Mr Mackay of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh

 

I wandered into unfamiliar waters yesterday. The fault of this piece of sheet music ..

Interesting, thought I. A song -- a theatre song -- published in Scotland ... when? why? And who was Mr Mackay? Why is there no writer's name, no composer's name? Just Mr Mackay ... Is this a trad ballad? Lots of questions there.

Well, apparently the original lyric was written by Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne, who made a hobby of this sort of thing. The music was second-hand, taken, it is said from an older ditty titled 'When she cam' ben, she bobbit'. Lady Nairne's version was published, anonymously, in a set of volumes of songs around 1822. I cannot find any record of it being sung prominently in public until 1826 when it was performed at the Theatre Royal by Mr Mackay ...

The song (already, here, billed as 'old') and the tale went what would now be called 'viral'. It was parodied, adapted, arranged, spoiled, the Laird made the 'hero' of a novel and the name of posh dogs and racehorses, and the little tale of the lass who turned down a lofty suitor became a classic.

Scottish music historians have, I am sure, gone into the history of the song in great detail.  I am here to document Mr Mackay who seems, to all intents and purposes, to have launched the song on its rocket to success.

Many years ago, in my early days of Victorian Vocalisting, I was battling with the history of the soprano 'Claudina Fiorentini' and I came upon a 'biography' of the lady, on line. I wasted time on following up the details in the said article ... and then discovered it was someone playing fiction. I see, à propos, that there is also a published biography of Mackay. But I am older and warier nowadays: it, too, is admittedly fiction. So I, who always do my own primary-sources research, am ignoring anything and everything previously written and getting down to home-made brass facts.

Mr Mackay (always thus billed) was Charles MACKAY. There seems to be some doubt about his year of birth -- quoted, here and there, as anywhere between 1784 and 1787 -- even his gravestone in Old Calton Cemetery doesn't seem to know for sure -- but his father was named Hugh, and the event took place in or around Edinburgh.

At his death, he was granted a vast obituary, which I shall reprint here before double checking it against my own (large) list of professional credits .. because, you know, obits are inclined to be 'selective' ..

OK. Now my version. Facts only, obviously :-)

Our obituarist clearly and/or personally knew something to give Mackay's birthplace as High Street, Edinburgh, and the month as October 1787. So do we accept his say-so? I think so. Because in 1850 Charles signed an affadavit (why?) that he was 'born in one of the houses on the northsaide of the city in the month of October 1787'. Which I daresay is the source for the statement.

But what of his first thirty years? Was he acting? 'made some name at Aberdeen'?  Aberdeen was, at this stage, part of the Northern circuit of Scots theatre, recently come under the management of Mr Corbet Ryder. Alas, I can find no playbills from that place and time. All I know is that, when he was announced for Edinburgh, in 1818, he was said to be 'of the provincial theatres', or 'of the Theatres Royal, Glasgow and Aberdeen'. Glasgow and Aberdeen were 'provincial'??

So, I scoured some more and I found just a few crumbs:

'left Edinburgh for Glasgow when about nine years of age, where he sojourned for five years, thence he became a wanderer in many lands ...'  That sounds like a masterpiece of blurifcation. There is a suggestion that he had been, in his youth, a soldier. Anyway, the article which claims this then jumps a decade to Rob Roy in 1819. Nearly two decades. Well, I can do just a little bit better:

May 1818 'Mr Mackay from the Theatre Royal, Glasgow. First appearance in Perth': Teazle in School for Scandal.

But also: married 18 December 1816 in Greenock: Charles Mackay. To a young actress named Charlotte O'Keeffe. Greenock, eh? So he is already on the 'provincial' stage, it seems, in 1816.

Not much, is it? Anyhow, Charles Mackay was over thirty years old when he made his debut at the theatre of his own hometown, and there he would make his fame.

He made his first appearance at the Theatre Royal on 24 December 1818, playing Old Russet in The Jealous Wife, and, in the new year, he followed up in other roles of the 'old men' line --  Sir Robert Bramble in The Poor Gentleman, Sir George Thunder in Wild Oats, Donald Ramsay in The Wanderer, Fitzherbert in Which is the Man? ...

And then, came Rob Roy. The 'opera' had been produced at Covent Garden in 1818, with Liston featured in the role of Bailie Nicol Jarvie of the Sautmarket 'son of the worthy Deacon Nicol Jarvie'. And with enormous success. In February 1819, it came to the boards at Edinburgh, with comparable success. Hamerton (Rob Roy), theatre manager Harriet Siddons (Helen McGregor), the singing juvenile lady (Miss McAlpine) all fulfilled their roles laudably, Mr Duff scored as the Dugald Cratur ... but the huge honours of the evening went to Mr Mackay, as the Bailie:

'The Bailie could scarcely have fallen into better hands ... The odd humour, honesty and benevolence, the blended courage and fears of the original Nicol Jarvie, werer well conceived and delineated without the slightest approach to biuffoonery and cariacature. He seemed, indeed, to be the indentical merchant and magistrate of the Salt Market, Glasgow, so admirably painted by the unknown author of the novel ..' 'the life and spirit of the piece' ...

Mackay as Nicol Jarvie

The role of the Bailie would stay with Mackay throughout his career, indeed, his life ... he performed it at the greatest theatres in the British Isles to tumultuous receptions and amazing reviews ... and he assumed the character on stage and off for the enjoyment of all concerned.

But, for now, he was a member of Mrs Siddons and William H Murray's repertoire company, and the theatre's playbill, of course, changed every few nights. I've picked up the following pieces and roles amongst those that he played (in no particular order) in the remaining months of 1819:

Lord Mayor in Richard III

Farmer Enfield in The Falls of Clyde

Doctor Gullem in Mr H

Touchstone in As You Like It

Somno in The Sleepwalker

Clown in Twelfth Night

Sir Francis Wronghead in The Provok'd Husband

Launcelot Gobbo in The Merchant of Venice

Old Fickle in The Weathercock

Polonius in Hamlet

Roque/Lope Tocho in The Mountaineers

Anothony Absolute in The Rivals

Starvemouse in Rochester

Chronicle in The Young Quaker

Job Thornberry in John Bull

Baron de Blusterville in A Short Reign and a Merry One

Mr Mackay was not hired as a vocalist, but, as he would prove time and again, he could put over a song most effectively. The Provok'd Husband is the first time I see him, here, with a song ('A woman is like to', originally sung two decades earlier in Lock and Key).

The plays and the roles rolled over manifold into 1820, and brought Mackay a second huge hit. A second role provided by the still anonymous 'author of Waverley'. This time it was Scott's Heart of Midlothian ..

