A Thruple, a Lemur and a Thigh Tattoo

 Whilst researching, I also seem to have moments of thinking 'Well, that's bonkers, I really want to tell someone about that!' but unfortunately most people I know are fairly sane and strangly uninterested in who some random woman in a painting was, or how many servants an artist had.  I know, it's unbelievable that someone wouldn't be gripped by that, but here we are. So, luckily I have you, my dear readers, who I couldn't wait to share this with, and just for a change, it won't make you too angry.

As you will undoubtedly remember, from this post, I love it when people reference (or outright copy) Pre-Raphaelite paintings in photographs.  This image of The Bridesmaid still makes me smile as it is wonderful.

And you will also remember from this post, there was a fascination to recreate Victorian paintings in photos at around the turn of the century, as in the 1894 article about whether a photo could be as effective as the painting it was based on.  I also knew this came out of a tradition of tableaux vivants which were from the medieval period but very popular in the 19th century and featured people recreating a scene or painting in a static manner.  The difference between this and poses plastiques is very little but in the latter you are more likely to be a woman with her boobs out.  Moving on.

Tableaux vivants did not have that reputation, in fact the Middlesex Chronicle reported in 1906 that the Congregational Sunday School had performed some as part of an evening entertainment, including one of Prince Charlie's Farewell to Flora Macdonald and Maud Goodman appearing as Millais' Bubbles. Immediately, you will see my interest, as in looking at reports of tableaux, I found that people liked doing Pre-Raphaelite images, and furthermore in 1928, the Illustrated London News featured a full page spread of some absolute corkers.

The event was Empire Day, now called Commonwealth Day, which is celebrated on 24th May every year (yes, still) and in the good old days, they used to hold a ball.  Now, when I say 'they' I mean posh people, for other posh people, and as such, it was newsworthy. In 1928, it was held at the May Fair Hotel, which I think actually opened in 1927, so was an exciting new establishment.  Looking at their website now, it looks absolutely glorious and if anyone from the May Fair Hotel is reading this, please feel free to give me a call because blimey. Anyway, the ball was held in aid of the University College Hospital and was attended by the Duke and Duchess of York (the future King and Queen Mum).  The theme of the night was 'A Famous Picture Gallery' and due to the year being the centenary of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's birth, they focused on the Pre-Raphaelites. Now, I was surprised that there was such appetite for the Pre-Raphaelites because haven't we been told No-one liked the Pre-Raphaelites after the First World War? Well, let's have a look...

We start off strong with The Beloved...

The Beloved (1865-6) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Yes, they missed out the little boy, which is a shocking oversight, but also a relief that no-one took it upon themselves to assume 'black-face' for the occasion, thank the Lord. This is the 1920s, for goodness sake, I was worried for a moment. So, in the centre of the photograph is Miss Gwen Le Bas (1903-1944), the daughter of a wealthy industrialist and the sister of sculptor Molly Le Bas and artist Edward Le Bas, one of Cecil Beaton's friends. Gwen married William Grey Horton, an Olympic bobsledder, which is not something I get to report on a regular basis, but you will have noticed that she only lived 41 years.  On Sunday 18th June 1944, Gwen was attending a church service at the Guards Chapel in Westminster when it was hit by a V1 flying bomb, killing 121 people, both military and civilian, including Gwen. I'd like to be able to say she's our only War casualty today, but sadly not.

On a far more jolly note, either side of Gwen are the 'Ralli Twins', or Alison (1901-1974) and Margaret (1901-1970) Hore-Ruthven, two Bright Young Things who appeared in Cecil Beaton's Book of Beauty...

Alison Hore-Ruthven (1923) Bassano

Margaret 'Peggy' Hore-Ruthven (1923) Bassano

They were the younger sisters of the Countess of Carlisle, Bridget Hore-Ruthven, who had married a member of the Howard family and become a Countess.  

Countess of Carlisle in the Tatler, 1920

The Countess (1896-1982) was the chairman of the organising committee, and was obviously a very capable woman, coming into her own during the Second World War when she was the commander of women's services in India for which she received a CBE. She is also at the back of The Beloved, I think on the right (where Fanny Eaton would be), with Lady Lavery (1880-1935) on the right.

Hazel, Lady Lavery (unknown date and photographer)

Artist Hazel Lavery, wife of John Lavery (also an artist), had assisted in the presentation of the tableaux along with Lady George Cholmondeley also known as Sybil Sassoon (1894-1989), whose mother was a Rothchild - she was also known as the Countess of Rocksavage, which is possibly the coolest title in the world. Also assisting was Ernest Thesiger (1879-1961), an actor who had trained as an artist at the Slade and whose brother-in-law was William Ranken. The name dropping! Outrageous.

Next slide please!

The Countess of Carlisle as Mrs Leonard Collman

Mrs Leonard Collman (c.1854) Alfred Stevens

Here we have Bridget, Countess of Carlisle again, although quite why this was included in a Pre-Raphaelite gathering, I'm not sure.  It had been bought by the Tate Gallery in 1900, so maybe it was just a well-known image.  On we go...

The Last of England

The Last of England (1855) Ford Madox Brown

Involved in this tableaux of the Ford Madox Brown classic we have Valentine Whitaker (1904-1930), an actor who was engaged in Birmingham Rep and married for only 2 months when he caught pneumonia and died.  Next to him is Lady Morvyth Benson (1896-1959)...

Morvyth, on the front of the Tatler, 1945

Just a note - the Tatler is an absolute goldmine for glorious photographs of posh ladies. Morvyth, Lady Benson, was the daughter of the Earl of Dudley and as you can see by the photo, ended up as the vice-president of the Hampshire branch of the British Red Cross Society.  Her daughter Gillian worked for the Foreign Office, while her other daughter, Sarah, served in the WRNS. 

The Anunciation

Ecce Ancilla Domini! (1850) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Back on track with a Rossetti Tableaux, We have Mr B Algar (of whom I can discover nothing! Sorry Mr B Algar, whoever you might be) approaching a very dubious looking Mrs Alexander Carnegie.

Mrs Alexander Carnegie in the Tatler in 1928

Mrs Alexander Carnegie, or Susan Ottilia de Rodakowski-Rivers (1897-1968) was of Scottish and Swiss/Austrian extraction and a distant cousin of the Carnegie family. She married Alexander Bannerman Carnegie, whose father was the 10th Earl of Southesk.  In case you were wondering (like I was), the family was related to Andrew Carnegie the famous industrialist, but only because they were all descended from the 1st Earl of Southesk (1575-1658).

