Dr Karen McAulay explores the history of Scottish music collecting, publishing and national identity from the 18th to 20th centuries. Research Fellow at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, author of two Routledge monographs.
It seems a good idea to share the link to this conference again, now that the programme has been finalised.
The organisers have shared the following information:-
The final programme can be accessed directly here:
View the full conference schedule.
A more comprehensive programme, including all presenter abstracts and biographies, is accessible as an Exposition on the Research Catalogue platform.
I sat down in my home office alcove this morning, and realised that my desk actually tells you everything about me!
(I could add context, and explain that I’m a semi-retired researcher and a church organist!)
Right, the song book and old laptop are closed. I fix my eyes firmly on the Leng Silver Medal on my pinboard. That’s this morning’s focus! But I just can’t put away the 11th Hussars trumpeter – it’s the closest I’ll get to Trumpet-Major James Smith today!
The heading is here to keep me in line. I’ve written the paper on my two fin-de-siecle lady musicians, for next week’s conference. I’m slightly obsessed with them both, to be honest – especially their family history. (Parents James and Mary-Anne Smith, for example!)
But today, I’m getting back to my Dundee Leng Medal Memories transcriptions. Contractually, I work 10.5 hours a week (research at other times isn’t ‘work’), and this week the genuine working hours are dedicated to the social history behind the Dundee Leng Medal. I’ll try to avoid distractions, though I can’t promise not to open tempting emails relating to the Smiths’ back history!
Dundee, here we go! (Metaphorically speaking. I’m not planning any trips this week.) And if you were wondering why I need to check auto-transcriptions, then let me give you just a few wee examples:-
Teams generally manages just fine with the Scottish accent, but obviously, it cannot know old Scottish songs, and occasionally it is completely stumped. Anyway, I’m getting a few smiles … try these:-
Main Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
*’June wrongly’ was actually a song entitled, ‘John Grumlie’.
This morning, I examined Trumpet Major James Smith’s military enlistment and discharge papers online. His discharge was on health grounds – but he still lived another twenty-three years. One can be unfit for soldiering, but still fit enough to live a useful life away from the battle-field or garrison. Indeed, he had married four years before his discharge from the army, and had quite a big family, over the space of twenty-odd years.
I was quite moved by the poignancy of fourteen-year old James’s ‘Attestation’ in 1826 (his enlistment papers) – he was so young, and so small to be joining the army. He still had another thirteen inches of height to grow, going by his discharge papers! (Fourteen-year old boys are an average of 8 to 9 inches taller nowadays, two centuries later.)
Mary-Ann enjoyed writing anapaestic tetrameters; I found several of them, and similar variants, amongst her poetry collections. Next week, I’m going to go back to the library to look at some more of her poems. In particular, I’m keen to see the poem she wrote ‘To James’ after his death, in an Addendum at the end of her second collection.
Anyway, I wondered whether I could pen an anapaestic tetrameter of my own, so here it is – my first attempt at writing in this particular poetic meter. I hope Mary-Ann and Rose would approve:-
You were four feet, nine inches, your eyes grey but bright,
Just a boy of fourteen - still a lad;
Though you hadn't near equalled your father in height,
You were counting the days till you had!
You were fair and light-skinned, with a healthy physique,
And you'd finished your schooling at last;
You knew what came next - you were keen to step up,
Leaving playthings behind in your past.
Growing up in the army, your future was clear -
You enlisted in steamy Cawnpore,
A Dragoon, bravely riding with no trace of fear -
And you’d make your Ma proud, that’s for sure!
But how long would you soldier? How long in Cawnpore?
Would you battle, or help keep the peace?
Would your bugle lead soldiers to brave acts of war,
Or might you succumb to disease?
Just a boy, starting out in the steps of your Pa,
With your trumpet, a sword, then a horse -
With your musical gifts you were told you’d go far,
But at fourteen, time still took its course.
For the marching, the drills, and the beat of the drum
Would have thrilled you enough at the start,
Now your schoolbooks were closed and your work had begun,
You’d need strength, and a resolute heart.