The role of the Lord of Dumbledike was to be another enduring part for Mackay. 

PS I notice that the adaptor is not named, and feel that this version may have been more axed on the men rather than the later favourite Jeannie and Effie Deans, and Madge Wildfire, here played by Miss Rock, the house vocalist. Note Mrs Mackay in the small part of Lady Suffolk.

Donald in The Steward

Sir Solomon Cynic in The Will

Shelty in The Highland Reel

Aberdeen Lingo in The Agreeable Surprise

Sir Hugh Evans in The Merry Wives of Windsor

Hallowe'en or The Vampire and the Water Kelpie

Edie Ochiltree in The Antiquary

Growley in The Budget of Blunders

Picard in Therese the Orphan of Geneva

Pinceau in Henri Quatre

Grand Chamberlain in John of Paris

Jacob in Calas, the Merchant of Toulouse

The Edinburgh Theatre did not run twelve months of the year. In the summer it made 'relâche' and the artists were free to take engagements elsewhere

In 1820, Mr Mackay's 'other' engagement was at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane 

He was also seen as Dominie Sampson in Guy Mannering and as Dumbledike in The Heart of Midlothian and his reputation, henceforth, was not just a local one, but a national one.

Back in Edinburgh, it was more of the same. Not only repeated repeats of his two big hits, but the usual run of other pieces:

Shallow in Henry IV

Don Pedro in The Wonder

Sir Francis Gripe in The Busybody

Andrew Mucklestone in The Warlock of the Glen 

Jemmy Green in Life in London

The Governor of Siberia in The Desert of Siberia

Captain Dugald Dalgetty of Drumthwackett in The Legend of Montrose with trio 'Green Grow the Rashes, O'

Lord Scratch in The Dramatist

Sir Pryer Oldencourt in The Duel

Sie Walter Weathercock in The Dead Alive

Cuddie Headrigg in The Battle of Bothwell Bridge

Marral in A New Way to Pay Old Debts

Bartolo in The Barber of Seville

Friar Tuck in Ivanhoe

Osmyn in The Sultan

Bryce Snailsfoot in The Pirate
Sir Bashful Constant in The Way to Keep Him

Caleb Baldestone in The Bride of Lammermoor

I notice that the role of Nicol Jarvie now had a song: 'Bailey Nicol Jarvie's Journey to Aberfoil'. 

In the off-season, Mackay went to Kilmarnock on 50% of the profit terms!

Jobson in The Devil to Pay

Restive in Turn Out

Plainway in Raising the Wind

Snarl in The Village Lawyer

Brummagem in Lock and Key

Mr Pritchard Flail in The Irish Tutor

The Baron of Brawardine in Waverley

Dominique in Paul and Virginia

Lord Duberly etc in The Heir at Law

Squire Hardcastle in She Stoops to Conquer

Giuseppo in Native Land

Sir John Contrast in The Lord of the Manor

Mr Solomon in The Stranger

Old Mirabel in The Inconstant

Captain Bertram in The Birth-Day

Motley in The Castle Spectre

Gabriotto in The Sleeping Draught

Abednego in The Jew and the Doctor

Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet

Governor Heartall in The Soldier's Daughter

Antonio in The Marriage of Figaro

Robin in No Song, No Supper

Lord Danberry in To Marry or not to Marry

Governor Tempest in The Wheel of Fortune

Marvell in A New Way to Pay Old Debts

Captain Gorgon of the "Thunderbomb" in Love Among the Roses

Admiral Franklin in Sweethearts and Wives

Christopher in Der Freischütz

2nd Citizen in Julius Caesar

Dogberry in Measure for Measure

Lockett in The Beggar's Opera

Quake in The Rendezvous

Mr Tresylian in Dog Days in Bond Street

Mr Aldwinkle in The Spectre Bridegroom

Stanley in Mrs Smith

Duke of Murcia in The Child of Nature

Mr Denhamster Clackit in The Guardian

Justice Woodcock in Love in a Village

Tag in The Spoil'd Child

And, amongst all this, came the third Walter-Scottish triumph of Mackay's career. An adaptation of the tale St Ronan's Well, or the House of Mowbray in which he took the role -- in skirts, for a rare occasion -- of Meg Dodds, the landlady of the Cleikum Inn. So great was 'her' success, that the play was forthwith renamed The Cleikum Inn. And he had a song 'There Cam' a Young Man to my Daddy's Door'. This number was another which, under various titles ('The Brisk Young Lad', 'The Cauldrife Wooer'), was already a favourite, and has become a part of Scottish 'traditional' minstrelsy.

Dromio of Syracuse in A Comedy of Errors

Mons Bonhomme in Two Galley Slaves

Richard Moniplies in George Heriot

Sir Christopher Curry in Inkle and Yarico

Roby Allsprice in The Way to Get Married

Don Jerome in The Duenna

Linco in Cymon

Druggett in Three Weeks after Marriage

Sir John Bull in Fontainbleau

Master Anthony Forster in Kenilworth

Rolama in Clari

Colonel Hardy in Paul Pry

Bras de Fer in Tekeli

Crabtree in School for Scandal

Baptista in The Banditti of Rosenwald

Sandy Macfarlane in Mary Stuart with song 'Bid ye yer'

John Howison of Braehead in Cramond Brig

Shilric in Malvina

Captain Copp in Charles II

Benjamin in Maid or Magpie (aka The Magpie or the Maid)

Bruhl in The Woodman's Hut

Hardy in The Belle's Stratagem

Briefwit in The Weathercock

Mr Harold Grainger in The Miller's Maid

Don Christoval de Tormes in Brother and Sister

Peter in The Cabinet

Sir Harry Sycamore in The Maid of the Mill

Colonel Hardy in Paul Pry

Don Scipio in The Castle of Andalusia

Darby in The Poor Soldier

Titus in Virginus

Lord Sands in Henry VIII

Sir Leatherlip Grossfeeder in Jonathan in England

It was in this period that he sang, on occasion, 'The Laird o' Cockpen' as an addition to whatever play was billed, and the piece was published by the Music Saloon, 47 Prince's Street. Alas, our copy dinna seem to have a publisher's imprint, but I have a feeling this was it. And, no, I have no idea who Alexander Robertson was. There were a vast number thus named, most of whom seem to have hanged, murdered or othwise hard done by.

It was also at this period that he essayed the role of Sir Pertinax MacSycophant in The Man of the World. Which puts paid to the last anecdote in the obituary, which (as so often) thus makes one unwilling to rely on the rest of the eulogy. It was judged not a wise choice, so perhaps he chose to pretend it hadn't happened.

