Ann Ford: 2. the instruments

The symbolism of the instruments

On Ann Ford's lap is a cittern, an early type of guitar. She used to accompany herself on this whilst she sang - and she was good at it.

But isn't the pose rather odd? The neck of the instrument rests in the crook of her arm, and she’s holding the base of it in place by pressing on it with the inside of her other arm.

In all the concerts I’ve been to, where a guitarist sitting on a stool breaks off to chat with the audience, I’ve never seen anyone hold a guitar like this.

Here's another portrait - painted a quarter of a century later (in 1784/5).

This is of Mrs Warren Hastings, by Johan Zoffany

(which is now in the Victoria Memorial Hall, Kolkata).

You can clearly see the influence of Gainsborough.

But the point is that her pose, without the cittern, looks much more natural.

Gainsborough placed that instrument there for a purpose.

Tucked behind Mistress Ford, but half hidden, is a viola da gamba, also carefully placed.

She was good at playing this too. The bow rests against it, diagonally across the strings.

Here, a viol of a similar design has been placed next to it to demonstrate that its shape, its distinctive C-holes (rather than f-holes) and its wooden rosette dates it from the early seventeenth century.

Philip Thicknesse wrote that Ann later “consented to give [Gainsborough] one instrument made in the year 1612, of exquisite workmanship, and mellifluous tone, and which was certainly worth 100 guineas”. It could well have been the one in her portrait.

So we have:

a choker around her neck

her legs crossed as if in restraint

a cittern across her lap that she hardly touches; and

a viola de gamba, half hidden and out of reach.

What's the story?

Ann was extraordinarily talented. She could in fact play several fretted musical instruments and could speak five languages. She was the only child of Thomas Ford, who held a high office in the criminal court, and who by then was a widower. He was comfortably well-off and well-connected - and he encouraged her to play in Sunday concerts at home with others. And not just any others, but with leading musicians of the day (including a Signor Tenducci and a certain Thomas Arne, best known as a composer of Rule Britannia). She was beautiful, intelligent and fast becoming a favourite in society, so it's hardly surprising that these concerts became immensely popular.

But when she said she planned to reach a wider audience by playing on a public stage, her father put his foot down. Yes, she’d attract the crowds, but any woman appearing on stage at that time was considered to be fair game. Actresses often propositioned wealthy gentlemen, and he feared that she might be exploited.

To play the viol, the player had to sit with legs apart, as Gainsborough illustrated in a later portrait (of Karl Friedrich Abel) - it looks like the same viol, by the way.

By the standards of the time, this was an ungainly posture for a woman, and one that might have exposed her to raucous comments and ridicule.

But Ann persisted. She was determined to perform in a public concert at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket on the 18 March 1760, so her father had her arrested, no doubt through using his contacts with the Bow Street Runners. They bundled her home and he locked her in her chamber (meaning bedroom). But poster bills had promised that she’d be singing Italian arias and ones by Handel, and famous instrumentalists like Thomas Pinto and Schumann had also contributed pieces. Ann had committed herself to appear.

So she escaped. Her father had her arrested again.

This time, when she escaped, she pounded through the streets to her closest friend, Lady Elizabeth Thicknesse, for protection. By now, Mr Ford's clumsy attempts to restrain her had only increased the demand to see her play. Over £1,500 of subscriptions had been sold, and to satisfy the demand, a series of concerts had now been agreed. To block her from attending the first one, her father had the theatre surrounded by Bow Street Runners, but that didn't work either. They dispersed when Lord Tankerville threatened to send in the Guards to let the audience through.

And there was another irony: Mr Ford was too late. Like many doting fathers, he had underestimated his daughter, who was far less innocent than he realised...

That's what the next part is about: her scandal