To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
This chapter looks at some of the pieces of music Jane Austen chose to copy into her manuscript books during her teenage years alongside her contemporary teenage writings, and considers how her musical knowledge and practice might be reflected in what she was writing, and vice versa. Examples include songs with political dimensions, such as ‘Queen Mary’s lamentation’, and sentimental and melodramatic love songs, like Miss Mellish’s ‘My Phillida’ and Samuel Webbe’s ‘The mansion of peace’, which formed part of the cultural milieu that Austen lampoons in stories such as ‘Frederic and Elfrida’. The song lyrics that sometimes appear in the stories are only slightly more ridiculous than the earnestly flowery verses that appear in these songs. On the other hand, the songs by Charles Dibdin take themselves less seriously and it is likely that Austen enjoyed Dibdin’s sense of humour and often irreverent approach, while at the same time appreciating his skill at presenting character sketches in music. An examination of this repertoire suggests some possibilities for the role played by Austen’s musical activities in the formation of her writing persona throughout her teenage years.
In 1814, Jane Austen attended a performance of Thomas Arne’s 1762 opera Artaxerxes at Covent Garden in London. Although she never mentions him by name in her letters or her novels, Arne’s music was clearly well known to Austen. Thomas Augustine Arne (1710–78) was the pre-eminent native-born English opera and theatre composer of the eighteenth century, and wrote cantatas and songs in a wide range of styles. The Austen music books include a variety of Arne’s vocal works. Most of these are found in Austen’s own music albums, or in albums that she would have known. This chapter provides some background about operatic and theatrical conventions in the Georgian period and the career of Thomas Arne. Each of the identifiable Arne pieces in the collection is then discussed in some detail, along with speculation on some other possibilities, and an Arne song which is quoted in her fiction.
The Austen family music collection includes both printed sheet music and manuscript copies of music that belonged to various members of the extended Austen family. This chapter focuses on the manuscripts in Austen’s own hand, the part of the surviving collection currently available for study which is most closely and unequivocally connected with her. Firstly the collection as a whole, and the cataloguing project which has led to this book, are described and summarised. The manuscript corpus is then surveyed as a whole in various ways, to establish the relative frequency of the composers and lyricists, and the types of music that appear. Following this analysis, each of the four albums containing Austen’s manuscripts is examined individually to see what can be learned by their physical characteristics – whether anything can be assumed by the order of the music within their pages, or by the juxtaposition of various items. This is followed by a brief summary of the printed music which carries Austen’s ownership marks.
In bringing this book to a close, this chapter revisits some themes from earlier in the book and considers them in a slightly different light. Firstly, the question of professionalism is discussed in the context of Austen’s literary and musical practice, as well as the significance of the categories ‘amateur’ and ‘professional’. The next section concerns the material culture of music as it appears in the novels, particularly in relation to Emma and the inclusion of specific musical facts in that novel of a kind which are otherwise absent from her fiction. The third section discusses the historical and cultural implications of the range of instruments mentioned in the novels. And lastly, the four songs that her relatives recalled hearing her sing, in memories recorded half a century after her death, are described.
Among the music Jane Austen copied into one of her manuscript books dating from the 1790s is a song titled ‘Chanson Béarnoise’. This is by no means the only French song in Austen’s music collection, but it is of particular interest: the words of this song also appear as an Appendix to the ‘Justification de M. de Favras’ (Paris, 1791) because they had been adduced in evidence against the royalist Thomas Marquis de Favras Mahy, executed by the revolutionary government in February 1790 for high treason. The Austen family’s links to France via Jane’s cousin, Eliza Comtesse de Feuillide, whose royalist husband was also executed in 1794 and who later married Austen’s brother Henry, are well known. However, the music in her collection provides an interesting new angle on her cultural and personal sympathies with France. Within a few pages of the ‘Chanson Béarnoise’, we find not only Stephen Storace’s ‘Captivity’, a song lamenting the suffering and dread of Queen Marie Antoinette as she awaits her fate, but also the music and six verses of words of ‘The Marseilles March’, an early version of the ‘Marseillaise’. Using her music collection as a starting point, this chapter considers the evidence for Austen’s knowledge of French politics and culture, and her attitude to the turbulent events taking place across the Channel during her teens and early twenties.
