Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Yamba Breakwater: The early bird catches the spume!

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Wednesdays are special. It's our Yamba Farmers Market day. The early-morning event of my week. Yep, up at 6am, down the hill by 7am ... struggle up with full bags an hour or two later ...

This Wednesday was extra special. Paul arrived this week from Berlin, new CD in the can, and with a few weeks at home before he goes to even more southern climes for concerts and festivals. So this morning I didn't have to walk down the hill: we drove! Oh, don't get me wrong. I love the walk, but if I get driven I can BUY SO MUCH MORE ...!

And we did. Three bags full sir! Full of wonderful farm-fresh produce. But going to our market isn't just shopping. It is an event. A specially-nice coffee and ... what! ... today, there were home-made cinnamon buns!


And while you slurp and guiltily nibble,  you have the lovely strains of a harp to listen to. Yes, a harp. How wonderful is that? Ours must be the only farmer's market in this world that offers pure, natural, unamplified, live harp-music while you shop, drink and eat ...


I know. Whenever I write about Our Market, I inevitably include delicious photos of my purchases. But today I have other photos. Since we had the car, we were able to stash our bags of trophies in the boot, and, thus unburdened, we took to the Breakwater walk. It is a delightful walk, out into the Pacific, by Turner's Beach, and we've done it every year since I first came here. It was getting a little bit underfoot-tricky for me, with my wonky legs and feet, but the splendid Powers-That-Do-Public-Things round here have recently surfaced the path, so I can navigate the whole length of the breakwater without my walking-stick or even a supporting arm.


The views, in the white light of early morning, back across the bay to my home, are grand. But, best of all is the wildlife. In the early hours of daylight, the lizards -- small to huge -- had not yet come out to sunbathe, and some birds were still snoozing, immobile of their rocks ..


But there was plenty of 'wildlife' to be enjoyed ... the dolphins and the early-morning surfers caracoling in the bay

the early bird catches the spume

Swallows swooping full-speed, oh so near the rocks, and Willie wagtail darting hither and yon and occasionally stopping for a breather

Coming in to laaaaaaand!


And unimpressed by the feats of waterskills behind him ..


Wilhelmina Wagtail, practising her ballet exercises

Ara...besssssss...que

and even the occasional friendly pooch, out for his morning constitutional


The last of the night's fishing fleet, floating in from the horizon ... last night, on the way home from dinner, we saw their lights ... hard at work on the edge of the sea and sky ...


So, leaving the birds, the surfers and the dolphins we headed for home.

No mixed bathing! Dolphins to the left, please!

Beanies at 7am
And now, after a jet-lagged snooze, Paulie is putting the market-goodies to goodie use in one of his wonderful soups ...

Yes, I like Wednesdays.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

Little Treasures of Musical History ...

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Yesterday, my borrowed computer took me into corners of the web which I hadn't discovered before. Yes, all on its own. It shifts, usually on to an advertisment, hands-free. Mostly, this is infuriating. But this time it was a joy. So I spent many hours amongst the on-line shops, related to ebay, revelling in old programmes and ephemera. And amongst a rather good lot of stuff, and a lot of ordinary, I found some items which to me are 'little treasures'. And one which is, to me, a wonderfully delicious treasure.

So here goes. To begin with, three items which should interest Australian historians. A rare breed, but I'm sure someone out there will like these ...

This is a bill for the little opera company which would, eventually grow into Australia's first important resident company. William Saurin Lyster manager for prima donna Rosalie Durand, baritone Fred Lyster (his brother), English vocalist Georgia Hodson, of the well known Hodson family of singers and musicians, and supporting players Frank Trevor and Ada King are all already in place ... although, once the company got itself a tenor, Miss Hodson wasn't obliged to play men all the time.

 

A little more than a year later, the 'New Orleans' had been dropped from the bills, and the tenor had arrived. As had the genuine prima donna, needed to allow the company to expand into a broader repertoire: Henry Squires and Lucy Escott would become the backbone of the Lyster company, Georgia could relax back into being a mezzo in skirts, and Rosalie got a few nights off. The English Stephen Leach and Signor [Alfred Pierre] Roncovieri (d San Francisco 20 November 1874) were California pick-ups for the San Francisco season, and did not become permanent members of the troupe.


The following year, the company sailed for Australia, and into a proud place in the history of down-under opera, of which story has been carefully told elsewhere. I have minutely tracked the lives and careers of Mrs Escott, Mr Squires and even Mr Leach, which articles (a little large for blogging?) are safe and sound in my Dropbox with the other 900 Victorian Vocalists.

Also of 'Australian interest' is this bill from a few years later. Billy Birch's Minstrel Company at the Eureka Hall. In between the minstrel acts, proven French opera diva Fannie Simonsen sings 'Casta Diva' and her husband gives a fiddle number. Separated by 'Sally, Come Up!'. I presume they didn't take part in the 'Chaw Roast Beef' walk-round!



Leaving the west coast, and heading east, we come upon another, even earlier, and even more significant performance of The Bohemian Girl, given by a fledgeling company which was to become as important to Britain as the Lysters did to Australia.


This bill is from the 1855 tour of what was to become the famous Pyne and Harrison troupe -- Louisa Pyne (soprano) and William Harrison (tenor).  Baritone Conrad Borrani (from Cheltenham), man-of-all-work Henry Horncastle and Louisa's sister, mezzo Susan Pyne, are there ... the rest are local 'extras' ... and the conductor is Thomas Comer, once of Bath, now of Boston. Verily, an historic playbill.



And so, back to England. A delightful programme for a private concert, given by contralto Annie Lascelles (Sarah Ann Cobb from Newark), at the home of the Marchioness of Downshire ..

The members of the Catherine Hayes concert party made up the bulk of the bill, but alas, without Miss Hayes, who had died shortly before. Mlle Guerrabella and Louisa Vinning filled the gap. I see that Annie sang ‘Di tanti palpiti’, ‘Effie’, ‘Les Souvenirs’, the Gazza ladra duet and ‘a new song’, ‘The Night Bird’ by Francesco Berger. The two ladies joined Tennant and Burdini in a rendition of the Polish National hymn to close the first part.


Thus says my biog on Miss Lascelles ... alas, the programme is so badly faded (and in pink ink!) as to be illegible.

But there is another private performance programme which excited me even more. It's not even a concert, it's family amateur dramatics in a family home. A home at an address which will mean nothing to anyone else in the world, I imagine, except me. Number 13 Hinde Street.


Hinde Street was a decidedly musical street -- Charlotte Dolby lived there -- but number 13 was the home of the Chubbs and the Messents. Who were, of course related by marriage. And Miss Sophia Messent, later to be the second wife of solicitor William Chubb (his first wife had been her sister, Emily's), was a Victorian Vocalist with a capital pair of Vs. Yes, of course, she's one of my 900, and I'm going to append my article here, for the benefit of those interested. 