Horsepower: the Museum of the King’s Royal Hussars. Timeline showing that the 11th Hussars had been engaged in the Siege of Bhurtpore only the year before.
I took it into my head to do some spare-time research into the father of one of my musical heroines, last night. In truth, I already know enough for my purposes, but I thought it would be nice to see if I could find out any more.
He was a Trumpet Major, right? And then a drill sergeant in Scotland, in retirement. I wondered what his uniforms looked like – an illustration might come in useful in a presentation one day, so why not find out? I googled. I searched eBay. Did I want to buy a hat badge? Well, tempting as it was, I thought I probably did not. And I searched beyond eBay. Then I came to a magnificent, shiny helmet with a scary-looking spike on top. It was for sale – but I didn’t want to buy the thing, just to read the vendor’s description to see if it really was the kind of headgear he might have worn either in active service or in ‘retirement’. I clicked. And – because I wasn’t using this laptop but another one – I was prevented from seeing the item at all. Apparent a shiny nineteenth century helmet counts as weaponry. Well, I know the spike looked terrifying, but it was on top of a piece of headgear. No matter – I don’t want to get myself in trouble, so I didn’t persist, and quietly tiptoed away from the beautiful shiny, silver distraction. I can’t even find the same picture today – even on my own laptop – so I can’t show you it. All I can say is, look at pictures of Victorian militaria at your peril!
Instead, I bought a book about his regiment. This is how I end up learning so many weird and wonderful facts!
Today, I decided I’d try another line of enquiry. Since I’ve been unable to trace the death of the Trumpet Major’s wife, I wondered if the family might have arranged for her to be buried beside him in Lanark. But can I trace his grave? I cannot. I could try a bit harder, or I could return to Lanark and physically look at gravestones – but I’m not making any plans just now. It’s their music and poetry that interest me, really, not their final resting places.
Or might she have gone to live with one of her children? She certainly wasn’t with Rose in 1901, though Rose and her husband were presumably living with her at the time of their marriage in 1898, since the address is the same, and it was usual to marry at the bride’s family home. This makes me think she might have died between those years. Or she could have died somewhere other than Glasgow. One son had married in England, for a start. It’s a puzzle. Inconsequential, but infuriating!
Maybe another day will bring another search inspiration. Until then – as I said, I really do know quite enough for my purposes!
*picture from eBay
(Or should this be, ‘Holding out for a heroine?’) I love looking for the places where my Scottish music heros and heroines lived and walked. No particular reason – I just like to visualise where they lived. In fairness, it may tell me nothing more pertinent than to inform me that they lived in a very luxurious, upmarket neighbourhood – or one that has seen better times – or indeed, one that may never have been particularly swanky! If they were a church organist or a teacher, or supplied music to dance musicians, it’s nice to see how far they lived from their work. In any case, it’s an innocent enough obsession, and sometimes I manage to find a coffee whilst I’m out prowling!
Out we went into deepest Lanarkshire earlier this week, in search of the birthplace of one of the two women I’ll be talking about at the conference in a couple of weeks.* We couldn’t stop for a photo, in a busy street, but I’d seen it on Google maps in any case. We had a coffee just round the corner in the main street. (I believe it’s under Turkish ownership, which might explain the intriguing illustrations of quadrilles in different national costumes, on the walls! Look carefully – there’s a Marcia Persiana amongst them.)
But I didn’t expect, a couple of days later, to find myself looking across at one of the addresses that our budding composer occupied in Glasgow. Buildings change, and it looks as though this one has been reduced to two storeys since our heroine lived there with her mother and a couple of siblings in the 1890s. So … you may or may not be looking at the tenement flat where they lived, but you’re definitely looking at the tenement!
It’s just along from the Fabric Bazaar and the famous Barras market. Since Piping Live has been on, and yesterday it was the second day of the World Pipe Bands Championships at Glasgow Green, there was a distant, constant sound of drones, and kilts swinging round every corner.