Lady with a Dove

Lady with a Dove (1864) John Brett

This was also an interesting inclusion as we count Brett among the circle of Pre-Raphaelites but he is not normally who you think of first as a Pre-Raphaelite artist.  Interestingly, this painting had only been in public hands a comparatively short time, having been donated by the artist Fannie Holroyd in 1919, after her husband's death - he had been Charles Holroyd, director of the National Gallery, and it is interesting that on the Wikipedia page, it is stated that his death was hastened by the suffragette war. I digress, whilst rolling my eyes...

Stephen and Virginia Courtauld (and Mah Jongg) (1920s) L Campbell Taylor

Posing for the role of Lady with a Dove is a Lady with a snake tattoo and a lemur. Virginia Courtauld (1883-1972) had previously been married to an Italian Count but married Stephen in 1923 and lived at Eltham Palace (which is glorious and well worth a visit) with Mah Jongg, their ring-tailed lemur. She allegedly had a snake tattoo that went up her leg from ankle to thigh.  What a brilliant lady, although I would have loved it if Mah-Jongg had been on her shoulder for the tableaux.

The First Earring

The First Earring (1834-5) David Wilkie

This one is a bit of a puzzle - it's another one from the Tate, donated in 1847, so possibly just a popular nineteenth century work - and in the tableaux we have Lady Anstruther, Mildred (1868-1958), who was Scottish nobility so maybe requested a Scottish artist for her tableaux. In the middle is Lady Pamela Smith (1914-1982), another Bright Young Thing and future Baroness Hartwell, who seems to have had a fascinating and intellectual life, including being on the V&A advisory council. On the other side of her is Countess Raben (1891-1976)...

Countess Raben and children, from the cover of the Bystander, 1925

Countess Raben, or Pauline Wilhelmine zu Pappenheim had married into the Danish royal family but also lived in Somerset.  However, the picture that appeared of her and her children Peter and Anastasia in the Bystander is positively haunted. Moving on.

We're in the home-straight now, so hang in there.  Next up is Monna Vanna...

Monna Vanna (1866) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Posing for Monna Vanna is Lady Dorothy Warrender, the first wife of Sir Victor Warrender MP and she is another one who seems to have come into her own in the Second World War. She became an officer in the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry and appeared in the Tatler in 1942 as the President of the Polish Armed Forces Comforts Fund (which she founded in 1939), appealing to anyone whose name begins with a 'P' to donate money and garments to be sent to Polish troops.

Lady Warrender, 1942

The Warrenders divorced in 1945, but Dorothy was invested as an Officer, Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem for her actions during wartime. 

Beata Beatrix (1864-70) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Our penultimate tableaux is Mrs Henry Mond as Beata Beatrix.  Amy Gwen Wilson married politician and industrialist Henry Mond, 2nd Baron Melchett in 1920 after he crashed his motorcycle outside the house where she was living with novelist Gilbert Cannan (best chum of D H Lawrence).  Cannan had left his wife for Gwen, but then Gwen and Mond married when Cannan was off in America for a lecture tour.  For a while, they lived as a thruple until Cannan couldn't cope anymore and was committed to a sanatorium for the rest of his life.  The Monds lived happily and wealthily ever after and didn't seem to have any social repercussions of their unusual lifestyle, even celebrating it by commissioning a 5 feet tall art work entitled Scandal by Charles Sargeant Jagger, showing a pair of naked embracing lovers being watched by disapproving society women (see it here).  Good for them, not everyone's kink-owning ends up in the V&A.

Sidonia Von Borck (1860) Edward Burne-Jones

Finally, we have Mrs Robin D'Erlanger (1896-1941), or Myrtle Farquharson of Invercauld, a favourite in the newspapers as she was so beautiful.

Mrs Robin D'Erlanger and her sister Mrs Edward Compton in the Tatler, 1931

Myrtle had an active brain, which she used to organise many charity events, and she favoured a narrow shoulder strap according to the newspapers in 1929. Mr and Mrs D'Erlanger divorced in 1934 and a few months later Robin died after an operation to remove his tonsils.  Myrtle was staying with her friend Lady Mainwaring in London in 1941 when the house was hit by a bomb, killing Myrtle who was knitting on a chaise longue, which is an impressive way to go.

The Order of Release, from a tableaux in 1922

Well done for making it to the end of this post - I know it was a bit epic.  I am now slightly obsessed by tableaux vivants, partly because this is how Ethel Warwick (subject of my new book) ended up in acting, and so will be hunting down more, especially if there are pictures.  The above rendition of The Order of Release, 1746 from the painting by Millais came from another charitable event in 1922, this time for the Children's Country Holiday Fund.  It involved a couple of Pre-Raphaelite works, including The Mirror of Venus by Burne-Jones (which unfortunately fell across two pages or else I would have included it).

Dante's Dream tableaux from 1910

There was also Dante's Dream by Rossetti included in the tableaux vivants at the Ritz Hotel, held on behalf of the English Branch of the International Catholic Society for Befriending Working Girls, which is not far from the behaviour of the Pre-Raphaelite Brothers, who were all for befriending working girls, allegedly.  Anyway, there were obviously Pre-Raphaelite and Pre-Raphaelite-adjacent pictures used in these tableaux from the late nineteenth century onwards, but the unique thing about the 1928 event was that they went so heavily into the Pre-Raphaelite images, due to Rossetti's anniversary.  The narrative that all interest in the Pre-Raphaelites vanished after the First World War (if not before) is too simplistic, however it can be argued that the power and impact of the works might have lessened in the decades since their creation.  I think the Victorians in 1860 would have been a little dubious about cosplaying as Pre-Raphaelite heroines but for the 1920s Bright Young Things it was all just fun. 

Honestly, when you have a thruple and a thigh tattoo, I don't think much can shock you. 

Fake Nudes

This is a grumpy post, so strap in. It all began by an innocent flick through a 1907 copy of The Green Room Book looking for info on Ethel Warwick.  What I came across left me astonished and extremely depressed.  It also led me down a rabbit hole.  Let's pause for a moment, and consider the following women - what do Halle Berry, Christina Hendricks, Blake Lively and Taylor Swift all have in common?

