Incomplete And Utter History Of Classical Music

SPECIALIST SUBJECT 1837-1841: 'YOUR TIME STARTS NOW…'

n order to rid myself of the unbearable guilt of slapping four years, I have put together a series of questions and answers which might prove useful if you were ever to go on Mastermind, with 1837-1841 as your specialist subject. Admittedly, it's only a faint possibility, I grant you, but, well, it might be better than 'the novels of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle'. And it sure beats auto-flagellation as a way of coping with guilt. Well, for some. So, if you could bring to mind one of those films where they show the passage of time with the flapping pages of a calendar and superbly crafted montages of music and images, denoting the important events, then that would be useful. Have it in your subconscious as you read the next section. Here goes. Q. Was Constable alive in 1837?

A. No, and neither was Pushkin now that you mention it, but at least we had got Morse's 'Electric Telegraph', which looked like it was here to stay, and, with any luck, if given 150 years and a prevailing wind, would one day be refined into that joy of joys, the delight that is… mobile phones on trains. Good. Hope so. Q. Who is on the throne in 1838?

A. 1838 is the year that Queen Vic was crowned. It's also the year the Boers defeated the Zulus at Blood River, with more than a little help from Michael Caine. 'You're only supposed to blow the bloody Boers off!' Q. What else is 'big' in 1838?

A. Well, ships are 'big', so to speak. Quite literally, too; huge great ocean-going steamers are the 'in' way to travel, and they're getting bigger. AND faster. Not long after the 103-ton Sirius docks in New York, the mighty 1,440-ton Great Western clocks in with a time of fifteen days, Bristol to Big Apple. Impressive. Q. Who was 'in the picture' in 1838?

A. You must be referring to Daguerre, who may or may not have been around to shoot the Great Western crossing the finishing line. He was probably too busy presenting his new system, the 'Daguerre-Niepce' photos, to the French 'Academie des Sciences'. Say 'Rocquefort'! Q. Name one of the bestselling novelists of 1839.

A. OK, you could have Charles Dickens. 1839 saw die release of Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby. There was also Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher, as well as it being the year that Auguste Comte officially christened the emerging social science of 'Sociology', thus single-handedly making it OK for future generations of students to spend three years drinking in the union bar, so long as they popped in to see their tutor on his birthday. Q. What was the size of Britain's Navy in 1838?

A. Hah, bet you think that's a tough one, don't you? Not a bit of it. Britain had 90 ships, while Russia had 50, France 49 and the fledgling US a very respectable 15. Q. Who was fighting whom?

A. Good point. The First Opium War had broken out between Britain and China, in fact. Elsewhere, the Dutch and the Belgians tripped to London to sign a treaty - London: very nice, good venue for a treaty, tea- and coffee-making facilities in the rooms, etc - and promised not to be beastly to each other any more. Also, the Boers founded the independent republic of Natal. Q. Which composer was born in 1839?

A. Mussorgsky. In other worlds, there were also Paul Cezanne and George Cadbury - not two people you normally hear spoken of in the same breath. Being both an art lover and a chocolate lover, I do feel we have to bear them both in mind, though. The man who gave us Cadbury's chocolate. MWAH!" p Although, of course, with my name, I do have some allegiances to the makers of Chocolate Cream. Q. Who married in 1840?

A. Well, that's rather vague, isn't it? I imagine thousands of people married in 1840 - Enid and Keith Sprogg, for example, of 6, The Sewers, East Grinstead. The nuptials to which I must assume you refer, though, were those of Queen Victoria to a rather dull foreign royal, the Prince of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Or, Albert the Square, as he was known to Londoners. Q. Which great wit and man of fashion died in 1840?

A. Again, rather a vague question, but I presume you are referring to Beau Brummell, although, if you ask me, he didn't exactly go out on a high. Beau Brummell, man of genius wit. But what were his last words? What nugget of ingenious observation did he come up with on his deathbed? I'll tell you. T do try,' he said. I do try. Marvellous. Add to that the fact that, when they got his death certificate, they discovered his real name was in fact Bryan, and, well, I think he's ripe for the revisionists. Q. Who would love to have run out of ham?

A. Now you're just being silly. Napoleon, I guess, is your man. He tried another unsuccessful conspiracy and found himself in the fortress of Ham. Q. Who's in and who's out in 1840?

A. Your vaguest yet. Let me try and round up. Fenimore Cooper's new one, The Pathfinder, is out. Work starts on building the Houses of Parliament, transportation to New South Wales for convicts is stopped. The German romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich dies, but Monet, Renoir and Rodin are born - what a year! - as are Thomas Hardy, Emile Zola and Peter 'Is this my glass?' Tchaikovsky. While we're at it, two new places of interest get on the map. Kew Gardens has its first queue, and Nelson's Column has its first… er… column. Q. How many people lived in 1841?

A. Wow, now that's a tough one. Not sure I know. Let me tell you what I do know. The population of Britain stands at 18.5 million, only narrowly beating America's admittedly fledgling 17 million. Other news: in Britain, Lord Melbourne has resigned and Sir Robert Peel is the new PM - a Whig for a Tory, as Paul Daniels's dresser was once heard to say. Q. What kept Queen Victoria up at night in 1841?

A. WeU, if you're suggesting it was the baby, then I would say you're wrong. I imagine the last person who was going to stay awake at night was Victoria herself. Yes, in 1841, QV gave birth to a bouncing baby boy, Edward. It's said he had his dad's eyes, and his mother's beard. Q. Name a famous Belgian.

A. Ooh, I love these - thanks for the cue. 1841, and Adolphe Sax makes his bid to be included in the game of Ten Famous Belgians when he invents the saxophone. Q. Name a famous novelist of 1841.

A. Another easy one. Charles Dickens will do again, because he's still knocking 'em dead with, this year, The Old Curiosity Shop. While we're talking of old curiosities, let me just add that it was also this year in which Sir Joseph 'Don't call me boring or I'll sue' Whitworth proposed… wait for this… proposed THAT SCREW THREADS SHOULD ALL BE THE SAME! Mmm. The words 'get', 'out' and 'more' need very little rearranging, to be honest. Bring on the music, that's what I say. And what a good year to be around, too, because Rossini is about to break his vow of silence.