny. But this extends into other literary examples. I was reading the 1835 novel Maid in the Village by Mrs Kentish this afternoon, which provides a similar example of the dastardly music master who lusts after his young, virginal student. The novel reads like early 19th-century ‘Mills & Boon’! To give you an example, the young instructor Ambrosio is described as having ‘first placed [the young Aurora’s] pretty fingers on the strings of the guitar [and] had taught her to mingle her sweet voice with his in the melodies of her country’ (Kentish; 1835: 35). It describes them as having been childhood friends, but  the older Ambrosio, who had been Aurora’s first tutor in English, drawing and music at some point changed his motives for teaching her. Indeed, her parents are delighted about their daughter’s rapid improvement made possible through Ambrosio’s constant attention, but he states that ‘a far more powerful motive urged his stay!’ The author could not have given a bigger *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* to Ambrosio’s intentions with being explicit!

While there are these obvious accounts of the ulterior motives of the music master who lusts after their student, I also came across an account from the point of view of a fictional father who feared a music master becoming affectionate with his daughter.  In The Women of Fashion or the History of Diana Dormer from 1767 there is a letter exchange between Eliza Camply who is discussing her niece and Mrs Frampton. Camply notes that the father of her niece desired his daughter to improve her sweet singing voice, but would only allow a blind organist into the house to give her lessons. While the situation is noted as not being ideal, Camply assumes that her niece’s genius would allow her to improve rapidly (1767: 47).

In a follow up letter, the same niece seems to have had the opportunity to learn from a younger music master called Henry. Her aunt describes how her temperament is much more ‘agreeable’ and the pair openly ‘avow their Friendship’. It does not explicitly state that Henry and her niece are more than teacher and student, but the emphasised discussion on their strong friendship and her change of mood is perhaps hinting (1767:66-67).

These are just the couple of accounts that I came across today and while they do not specifically discuss the dynamics between teacher and student, this literary, fictional gossip about the student-teacher relationship is perhaps a reflection of real-life situations. After all, the fictional gossip had to be based on something…

Finally! – a literary account of music lessons

The problem with my research project is that it does not led itself to efficient searches. As I have been browsing through the Chawton House Library catalogue, I could type into the search engine ‘music’ or ‘singing’ even ‘lessons’ but this will bring up items I am not really looking for. What I mean by this is that music manuals and ‘how to books’ will typically crop up and while I am very interested in female music teachers of the 18th century, I am not really looking for more on the ‘master’s perspective’ of the music lesson. These are always used as the main basis for understanding the development of music education in this period, but I am looking for something a little more…deep, for lack of a better term. I want to know more about the difficulties of learning to play, sing and understand music. Why did people think it was important, or not important? Why did young ladies start to learn and continue to learn music? I want to know more about those heart to hearts that students and teachers had in the lesson environment. However, to find this information I have to read a lot of novels. I have joked at this being a lovely, onerous task, but it can be really frustrating to read through a number of novels where music might appear in the briefest of mentions.

To my delight, I came across a novel today that not only talks about the experience of a music lesson but both the teacher and student are women. In the 1815 novel entitled Zeluca; Or, Educated and Uneducated Women the title character is the epitome of an educated woman. The novel opens with a conversation between Zeluca’s mother and her governess, who is being dismissed as Zeluca is no longer in need of her services as her mother plans to superintend her studies. This spurred my memory of reading Gesualdo Lanza’s music manuals, which were designed to be used without the assistance of a master. Rather a parent could acts as superintendents of their children’s music education with his book. I had found this unusual at the time I was looking at it, but I have now come across a few references to parents taking over the supervision or only ever being responsible for their children’s education.

Lanza’s Elements of Music, 1819

Back to the novel! If Zeluca is the educated woman, her friend Marianne represents the ‘uneducated woman’. Her brother had managed to teach her some grammar, a little French and he had even purchased a second-hand harp lute to allow her to learn ‘her notes’ but ‘that was the sum total of her accomplishments’.

