Signatures and Sonatas: An Exploration of the RDS Concert Archive
Faye Mellon, RDS Library & Archives Volunteer, discusses the recently digitised RDS Concert Archive.
My name is Faye, and I’m in my third year studying History and Irish at Trinity College Dublin. For the past few weeks, I’ve been doing volunteer work in the RDS Library & Archives. I have had the amazing opportunity to learn about cataloguing and digitisation methods, and as part of that I was able to see many of the RDS’ archives materials first hand.
One particularly interesting collection is the RDS Concert Archive (linked here: RDS Concert Archive · RDS Digital Archive), which includes a guestbook from Rathmines Castle, where Margaret Griffith hosted many of the musicians that played at the RDS. It also comprises five scrapbooks containing programmes from RDS, recitals alongside pictures of the featured musicians, spanning the years 1931-1985, the majority of which were made by Edith Boxwell.
Boxwell began scrapbooking RDS programmes 45 years after the RDS formed a committee to organise regular recitals to aid in the development of an ‘enlightened’ music taste in Dublin. These were exclusively instrumental until 1931, and under Michele Esposito’s planning, showcased both classical and romantic works, as well as contemporary pieces. These were so well received he would often give three a day, although this successful streak would eventually be somewhat stymied by the outbreak of the First World War. Indeed, the political climate of early 20th century Ireland was often advantageous to RDS concerts, such as when the Dáil took over the members’ theatre, forcing them to relocate to the much larger Theatre Royal.
Consequently, the RDS Concert Archive encompasses a very fascinating time in Irish cultural history, especially in relation to music. While the 30s onwards saw the rise of the recording industry, the RDS remained the larger presence in the Dublin music sphere, as they began to bill musicians as ‘International celebrities’. However, the most interesting change made to accommodate this new era of popular culture was the gradual introduction of singing acts, marking a clear departure from the initial model of RDS recitals. Unfortunately, it was soon followed by the Second World War, which still did not put a stop to RDS recitals, but indeed hindered their ability to book international artists. Naturally, with the conclusion of the war, the RDS had a renewed ability to find international musicians, but by that point the musical world of Dublin had developed outside of the RDS, between the Radio Orchestra and the establishment of various cultural institutes with the foundation of the Irish Free State. However, this now meant that the RDS had access to acts not only from a musically rejuvenated Dublin, but also increasingly from the rest of the world, through the likes of the Goethe Institute.
Therefore, the RDS Concert Archive is fascinating as it chronicles a very distinct time in Irish musical history. The scrapbooks are obvious artefacts of the early years of celebrity culture. Boxwell collected a great deal of programmes, and clearly had some interest in the musicians featured, as their photographs accompany each one, alongside additional information about the rehearsal. The most notable feature of these collections, however, is that almost all of the programmes feature the signatures of the musicians, sometimes with an accompanying message.
While Boxwell’s collections feature no decoration, it is evident that she placed a lot of value on her collection. She was faithful to one format across each of her books, and seemingly got each of them professionally bound. While most of these covers are very simple in design, sporting no text or decoration except for minimal information on the spine, her third scrapbook stands out in particular. It features a leather cover embossed with the letters “RDS”, as well as the creator’s initials “E. B.” on the back. There are also similarly embossed designs on the corners, which seem to be inspired by Celtic knots. It seems therefore, that Boxwell viewed the compilation of concert programmes as a serious endeavour, worth not only expensive binding, but also that of high-quality, perhaps speaking to Boxwell’s recognition of the value of her collections as an archive.
Indeed, Boxwell’s scrapbooks are incredibly valuable as sources. Where representation of women in the historiography of post-independence Ireland is surprisingly limited, due to a renewed conservatism in the Free State and the successive Republic, scrapbooks like these allow us to recognise that between the 1930s and 50s, women did have a big place in the culture of upper-class Dublin. This is not only evident in Boxwell’s ability to get signatures coming from her occasional work as a pianist, but also the presence of female musicians across Boxwell’s collection. While they don’t predominate, they do feature regularly, and it is evident that female musicians were not considered much of a novelty. Of course, the most important factor in what appeared in the scrapbooks or not was the musical tastes of Boxwell, but even still, the ability to ascertain the tastes of women such as Boxwell provides insight into the values of her demographic, as well as the RDS’ willingness to accommodate them.
