It is midday on 6 April 1773 and the Foundling Hospital chapel is jam-packed. 35 instrumentalists (plus music stands and instruments), 18 chorus singers, 12 boy choristers, 4 soloists and 1 organist have squeezed into the western gallery, and over eight hundred members of London’s elite are seated in the pews. The musicians have tuned, and the audience is sitting in hushed anticipation, waiting for the concert to begin.

But before the music starts, let us consider the logistics of organising such an event. Although ostensibly a charitable and a musical endeavour, the list of expenses relating to this event from the Foundling Hospital minutes demonstrates that several local businesses directly benefited from this performance of Handel’s Messiah. Among the expenses listed are transport for one of the soloists (a ‘Coach for Mr. Rheinhold’) at 7s, and a payment of
£3.3s to ‘Mr Clay High Constable’, who was presumably in charge of security. £4.16s (around £400 in today’s money) was spent on advertisements, such as the one below which appeared in the Morning Chronicle the day before the concert. Like modern concert flyers, these advertisements outlined the location and timing of the event, the programme and the soloists, and gave instructions on where the tickets could be purchased and for how much.

Sourcing these tickets was yet another expense. A Mr Jones was paid £3.6s for sourcing the paper and printing the tickets. Although much larger, more decorative, and without the barcodes and download access experienced today, they nevertheless included information typically expected on a ticket, including the Hospital’s crest, essentially the logo of the institution, and the same details offered in the advertisement. To ensure that this batch of tickets could be used several years running, only the generic information was printed,
with details specific to that year’s performance written in by hand.

The payment list also provides information about the performers at this concert. Whereas newspaper advertisements only give the names of the star soloists, the Miss Linleys and Mr Stanley, the payment list names all members of the and, from the front desk violinists to the bassoonists and the kettle drummer. Chorus members were also listed, with the exception of a possible volunteer chorus of around 26, used to bolster the paid singers. These volunteers literally ‘sang for their supper’, receiving beef and wine at a total cost of £2.6s in exchange for their services. The named chorus members, orchestra, and
soloists, however, did receive a fee. Most earned 15s (about £65 today), although some section leaders, such as the oboist John Parke, received a guinea (c. £90 today) while the poor viola players took home a mere 10s.6d (c.£45). Although the Hospital paid for his coach, Frederick Reinhold waived his fee, while fellow soloist Robert Hudson received 3 guineas. By far the most extravagant fee, was the £100 (c.£9,000) awarded to the concert manager, Thomas Linley, for himself, his violinist son Thomas junior and his two
daughters Elizabeth and Mary, who were the soprano soloists.

While the 1773 payment list sheds some light on the costs of organising a concert and on the statuses of various musicians in eighteenth-century London, it does not explain how the performers came to be there, bows in the air, breaths held, waiting to begin. In a time before social media, when googling ‘string players in London’ was simply not an option, concert organisers relied on word-of-mouth recommendations to find and hire musicians. It was therefore vital that musicians carefully maintained their business networks to ensure
continuous employment in a relatively insecure profession. An introduction to some of the musicians taking part in this performance of Messiah will take you on a whistle-stop tour through some of the close-knit, interconnected networks that helped to sustain London’s music industry.

‘The Nest of Nightingales’
Known as ‘The Nest of Nightingales’, the Linleys were a musically precocious family, with eight children employed in the music profession and three appearing at the Foundling Hospital in 1773. Their father Thomas was a singer, composer and concert master, and his wife Mary’s musical talents were said to match those of her husband. Following success in their native Bath, Thomas Linley senior and four of his children, Thomas, Elizabeth, Mary and Maria, made regular appearances in the London oratorio seasons from the late 1760s, including at Drury Lane Theatre, managed by John Christopher Smith and John Stanley, who were also involved in the annual Foundling Hospital concerts. Keeping it in the family had its advantages; older family members helped younger members to make professional contacts in addition to teaching them practical musicianship, such as how to compose or play musical instruments.

Continual immersion in this world from an early age certainly seems to have affected the young Thomas junior. When asked by a gentleman, already impressed by the skills of his sisters, whether he too was musical, little Thomas replied: ‘Oh yes, Sir, we are all geniuses!’. Alas, Thomas’s assertion turned out to be unwitting foreshadowing of the tragic events to come. On learning of Thomas’s death in a boating accident aged 22, his friend W. A. Mozart called him a ‘true genius’, whose contribution to English music would be irreplaceable.

(Ed: Our noble chairman spotted the 18th century typographical error in the
penultimate sentence.)