Yes, even in the fabric shop, the reason for my outing in the first place. No kidding.
*The Royal Academy of Music’s September conference, Women and Musical Histories, 1789-1914. My paper has possibly my longest ever title-
‘The Trumpet Major’s ‘Poetess’ Widow; the Scottish Shipping Magnate’s Daughter and the Retired Barrister: The Importance of Parental Support to Musically Gifted Girls in the Late Victorian and Edwardian Eras’.
Linked in won’t tell me much, without my paying for Premium membership, which I’m not going to do. Still they’ll tell me the top three companies my searchers work at. Frankly, I’m surprised by their names. I’m particularly surprised that IQVIA (a real company) has looked me up again, considering I have spoken to a real, live person – well, I assume she was real and live – to point out that I am absolutely not who they are looking for. So, why have they looked me up again? Didn’t they remove me from their list of hopefuls, as I rather strongly suggested?
I am not, never have been, never will be a medic of any description. Do they really think that just because I have a PhD and am a post doctoral research fellow, I must therefore be a medical researcher?
I was not a straight-A-in-every-subject all-rounder: I have one narrowly-passed O-Level in Physical Chemistry. That’s is my sole scientific credential. The other ten O-Levels, and all subsequent qualifications, are non-scientific.
I work in a Conservatoire! (To anyone in the USA, it would be called a conservatory.) I’m a musicologist, and my historical research crosses over into social history.
Anyway, to make things easier for them, I have improved my profile. Before tonight, perhaps it was a little ambiguous – to headhunters not familiar with what a Conservatoire is all about:-
Post Doctoral Research Fellow at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Athenaeum Award for Leng Medal Memories research project.
And now?
Post Doctoral Research Fellow at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Athenaeum Award for Leng Medal Memories research project into a Dundee Scots Song Competition 🎵.
Having written my conference paper and devised a PowerPoint, it’ll be back to transcribing oral history interviews on Thursday. The kind of thing you’d expect a musicologist/social historian to be doing, in fact!
A week later – now we have pharmaceutical companies and animal health experts looking me up. What do I have to do …. ?!
I’ve got the weirdest of headaches. My head and I got home from A&E at 5 am yesterday. (No explanation, but both serious potential diagnoses ruled out.)
Even Google Health (aka Fitbit) was sorry for me:-
Yesterday, weird headache or not – it’s not a foggy migraine, but a frequent, painful distraction – I was determined to make a start on my conference paper. Miraculously, between twinges, I had suddenly hit upon a good way to begin it, and in desperation, I decided that some simple maths would enable me to make a start, even if I have to tidy it up later.
Armed with that framework, I got started, and actually made reasonable progress, considering how tired and uncomfortable I was. I completed several headings.
So, wouldn’t you think I’d have slept well last night? I achieved nearly five hours – I suppose that was at least substantially better than the night before.
Morning insomnia is the most frustrating thing. It has afflicted me for years. But if getting back to sleep at 5.20 am is nearly impossible, then return to slumber with the weirdest of headaches is utterly impossible. I didn’t try: I sought medication, made a cup of tea and took it back to bed. But now I was awake, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep.
Combining Robert Louis Stevenson’s ‘Bed in Summer’ and ‘The Land of Counterpane’, out came my phone for some duvet-top research. (There’s just one golden rule: do not touch any audio or video clips, for obvious reasons!)
I’ve been looking into a Victorian-era London music publisher. What did he publish with a Celtic connection? Who published with him? Did they know each other? This gets intriguing. I can see today’s going to be a day of lists and charts.
But not before the outing to a secondhand bookshop that I promised myself as a reward for yesterday’s efforts – because it looks as though the only way to find what I’m looking for, is to look in places that don’t have an online presence – just me, leafing through old music.
I’m sure to find a decent coffee-shop somewhere nearby!
Cover image by madartzgraphics from Pixabay
On this day in 1899, the late publisher James S. Kerr’s daughter Maude took possibly the worst decision in her life – she married Benjamin Disraeli Wigton, Second Officer of SS Britannia.