It was also at this period that the Theatre Royal published its salary list. For the 35 weeks of the year that the theatre was open, Mr and Mrs Mackay were paid £4 per week. Mr Jones was top dog at 4 guineas, Calcraft was on 3 guineas, and Mr Duff, the Dugal Cratur of Rob Roy, but 2gns. 

It was also at this period that Walter Scott came out of the closet and admitted that he was 'the author of Waverley'. Apparently there was a merry face-to-face between he and Mackay ... the latter in the character of the Bailie. It made a fun story for the press, whether factual or not.

Yussuf in The Siege of Belgrade

Sir Matthew Scraggs in Englishmen in India

Baron de Boncoeur in The Rencontre

Bygrove in Know your own Mind

Drainemdry in Giovanni in London

In the off-season of 1828, Mackay went to Liverpool to give his Rob Roy. He may very well have visited before, but this is the first time I have caught him there. The Gastspiel was a distinct success, and he would henceforth visit Liverpool for a number of years with his main hits, as well as appearing in the usual number of other plays, at home and away:

Commander Hurricane in No!!

General d'Aumont in Henri Quatre

Mr Solus in Everyone Has His Fault

Mr Sterling in The Clandestine Marriage

King Arthur in Tom Thumb

Astley in The Castle Spectre

Mr Primrose in Popping the Question

Jock Muir in Gilderoy

After fifteen years at Edinburgh, he was now seen more often further afield. Manchester also became a regular date and I spot him doing starring engagements at Carlisle, Dumfries, Aberdeen, Belfast, Newcastle, Dundee  ...

Grumio in Katherine and Petruchio

Midas in Midas

Uncle John in Uncle John

1st Witch in Macbeth

At Edinburgh, he had a new role with a song: Caleb Quotem in the 1808 piece The Review, or the Wags of Windsor (I'm Parish Clerk, I'm Sexton Here') ... 

and, playing now at the local Adelphi, continued on his way

Pickwick in Scraps from Pickwick

Stephano in The Tempest

Landlord in The Ferry of Tobolsk

Old Rapid in Cure for the Heartache

Peter Trot in Town and Country

Poor Peter Peebles in Red Gauntlet

Duncan MacLoom in The Paisley Weaver singing 'The Laird o'Cockpen'

David Damper in Single Life

Peachum in The Beggar's Opera

Shylock in The Merchant of Venice ..

Baldy in The Gentle Shepherd 

I see him in Liverpool in 1842, in Dublin in 1843 and at Liverpool, again, later at the Dunlop Street Theatre, Glasgow (Bailie, Jock Howison) and in Cupar in 1848 ... I see his wife taking a Benefit at Dundee in 1849 ...

He officially retired from the permanent company of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh (a different building, now, from that of 1818) in 1841, and altogether, on 25 April 1848, signing out with a farewell performance of Cramond Brig, but, alas, my last sighting of Charles Mackay 'the celebrated representative of Scotch characters' on a playbill is at Inverness in 1842, still playing Meg Dodds, still singing 'Daddy's Door' ...

'Retired' or not, he worked on, into the 1850s. And, in 1852, he appeared at the Edinburgh Adelphi in The Man of the World. This time, the reviews were laudatory. 'We are not aware of his appearing in the role before' commented the local press. Which is probably where the error in the obituary originated. Rob Roy, Cramond Brig and Gilderoy followed, with Rebecca Isaacs as leading lady .. 

Charles and Charlotte had three surviving children. Their daughter Charlotte (Mrs Shiels) died aged 27. Elder son, Charles Graham, lived into the 20th century while younger son, Hector (b 1826), essayed himself on the stage, with the ghastly 'son of' tag attached. He doesn't seem to have made a mark. Anyway, he ran off to Canada, became a constable, got arrested for murder of a prisoner, condemned to death ... and commuted to seven years' in prison. After that ...

As you can see, I have spent many hours immersing myself in the doings of Mr Mackay. I have found a good deal, but also interesting is what I have NOT found. Nowhere in the thousand contemporary newspapers and playbills that I have scanned have I ever seen him referred to as 'the real Mackay'. Mythology? He was celebrated nationswide as 'Mr Mackay', why would he need an adjective? Yes, latterly there was another Charles Mackay, a successful poet who billed himself thus ... well, maybe I have just looked in the wrong thousand places.

I'm sure there is much, much more to be exhumed concerning Mr Mackay. I've enjoyed digging up this much. Any additions greatly received.

A Weslyan Missionary in New Zealand

 

When I came on this photo this morning in the ebay shop of L M Bonner (aka Laureswan) I thought, I bet he's a ruddy clergyman ...

I was right. But, even better, he was a clergyman in New Zealand. 

Even better, his mortal remains lie in my old home town of Nelson. So I started exploring ...  and it eventuated that he was a memorable chap 'the doyen of Weslyan ministers in the Dominion', and I didn't have to research much, because the Nelson press gave him a minutely detailed obituary ... which I hereby reproduce ...

So our photo can be dated 1875. 

This one, in Nelson Museum, dates rather later!

All those years of missionarying and producing a host of little Weslyans have taken their toll.

I see a descendant has put a very good tree on ancestry.com. So we know that he was born 19 July 1928. Died 28 May 1912. And all the ten children listed. So I sha'n't do it again.

A Bohemian Concert in Kennington 1898

 

A few weeks ago I posted a fascinating document from the 1880s: a music-hall agent's 'availability list' with his clients and their prices displayed for the delectation of some unknown manager.  I had great fun finding out who these mostly unknown-to-me folk were and, with notably the help of Leigh Ireland in England, managed to suss out the identities and careers of many of these bread-and-butter performers of the late Victorian era,

https://kurtofgerolstein.blogspot.com/2024/10/the-1886-music-hall-agents-price-list.html

I'll return to that list some day, for a second search, but in the meantime, I wanted something else to play with, and I found this. 

I realised, straight away, that this was going to be a much harder job. There were very few artists on this vast bill of whom I had even heard. And who was Mr Sutch who could raise such an enormous number of folk to take party in what seems to have been a Benefit show for his good self?

A quick zoom through the company showed up immediately that this was a very local show. Most of the participants lived, like Mr Sutch, in the purlieus of Battersea, Walworth and environs. Professionals, semi-professionals, occasional professionals, not-quite-professionals ...  and very largely comic singers and serio ladies ...

