Writing Women In: Andalusia Grant, and the year was 1824

Only eleven new students joined the Royal Academy of Music community in 1824. The institution, now in its second year, was already finding its finances squeezed, and almost all the students from the previous year were still in situ. In this year, the boys were clearly chosen for their ability to swell the ranks of the orchestra – they comprised a violinist, a bass player and three flutes – while of the six girls, two went on to teach (very successfully), two retired on marriage (including the youngest of the famed Bellchambers sisters), and the remaining two became the extremely well-known Madame Anna Bishop and Lady Molesworth. I have written in other places of Anna Bishop and her colourful life, so today’s focus is on Andalusia Grant, also known in later life as Mrs Temple West and eventually as Lady Molesworth.

Andalusia Grant was born in Ireland in December 1809, and thus was fourteen when she entered the Academy in June 1824. Her obituary in 1888 wrote that ‘her father, Mr. Bruce Carstairs, was a Scotchman, her mother was of Spanish descent. Their means were small, and the education of their child would have been a difficulty but for her early shown musical gifts. These were cultivated at the Royal Academy of Music, and it was hoped that a brilliant career on the lyric stage or in the concert-room would be the result.’ The fees were rescinded for Grant, who later would donate £300 to the Academy as acknowledgement of having ‘received her gratuitous professional education in the institution.’ Her principal study was singing, for which she gained a prize in 1825. She also of course had the extra subjects such as harmony that meant that like her older contemporary Susannah Collier, she was permitted to inscribe some of her compositions into the community volumes (although their brevity suggests that this was not where her main interests lie!).

GB-Lam MS 204, Vol II, Student Compositions. Royal Academy of Music Special Collections.

Grant sang in many of the Academy monthly exhibitions from 1825 to 1827, always to good reviews. As was the norm for singers, she started in ensemble performances such as the sextet from Don Giovanni, moving on to duets and eventually solos. In November 1826 she sang an aria from Mozart’s La Clemenza di Tito and a serenata by Ferdinando Paer, in which she ‘displayed a mingled strength and melody of voice, guided by a pure taste, and combined with a degree of ease and spirit, which hold forth more than a promise of first-rate excellence.’ The Handel she performed the following month was approved of for its ‘very chaste and effective manner’. By 1827, she was taking leave of absence from the Academy to sing at Covent Garden, where again the reviews were excellent. The Mozart she sang in June ‘was rapturously encored; her voice is remarkably powerful and sweet, aided by science and taste; and she may be considered to have made, what is termed a complete hit.’

Andalusia Grant left the Academy in December 1827. The next few years were busy performing-wise, both in Britain and abroad. She was a regular at the Drury Lane Theatre, where she appeared in new and lighter works such as John Davy’s Rob Roy Macgregor and James Cobb’s Paul and Virginia, a Romeo and Juliet-esque story that included shipwreck and exotic islands. One review in particular described her both physically and vocally:

“In person Miss Grant is tall and elegant; her face is well formed, her head well set, and ornamented with a quantity of auburn hair. She appears to be about eighteen years of age. Her voice, which is the more important point with a singer, is a soprano, generally clear and fine, without, however, very great compass. Her upper notes are very rich, but lower in the scale her tones become thick and husky. She has, however, a composite knowledge of music and most scientific execution, joined to great skill in the management of her voice. Upon the whole she deserves the favourable reception she met with. Her acting was not goof, and as this is a matter to which since the excellence displayed by Miss Paton the public expect that a singer will carefully attend, she will do well to make it her particular study.”

This lack of stagecraft appears in other reviews and is an indication of a lack in the syllabus of the Academy at the time.

Grant’s success continued over the next few years, in both public and private performances. Then, in 1831, ‘whilst she was trying a song at the house of Mr. Loder, the music-master, at Bath, Mr. Temple West, an elderly virtuoso, who had come in for his violoncello lessons, caught the tones, looked over the curtain of the glass door, saw the singer, and asked for an introduction.’ Little is known of their relationship, which was cut short by Temple West’s death in 1839. Six years later, Grant married William Molesworth of the Pencarrow seat in Cornwall. This marriage was to set the tone of the rest of Andalusia’s life, as it afforded her both the income and the space to host salons, mount concerts, and preside over diverse social gatherings of many hues. This social life has borne much scrutiny over the years, especially the famous men who dined at her table, such as Charles Dickens, Arthur Sullivan and Napoleon III. She has come under fire for driving her husband’s parliamentary career, although this comes with an admission that had she not done so, it is unlikely that the Pencarrow MP would have risen to Cabinet rank. His family had not been in favour of the marriage, probably in part given the whirlwind courtship of three months, but certainly also because of Lady Molesworth’s background – as her obituary observed, ‘she was not one of those born In the purple’ – and her age, which was not conducive to producing an heir.

Pencarrow House.

William Molesworth passed away in 1855, leaving the Pencarrow seat and his wealth to his widow. Musically, Andalusia continued to be active with the concerts she mounted and performed in, appearing in the audience of other salon events, patronising public performances of young female musicians, and attending the opera. While the social side of this has been made very clear, what is less highlighted is the large part this all plays in supporting networks of women in music, both financially and emotionally. Although we know little of the content of Andalusia’s concerts in both Cornwall and London, there is enough information to show that she was generous in her support. Having been a well-trained singer herself, she had a discerning ear as well as a musical excitement and curiosity over a wide array of new and old repertoire. There were many mentions in newspapers of her ‘largeness of heart’, and, interestingly, of her capacity to make any sacrifice for ‘a friend of her own sex.’

Andalusia Grant died in 1881, causing ‘a gap in London society which will not readily be filled up.’ One obituary suggested that she was the only true proponent of ‘l’art de tenir salon’ in England, another pointed to her house as ‘the resort of statesmen, artists, men of letters, and all manner of distinguished persons.’ Hers had been a full life, and often as musically fulfilled as any of the performers and composers who passed through the doors of the Royal Academy of Music.