But first, who are all these folk above. Well, there's Sophia's brother, John Messent, who, I suspect, was the moving force behind this entertainment. He was hot for dramatics. Frank Edward and Philip Glynn are the sons of her other brother, Philip, the civil engineer, and would have been 9 and 11 years old. Amy Sophia Eliza (20), Lucy Blanche (19, 1854-1943), Emily Rose (18) and Willie Phillip St Leonards (15) are the children from William's first marriage, Charles Lyttelton Chubb (24, b 12 March 1850; d 15 April 1937) was the son of his brother, Thomas (1824-1888), and would later marry cousin Blanche,  Arthur Bruce (17, 1857-1902) was another. One big happy family, from the days before television and other such passive entertainments. Lovely. That's why I like ephemera.

And here is the memorable Sophia.

MESSENT, Miss [MESSANT, Sophia Harriet] (b Haggerstone, Shoreditch, London 10 December 1823; d 47 Aldridge Road Villas, Westbourne Park, London 10 January 1903)

‘The linnet of linnets’, is how a critic described Miss Messent, at the height of her powers, in the early 1850s. One of the outstanding British sopranos of her time, she closed down a blossoming career on the operatic stage, at an early age, in favour of a voluminous and successful concert career, lasting for two decades.

Sophia Messent or Messant (the spelling seems to have varied from generation to generation) was born in London, the daughter of Phillip Messant (b Netherfield, Essex c 1792; d 13 Hinde Street 29 January 1858), a successful Soho corn chandler, and his wife Sarah Martha née Shickle (b North Walsham, Norfolk, c 1801; d 13 Hinde Street 30 January 1868), and followed her musical studies at the Royal Academy of Music, under James Bennett.

She began performing in public while still a student, making her first appearance singing a romance by Spohr, at a concert given by Mons Maggioni, at Golden Square in January 1842, alongside Bennett and Alicia Nunn. In July, she appeared in concert at the Royal Adelaide Gallery, this time in the company of fellow RAM students Charlotte Dolby and Louisa Bassano, Ernesta Grisi and … the Infant Sappho.
Miss Messent’s potential was quickly noticed. When she sang at Kennington in April 1843, alongside the Birch sisters and Miss Bassano, the critics wrote ‘another very promising aspirant for vocal honours… [she] has a clear and flexible soprano voice of considerable compass, power and sweetness ... [she] may achieve a brilliant career’.
Shortly after, Thomas Mollison Mudie gave a series of concerts, in which some of the Royal Academy’s outstanding pupils of recent years took part: once again it was the Misses Birch and Bassano, plus Marian Marshall and Sophia Messent, who sang the soprano and mezzo music. Miss Messent gave ‘Voi che sapete’ and Mudie’s own ‘Now the bright morning star’ and duetted with Miss Marshall (‘Ah! perdona’), and it was noted, even in such company, that she ‘showed indications of rapid improvement’. In early 1844, Mudie dedicated several songs and duets (‘There be none of beauty’s daughters’) to the 21 year-old soprano. ‘The lady is still a student in the profession of which she promises to become an ornament. Her voice is clear and her intonation firm and distinct’, enthused the press when she sang at Wolverhampton in March.

In early 1845, Miss Messent took part in Julius Benedict’s concert and in the premiere of a new Stabat Mater composed by Edward Fitzwilliam (15 March), and during the season she sang in an increasing number of London concerts. When she appeared at a Fête champêtre in Regents Park, alongside Julie Dorus-Gras and Eugénie Garcia, singing Sidney Nelson’s cavatina ‘The Forest Queen’, she was praised for her ‘great facility and taste’, when she repeated it at Signor Cittadini’s concert, she was voted ‘delightful’, but when she ventured an aria from Roberto Devereux at Josef Staudigl’s concert (25 June) The Musical World  (no fan of Donizetti) delivered what might almost count as a gentle backhander: ‘We have heard no voice, for a long time, we think, so deliciously befitting the pathos of some of our old love songs’ .
It was a comment which, in one form or another, would follow Miss Messent around for the whole of her career. She could and did, throughout her life as a singer, sing the most florid of Italian arias with the ‘great facility and taste’ the same journal had already praised, but time and again, her greatest success would come in English music. In fact, just a few weeks after this review, she introduced an unpublished song by Linley at Master Rippon’s concert, and her performance was acclaimed as ‘the best specimen of ballad singing we have heard for a long time’.
Yet, days later, Miss Messent set out on a brief concert round teamed with Sra Brambilla and other artists from the Italian opera, in September she was singing at Mr Carte’s concert alongside Grisi and Mario, and alongside Charlotte Cushman in Guy Mannering at Manchester, in the new year she went out with another Carte party, this time led by Vincent Wallace, and featuring Sophia Schloss, during which she appeared as Margaretta in No Song, No Supper, Zerlina in Fra Diavolo and gave selections from the brand new Maritana, and, on 7 November, she made a first appearance at Exeter Hall, singing alongside Miss Rainforth in Israel in Egypt with the Sacred Harmonic Society. The following April, she partnered Susan Sunderland in Joshua, but although she appeared in oratorio, off and on, in the decades that followed, it never became a preponderant part of her work.
In May 1846, she would take also part in the final night of the venerable Concert of Ancient Music, alongside Caradori Allan, Thillon, Birch, Bassano and Pischek.

But, in 1846, she and her career largely went another way. She was engaged for the English opera season at Drury Lane, along with Anna Bishop, Emma Romer, Elizabeth Rainforth, Elizabeth Poole, and the Misses Collett and Rebecca Isaacs. The press took the liberty of assuming she had, like the last two ladies, been engaged as a ‘seconda donna’, and Miss Messent swiftly disabused them. She had been contracted as a ‘prima donna’.  And she quickly proved it.




The old ballet-opera The Maid of Cashmere was remounted as a support piece to Anna Bishop’s revival of The Maid of Artois, and Miss Messent was cast in the leading role of Leila. She came through triumphantly: ‘a mezzo-soprano of delicious quality... she only requires experience to become a perfect artist’, wrote The Times. ‘A better first appearance we do not remember witnessing nor one more full of promise’, agreed the same Musical World who wanted her to sing ballads.
She went on to sing Agathe (Linda) in Der Freischütz with Stretton and King, under Mme Bishop’s Loretta, and seemed set to spend the season playing leads in supporting pieces when drama struck. Wallace’s new opera Matilda of Hungary, scheduled for production in February 1847, had to be postponed, and a fresh series of performances of Balfe’s The Bondman was hurried on to fill the gap. Although Emma Romer had created the leading role of Julie Corinne,the previous December, it was Sophia Messent who now went on opposite William Harrison, and ‘she displayed higher capabilities than any of which she had previously given evidence’.