Well, Mr Sutch was a pianoplayer and pianotuner. Henry Alfred SUTCH (b London 14 June 1856; d London 18 April 1939), son of a bootmaker, Henry Sutch, and his wife Eliza née Israel. So I guess he was Jewish. Married to Jane Matilda née Woodman, father of a torrent of children ...  Professionally, he can be seen but little (I feel he may have tuned more than played), but he succeeded in getting a piece of music published by FD&H ..

I also spot him as pianist at a Music Hall Artists Railway Association do at Battersea Town Hall where the topbiller was Dan Leno and Walter Norman from the Horns bill was assistant stage manger; and at another of the same later in the year, at Holborn where the name of Fred Garrick appears. I spy him ('the well-known South London pianist') advertising in the 1890s, in the South London papers' for 'musical societies, clubs, smoking concerts' and as a fixer. He seems to have played selections from the shows (The Geisha, Belle of New York) and accompanied. He was still at in 1912 ...

So, where do I start with the rest? The ones I already know of, I think. I have no idea who the Madames are, but the girls are all striving professionals of the middle-to-lower rank.

Alice CLEVELAND was a sleigh-bells and xylophone artist. She was, at the turn of the century, a member of Madame Lloyd's Choir troupe, where I encountered her in an earlier article. She was active from 1895, into the early 20th century (for a while in a duo with a mandoline player named Tina Volp) ... Alas, I have no photo of Alice and her bells, but here is Christina from Harputley, Lancs ...

I see Alice in 1898 doing her act at Sebright's Music Hall ...

A thorough, if modest, professional was tenor singer Arthur COURT (b Lambeth 1864; d 1 Braemar Ave Wimbledon 9 April 1922) who has crossed my path as a backbone member of the Broughton Black parties. Son of William Thomas Court, carver and gilder, and his wife Sarah née Buckle, he began as a barrister's clerk, but by 1891 he was married (Emma Kate née Cousins) and working as a singer on the piers. From 1895 he was connected both with Black, and the indomitable Walter George's Entertainment performing operettas and concerts (Love's Magic, She Stoops to Win, The King's Command. Katawompos, Uncle Samuel &c) and he was still urveying a Concert Party in 1909.

I'm not quite sure why Miss Maud FRANKLIN was thought worthy of heavy-type billing above the other half-dozen serios. Her billing 'from the Principal Halls' was a lot of rot. The suburban-metropolitan Halls at which she appeared for some half dozen years were the locals: Gatti's, the Washington Palace of Varieties, Battersea ... but she did travel: Ramsgate, Margate, Douglas, Leicester, the minot Manchester houses, Stroud, Hanley, Leeds ... later it was Bristol, the Promenade Pier, Ramsgate .. in 1903 she is still about in South London 'a nice voice and knows how to dance'. One of the innumerable song and dance girls of the era ... a bill-stuffer.

Kate [Charlotte] EPLETT (b Shoreditch, 12 January 1878; d Uxbridge 2 December 1960) was another of the type, noticed for her 'very smart stepdancing'. Father was a musician, Frank Thomas Eplett, mother Kate née Sands. She, too, appears to me eye first in 1895, and by the end of the year is engaged at Morton's in Greenwich. She, also, played at Gatti's, with Leno, and in the major provincial cities  -- Newcastle, Birkenhead, Liverpool, Bristol, Hull -- up to her marriage to Frank Frohn Street in 1904, and even after. Apparently she later dubbbed herself 'Katie Kemp' for a while, but she worked as an actress until the Great War.

Ivy LORENE from New Brighton (I think) was a durable performer, who went through several incarnations. 'Rising young serio' at Bootle in 1891, burlesque actress at the Livepool Star (agent out friend Mr de Vere briefly), 'serio and dancer' 'The Glittering Gem with her routine 'The Bright Moonlight', 'Serpentine dancer', 'serio-comic songstress', pantomime player, 'comedienne and top boot dancer' and according to her 1904-5 Belfast manager 'the Great Ivy Lorene'.  I have no idea what her real name was. I have on idea from where she came or went. But the 'sprightly little serio' decorated the provincial halls for some 15 years before vanishing.

Alice ALTON was another serio, who spent half a decade mainly on the bills at Gatti's. Step-dancer, ballad vocalist ... I see she also played at the Bedford ..   Well, there was an Alice Maud Alton who worked as a domestic servant in Battersea, married a plumber ..

Miriam COHEN was a South London girl. I see her at the Royal Albert in 1897, and giving a concert at the Horns, (April 1898)before she went to play in South Africa, with decided success. She appeared, on her return, in panto at Bradford but then disappears again, possibly to Canada. Or marriage. 

Maud TERRY I know little of, but she achieved a bit more than the other girls. I suppose she is the 'Little Maud Terry' of 1892. And afterwards I see her (or a homonym) as a dancer in odd places before she turns up at Chatham in 1898 'of the Palace, London'. Maud did a bit better, briefly, than her run-of-the-mill consoeurs. She went on from this concert to feature in pantomime at Edinburgh, and then to play good comedy soubrette parts in the tours of the successful musicals The Dandy Fifth (Polly Green) and Little Miss Nobody (Trixie Triplet). Thereafter, I see her in pantomime ....   Who was she? Don't know.

As I imagined, the three Madames were not young serios. They were new to me. But all three were confirmed favourites, as ballad singers, at local smokos and music-clubs.

Madame Bromell (contralto), we are told, was 'an artist well known in South London' in the later 1880s andright through the 1890s, with a repertoire including 'The Lover and the Bird', 'Love's Old, Sweet Song', 'The Gift', 'In Chimney Corner', 'The Soldier's Dream', 'On Venice Waters', 'Sweet and Low', The Wishing Well', 'Sunshine and Rain', 'The Song that reached my heart', 'The City of Rest', 'The Winter Story'. I see her on a number of occasions singing with some of the gents on our list. Also with a Mr Bromell.  I don't know why she was a Madame. My candidate is Sarah Ann Bromell née Mayes, wife of an engineer, who died in 1902 .. lived in the London Road .. but it's a guess.

Madame Atkinson (soprano) was around from 1894, with 'The Holy City', 'Dolly's Revenge', 'Star of Bethlehem', 'Ora Pro Nobis', 'Asthore', 'The Valley by the Sea', 'Angus Macdonald', 'Daddy'. She seems to have quit the South London area latterly and removed to Hampshire .. unless she were the Madame Atkinson (contralto) up in Nelson .. or the singing Madame A in Wales ...

Madame Bowler Johnson (mezzo-soprano) comes to view in 1892, already 'well known in South London', with the same sort of 'ballad vocalist' repertoire. By the 1900s, she was seen as far afield as Woolwich, and I spot her still in the Southwark area in 1909. Who was she ...?

