Sunday 21st December - Caterina Reading a Book

 It's the shortest day! I like to think that we are on our way to Summer, which is foolishly optimistic and perverse as I really don't enjoy the heat, however I do appreciate being able to see what I'm doing and being able to comfortably drive after 3.30pm, so roll on the longer days. What's today's picture?

Caterina Reading a Book (1888) James Kerr-Lawson

I really liked this relaxed portrait of the artist's wife reading a book and wanted to know more about Mr Kerr-Lawson and who Caterina was. He was born in Kilrenny in Scotland on 28th October 1862 to William Lawson and Jessie Kerr, hence his name (which he adopted professionally to mark himself out from another artist called James Lawson). William, a carpenter, moved his family to Hamilton, Ontario when James was very young and I see in the Canadian 1881 census, 18-year-old James lists himself as an artist. 

Walburga, Lady Paget before Villa I Tatti (c.1929)

Reading the few accounts of him from museums that hold his work, James's move to Europe around the 1880s is seen very much as a result of his desire to be, or at least learn to be, an artist. I find that a little insulting to Ontario, where I'm sure it was perfectly possible to be an artist (and he declared himself to be one) and he studied art there in 1879-80.  However, I would possibly concede that the art market might have been bigger/more profitable/more prestigious in London, where he eventually settled. He had travelled to Italy aged 16 to study with Luigi Galli in Rome, and according to Caterina, he felt his spiritual home was Florence. He also studied at the Academie Julien in Paris from 1881-4, and he spent the last 40 years of his life in Chelsea, travelling over to Canada regularly.  He never exhibited at the Royal Academy, but was the founder member of the Senefield Club in 1908 and a member of the Canadian Arts Club in 1912-15 and designed posters for the Underground around the same time.

Westminster Abbey for the London Underground Poster (1915)

Caterina (or Catherine Adah Muir) was a native of Canada, and when she and her husband travelled to Europe and then England, her mother and other members of her family seem to have come too.  Her mother settled near Torquay, making some newspaper accounts report that Mrs Kerr-Lawson was a Devon girl.  When James served in the First World War with the Canadian Overseas Expeditionary Force, Caterina became Superintendent for the Queen Mary's Hostel for Nurses, which earned her an MBE in 1918. Despite this, on the return of James after the war, no more seems to have been said of her achievement. In 1921's census, she has returned to being an artist's wife at Glebe Place.

La Caterina (c.1887-9)

James died in May of 1939, shortly before the start of another war and Caterina moved to Green Ridge in Torquay with her family, keeping the studio in Glebe Place.  In 1940, Caterina was granted a civil list pension of £100 in memory of her husband's contribution to art. She died suddenly in Chelsea in 1952, and she was so well regarded that it made the local news.  It is interesting to read the inaccurate 'facts' of her life that they printed - that she was born in York, that she met her husband in Paris - and you wonder where it came from. It possibly made a more artistic story than meeting her husband in Canada, but there is no mention of her MBE. What was remembered was her intellect and passion for the arts, which was no doubt true and not a bad way to be remembered.

See you tomorrow.

Saturday 20th December - The Serious Book

Blimey, we are on the home straight now, aren't we? And only one more day of it getting darker before we are over the hump and heading towards Spring again.  Okay, I might be a little over optimistic on that front, after all January always feels like it's over a hundred days long (especially as I get paid before Christmas which makes January a 6-week month, ouch). On with the books!

The Serious Book (1874) Auguste Toulmouche

I had to admit I laughed when I saw this painting. On face value, it is just a funny painting of a couple of women who have dozed off while reading a book that is serious but possibly not interesting.  Obviously, it could be argued that it is a painting of silly females attempting to do serious reading and it is all too much for their lady-brains and their massive frocks, so they have passed out in a heap. That massive Japanese screen is very impressive too - is the point that in the face of such a lot of worldly art and knowledge, these two lasses have fallen asleep as thinking and reading are not feminine past-times? In Kathryn Brown's marvellous Women Readers in French Painting 1870-1890, she suggests that the weight of the book, intellectually speaking, is too much and it slips from the girl's hands.  She also shares Balzac's quote that women enjoy neither reason nor ripe fruit. Charming.