On 5 April, Bunn produced at Drury Lane a spectacular based on Félicien David’s ‘ode-symphony’ entitled The Desert (or the Imam’s daughter), and Miss Messent was cast as the piece’s heroine the Princess Ipomayo. Alongside the spectacle, Sophia Messent was the star of the piece, with a cavatina, ‘Sweet Charity’ (‘she was very happy in the cavatine … much taste and feeling’), an aria, ‘Nearer as we approach’ (‘she was excellent in the aria…’) as well as ‘some exceedingly clever ballads by Mr Tully’, which were used as padding between the bits of Félicien David.
In April, she was cast as Elvira in Masaniello with Harrison, and when Benefit time came around at the end of the season she appeared in concert, ‘sang a Scotch ballad very tastefully’, and appeared as Rosetta in Love in a Village alongside Mr and Mrs and Mary Keeley.

In July she took a Benefit of her own, at the St James’s Theatre, and for the occasion she chose to portray Lucia di Lammermoor: ‘a marked improvement in both her acting and her singing since we saw her at Drury Lane..’On the same programme, her sister, Emily, made a debut as an actress, playing Juliana in The Honeymoon.

Alfred Bunn’s reign at Drury Lane having come temporarily to an end, the new season was being staged under the management of the conductor Jullien, who swiftly announced that he had put Miss Messent under contract and was sending her off to Paris to study with Manuel Garcia. His leading ladies for the season would be Julie Dorus-Gras, Charlott Ann Birch and Madame Leali (otherwise Susan Hobbs from Bath, who had already been given her Jullien-sponsored makeover by Garcia).
Quite how long Sophia Messent spent in Paris, and quite how long she studied with Garcia, I do not know. But I know she was back in England, although apparently sitting around Drury Lane idle while Mme Leali flopped egregiously, for on 9 February she was once again called upon to leap into a breach. The occasion was the Benefit of the new young tenor, Mr Sims Reeves, who had been the notable success of Jullien’s sometimes rather odd casting, and the opera was Lucia di Lammermoor, in which Reeves had been starring opposite Mme Dorus-Gras. But tonight the unpaid Mme Dorus-Gras couldn’t or wouldn’t play. The mezzo-soprano Helen Miran went on with the book for Act One, while Miss Messent was readied, and the young singer went on to complete the opera to dazzling effect. The following week, Lucia was repeated, with Miss Messent, this time, billed in the title-role alongside Reeves, and the press was ready. ‘Miss Messent […] who had now had the advantage of sufficient preparation, acquitted herself in a manner highly honourable to her talents and well deserved the great applause she received. Her performance, it is true, betrayed inexperience and immaturity of powers, but it gave promise, at the same time, of great future excellence. Her voice was always perfectly in tune, and beautifully pure and silvery in its tones, but was so deficient in fullness and volume, that the orchestra, when it played all forte, completely overpowered it … In the slow and sustained passages, when she had the time to form and utter her tones deliberately, they were rich and full-bodied, but this quality disappeared and the thinness and weakness returned whenever she had to execute a florid or rapid phrase… Miss Messent has refinement of style and sings with grace and feeling; she is possessed of that most essential requisite – beauty of person, an is gifted with intelligence and energy ... on the whole, Miss Messent will certainly prove a great acquisition to the musical stage.’ (Daily News)
Another week later, Jullien mounted his own Benefit. For the occasion he put up one act of The Marriage of Figaro, one act of The Maid of Honour (the season’s new opera) and finally one act of Lucia di Lammermoor with Sophia Messent in the title-role and Hector Berlioz at the baton. The whole thing was such a success (which was less than the season had been) that they played it again two nights later.
Sims Reeves, by the way, returned the favour. When Miss Messent mounted the first of what would be her many concerts over the years to come on 10 May 1848 at the Sussex Hall, she was able to bill the new tenor star banner-sized ‘Mr Sims Reeves’s first engagement in the city’ above Charlotte Dolby, Louisa Bassano, Miss Wallace, J P Goldberg and Burdini.

She appeared in concert through the season (‘Kathleen is gone’, ‘A lonely Arab maid’, Kalliwoda’s ‘Seest thou at even’, Curschmann’s ‘Maiden gay’, ‘Deh vieni’, ‘O, Maritana’) but Alfred Butt had now set up his stall at Covent Garden, and Miss Messent returned to the opera. But this time there were no incidents, and no chance for her to shine. When The Bondman was played, Emma Romer took her original role, and Miss Messent supported as Mme Jaloux (‘she sang and acted the trifling part with much care and talent’), when Miss Romer sang La Sonnambula, Miss Messent was Lisa (‘excellent’), and when Miss Emma Lucombe was given the title-role of Auber’s Haydée to play, Miss Messent was cast as Raffaela. On 6 December, Henri Laurent’s opera Quentin Durward was given its premiere, with William Harrison in its title-role, Borrani as the King, Mrs Donald King as Isabella and Miss Messent in the part of Princess Joan. She was encored in her sombre song ‘The merry dance is not for me’ on opening night, but Quentin Durward didn’t have too many other nights. 



Her second operatic season with Alfred Bunn had, somehow, in spite of all her earlier success, been less satisfying than the first. Maybe she thought so, too, for Sophia Messent, after the close of the Covent Garden season of 1848-9, and a short season at Bath and Bristol with the Donald Kings – in which Mrs King sang Lucia and Zerlina, and Miss Messent No Song, No Supper, Lady Allcash and Gillian in The Quaker, billed as ‘seconda donna’ -- never again set foot on the operatic stage. But she more than compensated on the concert platform. 

The list of Sophia Messent’s credits which I have accumulated – and it is, obviously, far from a comprehensive one, given that many concerts both private and public were neither advertised nor reviewed – stretches to eighteen pages. To list even a selection of them chronologically would serve no purpose, because there is no ‘development’: Miss Messent began her career as she ended it, she did not change direction, she did not branch out into new kinds of performance, she simply sang, week in week out, through twenty seasons, in the London and suburban concerts, and, less often, further afield.
By and large, she did not appear in the big ‘Italian’ concerts, in which the stars of the opera repeated their choice arias, nor did she make a speciality of sacred music – although, as I have said, she appeared at times with the Sacred Harmonic Society (Judas Maccabeus 1855) and London Sacred Harmonic Society (Messiah1854) at Exeter Hall, with the Harmonic Union in Elijah (1854), in Elijah with Jenny Lind (1855), in George Lake’s Daniel (1852), in oratorio at St Martin’s Hall (Creation with Santley’s debut, Messiah 1857, Messiah 1858), and she sang the part of Beauty in George Perry’s Benefit performance of the Handel pasticcio The Triumph of Time and Truth at Store Street Music Hall (February 1853).

