Clergyman’s Wife writes Humorous Musical Sketch? (Votes for Women!)

Music cover. Fashionable lady, and man holding a baby

I don’t go on shopping sprees. But let me loose on eBay, and who knows what I’ll buy? I came across a Bayley & Ferguson publication from ca.1894-6. It was published both in Glasgow and in London, and was performed in Bishopbriggs on the outskirts of Glasgow in January 1897. The London address confirms the earliest date. (John A. Parkinson’s Victorian Music Publishers: an Annotated List is invaluable here.*) The cover illustration caught my eye, and I must confess I was intrigued to find it was composed by a woman: Constance M. Yorke. In 1897-8, she also published Twilight Shadows with a London publisher, Larway, who again dealt with light musical fare. I haven’t attempted to get my hands on that one.

Constance M. Yorke: is this Constance Maria Yorke Smith / Scholefield?

I traced a Constance Maria Yorke Smith (1855-1936), who was a vicar’s daughter, originally from Loddon in Norfolk, but whose early adult years were spent in Penally, Pembrokeshire. Her late father was the Revd. J. J. Smith, latterly a tutor at the University of Cambridge. Constance in turn married a clergyman herself – James Henry Scholefield – in a very ‘society’ wedding in Cornwall in 1891. If I’m right, then this ‘humorous musical sketch‘ under her forenames but not her surname, could have been written when she was already married. (Her mother had given the happy couple a grand piano as a wedding gift – Constance would have been making good use of it!)

Rose Smith’s Mother, Mary Ann

This paragraph is newly added (March 2026). In the RMA Research Chronicle, you’ll find my recent article about five Scotswomen involved in and around music publishing in the late Victorian era and early twentieth century. The author of the musical sketch, M. A. Smith, was the mother of composer and self-publisher, Rose Smith. And whilst I can’t be 100% sure of the identity of Constance M. Yorke, I am 101% sure that M. A. Smith was Rose’s mother, and the author of Mr and Mrs Dobbs at Home. I’m still working on this, notwithstanding the fact that my article is now published, because I feel there’s more to be said about M. A. Smith. I’m fascinated by her, her views, and her writing. Bayley & Ferguson didn’t publish the sketch using the lilac-and-green colour scheme commonly associated with women’s suffrage, but the sketch is a somewhat tongue-in-cheek sideways glance at the suffrage movement. Read on, to see what I mean. The rather obnoxious heroine hardly sells the idea of women’s suffrage and equality to the average man – or woman – in the street.

Mr & Mrs Dobbs at Home: humorous Musical Sketch / (words by M. A. Smith; composed by Constance M. Yorke (London, Glasgow: Bayley & Ferguson, n.d.). Franz Pazdírek listed the piece in his Universal Handbook (1904-10), but erroneously attributed it to Caroline M. Yorke, and Twilight Shadows to M. Constance Yorke – rather confusing, Herr Pazdírek!

So, what of ‘Mr and Mrs Dobbs at Home’? Selina is a spoiled young madam. Mr Dobbs is hen-pecked to an insane degree, submissive beyond measure and seemingly incapable of standing up for himself. Selina says he has driven the maids and the nurse away, so it’s only right that he should do all their work. ‘Enter Mr Dobbs in shirt sleeves and kitchen apron, with broom in one hand, duster in the other, as if he had been sweeping.’ (Does he go out to work? No mention of it. And why have they all gone away? The poor man seems to have no spine, let alone any serious vices!) The baby cries. Who goes and fetches her from the nursery? Mr Dobbs. He says the child is teething. Selina instead accuses him of jabbing her with a nappy pin.

Ah, well. Having told him off for having a quick, sneaky puff of his pipe whilst she was getting herself ready, the pair and their baby set off for a day out to meet one of Selina’s friends. At this point, Mr Dobbs mentions that a ‘lady speaker’ has tried for the third time to see Selina, but he forgot to mention this before. (I missed this the first time I flicked through, but sat up straight when I realised that Selina was being courted by the Suffragettes, Suffragists, or similar.) Privately, he seems to think anyone involved in ‘Women’s Rights’ should be kept well away from his wife – it seems a little late in the day for that, considering Selina already has the upper hand! Of course, Selina sees things differently, and the rest of the sketch is basically a dispute as to whether women can, or cannot, ‘rule as well as the men’, with Mr Dobbs muttering that,

Shirts, vests, and ties and knickers, too, are all now female gear; our coats and hats will follow suit, and presently we’ll see the pater in the mater’s skirt, a-toddling out to tea.