Miss Taylor Swift and Cat, real photo

They, and many other actresses/celebrities/schoolgirls/women have all had to speak out and deny fake nude photographs generated by AI. Taylor Swift's fake nudes recently went viral on X, which doesn't surprise me at all as it is a cursed cesspit, but she is just one of a multitude of victims, albeit one with enough money and influence, if not to stop it, then raise awareness of the crime against her. This is a disgusting modern crime, or at least that was what I thought.  Then I met Gertie Millar...

Gertrude Millar was born in February 1879 in West Yorkshire, daughter of an engine fitter and a weaver, employed in the local fabric trade. Gertie, as she became known, was somewhere in the midst of around seven children, but became a child star in the Northern Theatre musical scene, moving from the Manchester theatres down to London by the early 1890s.  She toured the provinces with plays, pantomimes and all sorts of variety theatre fare, becoming one of the most popular, most photographed actresses of her generation.

The point about her status as one of the most photographed is relevant, as Gertie seems to have become famous just as the craze for theatrical photograph collecting reached its peak. As I have written about in regards to the gorgeous Lewis Waller and Audrey Roper's collection, young women especially (but not exclusively) spent a sizable amount of money on the suddenly freely available postcards of their favourite stars, and there was almost a rush to see how many images of certain stars could be produced.  I must admit I now have an absolute weakness for buying these images as some of them are beautiful little works of art, but if you were dedicated to people like Gertie or Zena Dare, you would go out of your way to collect as many different photographs as you could.  I have noted on the backs of some I have bought, the original owner has written where they saw that actor or actress last, or a friend has sent it to them saying 'I don't think you have this one!' As my daughter says, they seem to be the original Pokemon.  You can't just have one Gertie Millar, you have to catch them all!

Gertie was an absolute super star in the modern sense.  In 1902, she married composer Lionel Monckton who wrote the scores of many of her musicals. In 1905, a besotted fan shot himself in her house. She was wholesome and beautiful, a little scandalous (she showed her ankles while in pantomime!) but always good fun and professional and the nation loved her.

From what I can gather the photograph publishers would pay an actor or actress for a sitting, then the publisher would have the rights to that image, and it would be up to them to sell as many as they could.  The smarter star worked out that in the early 1900s boom in this industry, you should be charging the publisher an absolute premium as they were about to make a small fortune out of your face. The idea of copyrighting your likeness or having control over these promotional images was not yet formed, but one court case changed the way that stars, especially female stars viewed the industry. 

If you were a publisher who could make a fortune out of an image of a famous, beautiful young woman, why spend money on new images when you could make your own? 

Also, is there any sort of image of a young, beautiful woman that might sell particularly well? What might tempt the untapped market of men to buy images of actresses?

Hmmm, let me think...

It all started quite innocently, with the slight changing of one image to another. Gertie Millar is seen as possibly Miss Muffet, shaking her finger at a naughty spider. It seems to be one of a series (as they often are, all products of the same photo-shoot, making as much money from one session) and in other images Gertie is either dancing or being afraid (although with a smile) but the one we need here is where she is shaking her finger. It is what is described as a 'novelty image,' an impossible, amusing photograph, altered to be humorous. This might have been to do with one of her pantomimes but might just have been a cute image. There are any number of things like this - women popping from crackers...

It's either a very large cracker or a very small actress...

...emerging from Easter Eggs...

It would have been embarrassing if we had boiled Gabrielle Ray...

Maybe you just want your name written in actresses' faces?

As you can see, things moved swiftly from images of a person, or of a scene/character in a play to more unique, unusual images.  However, what if the images were not what you, the subject, wanted and felt that were detrimental to how you were seen by the public? This is where Gertie Millar came in.  Remember the picture of her with the spider?  How about this one...?

In 1905, Gertie noticed that there were images circulating that she had not been aware of.  Starting with the image of her with the baby, she was sent other images that she had not even sat for.  While she did not take great exception to the image with the baby (it is offensive because of the connotation and the way it was subsequently spoken about, but also it is just Gertie shaking her finger at a small child rather than a spider), there were others where Gertie's head had been put on the body of another woman, and you will be unsurprised to hear that woman was rather flimsily dressed.  They all were released by R Dunn and Co, publishers at 63 Barbican in London.  Ralph Dunn had made a business in the production of all sorts of photographic images, obviously moving into the celebrity postcards because of the money to be made, and many of the more novelty ones I found were registered to them, so they were obviously skilled at image manipulation, or rather weren't afraid to create an image when one was needed. However, Gertie felt that Dunn had done her reputational damage and so she sued him.

There was a short paragraph in The Green Room from 1907, under the title "FAKED" PHOTOGRAPHS which stated: 

'Miss Gertie Millar aired a real grievance in the Court of Chancery in June last, when counsel appeared on her behalf, and asked for an injunction to restrain Messrs. R. Dunn and Co. from publishing postcards on the back of which appeared photographs representing her in a nightdress, and in other different costumes none too abundant.'

Obviously, the term 'none too abundant' caught my eye as that really could only mean one thing, they had made fake images of her with her kit off.  Gertie, appearing as Mrs Lionel Monckton, began the case in April of 1906 but had to wait until the beginning of 1907 to have it heard in court. The press coverage at the start should have given us a warning of what was to follow, as the Bristol Magpie set the tone in a short piece in April 1906:

'Gertie Millar recently tried to restrain a certain firm from publishing picture post cards, representing her in a night dress - not of course that the actress wanted to be exhibited without the gown in question, but because she thought the costume a bit too light and airy, of course it was very naughty of Messrs Dunn to do it but it is to be hoped that Gertie's garment will in future find less display on public postcards, such a sight should only be reserved for the pillow and the bolster.'

Let's start with exactly why this bothers me so much - the use of 'naughty' and the hint that the night dress was Gertie's, that she had accidentally posed in it and now was trying to take back the image, or that she would be better off without it. All of that set the stage (as it were) for a court case that not only argued that as a public figure, Gertie's body was public property, but also a very loud undertone that if women didn't want to be seen in very little clothing, then they shouldn't go around being naked under their clothes. It's the same reasoning that reduces the seriousness of when a girl's nude photograph is passed around.