 

Zeluca, seeing Marianne’s interest in music sets out to become her instructress. She requests a piano to be sent and set up to allow the instruction to begin and Marianne notes that her tutor rarely allowed a day to go past without a lesson. Lessons took place each morning over a lengthy period, but this all comes to a crashing end when another young lady comments of their playing together. Mrs Bessaly who seems to be complimenting Zeluca’s teaching comments that Marianne executed her part just as well as her instructress. From that point on, the instruction ceases as Zeluca fears Marianne has become as accomplished as she, but this is very much to Marianne’s disappointment.

 

Exercises for Ladies, Donald Walker, 1837 

 

Though I have paraphrased the passage, much is learned about the dynamics of the music lesson that can been seen in a traditional manual. Zeluca is keen and determined to instruct Marianne and through this determination her pupil excels in her musical abilities. But, rather than seeing Marianne’s progress as evidence of her skills in teaching, after her students proficiency is compared to her own she fears that she has imparted all her knowledge. Morning lessons take place daily, which seems to have been the common time for music lessons during the period. Mrs Gooch, as discussed in a previous post, received lessons from Rauzzini each morning and even Jane Austen used to practice piano in the morning.

Later, in another conversation with a different character the complexities of obtaining music lessons is revealed. Marianne is ridiculed for not receiving lessons from a known master and that she would never be able to amount to any sort of fame through music. But Marianne explains that she liked receiving instruction for ‘the pleasure’ alone and not for the hope of fame. This passage links together all of the expectations of women throughout this period. They were to be knowledgeable, without appearing to study. They were to be accomplished, without practicing. Their education was apparent but never visible. It is not just a discussion of music education, but music is a perfect example of the difficulties a woman faced in attaining an acceptable level of ability. Music is an odd bridge between accomplished lady and working woman – a line that several ladies of a certain class were careful to tread.

This is a beautiful example of the dynamics of music education between a student and her ‘instructress’ as it ties so many strands together. I better read to the end of the book to find out what happens to Zeluca and Marianne’s friendship!

What a find at Chawton House Library!

There are times when I am in the right place, at the right moment, the stars align and that last piece of a complex puzzle falls into place. That day was today.

Darren Bevin, the wonderful librarian at Chawton House Library kindly agreed to give the Visiting Fellows a tour of the reading rooms and basement stacks. The collection holds a vast number of books, and as we entered the final basement room, he explained that even more books had recently been donated but not as yet catalogued. Encouraging us to take a look, I was leisurely searching through the stacks when my colleague pointed out a book on musical games.

‘That is funny,’ I thought. ‘The only musical game I know of is Anne Young’s musical game, but it can’t be anything to do with that’.

Anne Young’s Musical Game at Decorative and Arts History, Museum of Ireland

For context, I had been looking into Anne Young’s (c.1788-1804?) musical game a couple of years ago and though the game was invented and patented in Edinburgh, only one copy of the physical game was available to see in the Decorative and Arts History building, which is part of the Museum of Ireland and one has since turned up at the V&A in London. A copy of the patent was available at The Mitchell Library in Glasgow, and while this did contain instructions on how to play the 6 different versions of the game it was very dry to read and didn’t provide any insight as to why Anne chose to invent such a tool to teach music theory.

 

Furthermore, despite being the only woman to receive a patent in 1801 and the first person to receive a patent for an educational game designed for musical ‘amusement and instruction’ she did ‘not merit her own citation in Grove’s 29-volume work, but was mentioned incidentally in the entry about her husband, John Gunn’ (Ghere & Amram: 2007). The patent did refer to an instruction manual and after some digging around I found that Anne had written a music treatise entitled The elements of music and of fingering the harpsichord, to which is added a collection of airs & lessons for the harpsichord or piano-forte published in 1788 but I could not find any other information about the game. And it seemed no one else had either as only one article appeared on the subject by David Ghere and Fred M. B. Amram from 2007. So several questions remained unanswered including ‘Was the game considered a success?’…

That is until now!

Those two books on musical games are none other than Anne’s original instruction manual from 1801 printed to accompany the physical game and a further book entitled An introduction to music in which the elementary parts of the science and the principles of thorough bass and modulation as illustrated by the musical games and apparatus are full and familiarly explained. This book was published in 1803 and not only includes a preface that explains why Anne invented the game, but also information on ‘the science of music’ aka music theory and clear instructions on how to play. Anne even notes that:

When the Games were published in 1801, they were received by some of the most intelligent and judicious masters, with a degree of attention and approbation, which was very gratifying to the inventor, and demands her warmest acknowledgments (Young: 1803: x).