At the time of the Foundling Hospital concert in 1773, though, Thomas’s career was going well. 6 days after his performance at the Foundling Hospital he would perform at his own benefit concert, alongside ‘capital musicians’ including the oboist Johann Christian Fischer. His sisters Elizabeth and Mary also sang, although this appearance was to be Elizabeth’s last. The following day she married the playwright Richard Sheridan, who forbade her from
performing in public. Similar to the previous newspaper snippet, the Thomas Linley’s advertisement advises that tickets for his benefit were on sale at various coffee houses. Alternatively, they could be acquired from Mr Linley directly at his lodgings in Marylebone High Street, where he lived with another musical family, the Storaces.

The Storaces were evidently family friends of the Linleys. Double bassist Stefano Storace was active in London from the late 1750s and played at the Foundling Hospital on several
occasions, including in 1773. He had also acted as Elizabeth Linley’s agent during their appearances at the Three Choirs Festival. Elizabeth visited the Storaces with her new husband on their return from honeymoon.

A Musical Affair
Stefano Storace was also acquainted with another musical couple, the Pintos. They had perhaps got to know one another after Thomas Pinto and Stefano were both members of the committee for the Royal Society of Musicians in 1766 and 1767. Stefano was also one of the witnesses at Thomas’s wedding in 1766. Violinist Thomas Pinto led the band and played solos at some of London’s most popular theatres. Like many musicians, he was also a teacher and one of his pupils, John Coles, was in the violin section at the 1773 Messiah concert at the Foundling Hospital. Yet despite his moderate success, Pinto was apparently
‘very idle, inclining more to the fine gentleman than the musical student, kept a horse, was always with a switch in his hand instead of a fiddle-stick.’

Until shortly before her marriage to Thomas Pinto, soprano Charlotte Brent had been romantically involved with her teacher, the illustrious composer and serial philanderer Thomas Arne. They had probably been an item since around 1755 when Charlotte, Thomas Arne, his wife Cecilia, Cecilia’s sister Esther and nieces Elizabeth and Polly travelled to Dublin. After Cecilia, formerly a celebrated soprano, became ill and stopped performing, Thomas began composing for Charlotte instead. Thomas left Dublin in 1756 accompanied by Charlotte, leaving Cecilia behind.

Fire insurance documents record a lengthy affair. Nine years after the fated trip to Ireland, Cecilia was living with a carpenter named Mr Goldstone. Charlotte, meanwhile, was residing with Thomas Arne, where she also insured her £400 worth of possessions. By 1772, Cecilia had moved in with Polly, who by then had married the violinist François-Hippolyte Barthélémon.

François-Hippolyte Barthélémon is depicted in Thomas Rowlandson’s 1784 image of a musical performance at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. He is seated directly behind the soprano Frederika Weichsel (1745-1786). Also depicted are the green-jacketed oboist Johann Christian Fischer, and the rotund kettle drummer Jacob Neilson.

At the time this image was created, Frederika lived with her husband, oboist Carl Weichsel, at No. 3 Church Street, just south of Soho Square, and Thomas Rowlandson rented an apartment next door at No. 4. Frederika’s connection to Rowlandson and her prominent position in the image have led David Coke and Alan Borg to suggest that this work may have been commissioned by Frederika herself. Alternatively, they propose that Rowlandson may have presented the picture to Frederika as a retirement gift. Either way, due to various anachronisms in the organisation and ages of those featured, we know that this collection of musicians and audience members are a hypothetical ensemble rather than an accurate depiction of a performance.

However, the musicians depicted must have known each other. Barthélémon frequently performed alongside Fischer and he also played a violin concerto at Stephen Storace’s 1770 benefit concert. In the spring of 1773, Fischer played at Thomas Linley’s benefit concert, and Fischer and Frederika Weichsel performed together at least twice in that season alone. Carl Weichsel and Fischer would presumably have been aware of one another as they were both oboists, and Neilson had long been associated with Vauxhall Gardens, where Frederika Weichsel had been a star performer for over 20 years. All four musicians had performed at the Foundling Hospital. Neilson played the kettledrums there every year between 1767 and 1777 including in 1769 alongside Carl Weichsel, in 1770 with Fischer and Carl Weichsel, and in 1771 and 1772 with Frederika Weichsel. Neilson also took part in the Hospital’s 1773 performance, which is where we find him now.

Among the musicians surrounding Neilson, Storace, Cole, and the Linleys must have been several familiar faces. Some were related, others knew each other through teaching or had played together in the past, including at the Foundling Hospital. Even those they did not recognize might one day become a business partner, an accompanist or a next-door neighbour. Concert appearances like this not only provided much needed income but also
exposed performers to the musical networks that would help them to secure their next gig. But it is not time to pack away yet; they have a job to do at the Foundling Hospital. Let the music commence!