Exhibit A

Viv Gardner included the images in the marvellous chapter 'Defending the Body, Defending the Self' of Stage Women 1900-50 but I bought my copies of various faked images off eBay for around £1, which is sobering. In the April hearing in 1906 with Mr Justice Warrington presiding, Mr Whateley (on behalf of Gertie) applied of an injunction to restrain R. Dunn & Co from issuing the postcards bearing the alleged images of Gertie in a nightdress, as Circe (wearing very little) and emerging from an eggshell.  Whateley stated that the photographs had been created by placing Gertie's head on another woman's body.  Stunningly, Ralph Dunn agreed that yes, that was exactly what they had done and said he wouldn't make any more. That was easy, wasn't it?  Whateley said that Gertie would be seeking damages for them making the fake pictures.  That's when the trouble started.

Queen Victoria Receiving the News of her Accession (1880) Henry Tanworth Wells

The Portsmouth Evening News reported on the trial that started in January 1907 under Justice Darling, a frankly atrocious human being and obviously ironically named. Gertie's contention was that by showing her semi-nude, or even in her night attire, it would lead the public to think she was 'an indelicate, immodest and vulgar woman.'  She particularly objected to the one in her nightdress and the one where she was emerging from an egg as they were 'very vulgar, and she also objected to them because they were not pretty.' Now, we come to the problem as the newspaper reported that the last statement received laughter. In fact, the whole of the court case was played like a musical hall skit with Justice Darling assuming himself to be the star comic turn. When Gertie was cross-examined, it was put to her that she had been in a play where she had sung a song about a bathing suit and in The Orchid where she sang a song about pyjamas, therefore why would she object to being pictured in said garments.  Furthermore, because she objected to the nightdress, the defendant's council asked if Gertie knew of a painting depicting Queen Victoria receiving an Archbishop and the Lord Chamberlain in her nightdress on the night she ascended to the throne? Gertie replied 'Oh, that was before my time.' (laughter)

Gertie in The New Aladdin

Dunn's main defence was that actresses wore nightdresses on the stage, even Lady Macbeth and Juliet wore night gowns in the plays, even though Gertie pointed out she had never done it herself. It was pointed out that Gertie was currently appearing in the pantomime The New Aladdin playing the Principal Boy in knee breeches and high boots.  She had also appeared as a costermonger, dressed as a man. What is the problem of her being pictured in more feminine attire? She had also actually appeared with an egg for The Orchid in April 1905...

In the contested image (I think it is this one I pinched from eBay), Gertie is seen crawling from an egg...

You can see 'R. Dunn' written on the bottom left side even though the image had been taken from a photograph by Bassano.  To our modern eyes, Gertie is adequately dressed in both of these images by Dunn - the image of her as Circe or a Sea Maiden, depending on who is talking about it, is slightly more risque and hard to find, but she is still covered up with gauze - but as Gertie summed up, she felt she should have the right to choose what way she should be presented to the public in photographs. This is not a painting, this is a photograph which people believed, especially in this period.  No, the public are not going to believe she exploded from a cracker or somehow cloned her face into the name ETHEL, but when it seems a straightforward image of the woman crawling from a giant prop egg, or holding a candle, then it seems like a real image that Gertie posed for and approved.

The Somnambulist (1871) John Everett Millais

The questioning was relentless - when shown other images of women crawling from Easter eggs, Gertie said she knew of them - they were eggs with beauties inside. The defending counsel swiftly said 'but you are not one of them?' and Gertie replied 'No, I am not among the beauties' (much laughter). Gertie appeared in furs at the court, a brown on the first day and an ermine on the second, which was noted. It was asked if she knew that her postcards sold for 2 pennies, which she knew.  She was asked if she knew that Dunn sold his made-up cards for a penny, which she did not know. She was asked if she would appear in a nightdress on stage, in for example in the opera La Sonnabula or as Lady Macbeth and Gertie said she probably would if the role required it. When asked what she wanted, Gertie simply said that she wanted people to know that it wasn't her in the postcards. She was asked if she wanted compensation, she said that was for the jury to decide. The woman in furs had said she not only wanted to stop the man making money from his postcards but also refused to let her postcards be a penny, an affordable sum.

Gertie Millar, well, part of her...

The argument became one of imaginary rings of big publishers, all banding together to run the little man out of the business because he had dared to publish photographs at an affordable price.  Despite the reiteration that Gertie just wanted them to not fake her image, Dunn said he was only giving the public what they wanted. The jury found him innocent in only 10 minutes.

However sneering the papers were before the verdict, they soon changed their tune because Gertie was not wrong to believe she was valued by her public.  She published a very dignified letter in the newspapers on 4th February, a few days after the verdict, to thank the people who had reached out to her and conceded she would not be appealing the verdict. The jury had told her she was wrong to bring the action, but the public had told her she was right to feel defamed by a fictitious photograph. I particularly enjoyed G K Chesterton's rebuttal of the whole case in the Illustrated London News where he rightly points out all kinds of fictitious images can be created in paintings, but photography is believed to be true and real.  When Gertie said that people seeing the image of her wrapped in gauze by a riverbank or appearing in her nightie would think it was true. Chesterton went further and said the argumentative nature of the case was ridiculous when the crime was openly admitted to - if a coal-heaver was assaulted, he would not be expected to argue the ethics of assault in court. Even the Law Journal got involved, criticising the behaviour of Justice Darling. Gertie's counsel, Mr Foote KC did not stand a chance against the main-character-energy of that judge, going out of his way to state outright that Gertie was no better than she ought to be. The way he tried to imply she thought herself better than the Queen made a mockery of her as everyone knew she was just a working-class lass who sang funny songs for a living, sometimes in trousers where you can clearly see she has two legs. 

Within the month Lionel Monckton had written Gertie a new song to perform entitled 'My Photographic Girl' about the whole affair. Good for them. However, that was not the end of the affair, and, for a moment, the can was open and the worms were everywhere. Look what else I found on eBay...

Actresses flooded to the newspapers with their own stories in support of Gertie. Miss Marie Corelli was refused an injunction against a photographic publisher who faked some of her images. Miss Denise Orme's image was altered, her evening dress painted out and a see-through gown put in its place. Edna May had found countless images of herself crawling from seashells and eggs and in a variety of costumes and she had to complain to the publishers, although she feared millions of copies were already in circulation. Constance Collier said she had to be careful, and her own publishers were vigilant, but the verdict frightened her. Camille Clifford quite rightly saw there was no limit of what could be done with her head on another's shoulders. Olive May thought it was potentially ruinous for a young actress who would not be hired if she was thought to be the sort who posed in the nude. Anonymous actresses reported knowing their images were being faked but not wanting to be the sort of girl who causes trouble as that too would ruin your career.  All sounds very familiar, doesn't it? As the image of Carrie Moore above shows, the practice was widespread, and the actresses all wisely feared but didn't explicitly say 'where will it end?' and now we know. Tellingly, I have not found any reports of male performers being faked in this way. Whilst I don't doubt these days both sexes are probably victims of those who wish to fake images, I'm willing to bet the majority (by probably a mile) are still women.