In the Library (1872) 

How could I not include this one? It was one of the first I wrote on my little list when devising this Blogvent as I adore that dress. I don't think this young lady would agree that reading is not for ladies. The fact she has hitched her skirt up over her arm puzzles me, unless of course she has been scrambling up the bookcase to find books to read.  She has a little 'tbr' pile going on next to her on the chair, so it looks like she has been busy getting a load of books out and leaving them in a heap.  Mind you, she could equally be discarding books because she has yet to find one with pictures...

Reading Aloud (1884) Albert Moore

When I saw the unconscious women, I was reminded of two different pictures - firstly, I thought of the sleepy women of Albert Moore's canvases.  They seem to wilt about, sometimes reading, and looking thoroughly exhausted. The languor of Moore's world raises so many questions - where are they? Is there a library nearby?  Why is everyone so tired?

Young Ladies Beside the Seine (1857) Gustave Courbet

Not to lower the tone, but also there is a hint of naughtiness when women flop into unconsciousness together in paintings.  I heard many a colourful interpretation of Moore's women and Courbet's ladies by the Seine, so I did wonder about our ladies in the library.  I noticed that most of the pieces I read on the painting described them as mother and daughter, which is one interpretation (cough, cough).  In the lady in brown-green's defence, she's not propped at a flattering angle, so I don't really think she's the other woman's mother. There is the question of what they have been reading - we have seen a couple of instances of women possibly reading things they shouldn't, and maybe the women have been overcome because it was all too scandalous! Maybe it's that book that I saw reviewed on TikTok where the woman has an affair with her pot plant. I was just going to link it here but couldn't remember the title, however it turns out to be an entire genre of spicy romance. Well, here we are.

With some of the paintings we have seen this month, you can tell what the book is, and I really wish we could see here and therefore we could know what has gone on - but I'm going to play innocent and say it was just a really, really boring book, something like Very Boring Pieces of Stone I Have Known by Professor Dull, but then that might be someone's absolutely dream book. Similarly, plant-based-sentient-object-romance books might not be for everyone, but a search I hope I never have to repeat reveals that the one I was recommended is called Vined and Dined, which is smutty genius, so maybe it will win the Booker Prize. 

See you tomorrow...

Friday 19th December - Love's Passing

Today I will be heading up to see my Dad and give his house a bit of a clean before the family gathering on Christmas Eve.  I like to think of that as being a bit like the counting in Cold Comfort Farm, only with more trifle. Anyway, on with the books!

Love's Passing (1883-4) Evelyn De Morgan

According to Wilhelmina Stirling (Evelyn's sister) and her biography of William De Morgan and his Wife (a title that still irks me) Love's Passing shows two lovers seated at twilight, listening to Love piping a tune. The figure of Love is gloriously rosy, putting to shame the rather lacklustre sky and entirely drawing the attention of the man. However, the woman beside him holds up her hand in warning as she has heard another sound, that of the approach of Old Age and Death who are coming to ruin everything from across the river. T'uh, typical, who invited them?

The verse that inspired the work is by Tibullus and is this:

'List we to Love meanwhile in lovers' fashion;

Death nears apace, with darkness round his brows;

Dull Eld is stealing up to shame our passion; 

How shall grey hairs beseem these whispered vows?

Well, first of all, that's rude. If Old Age (or Dull Eld) wants to be judgy over oldies having a flirt, then it can keep it to itself. Who knew Old Age would be so ageist? How ironic. The passage goes on to imagine dying in your lover's arms and their grief at your funeral. Look, I'm not one to tell you what to read, but have you tried something jollier?