The only other lady on the programme is a 'thought-reader' performing an act with her husband. Ethel Mary INGLEFIELD (b Petersfield 3 May 1872; d Lewisham, 8 October 1939) and [William] Sidney GANDY (b East Stratton x 12 March 1865; d Worplesdon 12 February 1912) lived at Kennington Oval, so they were locals too. They were music-hall and seaside performers, with a range of skills. Ethel's thought reading, Sid's ventriloquism with a doll named Ebenezer Twiddlepump, mandoline duets ... Sid died after a fall from his horse at the age of 47.

The other black-type billing goes to the 'champion clog dancer' Will POWELL (b Walworth 1867; b Calais 19 May 1915) who thoroughly deserved it. Powell, a local Walworth boy, had a fine career as a song-and-dance man, which reached well beyond home ground. He played frequently in the London halls -- the Hammersmith Varieties, the Royal Albert, Canning Town, the Bedford in Camden Town, the Marylebone, Gatti's, the Middlesex, the Washington in Battersea, the Eastern Empire in Bow, the Metropolitan ('Ding Dong', 'I'm a Johnny') -- as well as throughout the provinces, usually with his wife, serio 'Kate Williams' (WILLIAMS, Louisa b September 1869; d 1942) also on the bill.   The couple had a bundle of children, but lost several, before Will became casualty of the Great War, dying of his wounds in France in 1915.

The Hudson-Barber Pierrot Mandolin-Banjo Band is beyond me. I see they played on the lawns at Alexandra Palace in 1900, otherwise zilch. As for Wormwood and Scrubbs ... they were a song and dance act, seemingly amateur, whom I spot only in a smoko at Towcester ('Two tramps', 'Strolling down the Strand') and in concert between 1895 and 1898 in South London ... They apparently did a boxing and dance act.

Which leaves us a baker's dozen or more of gentlemen ... where to start? At random ...

Arthur BLOUNT was the stage name of Percy Walter TURCK (b Pimlico 24 November 1877; d 19 Bennerley Rd, Battersea 23 January 1953) son of a theatrical advertising man, William Turck and his wife, Louisa. An 'acceptable comedian' and 'eccentric vocalist' ('Underneath', 'I don't intend to try', 'I'd like to travel in other climes'), he was another local who strutted his stuff at the Washington et al, and even turned up on the bill at one of Arthur Lloyd's Benefits. Married to Clara Mary née Lemmer, he was the father of one Leslie Blount Turck (31 March 1911).

Arthur [Phillip] COXFORD is pretty surely the chap born in Dalston in 1867, who attended the London College of Music, and began appearing in concerts around Fulham, Walthamstow and Walworth around 1890. So he's probably the Arthur Coxford 'banker's clerk' in the 1891 census. I spot him singing at Arthur Court's concert in 1891, at Brixton, Dulwich, Peckham, Camberwell, Streatham et al with a stout bass-baritone repertoire ('We're Homeward Bound', 'On Guard', 'Honour's Call', 'The Adrmiral's Broom'. 'True as the Compass', 'The Deathless Army', 'The Alarm'). He is 'of 13 Parkhouse Street, Camberwell' in the early '90s. In 1901 he is at 53 Lugard Rd, Peckham with his wife Clara Frances née Cousins and their daughter Marjorie, and he is a stationer's assistant. However, he has started another sideline: as a lyricist. And not just a wannabe lyricist: he words were set by such as Maude Valerie White ('When you return') and Frank Moir ('Shepherd of Love'). About 1903 Arthur's work took him to Ilford where he lived until his death 23 October 1924.    And look! Finally the connection!  

Arthur Cranch is one of the Battersea boys, and he also appeared in Mr Sutch's concert. He was also a semi- or occasional professional. For most of his working life he was a builder, latterly a grocer and off-license in East Molesley.  Arthur Roope CRANCH (b Camberwell 1848; d East Molesley 1932), married Susan Elizabeth née Snow, seven surviving children. Can be seen, on occasion, delivering bass songs from Wandsworth to Worcester to Dover in the 1880s ...

George SEYMOUR 'a young character comedian' seems to have had a short career. He shows up in 1896-7 at the usual minor halls (Gatti's, the Washington in Battersea, the Royal Albert). He clearly isn't the same GS who played the halls in the 1860s, I suppose he was the GS who was a 'comedian and top boot dancer' in 1897, he may be the GS who became manager of the Promenade Pier in Plymouth ... he may even be the 'stationer's cutter' living in Bonar Rd, Peckham in 1901 ...

Fred RAINS (b Lambeth 28 January 1860; b 3 December 1945) may be mildly memorable. He was an organ-builder by trade, did some professional acting and comic singing ('The Waif and the Wizard', 'That is a Woman's Way') appeared in panto from Walthamstow to Hull, at smoking concerts, and became big in High Wycombe. He married a Canadian lady named Emily Eliza Cox ... but what made him mildly memorable was that they had a son christened William Claude Rains ...

Fred GARRICK was the stage name of Henry Sutch's son, Frederick James SUTCH (b Hayles Terrace, St George's Rd 7 August 1885; d Lambeth April 1972). He had a lively career as a singing comedian with a whistling speciality from an early age varioualy billed as a 'coster comic', 'England's greatest whistler', 'juvenile whistling comedian' giving, now and then, songs written by his father. The pair gave a combined concert at the Horns in November 1900. By the 1911 census he had stopped whistling and was barman in the Kennington Rd. He married, in 1914, Louisa Ellen Roberts, was a lance-bombardier in the war, had various jobs over the decades that followed, and lived to the age of 86.

In the Victorian era names were not exclusive or copyright. Thus, artists with the same moniker were apt to turn up, at the same time, and sorting one from the other can be difficult. Here, for example, we have a Walter HOWARD. It simply cannot be the well-known comedian and banjoist from the Mohawk and Moore and Burgess Minstrels. Yes, he fell on hard times before his death, following a stroke, in 1905, but not so hard as the be billed below Miss Frankln. Then there was Walter Howard the actor ...  Ben PHILLIPS is another in the case. There was Ben the sporting fishmonger, Ben of the boxing world and the Kennington Social Club, Ben from the East End Abrahams family ... Our Ben can be seen in 1896 in South London, with Henry Sutch playing his accompaniments.  In 1898 he is purveying 'imitations of prominent music hall stars', notably Eugene Stratton whose 'Little Dolly Daydream' was his pièce de résistance. I see him down Kennington way, in the late 1890s, with George Swayne, Miriam Cohen, Stratton Lowrie, Mrs Bowler Johnson, Mrs Atkinson and - ahha! Walter Howard jr -- oh! I think it's the fishmonger! 191 Kennington Road ... fourteen children .. son Isidore Phillips 'variety artist'. Born Hoxton, 1850 .. father fishmonger in Berwick Street  .. of 140 Lambeth Walk ...