Truth magazine published their own exasperation in the verdict, and added a poem which sums up the situation we are in now, so I will finish with that:

I thought it hard her face they matched

With form suggesting too much leg;

I thought it hard they showed her hatched

Just lately from an Easter Egg.

I thought it hard they stuck her head

Upon a trunk in nightdress clad;

And yet - so judge and jury said - 

No legal remedy she had.

If that's the law, I'm much afraid

That I, one day, my face will find

On someone else's frame displayed,

Clad only in a - never mind - 

Or even worse in nothing dight

(For where the limit can you draw?)

And yet I'll not have any right

To stop their game - if that's the Law.

Review: May Morris at the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum

It feels like forever since I went to an exhibition so you can imagine how excited I was when the ever-adorable Mr Walker, curator of the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery in Bournemouth, informed me that May Morris was arriving at the Russell-Cotes in time for my birthday! Now open at the glorious museum by the sea is May Morris: Art and Advocacy.  And I also brought some friends...

I'll come to my friends in a bit, but this is a lovely exhibition. I mean, there was very little doubt that (a) any exhibition on Miss Morris and her art would be anything other than brilliant or (b) the Russell-Cotes would have anything other than a smashing exhibition up, but I was particularly delighted to see this light, pretty and fascinating show that is a breath of sunshine-y air through the chilly Spring we had been having. Occupying Galleries 3 and 4, this is jam-packed with May's work - drawn, painted, embroidered and written - shining a spotlight on William's Daughter and just how much of a modest powerhouse she was.

As I've written before, it's easy for May to be overshadowed by her parents, especially her Dad. Within her lifetime and after, May's talent for design and writing was overlooked in comparison to William's and her looks were never considered a match for her mother, so it is unsurprising that we had to wait until the poor lass had been dead for the better part of a century to herald her glory. May herself didn't help in that respect, always deferring to the greatness of her father and spending so much of her life in preserving and celebrating his talent. From her birth, the second daughter of the Morris family, at the Red House, May was surrounded by the art and design that would consume her life. We move through to her management of the Morris & Co embroidery department at the age of only 23, which she led for over a decade. She liaised with clients, oversaw every step of the production process in as hands-on a manner as her father, and ultimately altered how embroidery was seen, raising it from being simply a household craft to an artform. In 1907, May founded the Women's Guild of Arts, opening up an art workers guild to women which had up to that point not been available.

Honeysuckle Fire Screen (1880-85) May Morris

1909-10 saw May tour America, delivering talks on subjects like the history of jewellery and medieval embroidery. She left Morris & Co after William's death and found freedom in her freelance role of advisor and writer.  She became the person writers visited to talk about her father's work and embarked on editing William's work in the last decades of her life, from Kelmscott Manor.

I don't think it is much of a surprise to the people reading this that May Morris was far more than just William's daughter, but the scale of her work is astonishing.  She was clever, talented, determined and focused, working throughout her life.  Her dedication to her work easily matches that of her father and she is a large part of why we remember William's work so clearly now. It is a pleasure to see the scope of her activities and also the value she placed on 'women's work,' clearly seeing that all craft and work is valid and valuable.  In that way, the Russell-Cotes is a perfect place to see it as the collection in the rest of the house ably shows the talent of women artists, as collected by the founder, Sir Merton Russell-Cotes. It's a cracking show and a good excuse to see Bournemouth in the summer.

If you should find yourself at the Russell-Cotes, you might like to have a go at the children's activity.  Six Morris print wombats have been released in the house and you have to track them down. Each has a print that connects to May and are named after people in her life, and are hand sewn by my good self.  I hope May would have approved...

May Morris: Art & Advocacy is on until October and further information can be found here.

The Fate of Fairies

To be honest, the subject matter of today's post made me quite cross.  Not the person themselves, but the action of their parent, which arguably had some tragic results. Oh yes, this one is absolutely drenched with tragedy so buckle up because we are entering the fairy-world of Miss Etheline Ella Dell...

Titania's Moonlit Bower (no date)

I have recently been doing some work on fairy painting for an upcoming issue of Enchanted Living magazine and I noticed there were lots of women who painted fairies and I was unaware of a lot of them.  Hurrah, I thought, lots of lovely research and blog posts!  My first pick was Etheline Dell, mainly because 'Etheline' is a brilliant name (yes, I am that shallow) and her work was absolutely gorgeous.  I then noticed that she only lived around 26 years, and smelling a bit of misery I was happy to dig further. Blimey, this is a corker...

Feeding Time (1860) John Henry Dell

Before I knew of the awful occurrences that were to follow, I was really please to be meeting the Dell family as not only was Daddy Dell a painter (John Henry Dell 1829-1888), but also Etheline's sisters were also artists too.  John Henry was a landscape artist and illustrator, well-known enough to get a Wikipedia page, however scant. His work is very much like Feeding Time above, not my idea of awesome but I think my Nan would have loved it. There is a lot of chicken-and-calf action in bijou rural poverty. John Henry married Mary Gray, a carpenter's daughter in 1860 and the couple had a sizable family rather quickly. Daughters Alice and Aline were born in the winter of 1861 - I'm fairly sure they were twins as I can find a birth-date of 20 December 1861 for Alice and Aline is registered in the January of 1862, which would be the nearest quarter. Also, those are proper twin names. Evaline followed in the winter of 1863, with Etheline arriving in the summer of 1865. Their son Edgar was born in 1867 followed finally by Edna Adeline in 1872. As an aside, I am impressed with their dedication to matching names, however mad it all looks written down. By 1871, the family were living in the village of Thorpe in Surrey (just outside London and home to the theme park) and John Henry is listed as an Artists Landscape Painter who hopefully was making enough money to support his family.  I can't find a vast amount about him in the newspapers although he was at the Royal Academy. 