The Poor Man Who Saved the City (1901)

EDM uses the device of an open book in other paintings too, such as in The Poor Man Who Saved the City where the book is open to Ecclesiastes. The implication is that this anonymous man, a diplomat who has saved his city, is forgotten by the partying people in the background, who are too busy to consider who has saved them. The implication is that they are too occupied with the people who claim their might and aggression won the day to realise it was the man who used his wisdom and diplomacy who quietly got the job done. Thank goodness that sort of thing doesn't happen today.

The Gilded Cage (1901-2)

Sometimes in the discarding of the book lies the story - this woman longs to be outside with the party animals and the book that represents her comfortable and affluent life is cast upon the floor. Behind her weary-looking, older husband are books with titles about poetry, music, art and death (apparently a book on medicine but not one with an optimistic title) which the young wife wants nothing to do with. She wants to go out dancing and quite frankly, he should let her as I bet it is difficult to do any reading with her scrabbling at the window. It would put you right off.

I think the message in the many books of EDM is that life is beautiful in the moment but wisdom will tell you the truth of the situation. That truth is not going to be jolly - Death and Old Age are not over the river yet, and the girl is worrying about them. All the truths of mankind are in the books in the Gilded Cage, but all she wants to do is go out and dance. The truth of life is that we will grow old and die, that people will not appreciate you no matter what you do and that our joy on the earth is probably fleeting and unpredictable.  Is it better to know, or better to enjoy that fleeting, joyous moment and be unpleasantly surprised by what follows? Do we really want to be right and miserable? Or is it that it is better to be grimly prepared than ignorant, happy and at the mercy of life and others.  The truth is probably somewhere in between, but unfortunately once that book is open and you have had a little read, there is no going back. I'm not sure that is such a bad thing, unfortunately.

See you tomorrow.

Thursday 18th December - Idle Moments

Ah, Thursday, my day of relative rest as I don't have anything pressing to do (which are fatal words to utter, as no doubt something will arise while I'm trying to put my feet up and do nothing). Just in case, I better get on with my post now...

Idle Moments (1892) Walter Langley

As I have said before, I'm rather partial to the Cornish school of art and is as far as I wish to go towards Impressionism (not really very far, it's just not my thing).  I also finally understood about the light in Cornwall when I went on holiday there.  It truly is magic. I have never seen anything like it, even in awful weather.  We were sat on a wall in Penlee in the rain eating a pasty and even then, the light was beautiful.

What attracted me to this particular picture is that no-one seems to have died and we are not waiting for a fishing boat to return (knowing full well that it won't).  I wonder if that is the pay-off to all that good light, that people seem to die far more frequently and tragically. Swings and roundabouts. Anyway, today we have a lass who is pausing her quilting in front of her window (such light!) in order to have a bit of a read. On the Penlee website they describe her as mending her quilt, which makes me wonder why she is also reading? Is her reading the 'idle moment' of the title, when she should be actively mending the quilt? As far as I can see, she could be construed as doing two things at once, which is hardly 'idle'...

I see on the windowsill she has what appears to be a geranium, which symbolises happiness, although some interpretations link them to folly, which is possibly hinted at in idleness. It is interesting that in a few of these paintings now we have had reading linked to doing nothing, especially when it is to do with women.  Is this a reflection on what it is assumed that women are reading? I am reminded of things like this, in contrast...

Johnstone Forbes-Robertson (1894) Hugh de Twenebrokes Glazebrook

Forbes-Robertson was an actor, but possibly also known to you as an artist's model (he's Love in Rossetti's Dante's Dream) and so when he had his portrait painted, he holds a book, probably Shakespeare to hint at his occupation. Male portraiture often had their subjects holding books, leaning on books, surrounded by books and so forth, to refer to their wisdom. No-one would call this picture Idle Moments or assume that by holding a book, JFR couldn't apply himself to his work.  Reading is somehow an appropriate male past-time. So why not for women?

Mary Ann Baxter (1883) Edward Hughes

Well, for starters, I'm going to propose that it is also class-based. There are not the numbers of female councillors/professors/mayors etc but they also get a nice book to hold/lean on etc. Miss Mary Ann Baxter, philanthropist, gets a lovely book to hold open on her knee and no-one would accuse her of being frivolous and idle. In her case, and that of most men in similar portraits, it is a token of intellect and often sturdily bound as if to imply that holder of the volume is equally as permanent and important.