A descendant hinted that they may have been distantly related. That was not the problem. (He also spent some time in an asylum in the West of Scotland, for which we can’t condemn him, obviously.) The bridegroom, with perhaps the most memorable Christian names I’ve ever encountered, went on to marry other ladies in Australia AND New Zealand. However, he was certainly more than a bigamist. It must have been comparatively easy to get away with, in those days. But with such a conspicuous name? Breathtaking audacity!
Maude [Maud] Speirs Kerr divorced him not long after her mother died, and went on to make herself a new life in America. Did she deliberately wait until Mary had died before taking this step? Who knows!
I’m back at work after a month’s vacation (I confess that I was rather lazy), and now I must get back both to my Dundee Leng Medal research, AND to writing a paper for a conference at London’s Royal Academy of Music: Women and Musical Histories, 1789-1914.
I’m reminded by this, my own blog, that I was attending the International Association of Music Libraries’ Congress in Cambridge, this time in 2023. I particularly enjoyed hearing the talks about early film music.
I wasn’t speaking on that occasion. No, my input was merely in various social media aspects: I was running the social media campaign for and during the event, and I’d created a trio of conference mascots – Cam, Bridge and Don – whom I employed in social media posts. (I don’t know what happened to the first two, but Don was given to a wee girl at church, and has enjoyed a comfortable retirement in a family setting.)
I’d also come up with the IDEA behind the conference logo – a chap on a punt, incorporating the IAML abbreviation. Well, it was Cambridge! I hasten to add – I wasn’t the artist. The IAML Cambridge Congress feels like a long time and another lifetime ago! I was already aspiring to a new part-time research existence, but envied another delegate who already had theirs’ lined up, being a tiny bit closer to retirement age than I!
And by this time in 2024? I’d retired from librarianship, but I was rather busy on final tweaks to my second monograph. And 2025 saw a rather unsettled summer, which we’ll gloss over.
Anyway, this year, I decided it would be a proper vacation, even if I didn’t spend it travelling or sunbathing. I achieved this moderately successfully. However, last weekend I decided I’d ease myself back by having another go at some detective work which had failed on all earlier attempts. My earlier research had focused on this individual’s daughter. Now it was the parent who intrigued me. But again, I drew a blank, after I don’t know how many hours. I cannot trace documented evidence of youthful musical activity by this individual, although I know that she was her daughter’s first singing teacher – and I have my own hunches about some of the books they might have used!
This is not to say that I found nothing. I know where the mother was born – no more than a couple of miles away from where I’m sitting today, in a large house that is no longer there.* It would be fair to say that the neighbourhood has gone down significantly since then! I know where she subsequently grew up (an even larger house in a very nice neighbourhood, again a couple of miles from where I’m sitting today, but on the other side of the M8 motorway). I know where her parents came from, too. And I traced her mother’s retiral from the family business. I even found a blogpost about a family grave in the Glasgow Necropolis.
However, the sad fact is that if a wealthy young woman was musical, but there’s no newspaper documentation of her ever performing publicly, then there really isn’t very much to go on. Try as I will, I can find no mention of her at school, or singing, being a soprano or a contralto, ‘contributing’ (a common word in Victorian reportage of musical events), or even venturing into playing the piano/pianoforte. Her older brother and sister took part in a fund-raising bazaar hosted by the local church, but there’s no mention of ‘my’ subject there either.
I have visions of myself standing dolefully outside the large house that’s still standing, or on the corner of the street where the other house stood, or even in Glasgow Necropolis, literally trying to communicate with ghosts past, in my efforts to intuit how much music occupied her childhood and adolescent years. It would make not a scrap of difference, though!
Ah, well. Back to more pressing topics. Perhaps I have to give up on my Miss Marple endeavours.
*By this evening, I had realised that my bus route to work actually passes the junction where Flora’s mother was born. It’s a curious coincidence, to add to the vacant site a bit further along the route, where James S Kerr’s first music shop was located. Who knew the no.23 bus had such historical links?!
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 