One interesting story I read about him was that he was assaulted by three 'simple-looking countrymen' in Thorpe in 1861. Reading between the lines, John Henry had accused these men of stealing his rabbits and had taken some police along to their homes to search for the rabbits.  Taking this home invasion rather badly, the local chaps came round to have a little chat with the artist and opened his gate rather roughly.  When John Henry attempted to throw them out, they gave him a right good kicking.  As the Dell's maid testified what a terrible business it all was, the judge obviously came down on the side of the Dells and the three were fined or threatened with imprisonment.  Reading the case now, obviously you can't go round beating people up, but there is no mention of whether these rough types had stolen his rabbits or what right he had to search their houses, and to be honest I get a bit of a whiff of poverty-tourist off him.  Maybe the Rural wasn't as bijou as he thought it should be, but it comes off a bit entitled.  My not-so-glowing opinion of him will reappear in a bit, don't worry.

A Surrey Cornfield (c.1890)

Anyway, I suspect that all the sisters trained as artists possibly under their father but hopefully at an art school.  Certainly by 1891, Aline, Etheline, Evaline and Edna were all working as artists (as listed in the census), although Alice had married early that year to Albert Garland, a Dairy Farmer and so her job was now 'wife'.  I've searched through some Royal Academy catalogues of the period and the only sister I can see who reached the exhibition was Etheline who appeared in 1885 with Midsummer Fairies and in 1887 with "Sing me now asleep", both drawings.  There are mentions of the work of the other sisters, such as Aline, who sold some of her work in a charitable 'fancy bazaar' in aid of the local schools, although the newspapers suggested her works were at the RA the same year, getting her mixed up with Etheline. 

"Sing me now asleep" (1887)

In 1889, Etheline exhibited some drawings at the 7th annual exhibition at the St James Gallery.  One critic described the whole exhibition as 'not brilliant' but 'several small landscape vignettes by Miss Etheline Dell would make very pretty Christmas cards.' She also provided the illustrations for Nobody's Business by Edith Carrington in 1891 (available on Abebooks where I got the image below) which were described as deft and graceful in many glowing reviews.

In Etheline's 'rural' images she is likened favourably to Helen Allingham, and at the water-colour exhibition at the Dudley Gallery in 1890, her paintings were well received. Her cottage exteriors were painted with 'infinite pain and trouble, rendering every detail in the figures and flowers with the greatest exactitude.' The review of her Midsummer Fairies was particularly good - 'Although only about four inches square, it contains no less than twenty-one complete female figures, all beautifully executed, beside water, flowers etc, the whole forming a perfect miniature landscape in pencil.'

Midsummer Fairies (1872)

I can't lie to you, I was attracted to Etheline not only because of her name and her fabulous fairy paintings but because her death just shy of her 26th birthday.  I expected some sort of illness but no, she threw herself into the Thames.  But why would a talented, successful artist do such a thing?  Rewinding a few years, Etheline had been engaged to get married.  Of a family of all those daughters, I had thought it a shame that John Henry died before he got the chance to walk any of them down the aisle.  Alice married in 1891, Aline and Evaline in 1893, and Edna around 1896.  John Henry died in 1888 and apparently, according to the newspaper coverage of Etheline's suicide, he made Etheline promise to never marry and to always remain home to look after her sister, Edna. Etheline broke off her engagement and remained home, which is enough to make me cross enough but I am puzzled as to why Edna was singled out as a cause for concern.  It was noted that all this made Etheline grow depressed, although she kept working and was, on the face of it, the most successful of the family in terms of art. However in the summer of 1891, Etheline went missing, her parasol, kid gloves and a note were found on the river bank.  The note read 'Dear Friends, take care of my sister Edna if she needs it. My kindest love to you forever, E.E.D.'  I was instantly reminded of the alleged suicide note found pinned to Elizabeth Siddal, asking people to take care of Harry, her disabled brother. According to the newspaper, her father (I'm guessing they meant her brother) offered a £10 reward if they could locate poor Etheline's body and she was duly found floating down the Thames, between the Long Ditton Ferry and Messenger's Island.

"We Found a Babe Wrapped in Swathes, Forlorn" (undated)

The inquest was reported widely; the Hull Daily Mail called it a 'Romantic Suicide of a Young Lady' which is an interesting/revolting take. They correctly called her 'an artist' and reported that she had made the deathbed promise but it had so depressed her that she had committed suicide 'whilst of unsound mind.' Several weeks later, at the end of August 1891, Etheline's brother Edgar was seen in great distress near where they had found Etheline's body. The police were called but they arrived too late and found him dead from drinking prussic acid (cyanide), a particularly awful way to go. He left a lengthy letter, addressed to the coroner. In it Edgar wrote of seeing candles snuffed out and brightly burning, of missing the candles that are snuffed out and of suddenly not worrying about death anymore.  The letter was long and had the newspapers puzzled but he wrote of not being able to deal with life which he preferred as an explanation of his death rather than 'unsound mind,' the one he received.  His problems with life included an explanation of why people mourn, why a man loves a woman and why people are alive at all.  There is little doubt that Edgar loved his sister very much and her loss was too much.

Interestingly, the remaining sisters all married in quick succession, including Edna.  Their mother lived until 1930, so she obviously didn't play any part in their marital state (as we have seen before).  I was especially interested in Edna after she had been singled out by her father and sister as a cause for concern but she married, had children and led a long and normal life.  The 1911 census gives a place to mention any disabilities, so I wondered if it was going to be something as straightforward as a visual or hearing disability but nothing is recorded so that remains a mystery. The tyranny of a parent dictating the life-path of their child is one that particularly infuriates me as I have examples of that within my own family. These things don't end well, especially not for the child involved and I struggle to see what the point of putting that burden on Etheline was.  As none of the other Dell children married until 1891 at the earliest, I wonder if it was said to all of them and only the deaths of Etheline and Edgar made them all think 'sod that, I'm getting married,' including Edna. 

Faires and Field Mouse (undated)

Whatever the truth of the life and death of Miss Etheline Ella Dell it seems a shame that such a talent artist, in a family of art lovers, should meet such a sad end when her work still brings such delight to audiences everywhere. 