Miss Messent was seen at the Hanover Square Rooms and St James’s Hall, at Exeter Hall and in the homes of the fashionable and aristocratic. She also sang in such venues as the Beaumont Institution, Whittington Club, the Sussex Hall, the Princess’s Concert Room, at the Surrey Gardens, the Crosby Hall, the Lowther Arcade, the London Tavern and in the city’s many Literary and Scientific Institutes.  In fact, there can scarcely have been a London concert venue at which, during her career, Miss Messent did not sing. For she seemingly had no vanity. She would be up on the stage at the Hanover Square Rooms one day, sharing a programme with the cream of British vocalists, and the next day she would deliver the same music in some small, suburban venue alongside artists completely unknown to fame. And the fare which she delivered was that same mixture that she had delivered when she first went on the concert platform: a mixture of the classical and the operatic, and of English songs and ballads, ancient and modern.

Among the mass of her concert credits were included the first series of the Exeter Hall London Wednesday concerts in 1849 (‘Jock o’ Hazeldean’, Euryanthe quartet) in which she again took part in 1852 (‘Come out to me’, ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’) and 1853 (‘Tell me my heart’, ‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls’, ‘Ye spotted snakes’ with Grace Alleyne, ‘Se crudele’, ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’, ‘Softly sighs’)

She toured with various concert parties, including one with Sims Reeves and George Case in 1853 and another with Frederic Lablache, John Herberte and her pupil, Julie Mouat, then one under the Cramer and Beale management, with Clara Novello and Alexander Reichardt in 1855. She took part in the St Martin’s Hall Monday Evening concerts in 1857 and the Crystal Palace Saturday concerts (‘Tell me, my heart’, ‘Jock o’ Hazeldean’, ‘Deh vieni’, ‘We’re a nodding’, ‘Se crudele’ with Perren).  She was seen at the Monday pops in 1859 and as late as 1863, and with the Vocal Association alongside Mme Lemmens Sherrington, Karl Formes, Marie Cruvelli, and Augusta Thomson. 

And on top of this extremely busy schedule, Miss Messent, not only taught and gave classes at her home at 13 Hinde Street, but each year mounted a concert, and some times additional soirees of her own. That of 31 May 1849 (‘under the gracious patronage of her most gracious Majesty the Queen, His Royal Highness Prince Albert …’) included Pischek, Reeves, Mme Nissen, Burdini, Bodda, the Pyne sisters, Misses Bassano, Dolby and Wallace on its bill, and Sophia sang ‘Crudel perche’ with Reeves, the Matrimonio segreto trio, and three solos. At that of 6 June 1851 (with John Herberte) at the same venue, she featured Donizetti’s ‘Quel guardo il cavaliere’ (Don Pasquale) alongside Pischek, Miss Browne, Mlle Graumann and Miss Poole.

In 1852, on 21 April, she staged both a soiree musicale at her home, at which she introduced W H Grattan’s ‘Wearily, oh wearily’, and a matinee musicale (3l May) with Evelina Garcia, Annie Lascelles, Ursula Barclay, Reichardt, Bodda and Staudigl.  In 1853 (21 June) her matinee musicale featured Sainton-Dolby, Lascelles, Gardoni, and Lefort, and Sophia duetted ‘Crudel perche' with Pischek and presented ‘Evening’ written by the Earl of Belfast. ‘[She is] now recognised as one of the most popular of our chamber vocalists’, quoth the press.

In 1854 (23 May) she returned to the Hanover Square Rooms and was welcomed by the critics: ‘None of our favourite vocalists surpass this young lady in those attractions which lend so signal an aid to vocal power – a graceful manner, and a cheerful and genial demeanour’, and repeated the following year (8 June 1855) in a joint presentation with Brinley Richards, singing a duet of his composition with Sainton-Dolby, plus the Torquato Tasso ‘Quando quell’ uom’, Linley’s ‘Laurette’ and Mori’s ‘Mind you that’. Richards and she joined together again, the next year at Willis’s Rooms (27 May 1856). This year’s new duet was ‘How beautiful is the night’ which she sang with ‘the new bass’, Mr Tillyard. Later she would sing it with another new bass: Mr Santley. ‘Miss Messent’s vocal performances were excellent and successful. She was especially happy in the scena from Ernaniwhich was most warmly applauded’ ‘One of the most agreeable of our native vocalists ...’

Vocalists of the repute of Clara Novello, Sainton Dolby, Santley, Reeves, Catherine Hayes, Gardoni and Viardot-Garcia featured in Miss Messent’s soirees and concerts (May 29 1857 soiree June 12 1857, 4 June 1858 (with Richards), 10 June 1859, 19 June 1860, 7 June 1861, 30 May 1862, 27 May 1863) always to a ‘very brilliant and fashionable audience’ ‘the room was crowded in every part’, always to splendid notices: ‘an able exponent of the Italian school [and] one of the best ballad singers we have’, ‘conspicuous for the purity of style, the feeling and the distinctness of enunciation which give her so high a place among out English ballad singers’.  



The ballads weren’t quite all English, but very largely. Old and new. A small selection from those she gave in those years: J W Hobbs’s song ‘The Crier’ (‘Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes’) (‘it has been growing in favour ever since this syren adopted it at the Surrey Gardens’), Wallace’s ‘Why do I weep for thee’, Arthur Hyde Dendy’s ‘The Song of the Petrel’, Curschmann’s ‘Maiden gay’, Glover’s ‘Little Gipsy Jane’, Baker’s ‘I’ve a heart to exchange’, Linley’s ‘Kathleen is gone’, the famous ‘Tell me, my heart’, ‘They won’t let me go’, Kingsbury’s ‘The primrose is blooming again’, Gabriel’s ‘Regret thee’, Minima’s ‘O skylark’, ‘Comin’ thru the rye’, ‘My lodging is on the cold, cold ground’, ‘Kathleen Mavourneen’, Mellon’s ‘I arise from dreams of thee’, Neate’s ‘The little trout’, S W Waley’s ‘Lurline’, Mrs Carteright’s ‘A pilgrim’s rest’, ‘When sigh long suppressed’, Pelzer’s ‘Dinna forget, laddie’, ‘Come out, Lord of the castle’, ‘Fairyland’, Louise Christine’s ‘The Dreamer’s Solace’, ‘The song of the siren’, Freddie Clay’s ‘I have plighted my troth’, Lover’s ‘Jockey to the fair’ and any number of songs by Brinley Richards. Sophia and Elizabeth Poole premiered Glover’s successful duet ‘The Cousins’.