Well, the improbable is not impossible. So I tried Stratton LOWRIE, he who staged the concert. He was for a quarter of a century to be seen and heard in the evenings of the South London musical societies, but that name? Well, his real name was indeed Lowrie, but he was William James LOWRIE (b Newington Butts 19 April 1868; d London 9 July 1929). His first job was as as a warehouseman, his first appearances as a comic songster occurred about 1896, by 1901 his day job was as a chemist and druggist's storekeeper, and his list of local engagements well-stocked ('Things he had never done before', 'Grown-up Children's Games', 'Woman's Ways', 'Father's Box of Tools'): the Trinity Musical Society, the Dante Society, the Doric Society, the Ruskin Musical Society, the Paulet Musical Society, the Non Pareil Music Society. He was Hon Sec of this, and organiser of that, teamed with Ted Bentley and others promoting concerts. I guess in the end it became too much. He went into the real music halls ... as a waiter. Perhaps he hoped the star would drop down dead, and the management would cry 'where's the singing waiter'. In 1921 I see him still performing in the kind of venues in which he had been seen a quarter of a century previously ...

What's become evident as I épluche this list is that, while the girls are striving music-hall artists of little envergure, and the Madames are ballad singing matronae, the chaps are largely amateurs or slightly-professionals with another, basic source of income. Which makes them all the more difficult to weed out. But I may as well try. I think they are probably going to be more in evidence in the odd suburban smoko notice than in real life. 

George [W] SWAYNE seems to have had a good go at professionalism. I see him ('descriptive vocalist') with 'Vento's Varieties', down at Portsmouth in 1891. He is certainly in evidence in South London in the later nineties, alongside others of the local players including Messrs Revealy or Reevely Long (by any other spelling), Walter Norman and Charles Clarke. After 1903, I see 'the popular South London vocalist' no more. Apparently he was a tenor of sorts ('When the sweetest flower dies') but tending to the comic. Ot not. Who was he ..? 

Yes, I've seen Tommie HAWKINS down Battersea way, and the occasional glimpse of the rest of them -- not to mention the other 42 unnamed 'stars' ... but hey! this was music-making and local entertainment in its wonderful days ... before the advent of electric music and television ...  when Entertainment was not a pub drag mime, but the boyos having a great night out being 'Bohemian'. And, gee, Mr Sutch got his 'Grand March' played, and his son a showing ... and I hope he didn't accompany nearly a hundred performers ... ah no. There was a 'full band'. 

Well, that was fun.

Kate Browne: how to wreck a potential star

 

CRICHTON, Kate [BROWNE, Catharine Ann(e)] (b Camberwell, x 19 September 1827; d 65 Boundary Road, Hampstead, 7 May 1906)

 

Many a Victorian vocalist flashed across the London stage or platform and disappeared in the course of a season or two, and many a much-touted newcomer failed to make the grade after a beginning too grandiose and too puffed. For Victorian managers were not afraid – for a variety of reasons, often social or financial -- to launch a young and totally untried singer on their stage, in a vast operatic role which often proved way beyond their capabilities. And, from time to time, a potentially outstanding singer was, in this way, lost. ‘Miss Crichton’ seems to have been one of the most notable cases in point.

 

Catharine Browne was born in Camberwell, London, in 1828. She was the daughter of one Thomas Browne ‘esquire’ of Hull (1786-1860), said to be variously ‘of the Inner Temple’ and ‘of the Middle Temple’ in such a fashion to suppose that he had something to do with the law. If he did, he didn’t stick with it, for on his daughter's baptismal certificate, he was described as ‘merchant’.

On her mother’s side, Catharine was well connected. Barbara Tyler (b 1796; m 21 July 1826, d Hampstead 8 January 1880) was the daughter of Francis Henry Tyler (1755-1815) ‘of Gower Street and Grey’s Inn’, sometime solicitor of the court of chancery and common pleas (and, similarly, later ‘merchant’) and his second wife, the Hon Catherine Roper, daughter of Lord Teynham of Linsted Lodge, Kent.

In the 1841 census I fail to find Thomas, but Barbara is staying in Hampstead with a clergyman named Nathaniel Meers and his family, in the company of what look like her two daughters: Margaret 25 and Anne (ie Catherine Anne?) 15. In 1851, father, mother and Catherine are lodging at 74 Newman Street, in colourful company. Though not half so colourful as that same house would become, once Dante Gabriel Rosetti and his fellow pre-Raphaelites invaded it, some years later.

Although she doesn’t say so, by this time Catherine was a Victorian vocalist.

 On 29 November 1847, Miss Catherine Browne auditioned, under the recommendation of the Earl of Westmoreland (a social introduction was necessary), for a place at the Royal Academy of Music. Cipriani Potter noted that she had a ‘good voice’ and was ‘talented’, and she was admitted to start study the next week under Signor Schira. Her father was listed as ‘merchant, of 66 Andover Place, Camberwell’, so maybe the family did have a home after all.

Catherine was considered forward enough, by the Academy’s last concert of 1848, to perform ‘Come per me sereno’, alongside such fellow pupils as Mary Elizabeth Ransford, Helen Taylor, Harriet Reeves (‘sister of’ and soon to be Mrs Tennent), Salmon, Holroyd, Duprez, Louisa Bellamy et al, and the Musical World judged that she ‘displayed no mean promise’.

At some stage, apparently, Miss Browne was moved from the tutorial care of Signor Schira to that of Signor Garcia, who arrived at the Academy from the Paris Conservatoire in 1848. Sterling Mackinlay, in his biography of Garcia writes: ‘Among the most promising of Garcia's earliest pupils at the Royal Academy was Kate Crichton, who came to study under him at the commencement of 1849 — the year in which Sims Reeves made his operatic debut and music-lovers mourned the death of Chopin. 

Miss Crichton soon showed that the maestro had not left behind him, in Paris, his cunning in the training of voices. As the time approached at which the idea of her debut was taking shape, the advice of Garcia upon the point was sought by her father. The letter in which was embodied his reply may be quoted as showing the deep interest and sound advice which was ever displayed in his relations with his pupils:

‘Monsieur, Veuillez avoir la bonté d'excuser le retard de ma réponse ; une indisposition en a été la cause. Je regrette que le manque de courage tienne en échec les moyens de Mademoiselle Browne et, comme Mr Hogarth, je juge que l'exercice fréquent devant le public est le meilleur moyen de vaincre sa peur. 

