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.
Published online today, 12 January 2026, in the RMA (Royal Musical Association) Research Chronicle, by Cambridge University Press, on Open Access:-click here.
Writing this article was enormously fulfilling. I had encountered these ladies whilst researching my latest monograph, and I became convinced that they deserved profiling in their own right, and not merely as bit-parts in the larger picture occupied by their husbands, fathers and brothers.
The kernel of the abstract states that, ‘This article focuses on a group of Scottish women who did not make their names solely as art music composers or stellar performers, and for whom piano teaching was only part of their musical work. Four were related to the Scottish music publishers Mozart Allan, James Kerr, and the Logan brothers; the fifth published with Allan and Kerr, and also self-published.’
And all had fulfilling portfolio musical careers. Read on, and I’m sure you’ll agree!
Anyone looking at my publication record is soon going to be mightily confused. The article about Sir John Macgregor Murray concerns a Highlander who lived from 1745-1822. I wrote it at a time when I was still researching Scottish music collecting and publishing in the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-centuries.
Today, I received the final proofs for the next extensive article. This time, it’s about Scotswomen with portfolio music careers in the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-centuries. (Two of them were of English parentage, but let’s not quibble!) A spin-off from my latest book, in the sense that I turned my focus onto a number of individuals who had hung around in the shadows of the book, this article extends over some 22 pages, and luckily there wasn’t a great deal needing changing in the proofs. But the instructions for using the proofing system extended over 49 pages, and there was also a ten-step quick tour of the process. I nearly had a fit at the sight of the former, but the latter told me nearly all I needed to know. Job done.
There are still more articles in the pipeline; I’ll flag them up as they come along! Meanwhile, there’s the small matter of Christmas requiring my attention during the semi-retired part of my existence, not to mention the continued tidying up of our poor scarred, rewired residence! But first, I need stamps …
Image: Glasgow Athenaeum, forerunner of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland (Wikimedia Commons) – where two of ‘my’ musical ladies received their advanced musical training.
At Tuesday’s Women who Dared book launch, mention was made of the Wikipedia ‘Women in Red’ project, to which I once attempted to contribute. It’s a valuable project; there’s no denying far too few women are represented in Wikipedia.
I got nowhere with my own attempt, as I was the only person who had researched and written about ‘my’ Elizabeth Lambert (married name Williams), so I couldn’t provide the requisite references by respectable authors. She wasn’t ‘daring’, but she definitely made a worthwhile contribution to St Andrews University Library, in cataloguing their legal deposit music so borrowers knew what was available to borrow. (Her other private interests were interesting, too. She was an acknowledged expert in conchology.) I’m pleased to see she at least has a Wikidata entry now! Anyway, thwarted in my Wikipedia ambitions, I posted a biography on the present blog.
You might also find my article about St Andrews’ Copyright Collection of interest. Again, Miss Lambert gets several honorable mentions. And I found another posting that I’d forgotten all about, this time in 2021 for a University of Stirling research project. I might as well share details of these pieces, to get her a bit more exposure!
‘A Music Library for St Andrews: use of the University’s Copyright Music Collections, 1801-1849’, in Journal of the Edinburgh Bibliographical Society no.15 (2020), 13-33.
I haven’t had a foreign holiday in years, but I haven’t really been very good at taking a decent break at home, either. As long as I was sharing myself between librarianship and research, my annual leave tended just to support my research habit. But this year, I’ve done substantially more research.
I decided that this year, I would have to do better when it came to taking a deliberate break.
I’ve continued to pursue domestic projects, stayed abreast of family preoccupations, done some more weeding (so much weeding!), and read a great book, BeingMortal, by Atul Gawande. This was lent to me a couple of weeks ago, and it proved well worth devoting the time to. But by Thursday, I was itching to go on another outing. A holiday surely has to involve going places, if only locally.
I fancied tea beside a river. ALL I typed into Google was, ‘tea’, and it came up with the ideal cafe. Does it read minds? We didn’t even know there WAS a small loch at Gartcosh, so this was a pleasant surprise. It turns out there’s also a garden centre, which might be useful to know in future.
I’ve also visited a friend, and when I got home, I found that the book I ordered the other day had arrived.
Well, this was fatal. It’s a song book. I looked right through it, looked up the two lady composers and their illustrator, played the songs over, then decided I’d better write down what I had discovered. An enjoyable use of an evening, but this hardly counts as taking a deliberate holiday from research! Indeed, it merely piques my interest as to how the ladies ended up writing their book. Did the friends reach out to the publisher? Or vice versa? Or did someone put them in touch?
The Thomas Nelson ‘child singing’ motif
Meanwhile, my crowded bookshelves have an extra book, and I need to remember that I’m taking a holiday!
My oldies are giving cause for serious concern, and I’m distracted. These situations happen to most of us – I won’t elaborate. Suffice to say that research itself can be a distraction from the awfulness, but not entirely!