Mr Dobbs’ complaint

It’s not a work of high artistic content! Not that it isn’t harmonically sound or averagely tuneful, but it was probably only ever intended for domestic or amateur entertainment. However, I do smile at the thought that whilst Revd. Scholefield was writing his sermons, Constance was sitting at the piano composing a musical sketch about role reversal – and then publishing it.   (Or had a lyricist originally written it more as a conservative warning than eager anticipation of a brave new world?!)

You never know what you might find when, on a whim, you order something off eBay.

* John A. Parkinson, Victorian Music Publishers: an Annotated List (Warren, Michigan: Harmonie Park Press, 1990) – it is worth noting that Parkinson worked in the Music Room of the British Museum.

Music Subscribers: a database by Simon Fleming and Martin Perkins

https://musicsubscribers.co.uk/

This is the very detailed and useful database compiled by Simon Fleming and Martin Perkins for their subscribers project. You can find out more about it on their extensive information pages. 

I had early access to the database for my chapter on subscriptions to Scottish fiddle books.  (Chapter 10: ‘Strathspeys, Reels, and Instrumental Airs: A National Product’, as I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. )

NB ‘The dataset is the intellectual copyright of Simon D. I. Fleming and Martin Perkins.’ 

Simon D. I. Fleming and Martin Perkins (eds.) Music by Subscription: Composers and their Networks in the British Music-Publishing Trade, 1676–1820. Oxford, Routledge, 2022. 

NB. There’s currently (26 November 2023) a Black Friday deal on the book!

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Knowing When to Stop

The mystery teacher – photo from British Newspaper Archive

There are times when our insatiable curiosity leads us ‘up the garden path’, aren’t there? For me, it’s when I decide to pursue the life history of characters that really aren’t central to what I’m researching.

Take this weekend: I’m currently researching the pedagogical output of a Victorian Edinburgh music teacher, and I discovered his daughter collaborated on some of his publications. (This is confirmed by a letter that her sister wrote to a music journal later.) The collaborations appear to have been before she married.

I found a newspaper article about a story she had written for a women’s magazine called The People’s Friend in 1906, and this gave me her married name, but also informed me that she was working as a head teacher in a village quite a way from Edinburgh. It was definitely her – it named her father and his achievements.

Oh, my goodness. I wrote a number of stories for that magazine myself, some decades ago, so that made me sit up and look, straight away!

More interestingly, though – for a married woman still to be working, was a red flag in itself, because it was usual for a woman to stop working when she married. I traced her marriage certificate on Scotland’s People, and only noticed at the last minute that there was an amendment attached. She divorced her husband – whereabouts unknown – in 1912. Perhaps she had found it expedient to continue working, notwithstanding having a young child, if there had already been marital discord for a while. But who knows?!

I found the mother, a nine-year old son and a servant living back in Edinburgh in 1911. The census described her just as a teacher – no mention of headship here.

Really, my only interest at this point – whether or not she continued to collaborate with her father after she married – was my curiosity about a woman working as a teacher after marriage. Not long ago, I researched a late Victorian woman called Clarinda Webster, who was a music teacher, head teacher and ultimately a divorcee, so there was a human interest in finding someone else whose circumstances might have been vaguely similar …

After a few hours delving into Ancestry, Scotland’s People and the British Newspaper Archive, I made myself stop. I don’t know where this woman and her son ended up. Maybe they left Scotland or emigrated, who knows? At the end of the day, it doesn’t make any difference to my research into pedagogical music publications in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras.

On the other hand, stories of working women professionals in that era continue to interest me, whether musicians, teachers or both. It wouldn’t take much to convince me to keep looking…

Librarian & Student Collaboration: a Blog Post about Francis George Scott

I’m so pleased with this lovely post, arising from an email exchange with one of our dedicated new Royal Conservatoire of Scotland singing graduates. I posted this on the Whittaker Library blog, Whittaker Live. I hope you like it. I am very grateful to our graduate contributor.

Francis George Scott – Would he make it into your Music Case?

Haunted by Alexander Campbell!

I wrote extensively about Scottish song-collector Alexander Campbell and his early 19th century Albyn’s Anthology collections, in my PhD. And my subsequent monograph. I’ve talked about him (a lot), and during the pandemic, I contributed a chapter to Steve Roud and David Atkinson’s essay collection, Thirsty Work and other Legacies of Folk Song (London: The Ballad Partners, 2022). So it’s gratifying to read a nice review of the essay collection in the April-May 2023 issue (no.324) of London Folk.

Campbell feels like a distinct ‘blast from the past’, after I’ve spent the past three or four years mainly thinking about more recent song collections. But I’m very pleased that other people seem to share my interest in this fascinating man!

‘Dr Karen McAulay of the Books’ – by Dr Karen Marshalsay

Karen Marshalsay's album, The Road to Kennacraig

When my first book was published in 2013, my dear friend clarsach-player and composer Dr Karen Marshalsay played at the book-launch, performing a tune that she had written especially for me. ‘Dr Karen McAulay of the Books’ has been included in Karen’s album, The Road to Kennacraig – you can hear the tune here.