By contrast, our lass at the window is reading what appears to be a pile of paper. There is no reason to assume that she is reading something trivial or that Miss Baxter is reading War and Peace, but that is what is implied by the material existence of their reading matter. There is also the implication that the important people are sat, fully involved in reading, giving it their full attention as befits the subject. The girls, snatching a moment to read their flimsy texts, are fitting it in, not giving it their full attention, implying it is probably something easily read in the idle moments at their disposal.

Time Moveth Not, Our Being 'tis That Moves (1882)

I love this older lady leaning on her book - is it a Bible or is it the poems of Henry Kirke White where the painting title comes? - in very much the same way as some mayors and professors lean on their books in portraits, but she is in deep thought. She is surrounded by the debris of a rural life, her dusty boots and clothes haphazardly on the wooden dryer, but she is considering eternity. In Langley's eye, a Cornish cottage and life contains only a few things - craft work, some rustic looking crockery and books. The books might be the Bible and things like that, but the ability to read is not questioned - how else are you meant to read about how many fishermen have perished that day? Unlike the more urban working classes, it is not questioned that the Cornish workers can read, just that possibly they have other stuff to do first.  Yes, our girl with the quilt can read, she just should finish mending the quilt first or it will never get done.

A Longing Gaze (1892)

As if to prove that reading would be no help, Langley painted her again still mending that damn quilt but this time day-dreaming out the window. Was her book taken off her? I suspect that quilt will remain unmended, despite the really good light.

See you tomorrow.

Wednesday 17th December - Lamplight

Oooh, there is only a week of these left, and I have a busy day ahead so let's find a nice painting to brighten the day...

Lamplight (1908) Jules Emile Crochet

That is absolutely beautiful. I'm a sucker for a bit of chiaroscuro after having a bit of a moment in front of Joseph Wright of Derby. Are these two sisters? One seems absorbed by her book, the other by her thoughts as they share this tiny table and the little pool of light.

The room seems to be well furnished, if a little cramped, there isn't a hint of poverty to be seen, but something seems awry. One sister wears a white blouse and her sister wears a print - now, in my family tree, in the 19th century, there was a bit of scandal, no names no pack-drill, but in one of the family photographs the wife of the family is wearing a print blouse and this was seen as absolutely outrageous because you should always appear in a nice white blouse.  I'm not saying the sister on the right is no better than she should be, but the sister on the left is occupying herself and not staring into space thinking of things that possibly she ought not. Then again, the right-hand sister might be waiting for her turn with the book.

Hang on, is that an apple on the table? Well, I rest my case. She's obviously a wrong 'un.

Telling an Evening Story (1903)

Monsieur Crochet obviously was partial to a bit of mood lighting as I suspect the same pair of girls appear in his 1903 painting Telling an Evening Story where one sister reads to the other under the frilly lampshade. He doesn't seem to have done a vast number of lamplight pictures, but to be honest I am struggling to find much about him at all.  He appears to have been born in 1867 and started exhibiting in the 1890s. The paintings by him that I can find seem to come from the early years of the 20th century but no information has been forthcoming.

I wonder if these sisters are somehow trapped in the smallness of their lives.  They exist in the puddle of light and not beyond. There are rather nice bric-a-brac pieces lurking in the semi-darkness, hinting that they once had a nice middle-class life but now are confined by the light.  Mind you, it might be a comment on new technology enabling women to make more of a dark day, as they are able to read by their lamp light, possibly better (and safer) than candles alone. I would like to know more of these women and their lives but like the rest of their room, it will remain shrouded in darkness.

See you tomorrow.

Tuesday 16th December - Ave Maria

Today is my last book club of the year at work and we've been reading War of the Worlds by H G Wells and I feel traumatised. Blimey, that was far scarier than I was expecting and I now worry that we will be invaded by Martians, although apparently the chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one... Back to the books!