The operatic side of her repertoire included ‘Sombre forêt’ (William Tell), ‘Per pietà’, Ricci’s ‘Che dura vince’, ‘Deh vieni’, ‘Ah che morir’ (Tancredi) ‘Quando quell’ uom’ (Torquato Tasso), ‘Ernani involami’, ‘Ah! fors’è lui’, ‘Vieni, torna’ (Teseo), ‘The Power of Love’, ‘Deh per questo istante’ (Clemenza di Tito), ‘Sweet spirit, hear my prayer’(Lurline) and the duets ‘Dunque io son’ and ‘Tornami a dir’.

She was even to be heard in Jetty Treffz’s famous ‘Trab! trab!’ and duetting Fioravanti’s ‘The Singing Lesson’. 




Throughout, she was received with delight. When she sang at the Westminster Institution with Miss Poole, Benson and Weiss the critic rhapsodised ‘and here is pretty Miss Messent with her cheeks full of dimples come to carry off the lion’s share of the laurels’; when she gave over her place at the Surrey Gardens to another soprano, the press sighed ‘we missed Miss Messent’s winged and dulcet notes that float on the lake like air borne sounds’.
At her 1860 concert at the Hanover Square Rooms, after her rendition of Mercadante’s ‘Ah! rammento a lui d’accanto’, of Franco Berger’s ‘Ask not why’ and ‘Twas within a mile of Edinboro’ Town’, the critic came back with a notice which was just like that of  a decade earlier ‘Miss Messent sings simple ballads so prettily that it seems a pity she does not turn her attention more to them, and less to Italian bravuras which, although she masters them with sufficient ease, do not exhibit her talents to so much advantage’.

From 1864, Miss Messent appeared less on the concert bills of the nation, but when she appeared on 20 June 1866 at W T Wrighton’s concert, singing his song ‘Early Ties’, there was a difference in her billing. She was now ‘Madame Messent’. In fact, she wasn’t ‘Madame Messent’, she was Mrs Chubb.

In 1852, Sophia’s sister Emily [Sarah] Messent  – who had become an actress at the Haymarket Theatre, the Queen’s Manchester et al – married William Chubb, a solicitor from Malmesbury, and a partner in the well-established law firm of Chubb, Deane and Chubb of 14 South Square, Grey’s Inn. She bore him four daughters and, finally, a son. The Chubb family lived at 13 Hinde Street (a most musical of streets, Charlotte Dolby was a neighbour), and with them, also, lived most of the members of the Messent family, including Emily’s parents, and sister Sophia.



At the age of thirty-three (27 September 1861), Emily died at Reigate, of a haemorrhage of the lungs, and two years later William Chubb married his sister-in-law, Sophia. Because of the law, then infamously current, against ‘marriage with deceased wife’s sister’, in vigour in Britain, the marriage took place in Neuchatel, Switzerland (18 July 1863).

After her marriage, Sophia only appeared a handful of times in public, and my last sighting of her on a platform is at Kennington in a Benefit concert in April 1867 with Louisa and Susan Pyne and Montem Smith.  William Chubb died in 1885, his wife lived to the age of 79, and died in 1903.

As well as two sisters, Sophia Messent also had two brothers The elder, Philip, became an engineer in Tynemouth, the younger, John, became an actuary and secretary with the Briton, Medical and General Life Insurance Company, and a society gentleman. He also took part in amateur dramatics and operatics, and in 1854, he can be seen performing at the St James’s Theatre as a Macbeth witch and as Robin in The Waterman with William and Harriet Tennent.



Friday, August 2, 2019

An All-Star Tour ... in 1867.

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This is a photo of a classy concert party, dating from the early part of 1867.  The wages bill for the company must have been enormous. But the impresario who put this group together was accustomed to grandiose speculations, grandiosely publicised ... and I imagine this photograph was part of the merchandising for the so-called Patti-Concert tour in Italy.

The paper Il Trovatore commented, not without reason, 'Why is it called the Patti Concert?'. Why is the entire bill not named in the title? And then went on, in its critique, to opine that Mlle Patti was actually the least impressive artist on the programme. Oh, of course, that was Patti as in Carlotta Patti, not in Adelina Patti. Sorry if anyone (apart from some Internet sites) got confused. I'm sure you were supposed to.

Carlotta Patti was a fine coloratura soprano vocalist, and the only singer in the party. The rest were one solo violin, one solo 'cello, one solo harp, one solo piano, and one accompanist. But what 'ones'.
Arguably the best, certainly among the best, of their time. It was rather like putting a Gruberova together in a concert party with Oistrakh, Rostropovich, Ossian Ellis, Lily Kraus and Gerald Moore.



The man behind this was the Hungarian-American impresario Bernard Ullman, about whom reams have been written, so I won't write any more. Suffice it, that he was one of the most ambitious and colourful music and theatre men of his time, also one of the most unscrupulous, widely-tentacled and Barnum-esque. A risk such as the salaries for this party was nothing new for him.

So, who do we have here. The photo is labelled with the names ... but not in any order! However, it is, I think, not too difficult. Carlotta Patti is evident, at the centre of the group. The other, younger lady is the teenaged pianist Mary Krebs (1851-1900).

Mary Krebs, 1867



And the men? Harpist Thomas ApThomas, accompanist Eduard Franck, violinist Henri Vieuxtemps and 'cellist Alexandre Batta. I think, in that order, left to right. Yes, difficult, in the time and place, to do better.




I was a teensy bit disappointed, then, when I lit on the programme for one of their concerts, at the Teatro San Benedetto in Venice, 30 January 1867. It is, shall we say, virtuoso-popular

1. Fantasia by Vieuxtemps on themes from L'AFRICAINE, for violin, cello and piano.
2. Verdi's 'Ah fors'è lui' sung by Patti
3. Fantasia by Parish Alvars on themes from SEMIRAMIDE for harp played by ApThomas
4. Fantasia Appassionata for violin composed and played by Vieuxtemps
5. Eckert's 'Echo Song' sung by Patti
6. Fantasia on themes from LUCREZIA BORGIA composed and played by Miss Krebs
7. Fantasia for 'cello composed and played by Batta
8. Ascher's 'La gioia' sung by Patti
9. Fantasia on themes from LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR composed and played by Vieuxtemps
10. Fantasia on themes from TANNHÄUSER by Liszt played by Miss Krebs

Well, this was the age of the 'Fantasia', the technically-showy, bravura, instrumental equivalent of Rode's Air and Variations and the rest of Mlle Patti's repertoire. More flourish than content. But for the artist, I guess it was as good a way as any to popularise their arrangements and sell their rather expensive sheet music.