Karen’s playing ‘my’ tune at a gig in Crail on 18th February 2023 – clarsairs have a much more interesting and varied existence than librarians! – but I’ll have to content myself with listening to my CD or the digital rendition. I feel very privileged to have a tune named after me.

Now you See it, Now you Don’t: the British College of Music

I was just tidying up some loose ends in the chapter I’ve been writing. There was a music professor called John Greig who looked after things at Edinburgh University in between Reid Professors. Friedrich Rieck got the job – Greig didn’t. Within a decade the press was reporting his taking up an organist post in London. Then acting as an external examiner for the London College of Music, and finally principal of his own college – the British College of Music – in 1908. He died within a couple of years of opening it, having funded it largely out of his own pocket, but with a handful of shareholders holding a tiny fraction of the shares.

A contemporary magazine said it was just a money-spinning exercise. Okay, but it did advertise from time to time, notwithstanding Greig’s demise, so it clearly continued at least a little while. I also found reference in an Australian source, suggesting it was went on being a money-spinner for a while.

Here’s the thing: on the face of it, it appears still to be offering music exams to this day. I found reference to a modern professor in the UK, who offers masterclasses to students wishing to take ‘British College of Music exams’; there’s even a masterclass coming up in Ochanomizu, Japan this month (February 2023). However, I suspect that the professor actually means ‘exams offered by British music colleges’ rather than an institution by that name. Capital letters and word order make such a difference!

I don’t really mind. It has absolutely nothing to do with my research, and I stopped before I fell any further down the Alice-in-Wonderland-type rabbit hole. Anyway, I don’t need to mention the institution in a book about Scottish music publishers!

Trains, Trossachs, Choirs and the Council: Neilston Parish Church’s First Organist

I have contributed an article about the first organist of Neilston Parish Church, to the Glasgow Society of Organists for the September 2022 issue of The Glasgow Diapason: Newsletter. It doesn’t really relate to my own musicological research, apart from its connection with amateur music-making in the West of Scotland in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras, but I thought I’d share it here as well, since I had a lot of fun writing it!

Trains, Trossachs, Choirs and the Council

Dr Karen E McAulay, Neilston Parish Church

Moving from an Allen organ in a post-war church, to Neilston’s historical tracker action instrument, I’m enjoying the new playing experience, and change of scenery getting there.  My research interests in Scottish music history mean I’m also intrigued by the church’s long past.  Although not everyone is enthralled by local history, I love finding out what mattered to people in their everyday lives, and I wondered what I could find out about the very first organist. As you’ll see, someone – the organist himself? – kept the local press well-informed about his activities.

Neilston Parish Church Organ

Neilston got its Conacher organ in 1888, when the church decided their three-year old harmonium wasn’t sufficiently supportive of congregational singing.  Two ladies of the congregation made generous donations, the balance being found by the rest of the congregation. The organist, master grocer Hugh Gibson Millar (1859-1932), had inaugurated the harmonium, and now led a ‘select choir’ in a grand Friday inaugural musical entertainment, accompanied by Mr Fraser of Queen’s Park Church.  The new organ occasioned a new pulpit being built, the old one banished to the manse!  (The old manse has been demolished, and the pulpit disposed of before living memory.  Maybe when the bachelor incumbent was promoted heavenward, his successor didn’t want this extra furniture.)

Neilston village had not only a flourishing church choir, but also a Tonic Sol-Fa Society.  (Despite classically-trained musicians regarding the sol-fa system disparagingly, it was undeniably the means of many working and not-so-working class singers learning to perform music, at home or in a choir, from the late 19th century well into the 20th.)  Some people were in both, causing problems when the same day was double-booked for a concert in December 1888.  There was a flurry of angry “letters to the Editor” about this, with Neilston Parish Church Musical Association wading into the fray!

Millar was the son of a Kilmarnock shoemaker.  Marrying in Kilmarnock, he lived and worked as a grocer in Glasgow for a couple of years, but they moved to Gertrude Place in Barrhead sometime between 1881-1883.  By 1896, he had shops in Barrhead and Neilston, and the following year he was advertising for a boy to work in an ironmonger’s shop.

Ambitious and undoubtedly talented, he got a Mus. Bac. from the University of Trinity College, Toronto in 1896.  This external qualification (early distance learning?!) was discontinued in 1897, and the University merged with the University of Toronto not long after. By the 1920s, degrees like his were dismissed as bogus by many. Nonetheless, the press reported significant exam successes by his pupils. (Millar’s degree was reported by the press in connection with any musical activity, but not with his trade.)  The year he got his degree, one of his female pupils excelled in practical and ‘Musical Knowledge’ exams with Trinity College London, whilst in 1901 Robert Craig of Barrhead got top marks in Musical Knowledge, and was reported as studying organ, harmony, counterpoint and music history with Millar. 