Ave Maria (1905) Emma Barton

I must admit, I didn't know anything about Emma Barton before embarking on this, so I am very much looking forward to this one. Obviously, having written Light and Love, I am a fan of early photography, but Mrs Barton is the generation after Mrs Cameron, so let's have a little look.

The Awakening (1903)

Okay, I can see a definite Cameron influence here and so I'm happy. The Awakening was probably her best known photograph, winning her a medal at the Royal Photographic Society exhibition of 1903 and also appeared in the British section of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St Louis, Missouri in 1904.

The Soul of the Rose (1905) (after J W Waterhouse's painting of the same name)

Born in Birmingham in 1872, Emma Boaz Rayson was the daughter of  Ambrose and Elizabeth Rayson. Ambrose, a boatman, was already a widower by the age of 31, so when he married Elizabeth (daughter of a boatman, so possibly how they met) it might have been the case of having to get married as little Emma appeared barely 9 months later. She was joined by 6 siblings in very quick succession, the last, Ambrose jnr was born the same month in 1885 his father died, leaving Elizabeth with seven children (although Ambrose jnr died the year after and William (b.1880) died when he was 9).  Elizabeth married again in 1890 to Edgar Birchler (1846=1903) who ran a tripe shop (lovely). 

St Margaret (c.1903)

According to her Wikipedia page, Emma (or Emmie as she is often referred to as in censuses) was introduced to photography by the brother-in-law of her stepfather (which is nice and confusing) - Edgar had four sisters - Louisa, Mary, Matilda and Clara, and it was Louisa's husband, Walter, who was the photographer according to 1891 census. According to a brief internet search, he ran a studio called the Highgate Studio at 110 Moseley Road in Brum and Ebay has lots of his work for sale such as this one.

By 1891, Emma had got a job as a clerk in a manufacturers office, and the family was living next door to Walter so I think we can guess where she got her introduction to photography. It was around this time she also met, then 'married' George Albert Barton. I use the term loosely as there are no records of their marriage apart from the 1911 census claiming they had got married 19 years previously, so around 1892. Their daughter Dorothy was born in the summer of 1893 and it is suggested that one of the impetuses for Emma taking up photography was to photograph her children. Whilst she does seem to have used her children as models, I wonder how often that is suggested about male photographers?

Family Group (c.1908)

In the picture are (from the left) Emma's son Aubrey (1894-1969), then Emma, then daughters Marjorie (1896-1985) and Hilda (1899-1969), then Cecil (the baby in The Awakening) (1901-1981) and finally Dorothy (1893-1962).  The fact that she regularly used her children is probably the same reason that Julia Margaret Cameron used her grandchildren, friends and maids, because they were there. She also featured herself in many, including The Awakening, giving her more in common with Cindy Sherman than Cameron on that front. 

Dorothy and Rose (c.1905)

I'm guessing the lass in Ave Maria was probably Dorothy who seems to crop up quite a bit and would be around the right age. The family all lived in a purpose-built house in Four Oaks Park Estate which contained a dark room. George was a solicitor and nicely off, so married or not, they lived a very respectable life indeed and at the time, Emma was extremely well-known in photographic circles. She even dabbled in autochrome with her 1911 photograph The Blue Bonnet, again featuring Dorothy.

The Blue Bonnet (1911)

I seem to have gone off on a ramble, but returning to Ave Maria it reminds me very much of Rossetti paintings like Prosepine and other three-quarter length paintings and Henry Ryland's beauties, tight up against a patterned background, such as The Guarded Flame painted around the same time...

The Guarded Flame (undated)

Emma and George moved to Shanklin on the Isle of Wight where she died on 4 April 1938 and is buried in Shanklin cemetery (yes, I will be searching for her when I'm next over there). Just as JMC and Clementina Hawarden have had their renaissances, I think it's about time we saw more of Emma Barton and her gorgeous photographs and I would definitely support a retrospective.

See you tomorrow.