Then the microfiche reader screen was too high for my varifocals, so I had to stand to consult it; there was only just room and nowhere to plug in the laptop; and not enough room for my notebook unless I sat back down and balanced it on the edge of the table. I have never liked microfiches anyway! I disliked them in 1988 – nothing has changed.
Although I would like to have stayed longer – I didn’t complete my mission – I wasn’t entirely sorry to have to leave in order not to disappoint expectations that I’d be home to fix lunch.
Back at my own desk, I fiddled with my notes, checked out some details, and quickly checked in with relatives. No news.
Finally, giving in to temptation, I headed back to my happy place. Fabric. In this case, examining Flora Woodman’s concert wardrobe through her performance log! I’ve mentioned before that she logged every outfit worn. It’s a shame that the only outfits we can see, are those in publicity photos. Still, the log gives a good impression of the range of outfits, and some of her accessories. Let me share the concert attire worn by the emerging young star in her first couple of years. Obviously, there’s no indication of style or design, so you’ll need to visit a few historical costume websites for 1913-1915 and form your own imagined impressions.
(I’ve indicated the source of this blog picture below – it has nothing to do with Flora.) There’s also a Facebook page called Attire’s Mind, which gives plenty more food for thought.
1913-1914
Cream Lace Navy Blue White and Pink White Coat & skirt White Silk
1915
Black & White Blue (Spanish) Cream Lace Fur Coat & Pink Hat Navy Coat & Skirt & White Hat Pale Green & White Pink (blue sash) Pink Rose Silver, Pink & Mauve White Silk White (with Black Tulle, Ermine or Swansdown on different occasions)
I found the most beautiful dress on The Romantiquary; in my imagination, this might have been one of Flora’s fabulous frocks. Meanwhile, I need to get a grip on myself and get back to the research proper. I’m not a historical costume expert!
PS. I could be persuaded to list more of Flora’s wardrobe later … ?!
I wrote an article for a Scottish organists’ newsletter, a couple of years ago. To ensure the article would continue to be accessible even if the newsletter was not, I also posted it on this blog.
I was thrilled to receive a query about Margaret (aka Maggie) Thomson over the weekend, so I updated the article gently with a couple of scans and a little bit more detail.
Maggie was clearly a modest soul – or, maybe, a typical Victorian woman, eschewing the limelight – even when she was made a presentation, her brother made the acceptance speech. At any rate, I’m not at all surprised that so little survives of her work. It sounds as though she was an amazing, and much loved accompanist, but the two pieces in The National Choir really aren’t remarkable in any way. Parlane was a local, Paisley book publisher with a considerable output, but having a contribution published in The National Choir would not have as much kudos as a composition published by Boosey or even by one of Scotland’s bigger music publishers. (There’s quite a bit more about Parlane and The National Choir in my book, if you’re interested.)
Another piece, referenced in a newspaper review, probably wasn’t even published.
And there’s another piece, held by the British Library, that has some connection with her – although, if she arranged it, then I’m not quite sure what Wallace Waterston’s input was, even though it is catalogued under his name. Maybe he wrote the tune? I haven’t tried to find out.
ADDENDA to my earlier article:-
I can share images of the National Choir songs:-
‘The Smiling Spring’‘The Weary Day’
‘The smiling spring’, words by Burns, arr. by MWT for The National Choir [Vol.1 p.238] (Parlane, 1891)
‘The Weary day’, original words and music, by MWT for The National Choir Vol.1 p.312 (Parlane, 1891)
Untraceable:-
‘The voice of the deep’ (1883), bass song, written and composed by MWT [Addendum: referenced in a newspaper report of a concert that took place in St George’s Church, Paisley. A positive review! However, the score might not have been published.]
I can also share the reference to the copy of ‘Break, break, break’ in the British Library:-
‘Break, break, break!’, by Wallace Waterston, piano accompt by MWT (1894, published Paterson’s) – [addendum: copy in British Library – catalogue entry here.]
It’s time for a flashback to this time last year. I went all-out to share a lot of research and resources about women musicians, so this year, I think I’ll share it again! I’ve written quite a bit on the subject, as you’ll see.
Why do collectors collect things? Especially old things. The link with the past? The feeling that in some remote way, there’s a virtual thread linking you and an earlier era, or a particular individual?
As I’ve mentioned, I’m writing a long article about some late Victorian/Edwardian Scottish women musicians. It’s virtually finished. But there’s one more thing to do.
I have a single 78 rpm shellac recording of one of these women, whose reputation was not inconsiderable in her day. She played in London. She and her ‘orchestra ‘ made a handful of recordings. But I have no means of playing this precious artefact. I’ve tried to beg or borrow an old gramophone (or newer technology) to no avail, so eventually I bought a record player on Amazon.
All this because I wanted to know what instruments were in her band, a century ago! My article is incomplete without this detail.
PetronellaThere’s an anecdote about a whisky-filled teacup rattling on a piano edge whilst she played …!
I spent years as a specialist music librarian, trying to boost our holdings of music by women composers. This chapter would have been on my list of useful links, had I come across it before retirement from librarianship! I’ll share it here now; tomorrow I’ll be following up some of the references, for my own research interests.