The newspaper reported a Christmas service led by Millar and the choir in 1898, including what was performed.  The choral items later appear in the United Free Church of Scotland Anthem Book (1909), clearly popular choices.

  • Smith, R. A., How beautiful upon the mountains,
  • [Elvey or Hopkins] Arise, shine, for Thy light is come
  • Hatton, J. L., Let us now go even unto Bethlehem
  • Batiste, Édouard,  Angelic voices [organ]
  • Handel, G. F., March in Scipio [organ]

Choir outings were popular in the two decades before the Great War. (You have only to look at eBay listings for choir trip postcards!)  The Barrhead News reported an outstandingly successful choir outing by train to Callander and the Trossachs, led by Millar ­­and the Revd. Robert Barr in June 1899.  They had a great time, with unspecified high jinks in the railway tunnel between Queen Street and Cowlairs; a picnic by the banks of Loch Katrine, provided by the young ladies of the choir; and singing and violin playing on the way home, arriving back at 11pm.  An evening party on another occasion seems to have ended after midnight!  Being in a church choir plainly enhanced one’s social life.

Within a month, though, he was moving to play a Willis organ at Clark Memorial Church in Largs – reported as a step up, with a good organ and a better salary.  Indeed, his census return in 1901 finds him living in a fine terraced house with a sea view on Aubery Crescent, Largs with his wife and thirteen-year old Andrew.  Millar was described as an organist – not a grocer – and Andrew as an organist’s apprentice. Hugh and Sarah’s two older boys had clerking jobs, and were apparently staying with an ironmonger’s family back in Gertrude Place. The Millars seems to have had homes in both Largs and Barrhead from then on, as later confirmed by his death certificate. 

He was barely at Clark Memorial two years, when the Barrhead News announced in September 1902 that he had left, and was resuming music teaching in Barrhead.  His home, ‘Hughenden’ in Gertrude Place, by now had a Conacher organ of its own, available to pupils for practising; there’s no further mention of being a church organist. 

1903 saw him becoming local secretary for an examination board called the International Music College, a one-man concern run by a music-teaching organist in London.  Millar also made enquiries about the water supply for a water-powered chamber organ – another domestic instrument, or was he moving the Gertrude Place instrument? – in a house he proposed to build on Neilston Road.  Described again as a grocer, 1904 saw him standing for election as a councillor in Barrhead. The following year, Councillor Millar, Mus. Bac., FRSM, did have all his qualifications reported!  In time he became a bailie, and finally, Provost. 

Millar died in 1932, in Aubery Crescent, Largs, but his death certificate gave his usual residence as ‘Sandringham’, Paisley Road, Barrhead.  The Scotsman published his obituary:- ‘Hugh G. Millar carried on business in Barrhead, was a member of the Town Council for about 25 years, and served two terms in the civic chair. He also represented the burgh on Renfrewshire County Council for a long period. He had a residence in Largs for 30 years, and took a keen interest in local municipal affairs, being Chairman of the North Ward Ratepayers Committee.  The ex-Provost, who was 73 years of age, is survived by a widow and three sons.’

A man of many talents, he seems to have had a comfortable, varied and interesting life.  His shoemaker father would never have guessed that his tradesman son would end up probably the first Barrhead provost with a music degree, a diploma, two homes and his own chamber organ!

Latour – Piano Professor & King’s Pianiste

Followers of this blog will know that you can look at historical piano teaching materials in the libraries that hold legal deposit collections.  Nowadays, there are a handful of big national and university libraries in the UK that still receive one copy of everything published, under statutory legislation.  But there are other libraries – especially in Scotland – that also received this material, until the beginning of Queen Victoria’s reign.

Theodore Latour was pianist to King George IV – Victoria’s uncle.  He taught privately and at girls’ schools, played and composed, and also wrote some piano tutor books.  As it happens, Emily Bronte had music by Latour in her collection, including one of his books of progressive exercises, although I haven’t examined that particular publication.  (Robert K. Wallace mentions it, in his Emily Bronte and Beethoven: Romantic Equilibrium in Fiction and Music.)

It’s possible to find copies of some of Latour’s works online via Google Books, IMSLP or Archive.org, so if you’re interested, we could point you in the right direction.

I have been experimenting with other ways of talking/writing about the Stationers’ Hall Georgian legal deposit music corpus. Here are my Saturday afternoon efforts.  Have you tried any such audiovisual presentations in your own research?  Do you find them helpful?