Anyway, thanks Herr Ullman, your bit of publicity material gives us, 150 years on, a very agreeable souvenir of five very worthwhile performers.


PS If anyone wants to snap up the original of this photo, it is (along with uncountable other goodies) to be found in the internet shop of Bruno Tartarin at  https://www.photos-discovery.fr/

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

The Gänzl Post Facebook Rejected


Ladies Surfing Championships, 3 and under 5 class
Swimsuit not obligatory ...


O what twisted minds lurk behind the facade of facebook ...

And what hypocrisy ...


Sunday, July 28, 2019

Faking Francesco: a cross-eyed curriculum vitae


'When there's fac-t-ual researching to be done, An historian's life is not an easy one (chorus: 'easy one')'

Especially where showbusiness is concerned. It's difficult enough to track down reports, reviews, announcements and so forth from a century or two ago, but when folks -- for one reason or another -- deliberately strew the pathway to truth with purposeful fabrications and lies, well, even for an old truffle-hound such as I, it is a tricky and time-consuming job to deconstruct the web which they have woven.

And 'web' is a meaningful word, here. In the age of the Internet, folk no longer do their own research. They cut and paste, here and there, without pausing to care whether their 'source' is reliable or truthful.

I'm prompted to this animadversion by the article that follows. I wrote it some years ago, but I found it again this week, during a tidy up in my archive. It is really an article about an article. One of the more blatant attempts at fakery that I've encountered over the years. That piece of fakery is now all over the web, translated into a number of languages, and only Wikipedia has thought to question some of phoney facts therein. So, here it is. The history of the baritone Francesco Mottino (and wife). The fake version, and my version.


MOTTINO, Francesco (b Cuorgnè, Piedmont c1833; d Milan 11 February 1919)

It is a curious fact that a number of exceedingly average Victorian vocalists have gone down in ‘history’ with glorious adjectives and lush ‘facts’ undeservedly attached to their names. Usually these ladies and gents had something to do with America. Either they were Europeans who had thence emigrated and fooled the locals into believing a golden past (one thinks immediately of Ugo Talbo and Ernest Perring), or they were hometown folk who had gone to Europe, sung a few roles in minor Italian houses, and come home as ‘prima donna, La Scala’ to teaching and lavish obituaries. But the baritone Francesco Mottino (in spite of all temptations by the press to make him English) was a real Italian. So why is he one of the worst examples of all? Why is he even in Kutsch and Riemans? And why does Wikipedia think him worthy of its attention? And, yes, both articles are taken from the same source. I’ll tell you what I think. In his later years, Signor Mottino set up in Milan as a teacher of operatic aspirants. He didn’t teach them singing. He taught them acting. And the girls and boys from Boston (and even Sydney, Australia) went home and related how they’d been having lessons with this ‘famous’ teacher, ‘famous actor’ (the name of Salvini was mumbled), and so Signor Mottino became ‘famous’ in Boston and Sydney, Australia, while at home he was just another one of those teachers who preyed on gullible wannabes, and himself was a writing wannabe, with a heap of unset operatic libretti in the cupboard, and a bundle of self-published poetry.

So, lets have a look at this article (undoubtedly ‘made in America’). ‘Francesco Mottino was an Italian opera singer, voice teacher, drama teacher, librettist and writer. He had a prolific international opera career from the 1850s through the 1870s. After retiring from the stage, he worked actively as a writer and teacher in his native country’.

Well, that doesn’t say much. Except the ‘prolific international’ career. As far as I know, he performed only in Italy and the United Kingdom. And not a lot of the latter. And perhaps Croatia.

‘As a child, Mottino was a student of many languages and became a highly proficient writer and speaker in English and French at a young age. He began his career as writer for magazines and also performed on the Italian stage in plays by William Shakespeare.

OK, so he was a penny-a-liner, and did an amateur Shakespeare. But the good English is a fact, and was the cause for the later rumours on his nationality.

‘He became interested in opera and entered the Milan Conservatory in 1855’. Somewhere, it is said that he debuted in Zadar in 1855.

‘Mottino began his opera career performing in smaller baritone roles at various Italian theatres while still a pupil in Milan. During the 1860s, he performed in leading roles in operas in France, Belgium, Switzerland, Greece, Turkey and Egypt in addition to appearing at many of the principal Italian theatres. He was particularly known for his portrayal of the title role in Giuseppe Verdi's I due Foscari, a role he sang at many opera houses’.

Well, I can’t find any of that imprecise stuff. I see him in Pavia in 1861. Cesena and Modena in 1864, at a Genoese theatre in 1865, in Enrico Bernardi’s Faustina at Lodi, Les Huguenots at Messina in 1866, at Mantua, Vercelli, the Teatro Armonia in Trieste, at Como, Palazzolo sull’ Oglio and Brescia … the principal theatres of Italy? In 1870, I spy him at the Pagliano in Florence, singing Fontanges in Il Cadetto di Gascogne.

But now we get into the ‘easy to check’ area, which is also the laughing out loud area.

‘He reached the pinnacle of his stage career in England during the 1870s where he performed frequently at both the Royal Opera House and at Her Majesty's Theatre. He also often appeared in London concerts, including several performances with soprano Adelina Patti at The Crystal Palace. He was the leading baritone of the Carl Rosa Opera Company from 1875–1879 and toured with that company to many British cities.’

Almost totally false. He never sang with either Italian opera (I assume by Royal Opera House, the Covent Garden Theatre is meant), unless in the chorus or under another name, he rarely appeared in concert in London, he didn’t sing several times at Crystal Palace with Adelina Patti -- though he appeared with Lemmens-Sherrington and got noticed as 'a second rate Italian baritone [who] proved his inefficiency’ in ‘Di provenza’ and the brindisi from Il Guarany -- and 25 May 1872 was on a bill that featured Santley and Carlotta Patti -- and he sang with the Rosa not for four years, but more like four weeks.

So, what did he do at this ‘pinnacle’ of his career. He sang at the Crystal Palace on 25 May and 12 October 1872, he sang at the Surrey Gardens 11 July, and he made what seems to have been his only London opera appearance in a short subscription season at St George’s Hall (10 December 1872), put together by the ageing Monari-Rocca with a curious cast of what I can only assume were friends. Mottino sang Figaro, Belcore and Guglielmo in Cosi fan tutti, was adjudged probably the best of the very weak group, and later repeated his Cosi for one Benefit performance at the St James’s Theatre.