A scrapbook like Boxwell’s is also illuminating in the way that it maps out an early form of celebrity culture. While in her earlier works, the recording industry was only emerging, and indeed yet to really take hold in Ireland, Boxwell’s scrapbooks reveal that musicians had some name recognition and a degree of intrigue into their lives and characters. This is especially evident in the newspaper clippings that Boxwell uses to provide additional context to the programmes. The scrapbooks record a shift in popular culture, in which photojournalists eventually began to seek out more casual and personable pictures of the musicians, where earlier photos are almost uniformly professional. This is compounded by the presence of the musician’s signatures. While these may not quite be considered autographs, considering these musicians were Boxwell’s peers, they are worth noting as an outdated practice that would eventually be replaced by autograph culture.
Another fascinating piece in the Concert Archive is Miss Margaret Griffith’s guestbook. This spans the years between 1931-1957, when Miss Griffith was hosting performers from RDS music recitals as well as the Feis Cheoil in her residence in Rathmines Castle. Griffith herself had been helping organise RDS concerts, a role that she inherited from her aunt. The cover of the guestbook is nondescript, bound in leather, with only the words ‘guestbook’ embossed on the front. The inside, however, is filled with the signatures of guests to the house, as well as the occasional newspaper clipping.
As such, this is a rich text for analysing exactly who was either being invited to perform in the RDS, as well as who was able to. As the book has a space for people to write their addresses, the nationalities of RDS performers can be analysed. Naturally, the majority of them lived in Ireland, but otherwise, a large number hailed from Great Britain, but guests from the US and Germany can be observed as well. Therefore, the guestbook provides insight into the tastes of RDS organisers, as well as places in which talented instrumental musicians were working. While London is by far the most commonly recorded city (aside from Dublin), it was interesting to observe the common appearance of places such as Belfast.
The guestbook is also useful for gauging how the RDS recitals were affected by the Second World War. While performers from further away rarely appear between 1939 and 1945, there’s a very noticeable reduction in the number of guests visiting Rathmines Castle. Griffith records 27 guests in the year 1937 and 11 in 1941.
Despite that, it appears that Griffith was not thinking about archiving her guestbook the same way Boxwell was with her scrapbooks. It seems that she used the book to store information related to the guest musicians in general. There is a 22 year gap between the last and second last entry, between 1957 and 1979 - seven years before Griffith died. This gap is explained by the only newspaper clippings in the entire book, which is a death announcement and obituary of the opera singer Lady Agnes Helen Harty in 1959. Across the entire guestbook, Harty’s signature is by far the most commonly occurring, and so it can be assumed that Griffith’s reception of performers, or at least the use of her guestbook was affected by Harty’s passing. While she returns once more in 1979 to record the signatures of the guests at an RDS dinner party, she does not get any more use out of the book. Therefore, the guestbook, despite initially appearing to be a much more quantitative source than Boxwell’s scrapbooks, is able to illustrate a very personally touching and affectionate image of the processes around performances in the RDS.
Both documents are especially valuable in the way they’re able to represent the place of women in the music culture of upper-class Dublin. Both women’s contributions were facilitated by their high regard in the sphere, achieved through either their musical talent or their leadership in organising these events. Therefore, the RDS Concert Archive is not only valuable as a record of the place of music in Dublin in the early-to-mid twentieth century, but also as a record of the ways that women existed within it, especially one that comes from their own perspective through their passion for music and the RDS.
Reference:
Royal Dublin Society, 1731-1981, edited by James Meenan and Desmond Clarke (Dublin, 1981)