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.
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