In August of 1873, he joined a rather better company (with Monari) for a brief season in Dublin, playing Figaro, Luna and Valentine, and then came the Rosa engagement. It was a very nice engagement, and, historically, Mottino comes out of it well. He was the first principal baritone of the soon to be famous Carl Rosa Opera. The company opened at Manchester, and proceeded to Bradford and Sheffield, with Mottino playing Luna to the Leonora of Pauline Vaneri, Valentine in Faust and the title-role in Don Giovanni … The next stop was Liverpool, and by Liverpool Mottino was gone. Sher Campbell was now Don Giovanni. Mottino had ‘toured’ three British cities.

So, on we go. ‘Among the roles for which he was praised by London audiences were the Count di Luna in Il Trovatore and the title role in Rossini's William Tell. He also starred in the world premiere of Lauro Rossi's Biron on 17 January 1877 at Her Majesty's Theatre.’

No he wasn’t. He never played either operatic role in one of the Opera Houses of London. And Rossi’s disastrous vanity production of the Macbeth-like Bjorn (not Biron), at the second-string, off-West-End Queen’s Theatre (no way, Her Majesty’s) was not something that one would want to boast about being connected with! Although he personally got quite well noticed as the Norwegian king.
He did, actually, fulfil one more operatic job in England. In 1876, a striving touring opera troupe was put together as ‘the Imperial Opera Company’ with Madame Laville Ferminet as prima donna. They played a few dates in November, with Mottino repeating his Luna and Valentine, before he went off to play Bjorn, (‘newly arrived from Naples’), after which he returned to the tour (La Traviata, Il Trovatore, Rigoletto, Le Nozze di Figaro, Faust, Don Giovanni) until it ground to a halt in Dublin in April. And that was the end of Signor Mottino’s pinnacle. A hundred other Italian baritones of the era had done decidedly more and much, much better.

Back in Italy, he tried for a few more years (Cremona, Turin, Reggio Emilia), and is said to have ‘retired’ in 1880.

‘Mottino retired from the stage in 1880, returning to Milan that year with his wife, soprano Adele Cesarini, with whom he had often performed’. English-born Miss Cesarini seems to have retired before her husband. I don’t see her out after the 1860s.

‘From 1880-1887 he ran the literary magazine L'Utopista, working as both the magazine's editor and a contributor of articles … In addition, he taught singing and acting in Milan for several decades’. The acting we know about. And ‘L’Utopista Giornale letterario, artistico, politico, sociale. Dir: Francesco Mottino’ is a fact.

He also pursued his strenuous libretto-writing, and a couple of his pieces reached the stage. A one-act Il Conte di Salto (music: Giovanni Consolini) played at the Teatro Chiabrera in Savona 21 January 1894, and Il Fuggitivi was given a semi-professional production at Trento 11 April 1896.

Mottino’s passing may have been noticed in Milan. Probably not. But it was in America.

‘Word has reached America that Francesco Mottino, one of the most famous of Italian actors in his day, and, in his retirement, among the most prominent teachers of singing, passed away at his home in Milan on February 11 1919, in his eighty-sixth year’.

A famous actor? Ah well. That’s how to invent history. I hope I have now un-invented it.




CESARINI, [Mary Ann] Adelaide (b London 3 May 1829; d unknown)

I have been able to track down the whatever-became-of of many of the momentary and mini-starlets of the British music scene, but Mdlle Cesarini eludes me.

She was born in London, the daughter of an Italian immigrant, Baldasar Emilio Vincenzo Cesarini, who at various times ran an Italian warehouse, a dining house and a macaroni and oil bazaar, and was apparently coached in music by Bottesini, who accompanied her on her public debuts (10 July 1853) at Mlle Staudach and Antonio Bazzini’s concert, and (10 October 1853) at an Italian charity concert (‘Di piacer’). ‘A young vocalist of very remarkable promise’ noted the press.

She appeared at several more Italian connected concerts in 1854, as well as singing ‘Regnava nel silenzio’ with the London Orchestra, ‘O luce di quest’anima’ at a hospital benefit (‘star among the vocalists’) and at Madame Puzzi’s (‘Mdlle Cesarini, who gave the cavatina from Linda with remarkable sweetness, is fast rising in public esteem’) and looked to be establishing for herself a position among the young sopranos of the day.

She seems, then, to have disappeared to Italy where she was engaged by a certain Domenico Ronzani, some time the lead dancer and ballet master at the Italian opera – said to be a family friend – to appear as Fenena in Nabucco at the Teatro Regio, Turin for Carnevale of 1856-7. She was a disaster: ‘la Cesarini la quale inceppata sulla scena, disse la preghiera in modo da far ridere il pubblico’.

During this period, apparently, her mother died (presumably in Italy, for the fact is not registered in Britain) and she returned home. Ronzani hired her again, in London, for a season of opera buffa at the St James’s Theatre. She appeared as Serafina in Il Campanello, as an afterpiece, and was judged to have ‘a pleasing and agreeable countenance, is very ladylike and has a fresh, well intoned and agreeable voice’. However, Miss and/or Signor Cesarini was not happy. Ronzani hadn’t actually paid the little soprano. So she went to court.

Ronzani disappeared back to Turin and thence, in 1857, to America where he died 13 February 1868, Vincenzo Cesarini had already died in 1859 … and Adelaide, for a while, eluded me. She didn’t stay in England … so I didn’t suppose I would ever track her down.

But I did. ‘Adele Cesarini [Mottino]’ resurfaces in Italy as a leading soprano at various mostly lesser provincial theatres in the 1860s and 1870s (Il barbiere di Siviglia, Il furioso all’isola di San Domingo, Torquato Tasso, Marguerite in Les Huguenots). During that time, she married the baritone Francesco Mottino and, I imagine, therafter lived happily ever after.
















Tuesday, July 23, 2019

The Wakefield Musical Festival

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This is another wee treasure. I knew what it was, the moment I saw it on e-bay. Yes, it's a prize medal, allegedly from 1893, from what has been claimed as the first competitive Eisteddfod in Britain. And it did not take place in Wakefield, as in Yorkshire, it took place in Kendal, Westmoreland. The 'Wakefield' part came from the name of the founder of the event: contralto Miss Mary Wakefield.  Miss Wakefield was a very superior amateur vocalist ... but, here, read all about her and her career and her competition, in this little piece I wrote a year or two ago for my Victorian Vocalists:


WAKEFIELD Mary [Augusta](b Kendal 19 August 1853; d Nutwood, Grange over Sands 16 September 1910)

It’s my self-imposed rule for this collection that I don’t ‘do’ people who’ve already had a whole biography devoted to them by someone else. But the splendid little memoir of Mary Wakefield published in Kendal by Rosa Newmarch (1912) probably didn’t get far beyond Westmoreland, and in any case it deals largely with the woman and her achievements rather than her singing career.