Unfortunately, Anne does not hint at who these eminent masters were, but it seems the game was somewhat successful considering it warranted a further publication 2 years after its invention. Anne does go onto admit that the game was initially published with the purpose of being played by those who already had some musical knowledge, but this publication was specifically designed to enable those who did not have musical knowledge  to play, hence why she included information on ‘several branches of the musical science’ (1803: xii).

Courtesy of Chawton House Library

The emergence of this book also lays to rest a query brought up by Ghere and Amram who questioned if Anne had married her husband, who was also a music educator in 1803 or 1804. This book was published in 1803, where her name was clearly printed as ‘Anne Gunn, (late Young)’. With this new information, it shouldn’t be too hard to track down the month in which it was published and find out a more exact marriage date for this power couple of the early 19th-century musical-world.

Courtesy of Chawton House Library

Much more work will need to be carried out on these two books to find out if there are changes or discrepancies between the methods of play or language used in describing the games as well as figuring out how to play the games themselves. However, Chawton House Library has once again highlighted the importance of a long forgotten woman, influential in her day.

Music master scandal…or was it?

Today, I spent more time working in the fantastic library at Chawton and while I read many, many books trying to track down literary references to music lessons, I am most intrigued by a rather scandalous account retold by Elizabeth Sarah Villa-Real Gooch (1757-1807) in her memoirs The Life of Mrs Gooch. Perhaps Elizabeth felt that retelling the story in her owns words would somehow vindicate her name, demonstrating that she was not at all a ‘fallen woman’, but her account raises a few eyebrows.

Before getting into the ins and outs of the scandal, a little on Elizabeth. She was the daughter of a wealthy Portuguese Jewish merchant William Villa-Real, who was the grandson of Joseph da Costa (1683-1753). After being pursed by William Gooch, whose father was Sir Thomas Gooch of Bath, they were married in 1775 after only knowing each other for 4 weeks. Elizabeth was 17-years-old at the time.

Elizabeth describes William’s parents Sir Thomas and Lady Gooch as ‘never having taken a liking’ to her and she despised visiting them in Bath. In fact, she despised visiting Bath in general and far preferred her home in York. However, after the birth of her son in 1776, her husband decided to move the family permanently to Bath as of 1777. And from there our scandal begins…

Elizabeth notes that on a previous occasion she had sent for the castrato Venanzio Rauzzini (1746-1810) who had recently started to hold concerts in Bath. He was previously the lead singer of The King’s Theatre but had announced his return to the continent in the summer of 1777 with his final benefit concert being performed on the 4th July. Alas, Rauzzini never returned to the continent and remained in Britain until his death in 1810. Had he returned to Italy, the following episode would not have ensued and Elizabeth might have remained in her strange and somewhat unhappy marriage.

Elizabeth notes she had been ‘anxious to become a scholar of Rauzzini’s, who after being sent for, attended her each morning. She goes onto say that his public and private concerts were one of the only pleasures she partook in while in Bath.

So let’s set the scene a little more, graphically…

We have a desperately lonely woman, who despises the town she is forced to live in and her parents-in-law who are the reason she has been brought to said town. Her husband appears somewhat absent and one of her only joys is music. She has managed to secure for herself a music master who is a singer she deeply admires, and he comes to her home to give her lessons every morning. Now this may sound like a series of episodes leading up to a soap opera style drama, where Elizabeth was caught in the arms of her music master, spread in a precocious position on top of the harpsichord; however, the real scandal surrounds nothing more than a note.

Elizabeth claimed that Rauzzini handed her a note, written in French at a concert she was attending that stated:

‘Nothing more than an apology for his not being able to attend me the next morning, being obliged to go into the country; with an assurance, that he should return time enough for the concert, and stay the ball, on purpose to have the pleasure of seeing me.’   ‘

Yet, this note, which Elizabeth proceeded to misplace, resulted in her husband finding it and led to her public downfall and short expulsion from Britain. The note itself seems innocent in Elizabeth’s retelling, but she also states that Rauzzini had looked for it to be returned to him and once he found out it had been lost, led the castrato, his friend La Motte and another student and friend of Elizabeth, Louisa Kerr, to construct an elaborate lie where everyone agreed to say the note was written by another gentleman as a joke to Miss Kerr. Elizabeth protests that she was not comfortable with this construction, but proceeded to feed the lie to her husband anyway, which added fuel to the flames.