Nepo Baby

 In my continuing research around the life, times and connections of Miss Ethel Warwick, I was interested to see how many members of the acting profession were actually children of actors. It seemed so normal that the fact Ethel did not come from a long line of thespians seemed noteworthy to the newspapers.  In recent years, I have heard the term 'Nepo Baby' used against actors (actually, normally actresses) as if to explain how they became famous so promptly. Maya Hawke, Angelina Jolie, Carrie Fisher and the many others could not possibly be talented!  It must be their famous parents! All this leads me to the slightly cautionary tale of Miss Nancy Waller...

Lewis Waller as Lysander (1900)

My adoration of Lewis Waller is well and truly on display in this post, but he and his wife Florence West were a theatrical power couple beyond compare. Despite the fact that she was repeatedly referred to as 'Mrs Lewis Waller' rather than her stage name belays the fact that she was equally as important and respected as he was. I'm trying to think of a modern equivalent - Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz? Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively? Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick? - Anyway, when Oscar Wilde wrote An Ideal Husband in 1895, she was his Mrs Cheveley, which is recommendation enough. Despite the birth of her son Edmund in 1884 and her daughter Nancy twelve years later, Florence didn't seem to break her stride, going off on tour not long after Nancy's birth in 1896. 

Edmund Waller (c.1920)

While Edmund obviously is of interest to me because of his marriage to Ethel Warwick, I noticed that he seemed to try to keep a professional distance from his parents.  In this, he mostly failed because (a) his parents were superstars and (b) I'm not convinced he was a good enough actor to get out from under his father's shadow.  I can definitely see having a father ruling the acting profession you are trying to break into being a massive problem, although arguably Michael Douglas would say otherwise, as would Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estervez.  Maybe because Edmund was born while the couple were building their careers, or because Nancy arrived at the beginning of her parents' superstardom, not to mention the fact that she was incredibly cute, Nancy started appearing in the Wallers' publicity photographs.

Florence West and Daughter (c.1900)

Nancy was only 6 years when she took to the stage. This beat Ellen Terry (aged 9) but was the same age as Drew Barrymore in ET.  The last was particularly illuminating to me as Drew Barrymore as Gertie is so natural and charming that it is easy to see how a child can make a brilliant actress.  The newspaper's were equally charmed, as the Birmingham Mail reported 'This embryo actress rejoices at having arrived at the mature age of six, and is quite convinced that to forbid her playing Toto every night is an injustice for which somebody ought to answer.' The problem came in her mother's production of Zaza in 1901 which featured Nancy as 'Toto', although the Wallers really only wanted their daughter to perform in the matinees.  Nancy was obviously having none of it. She was so praised for her performance that the Empire News wrote a poem 'To a Sweet Child on her First Appearance'...

Baby came and played a part,

Baby won applause.

Baby gained the public's heart;

Why was it? Because - 

Baby was real and Baby was fresh,

Baby remarks she was a 'b'cess'*

Hush-a-bye Baby, on the tree top,

When Baby appears the applause doesn't stop.

(*This is 'baby babble' for 'success')

Ellen Terry and her granddaughter Nelly Gordon (c.1918)

For Edwardian actresses, having children could well trip up your career (for Health and Safety reasons - Juliet isn't usually heavily pregnant during the balcony scene) but it seems Florence didn't seem to slow down and used motherhood in publicity.  Suddenly there were not only pictures of Florence, of Mrs Lewis Waller, but also of Mrs Lewis Waller and Daughter.  In this, she is not unusual, as actresses like Ivy Close and Ellen Terry took a similar stance, feeding the public with carefully curated images of aspirational family. Ellen Terry went as far as to be pictured with her grandchildren, I think in a way displaying an acting dynasty. It almost didn't matter if the child went on the stage in a professional way, the novelty of being the child of a famous actor was a pull to theatre crowds who were already feeling involved in their idols private lives.  Thinking about the private lives of the generation before the Wallers, it was a very sterilised picture that the public were exposed to.  

What I find interesting about Nancy is that she quite quickly becomes her father's sidekick, appearing with him, photographed by him and generally being his shadow. As you will know from my post on Waller, he was absolutely worshipped and so I think this sort of content would have been massively popular with his public. I also notice that there are frustratingly few photographs of his with his wife, which can be read in many ways.  They did not seem to act together after 1900, the period which seems to have sparked the mass producing of picture postcards of actors. Also, she might have wished to keep a bit of a distance from being Waller's wife, being the lesser of the pair if they had been pictured together. This, of course, is not the case with Nancy.

In November 1908, Nancy appeared at the Royal Command performance of The Duke's Motto at Windsor, a play which famously stared her father in one of his popular 'cape and sword' pieces, revived in the autumn of 1908. When they performed for the King, Nancy was included in the cast as a page.  It was apparent that although she had previously appeared in her parent's plays, she was not regarded as anything other than their child.

Stereoscope picture of Lewis and Nancy Waller (c.1902)

Nancy very quickly got into the role of the actress-daughter in the family business, talking to the press about her performances in a grown up manner, although still under 10 years old.  She shared the role of Toto in Zaza with a girl who could play the recorder (which the character required).  Nancy had to have a man behind the curtain playing for her while she mimed and she told the newspapers of an incident when he missed his cue only to start playing when she was not in position making her scramble to her spot and the audience laughed in fond appreciation. She quickly became Lewis' Daughter (TM), a role of its own. When he sailed to New York in 1911, she was reported to have been on the dockside, waving him away.  Partly because her brother was so much older than her, and partly because he was married by 1908 to fellow actress Ethel Warwick, Nancy seemed to act as the 'only child' to her parents, especially her father, a beautiful, slightly melancholic-faced child beside her handsome, noble father.

Florence West's work kept her very busy, touring in Zaza internationally and also making the role of Milady in The Three Musketeers her own, garnering a letter from old friend Oscar Wilde who declared he had heard her 'Miladi' was brilliant. She was generous, encouraging, professional and brilliant, moving audiences to tears on a regular basis and so it was a terrible shock to everyone when she died in November 1912, aged only 53.

Mrs Lewis Waller and Daughter (c.1903)

I was impressed that Florence's obituary in The Era did not mention her children at all, or her husband to any great extent, concentrating solely on her and her accomplishments.  While this sounds appropriate to a modern ear, you can imagine what a leap that was for the Edwardian public. Mentioned in passing in her obituary in the Aberdeen Press and Journal is possibly a reason why Nancy became her father's shadow.  In 1906, after a long run with Zaza, Florence went to Algiers to recover from a nervous breakdown, which was only reported as she was involved in a court case over a motor car and unable to appear in court. After her return, she appeared in music hall rather than grand drama, arranging abbreviated versions of her greatest hits, and delighting audiences with lighter fare than before.  She moved to Flanshaw outside Bognor Regis on the south coast, possibly for her health, while it appears Nancy remained in London at least part of the time, with her father.