Mais, aussi, je pense que les premiers essays (sic) de Mademoiselle Browne vont être fort incomplets et par une sorte dans l'usage de procédes qu'elle ne domine pas encore complètement et par la terreur que bien à tort lui inspire le public. Or pensez vous qu'il faille donner à ses premiers essays (sic) tout le retentissement possible, ou ne trouvez vous pas qu'il serait plus prudent de les faire à petit bruit, laissant à la débutante le temps d'acquérir l'applomb (sic) qui lui manque avant de lancer son nom a la grand publicité. 

Je vous soumets ces réflexions en vous laissant d'ailleurs la faculté de faire usage de mon nom si vous le croyez utile aux interêts de votre enfant. 

J'ai l'honneur d'être, Monsieur, Votre très humble Serviteur, M Garcia. 

 

Alas, the letter quoted is accompanied by no date. But I suspect it to be of 1850 or even 1851, in which year Catharine Browne ended her studies at the Academy.

 

So, Miss Browne (under that name) began to appear – apart from her showings in the Academy pupil shows -- in the odd London concert. The first I have noticed is that given by Mons Godefroid, at Willis’s Rooms on 15 June 1850, where ‘Miss Catharine Browne’ accompanied herself in the Irish ballad ‘Rich and Rare’ and joined the baritone Marchesi in the popular ‘Crudel perche’. ‘A beautiful voice, great feeling, and the simplicity that is too often lost sight of in this kind of music…’ responded the press, ‘exceedingly well sung’.

Back at the Academy concerts, Miss Browne carried all before her: ‘The best by many degrees of the vocal solos was the ‘Batti batti’ of Miss Browne who not only possesses a beautiful voice, but a warmth of sentiment and a satisfactory completeness in her manner of phrasing which gave full effect to one of the most exquisite of Mozart’s songs’ (Times) 

‘Batti batti’ admirably sung by Miss Browne, a young lady of whom we have long entertained high expectations. She has a rich mellow voice, a sound method and a degree of sensibility which imparts a just and natural expression to everything she sings..’ (Daily News)

‘As specimens of vocal performance the most completely satisfactory was that of Miss Browne, who sang Guglielmi’s ‘Gratias agimus’ in a manner with respect to voice execution and style that would have done credit to any singer now before the public..’

However, she and Miss Freeman were heard in ‘With verdure clad’ and ‘He was despised’ with less success, with the Times and The Musical World agreeing that ‘both [were] careful performances but too uniformly tame, a very general fault by the way of the vocal students of the academy..’. Oratorio it seems was not for Miss Browne.

 

Out in the real world, she sang at Mons Ernst’s concert (2 June 1851) alongside Anna Zerr, Stockhausen, Reichardt and others. The Musical World reported that ‘Miss Browne manufactured the two exquisite airs from Otello ‘Assisa aun pie d’un salice’ and ‘Deh! calma o ciel’ into a sort of scena without producing much effect. This young lady who is not devoid of talent should chasten her tendency to exaggeration. She should also be warned that a voice forced in the upper register loses its quality and power below..’ he then went on to criticise ‘Miss Anna Zerr sang the air of the Queen of the Night … the singing of this lady is more extraordinary than agreeable..’. Hmmm. Hard man to please.

The Daily News was less opinionated: [Miss Browne] sang very beautifully and was much applauded. The only fault of her performance was redundancy of ornament’.

Four days later, the young vocalist was heard again, at the concert given by Sophia Messent and tenor Herberte at the Hanover Square Rooms, and the following week she ended her time at school. She ended it with one last concert, at which her contribution was ‘Vedrai carino’ sung ‘with perfect simplicity and purity of style, and great beauty of voice and expression...’ (Daily News). ‘We should have liked [her] very much, but for the too lengthened appoggiatura in the second bar of the melody’ wrote a purist.

 

History does not relate who was behind the engagement of Miss Browne by Mr Alfred Bunn of the Drury Lane opera. Mackinlay makes it sound as if Garcia had something to do with it, Garcia’s letter seems to indicate that father Browne had his hands on the reins. And, indeed, it was not, a priori, a bad idea. The young woman had the vocal equipment to please a public, she was a sufficiently mature 23 years of age rather than the 16 or 17 at which others had been successfully and unsuccessfully launched, and no one seemed much to care that she had never stepped on to a stage in her life. It was by her singing that she was to stun the crowd. And things started fairly well. Bunn cast his neophyte alongside two other newcomers – Mlle Evelina Garcia and Herr Fodor the ‘Russian’ tenor – in the role of Isabella in Robert le diable. Mlle Garcia and Herr Fodor (who was, of course, British) had one advantage over Miss Crichton. Although they were new to England, they were far from new to the stage. Both fine performers, they were both finely received by public and press. And so, without a doubt, was Miss Crichton. Mr Mackinlay quotes a snippet from the Times review of the occasion to underline her success, but the piece needs to be read in full.

‘The lady who took the character of Princess Isabella was a Miss Crichton who on this occasion made her first appearance on any stage. She is very young, deficient in everything that appertains to dramatic effect, awkward and bashful to a fault. In spite of these drawbacks, however, she was successful to a degree which, since the debut of Mr Sims Reeves in 1847, has had no parallel on the English operatic stage. The reason was evident. Miss Crichton (in whose person we recognised Miss Browne, the most promising student in the vocal art in the Royal Academy of Music) is gifted with rare natural endowments. Her ignorance of the stage has nothing offensive in it, and her awkwardness springing from youth an inexperience, is rather prepossessing than otherwise. Her voice, though apparently veiled in the middle register is one of extraordinary compass, and delights by its exquisite freshness. It is moreover remarkable for flexibility, and in passages where unusual exertion breaks through the bonds of timidity, and enables her to throw out all its strength, surprisingly full and harmonious. The possession of true feeling is apparent in every phrase Miss Crichton sings, and her expression of emotion is at times so earnest that the faults of youth are forgotten in the truthful passion of her delivery and the undeviating correctness of her intonation. The first air of Isabella, a florid and difficult bravura, displayed the compass, flexibility and quality of Miss Crichton’s (why not Miss Browne’s?) voice to singular advantage. She conquered her fears by a violent effort, and, giving full vent to all she felt and intended, raised the enthusiasm of the audience to the highest pitch. The uproarious applause bestowed upon this effort appeared to disconcert Miss Crichton and deprive her of her physical means. Her second air (the famous ‘Robert, toi que j’aime’), although continually remarkable for warmth of sentiment, was by no means equal to the first as a vocal display, and we are quite certain that on a future occasion when her powers are more collected, she will be able to sing it at least as well again. The audience, however, were not less lavish of their applause, and the general impression produced by the young debutante could not possibly be mistaken’.