Few songs of the British nineteenth century have had the staying power of ‘Home, Sweet Home’. With music by Henry Bishop and words by John Howard Payne, it first appeared in Clari; or, the Maid of Milan (1823) at London’s Covent Garden. The song remained in the repertory well into the twentieth century and is still a point of reference in the twenty-first. In the initial dramatic context, it was a solo vehicle for the titular heroine, a means of expressing Clari’s longing to return to her ‘humble’ home. Once the number became a breakout hit, the opera’s narrative details ceded significance to a vaguer international vogue for nostalgic sentiment. Like the much-discussed Swiss maladie du pays or the contemporary craze for the ranz des vaches, Bishop and Payne’s creation piqued the public interest in imagining a home out of reach. As the decades wore on, however, the song’s invocation of home acquired a distinctive national accent. By the mid-Victorian period ‘Home, Sweet Home’ had come to anchor an ideology of English exceptionalism. To perform or attend to this song in 1871 was to partake in a quasi-ritualistic affirmation of the doctrine of the hearth. This was partly bound up with the specious claim that other languages lacked an adequate word for home, but it was also connected to a shift in the geography of belonging. In lieu of the Romantic yearning for a distant homeland, this new Victorian nostalgia fixated on the heteronormative family home with its promise of shelter from the trials of urban modernity and the vices of foreign politics. Drawing on a range of musical, visual, and literary sources this article explores a key passage in the history of British ambivalence to city living via a song that emerged as a powerful amplifier of anti-urban desire.
Austen’s surviving letters include many passing references to music, revealing a network of friends and relations with whom she shared musical links of various kinds: as student, as fellow musician, and as mentor, to mention just a few. The memoirs of her life written by relatives after her death add some more details about the extent and nature of her musical activities and the music she enjoyed playing. In addition, the music collection itself implies various kinds of music sharing between members of the extended family. This chapter discusses these musical relationships in the context of her own music practice.
Songs in English make up a large proportion of Jane Austen’s music collection, although sometimes the melodies or subject matter originated outside the British Isles. This chapter discusses the presence of English, Scottish and Irish songs in Austen’s collections and in her novels. So-called ‘Scotch songs’ were hugely popular in Austen’s time and many are included in her collections, including songs by Robert Burns. Thomas Moore’s Irish melodies emerged later and Austen collected several of them in one of her manuscript albums. They are mentioned in Emma, and an Irish folk song is the only piece of music referred to in any of her novels. She also owned a copy of a collection of canzonets by quintessentially English composer William Jackson, as well as many other English songs. This preference has led to dismissive comments from modern critics about her musical taste. This chapter engages with this debate and suggests different ways of assessing the music in her life.
In 2024, the Women and Equalities Select Committee in the UK Parliament published a report entitled Misogyny in Music. It included the recommendations that ‘music colleges, conservatoires and other educational settings need to do more to address the gendering of instruments, roles and genres and improve the visibility of and support for female role models’. While there is a dearth of policy levers available to implement this recommendation, this article critically analyses three existing policy/regulatory frameworks that could be used for its implementation in England. The article also highlights a significant limitation of the report – its exclusion of trans and non-binary musicians.
Electronic dance music is increasingly the focus of a multitude of academic research projects around the world but has been drastically under-represented in accessible core published material. This innovative scholarly collection provides an important 'first stop' for researchers and students wishing to work in this area. It examines the key features of numerous electronic dance music scenes and (sub)genres alongside discussions of the musical, social and aesthetic experiences of participants to consider how these musical practices create purpose and cultural significance for millions around the world. At the same time, it introduces diverse theoretical approaches to the understanding of electronic dance music cultures and addresses the issues and debates in electronic dance music culture studies. Adopting an interdisciplinary approach drawn from both music and cultural studies – including music aesthetics, technologies, venues, and performativity – from a broad geographical perspective, the volume sheds fresh light on electronic dance music cultures.
Polychrony is a virtual or artificial tempor[e]ality that is constructed by the fine augmentation or tempering of a natural set of latencies that articulate a complex networked acoustic. The art is to optimise the alignment of these disjunct temporalities as they merge in a new chronotopic fusion. This fooling with Mother Nature, however, does not come without consequences: due to the significant latency effects intrinsic to a planetary-scale network, a phenomenon called topo-rhythmia emerges. Toporhythms are derived simply as a feature of communication over distance; they are the multiple versions of a rhythm that occur at each node of a networked piece due to the temporal offsets caused by delay. To work with this feature more intentionally, rather than as an accident of relativity, we must tune or temper the network latency. Tempering is a general tactic for ontological negotiation, bringing observers and complex systems into some kind of coherency. The purpose of this article is to explore the tempering of musical time-space on networks and how that underlies the notational practices (and the alien compositional assumptions) built upon this novel orientation.