It is unsurprising therefore that when Lewis Waller set off on tour to Australia and South Africa in 1913, he took Nancy with him, not to mention his son Edmund as well. The group had a lucky escape when Waller's car collided with a tram, miraculously sparing all the passengers but totally wrecking the car.  The family of actors returned to a country suddenly at war, and Waller was required to give his Henry V speech for recruitment purposes, touring the country, again with Nancy in tow. She was with him in Nottingham in 1915 when he and Madge Titheradge began a tour which was halted in October when he became ill and was taken for rest to the Rufford Hotel. The newspapers were agog for days as Nancy and her uncle, Waller's brother and manager, remained by his bedside.  For a day he seemed to rally, then he died in his sleep from double pneumonia with Nancy still in the chair beside him. He was three days short of his 55th birthday, and 19 year old Nancy was an orphan.

As I have relayed in my post on Ethel Warwick, by 1915 Edmund had divorced her.  The whole affair of the death of Florence, coupled with Edmund's fleeing his wife and child abroad and having to be retrieved, put an large amount of stress on Waller, who acted as far as he could on Ethel's behalf. With both parents dead and (excuse me saying so) a less than ideal brother, Nancy turned seriously to acting.  She made her screen debut in 1916 in The Mill Owner's Daughter (also known as The Little Mayoress) where she played the lead.  Having grown up in the industry I'm sure she was aware that it was uncertain and very competitive, even with the name she had.  The same year as her movie debut, Nancy took the role of 'party guest' in The Boomerang, a hotly anticipated American comedy which required pretty girls as bit-part players.  I find it interesting that she also found a side hussle in costume, becoming friends with fellow actress and theatrical costumer, the amazingly-named Gladys Archbutt...

Gladys and Dog (c.1900)

Gladys was making a great living as an actress but either was a realist or just found her passion lay in costume as I found her through this advert...

In 1919, Gladys and 'E Lewis Waller' (presumably Edmund) opened a theatrical costume shop in Chandos Street which had exhibitions every Friday in the shop on a miniature stage. Both Gladys and Edmund were stakeholders and partners but a matter of months later, Gladys announced in the newspaper that she had other plans. In The Era in February 1920, Gladys reported she had severed all ties with the Chandos Street business and was sailing to New York to go into partnership with Nancy. By this point Nancy had inherited her father's money (payable either on marriage or her 21st birthday) and so with her money and dreams of film stardom, Nancy crossed the Atlantic and there met Horton Edward Pratt.

Horton had arrived from Australia as Horton Pfaff in 1920, changing his name to Pratt along the way. Six foot tall and no doubt handsome, Horton and Nancy fell in love.  She had been acting in films (un-named in the papers) but vowed to give it all up to become the wife of Horton Pratt, a merchant. It was mentioned throughout the newspapers that she had suddenly married this unknown man and cabled her news to home.  Nancy was described as a famous movie actress and her brother Edmund, merely the husband of another famous movie actress, his new wife Marie Blanche (aka Marie Peacock from Scarborough, also a daughter of an actor, William Peacock, who started on the stage as a child). I'm guessing it was entirely respectable and expected that Nancy would give up her acting and live the life of Mrs Pratt, and to be fair the couple travelled a fair amount in the 1920s (thank you to the passenger listings on Ancestry).  Mr and Mrs Pratt, who kept the same address in London as well as New York, travelled across the Atlantic, including a trip to Buenos Aires. In January 1929, on the Cunard ship Mauretania, Horton and Nancy travelled back to New York from Southampton.  However, in July Nancy returned alone.  Well, not quite alone as she had some interesting shipmates...

Yes, he looks like trouble...

Amongst the passengers of the White Star Line ship Adriatic sailing from New York to Liverpool in the summer of 1929 was George Pitt-Rivers.  As I work with archaeologists as my day job, I immediately recognised the name but he's a gitweasel. Good Lord, that's an understatement, as his Wikipedia page involves the phrase 'he always wore his golden swastika badge.' If Nancy had 'accidentally' thrown him overboard it would have been for the best.  Far more conducive to smooth seas was a fellow actor, sailing for one last visit to home before returning to Hollywood.  He's quite obscure, you probably haven't heard of him....

That's young Archibald Leach from Bristol.  I hope he made something of himself...

Poor old Nancy had returned a divorced woman almost a decade after retiring from acting, not the most forgiving of careers to return to as a thirty-something woman.  As actresses like Gabrielle Ray can testify, if you give up your seat at the acting table, there are around a dozen pretty young women ready to take it and it's a devil to get back.  Nancy had her surname, now reclaimed, to aid her, even if it is only to talk about her father. In 1933, a particularly sad report in the Daily News read: 

'Miss Nancy Lewis Waller...the only daughter of the late Mr Lewis Waller, the actor, asks us to state that a man of the same name who was brought from prison to give evidence in a recent High Court case has no connection to her father or her family.'

It is dubious whether or not in 1933 anyone would think of Lewis Waller, or if they did, not be familiar with the particulars of his family. I also think it is interesting that not only did Nancy shed her married name but also brought all her Father's name into hers, as if to keep the flame alive. Her name also appeared in conjunction with a funeral at Stratford Upon Avon, for the autograph-hunting Parish Clerk who had amassed a noteworthy collection that included Nancy, Ellen Terry and the Princess of Schleswig-Holstein.  Nancy slipped into obscurity, travelling again to America and within Europe but finally settling down on the south coast like her mother.  She died in 1972 in Worthing, West Sussex, over 20 years older than either of her parents managed and a decade more than her brother.

Nancy and her Dad (c.1912)

Nancy's life isn't exactly ground-breaking and she has a trajectory opposite to those I normally study.  Miss Waller was born into the limelight, her path to fame fairly well marked out for her.  Reporters hang on her every word aged 6, for goodness sake, but even then neither her or her brother attained the sort of fame either of their parents found. To be the child of a superstar must be incredibly hard in so many ways, even more these days because I could find not one report that implied Nancy got any of her fame merely through her connections. I think for the media Nancy was forever stuck as the little girl clutching the hand of a theatrical god and she never got to change the story.