Miss Wakefield was an amateur. Probably – along with ex-professional Nita Gaetano (Mrs Lynedoch Moncrieff) – the outstanding amateur vocalist of her time and place. She was an amateur not because of any lack of skill, but simply because the wealth and position of her family meant that she had no need to become professional. And thus, she spent the whole of her career singing, principally, at those frequent ‘charity’ concerts, fetes, bazaars etc mounted by the aristocratic, the highly-social and the wealthy, at first in her home area, later in London, and eventually all around Britain.
 Mary was one of the seven children of Mr William Henry Wakefield of Sedgewick House, Kendal, banker, JP, sometime Mayor of Kendal, High Sheriff of Westmoreland and ‘enormously wealthy’ and well-connected, and his wife Augusta Catherine née Haggarty, whose father was at one time US consul in Liverpool.
 Miss Newmarch relates how she studied voice at school, in Brighton, with Ercole Mecatti, and subsequently in London with Randegger, and made her first appearance in a public concert in 1873 in a local charity affair staged by her aunt. I spot her first in 1876 (2 June) at that mecca of the society amateur, Grosvenor House, singing contralto in one of the Misses Robertson’s church-roof concerts along with such ubiquitous inhabitants of such occasions as Charles McCheane and Charles Wade.
In 1877, I see her singing Hercules alongside Lady Agneta Montague, Lionel Benson, the Hon Spencer Lyttelton, Countess Cowper, and her friend Miss White, with the Guild of Amateur Musicians, and in 1878 at Kendal, Worksop, Chester et al, in the company of the well-known Major Simmons or Sir George Cornewall, as well as in more functions at Grosvenor House.
She touched on the professional world (Gertrude Cave-Ashton, Harper Kearton, Thomas Brandon) when she sang the contralto music in Joshua at Morecambe (1878) or Eli at Lancaster with Catherine Penna, Redfern Hollins and Cecil Tovey, but mostly she appeared at amateur or perhaps society semi-pro occasions where she shared a platform with such as the Henschels and Charles Santley as well as Mrs Ronalds, Theo Marzials and other socialites (‘Roeckel’s ‘The Vision of Years’,’Rendimi al cuore’, ‘A best yet present’, ‘Darby and Joan’, ‘Sleep dearest sleep’, ‘Cangio d’aspetto’, ‘The Sands of Dee’, ‘When the children are asleep’, ‘Cherry Ripe’, Mignon gavotte, &c).
In 1880, she was engaged to sing in the Three Choirs Festival at Gloucester. Her contribution was small, but it included the contralto music in Leonardo Leo’s Dixit Dominus, and she was praised for her ‘beautiful voice and well-ordered method’. She sang The Messiah at York, with Mary Davies and Edward Lloyd, appeared at St James’s Hall with Marzials in the Boosey Ballad concerts (16 March 1881) and repeated the Dixit Dominus at St James’s Hall with Anna Williams. But she apparently decided not to go that way, and returned to singing in society concerts, at the country homes of the rich and aristocratic, and with local societies, with only the occasional foray into provincial oratorio (Samson at Lancaster, St Paul at Exeter).




At the same time she had her first successes as a songwriter. She had been composing songs since 1875, but now she published ‘A Bunch of Cowslips’ aka ‘Polly and I’ and ‘No Sir’, both of which were to become concert favourites. Others, such as ‘Shearing Day’ and ‘Moonspell’ would follow.
 By the end of 1883, a provincial paper could rightly aver that Mary and Nita Moncrieff ‘stand quite at the head of lady amateur vocalists’, adding that Miss Wakefield ‘excels in the semi-humorous, semi-pathetic style’.
 She continued her society vocalising through the 1880s, still stepping out occasionally to sing with the professionals at Charity Dos, in the odd oratorio (Elijah with Mary Davies, Hirwen Jones, Thorndike in Belfast, Lobgesang with Mrs Hutchison and Ben Davies in Rotherham) and made quite a stir when she delivered the whole of Schumann’s Frauenliebe und leben in London and the provinces. In 1894 she performed Die schöne Müllerin and Frauenliebe in a programme at Prince’s Hall. In the1890s she was seen round Britain lecturing on ‘Scottish Melodies’, ‘English National Melodies’ and other such topics which allowed her to sing some 20 songs in an evening.
Amongst her other activities, she established in 1885 and ran thereafter, with her sister Agnes Argeles, the [Mary] Wakefield Music Festival in Westmoreland, on the lines of the Eisteddfods. Miss Newmarch claims this as the first instance of a competitive festival in Britain. The Festival in held, bi-yearly, to this day (www.mwwf.org.uk/)
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Struck by poor health, Mary Wakefield largely ceased her musical activities in 1900, but she lived on till 1910 when she died in her home in Westmoreland aged 57.







Birmingham Festival 1867: team photo

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This has got to be my favourite item from my morning trawl on e-bay. A composite team-photo of the stars of the 1867 Birmingham Festival. But who, I pondered, was each person. I am not very good at identification, but nevertheless, even I could pick out Charles Santley, Sims Reeves, and Willoughby Weiss at the extreme right. And Christine Nilsson, centre front.

That left Therese Titiens, Helen Lemmens-Sherrington, Janet Whytock-Patey and Charlotte Sainton-Dolby ...  presuming that Arabella Goddard missed the photo call... well, it must be Patey behind the piano, Dolby at the left and Sherrington at he right, but that doesn't look like Titiens in black! Shuffle and cut again ..

And the men? Well, W H Cummings is there somewhere, it must be he looking as if he's seven feet tall, next to the other singers  ... oh, I know some of those faces so well, but ... is that Sterndale Bennett with his hands on his hips? His Woman of Samaria had its first performance during the Festival. That's Costa looking pompous, behind la Nilsson, yes? And there's no mistaking Julius Benedict, next to Bennett ..

Well, the National Portrait Gallery tells me that ones I haven't pinned are J F Barnett, Prosper Sainton, the organist James Stimpson and Cummings. But that only makes a total of ten, and there are eleven chaps in the photo. Who is missing? W G Cusins, perhaps, who conducted the premiere of The Woman of Samaria? Ah! Here's a little story ...



So, it looks as if it is indeed Cusins who is our spare man. And Miss Goddard didn't hang around to be photographed.

Well, I'll post this on facebook, and in half an hour I'll have all the answers!

SHORTLY AFTER. Australia was awake! And after mature discussion we have come to the following conclusion. Left to right.
Barnett, W G Cusins with the muttonchops, Sterndale B, Benedict, Stimpson at the keyboard, Janet Whytock, Prosper Sainton looking splendid, Costa looking Costaffective, Sherrington in black, Santley, Reeves, Weiss .. and seated Titiens looking remarkably svelte, Nilsson, and Dolby.  OK?