Lloyds Newspaper confirmed ‘although nothing of an actress and deficient in all that appertains to dramatic effect, she made a most successful debut: she has a most beautiful voice of very pure tone and her intonation is most correct. In her first air, ‘En vain j’espère’ she created an impression, in her favour, not often witnessed in the case of a first appearance. She completely established herself with the audience as a singer of very great pretensions, and her execution of ‘Robert, toi que j’aime’ was succeeded by a unanimous and rapturous encore…’

 

To follow Robert, Bunn scheduled William Balfe’s opera The Sicilian Bride (libretto: Bunn) – the composer’s first new piece for a number of years, and also perhaps his most thoroughly operatic offering to the English stage. Sims Reeves was cast in the tenor lead, and opposite him … Miss Crichton.

The opening night did not go badly, but it did not go well for its inexperienced prima donna. She ‘displeased her audience more than once’ and was judged to have had ‘too much to do’ in ‘the arduous part of Bianca’. The Times gave credit to her ‘fresh and beautiful voice … [her] fervour and evident enthusiasm’ but found her overweighted, especially dramatically. Others were less kind:

‘Miss Crichton was painfully deficient in power to satisfactorily fill the task assigned her and in the fourth act her physical deficiencies became wofully apparent’ (Reynolds Newspaper)

‘Miss Crichton has much to struggle against in peculiar awkwardness of manner. Her sleepwalking scene was curiously ungraceful and – meaning to be impassioned in her last duo – she jerked up and down in a manner which produced irrepressible laughter. She sang with great purity of tone and delicate justness of intonation, but the general effect was marred by the two fiascos we have noticed…’

In one duet ‘the effect was marred by Miss Crichton’s want of physical power. Her efforts to produce a breaking voice were very painful and occasionally produced absolute discord…’ and a later duet was ‘marred by the failure at the critical passages of Miss Crichton’s voice...’

‘It was a mistake to assign to consign so difficult and laborious a part to a debutante like Miss Crichton. She must not however be discomfited. In the midst of all her stage awkwardness, enough of intelligence was exhibited to show that practice and study may enable her to obtain everything that is wanting; while her singing, unequal as it was, at periods reached a high degree of expression and refinement’

The out-of-town press summed up: ‘The critics speak of her fresh clear tones and her brilliant execution but regret her want of power to go through so arduous performance’ but continued interestingly: ‘The name of this young and promising debutante is Browne and she is the daughter, we believe, of a merchant in the city who has suffered pecuniarily in business transactions…’

The Daily News, however, returned for a second look on the opera’s fourth night and reported: ‘Miss Crichton, who at first seemed oppressed by the responsibility of her very arduous part, now showed herself completely equal to it. She had freed herself from her embarrassing nervousness and sang with a brilliancy which produced peals of applause from all parts of the house.’

Kate sang Bianca throughout the show’s run, latterly opposite Fedor, replacing Reeves, and she appeared again in Robert le diable, but when Maritana was scheduled it was Louisa Pyne, just a few months her elder, who was cast in the title-role.

And two months later Kate Crichton, with her mama and her papa, left London and headed for Italy. Miss Crichton was to continue her vocal studies in Milan under the best teachers.

 

That story has been so oft repeated that I have always believed it. However, the report in that Manchester paper of Thomas Browne’s financial difficulties has me wondering. His name does not, to my knowledge, appear in any bankruptcy lists, nor any court case. He is not listed in those awful columns of the Times and those bound volumes where debtors and their fates and prison sentences are gathered for posterity. But did he, perhaps, get away in time…?

The story also goes on to tell that (in the words of Mackinlay) ‘Miss Crichton's career, so brightly begun, was brought to a sudden close by her catching a malignant fever at Milan, resulting in the loss of her vocal powers. Had it not been for this, there is no doubt that she, too, would have been among that wonderful band of pupils who won fame in the operatic world for their maestro and themselves.’ 

Yet the British music press of January 1856 reports that Miss Catherine Crichton is resting in Florence from her studies with Signor Romani…

If her voice was irreparably gone, why did not the Browne family return to England? I can’t help wondering if it had something to do with ‘papa’.

 

They did return to Britain, seemingly, about 1858. I say 1858, because, her ambitions as a vocalist gone, either through malady or misuse, Kate Crichton – under that name, turned her efforts to writing. Her first effort was a two-volume novel entitled Before the Dawn, or Perils in Italy, set during the period of the ‘troubles’ Milan had experienced during her stay. Its preface was signed and dated ‘Gower Street 21 December 1859’. A second book, issued the following year, was autobiographical. Six Years in Italy described the time she and her family (‘mama’, ‘papa’ and various visitors) had spent in the peninsula. Judged as somewhat naïve and gushing by discerning critics, it nevertheless did well enough in its time, and 150 years on it has even been dragged hollering from obscurity for a reprint thanks to the jolly 21st century fashion for anything written by a member of the female sex. Kate Browne did not continue a career as an author after her two maiden efforts.

 

According to the annals of the Tyler family, Thomas Browne died in February 1860.  However, unless he’s the Browne who died in Basford, Notts around that time, the event seemingly didn’t take place in Britain. He is, indeed, dead by April 1861, for the census takers of Britain chronicle Barbara ‘widow’ and Catherine ‘lady’ at number 14 Gower Street, ‘visitors’, as ever, at the home of one Frederick Stevenson gent. Whatever had happened to Mr Browne’s money, Barbara was apparently all right as she was (so a later census informs us) ‘living on consols’.

Mother and daughter lived on in London, finally returning to settle at 65 Boundary Road, Hampstead, where Barbara died in 1880. Mackinlay ends his little piece with what seems like a personal reminiscence of ‘Miss Crichton’: ‘ultimately regaining the beauty of her voice, after many years of retirement, she continued to sing to her friends until within a few months of her death in her eightieth year’. 

 

Miss Crichton’s career had lasted four months and two operas. Miss Browne’s preparation for that career had gone on somewhat longer, but it had, ultimately, resulted in only a small handful of concerts. History blames the fever. Maybe. But Mr Garcia, Mr Browne and Mr Bunn may have helped.