Monday 15th December - Courtship on the Beach

This is our final full week of Blogvent! Time has really flown this time, and I see that by the end, I will have published over 1000 posts on The Kissed Mouth, which seems insane. Thank you to everyone who has been in touch over the last 14 years and said that it has helped them with their school work, PhDs and family mysteries. I love researching and writing all these things up and so if I am vaguely useful on occasion, more's the better.  Onward!

Courtship on the Beach (1867) Charles Wynne Nicholls

My heart leaped when I saw this painting as this is very much my cup of tea. She just wants to read her damn book, Sir, stop bothering her! There is a particular annoyance in getting to a good bit of your book and having someone decide that is the perfect moment to have a conversation. She doesn't look thrilled for a lass being courted, does she?

I might be wrong (never!) but it has the same energy as this couple...

The Irritating Gentleman (1874) Berthold Woltze

Dear me, I love that painting and will always love Mr Woltze (1829-1896) for capturing that moment so perfectly. Anyway, possibly our 'courting couple' are not quite as bad as Woltze's pair, but our gentleman's flirting seems to have seriously depressed his lady-love. No wonder, as she is reading Lady Audley's Secret and had got to the bit with the well. Mind you, if I was the gentleman, I might be a little cautious on woo-ing a lady who is enjoying a book about bigamy, if you get my drift.

Little does our chap realise, but the children are filling his pockets with sand.  Aren't children lovely? The nanny behind seems to be no help whatsoever as the little darling is still pouring away. Everyone is ignoring the figure on the right...

With all the jollity and flirting of this comfortably-middle-class party, this boy in his ill-fitting clothes has gone unnoticed.  He extends a hand for help but they are all too involved with their lives to notice him. Just beyond the boy seems to be a luxurious picnic hamper and all he has clutched in his hand is some dubious bread. I don't know, this blogvent is making me feel very class-revolution-y...

The Light of the Harem (undated)

Charles Wynne Nicholls (1831-1903) was an Irish artist who studied in Dublin, exhibiting at the Royal Hibernian Academy of Art in Dublin before moving to London in 1864 (although he continued to exhibit in Dublin for the rest of his life).  Now probably better known as an Orientalist due to the success of The Light of the Harem, but I like to think Courtship on the Beach is one of a pair...

Envious Glances (1866)

I like to think that these two are looking at the courting couple.  The woman on the left seems to be in half-mourning (at the very least) but I think is on the lookout for husband number 2. I wonder if she too is reading Lady Audley's Secret? Her friend is saying 'Steady Maureen, we only just buried the last one!' but Maureen is not to be detered. If the bookish girl is not interested in the chap with the sandy pockets, Maureen will oblige (so rumour has it). 

See you tomorrow.

Sunday 14th December - A Pleasant Corner

We are having friends round today, so in between cooking a spag bol and making a damn fine tiramisu, I best have a little look at some art...

A Pleasant Corner (1865) John Callcott Horsley

Oh, to be this lady in her comfy seat by a roaring fire! As we have seen, there is something about the combination of a roaring fire, a good book and a comfy chair that is too good to pass up. She even has a curtain she can draw to cut herself off from the rest of the house. Now, that's a good idea...

Look at that wall! I love the settle and its panelling, but the decoration above is stunning! Is it a hanging of some description? It goes down behind the settle, and I love how the light goes across it from the little window. What one earth is she reading? That book is enormous and not exactly a bit of light reading. I wonder what it could be or is it just another hint at her traditional, old-fashioned life surrounded by trappings of wealth and status-quo.

Pay for Peeping (1872)

Horsley obviously liked a panel-and-tapestry interior, and I liked how the lovebirds are side-lit by a little window again, like our girl with a book. I very much like the woman about to give the peeping boy a clout which he richly deserves, horrible little creature.

The Morning of St Valentine (1863)

I wondered if Horsley had a favourite model, as the young lady, merrily counting her Valentines reminds me of our reader. I read that Horsley was completely against nudity in his art and people mockingly said his name was John Clothes Horsley, but actually that's a bit of a novelty. Not everything has to involve boobs.