I reread this account several times, partly because it gives me so much information about the politics between a music master and his amateur students as well as practical arrangements, such as when lessons took place, how they were arranged and the benefits as well as downsides of having wealthy amateur students who clearly were in regularly attendance at subscription concerts (the 18th-century equivalent of subscription TV), but I also felt like I was missing something.

Why would Elizabeth go along with such an elaborate lie, if she is innocent? Why would she feel ‘fear’ that her husband would find out about the note. Certainly, one could construe Rauzzini’s reference, ‘the pleasure of seeing‘ you, as something more than collegial, but surely she would have done better to explain to her husband this was nothing more than a friendly statement? And then, why would Rauzzini refuse to have anything more to do with the situation if it were not more sordid? I suppose the answer to this final question is that the situation was already twisted into a sordid affair anyway, so he needed to keep clear to assert his innocents.

Alas, the mysterious note has long since disappeared into the vaults of unearthed history, but the scandal of Mrs Gooch, who maintained her innocents throughout her life remains. While her name was dragged through the mud and she was ‘reduced’ to becoming an amateur novelist (where she does discussed music frequently), Rauzzini’s career in Bath flourished. He built a healthy student base and ran the subscription concert series in Bath until his death. Unfortunately, in this scenario the reputation of the music master was saved, while his student was disgraced.

A day in the library…

So quite unlike the beginning of my adventures in Sydney, in Chawton I have launched straight into research on my very first day following my arrival. Now, this is partly because I don’t feel jetlagged after a full day of travelling on planes and resetting my body clock by 12 hours, but it is also because I only have 3 weeks to work through an ambitious research project. I don’t think the staff were quite prepared for my usual pace of working, where I asked for 30 books…to start…

Chawton House

The reason for so many book requests and a particularly brisk working pace is that I am not exactly sure where to find what I am looking for. I know that music is frequently discussed in novels. I know that music teachers are mentioned and I know that most of the characters (as well as the authors) will have had some form of music training – hence why they can give such detailed reviews about the concerts, operas as well as comments on others musical education. Take this quote from Mansfield Park for example:

“How many Miss Owens are there?”
“Three grown up.”
“Are they musical?”
“I do not at all know. I have never heard.”
“That is the first question, you know,” said Miss Crawford trying to appear gay and unconcerned, “which every woman who plays herself is sure to ask about another. But it is very foolish to ask questions about any young ladies – about any three sisters just grown up; for one knows without being told, exactly, what they are; all very accomplished and pleasing, and one very pretty. There is a beauty in every family; it is a regular thing. Two play on the piano forte, and one on the harp; and all sing, or would sing if they were taught; or sing all the better for not being taught, or something like it” (p300).

In this short quote, Austen paints a very clear picture about the expectations of socially polite, moneyed women in early 19th-century Britain. Her character doesn’t even need to meet the Owen sisters to know that they will have some musical accomplishment.  So far, I have found similar conversations in novels and memoirs. Most young ladies were expected to have some musical skill but only after skills in sewing, reading and languages had been obtained. In fact, in a novel by Barbara Hofland printed in 1825 called Ellen, the teacher, Ellen explains to her young student Maria who is struggling to grasp the most basic skills that she should not pursue a musical education as she could not give it the time ‘necessary for proficiency’ (p. 128). This is despite the students protests that her friend was already receiving instruction in music and dancing. So while music was an important subject for a young lady, the evidence so far is suggesting it was not as high up on the list of skills to attain as I have previously assumed. More anon…

Sping time is here!

After a hard day reading book after book, I went for a short exploration of Chawton Village. Chawton House was indeed owned by the Austen family, but it was the primary resident of Jane’s brother Edward Austen Knight. However, a quick walk into the village and there pops the Jane Austen House Museum, formally known as Chawton Cottage. This is where Jane resided for the final 8 years of her life and where some of her final books were written. It was closed by the time I arrived, but I will no doubt be heading down for a tour during my trip.

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