Every Blogvent really should involve Horsley as he is intrinsically connected to our idea of Christmas. He originated the first Christmas card in 1843 and is therefore to blame for the fact that I now have to remortgage the house to afford stamps every December (how much are they now?! etc etc) It is interesting that his view of Christmas as portrayed in the above card is entirely secular. I was also surprised that he combined the holidays of Christmas and New Year into a joint event, but apparently that can be traced back as far as the early eighteenth century. To Horsley, Christmas involved drinking and being with loved ones, with the side panels showing charitable acts of clothing and feeding the poor.  I feel like we have the central bit sorted, we just need to help out on the side bits a tad more. Right, off to make some tiramisu...

See you tomorrow.

Saturday 13th December - A Quiet Half Hour

I had big plans for today but as we are all quite exhausted, I'm staying home and relaxing rather than attempt any Christmas Market action. Gives me more time for this sort of thing...

'A Quiet Half-Hour' (1876) Lionel Charles Henley

 I almost didn't pick this one as it is very similar to our first outing with the lass and her parrot on a chain.  Yes, we have the decorative items and the tea set out, but there is something completely different going on her. The speech marks on the title are either her telling someone she is having a quiet half hour or she has been told to go and have a bit of a sit down, implying that the rest of her time is active and busy. I'm particularly enamoured with the golden screen behind her with the fans attached.

That is a gorgeous shimmering screen, so are we to assume that our young lady is worldly? Has she been off in Japan?

That vase is beautiful, as is the little statuette - is it the Venus de Milo? I can't tell as it doesn't have a million tourists stood in front of it and my feet don't hurt. Again, it hints that the lass putting her feet up is comfortable with the bric-a-brac of world travel and the resulting art collection. I also love how, despite being well dressed, she appears to be lolling about in much the same way as anyone would, which is very impressive as she is presumably wearing a corset. I think our girl is an adventurer, a collector and she has gone off to have a quiet half-hour, after which she will climb a mountain or something. Good for her.

The Studio (1887)

Okay, I rather like Mr Henley, especially after I found this painting. Lionel Charles Henley (1833-93) was active from the 1860s up until his death in 1893, scoring 10 Royal Academy exhibition paintings. He was better known as 'Bill' to his friends that included George du Maurier, whom he shared a house with for a time after meeting while studying in Dussledorf. In an obituary of him in the St James Budget it was written 'He was one of the most genial and loveable of men, and of him it could honestly be said he never made an enemy.'

The Tiff (1889)

I think it can be safely said that he like a narrative piece, especially if you see some of the titles for his Royal Academy works, such as Left in Charge (1864), A Vexed Question (1882) and A Labour of Love (1885).  It was noted in his obituary in the Hampstead and Highgate Express that towards the end of his life, Henley set his paintings in the 18th century, such as The Tiff and The Miniature, which have a tendency to look very much like the work of Ed Blair Leighton

The Miniature (1880s)

I love this picture of a Regency girl studying a portrait in a little frame, with fans on the shelf behind her.  Again, she is a wealthy, leisured young woman, but once more I like the relaxed nature of the image.

Before I sign off for the day, as you know I like a bit of a nose about in people's family tree and I really don't have time today to unpick all this, but Lionel died in 1893 leaving his wife Esther Lydia Newman (or Lydia Esther, as we will see) to live apparently another decade.  Esther was a little older than Lionel, born in 1827, which will become relevant, as they married in 1862, when she was 35 years old.  I'm not judging but that seemed a little old.  However, Lydia Esther Newman (of the same dates and area) had already been married to carpenter John Edward Speed in 1845, when she was 18, and that marriage was dissolved in 1861 when it was found she had run off with Henry Charles Key and was living in sin in Brompton. Lawks. The only reason I thought this had the vague possibility of being the same woman was that in the 1901 census, Lydia 'Henry' (corrected to Henley), a widow, is living with her son, the artist Edward Speed.  I wish I had time now to see if that was indeed the same woman, but I don't. However, Lydia/Esther, I will be back...

See you tomorrow.