A Little Ladybird and Shackleton's Dog

 Often in researching my victims, I am blessed in information about their lives once they are exhibiting or even at school winning prizes, but rarely do I get an account of their childhood unless their parents were famous or something deeply tragic happens.  Well, today this is a bit of a mix of that as I am very lucky to have an account from the artist herself. Meet Mariquita Jenny Moberly...

Self Portrait (1918)

There are a few reasons that I chose Mariquita as today's subject, some are to do with frankly weird pictures of dogs and at least one is to do with that self portrait, which is magnificent. Let's start at the beginning...

Portrait of a Dachshund (no date)

By the way, unusually there will be lots of pictures for Mariquita, which makes how obscure she is even more puzzling but we'll come back to that. To the origins!

Maud (1890)

Mariquita Jenny Phillips was born on the 2nd November 1855 to John and Jane Phillips, who lived in Deptford in Greater London.  I must admit when I saw her name, I was expecting her to be Spanish, or at least something more exotic than Deptford (no offence Deptford). Nor are John and Jane particularly international, however John was secretary and shareholder for a Spanish and Mexican mining company which is possibly why they decided to call their eldest daughter a name that translates from the Spanish as 'Ladybird' (with thanks to this site). Mariquita was followed by Bevan John (1857-1912), Lawrence Charles (1859-1929), Arthur Waller (1862-1936) and finally Walter Alison (1864-1950).  The family were well off, living at Ham Villa (a villa entirely constructed of ham!) in Lewisham, with several servants including a nurse for the children in 1861.  Mariquita remembered her father, a keen amateur artist teaching her to copy and draw.  She spoke of being 5 years old and sitting with him drawing objects on a table, a lamp and her mother's key basket, with his 'firm steady simple line drawings' on one side and her shaky copy beside it. The family moved into the very splendid Mounthill, which had sweeping views over Epsom.  Then, all of a sudden in 1868, John died leaving Jane with five small children.  Her mother did the only sensible thing and moved them all to Germany.

Shelling Peas (no date)

Mariquita studied at home for a couple of years, but then, aged 15, she went to art school in Weimer, studying almost at once from life.  She attended the studio of Professor Friedrich Martersteig (1814-1899), then spent two years with Bertha Froriep (1833-1920), who did this rather Pre-Raphaelite Sleeping Beauty...

Sleeping Beauty (1864) Bertha Froriep

Mariquita was the sole pupil of Froriep and felt that she learned a lot from her (when she recounted the story of her early life in 1890 to the Lady's Pictorial).  Just before she returned to London aged 20, she spent some time with Ferdinand Schauss (1832-1916) at the Grand-Ducal Saxon Art School. Then the family returned.

A Young Woman (1886)

When back in London, Mariquita did not pause.  She studied intensely at the British Museum, drawing from the Antique for 6 months, and taking classes at South Kensington.  Further to that she spent 3 months in Paris, studying under Carolus-Duran (1837-1917) before she was ready to exhibit.

In the 1881 census, the Phillips family were back in Epsom, this time in South Street (handy for the Assembly Rooms/Wetherspoons) with her mother and brothers. Marquita was listed as an artist, and her brothers had become architects and solicitors. Also visiting the family was Herbert Moberly, a merchant from St Petersburg in Russia. Before we get overexcited about him being all exotic and foreign, again it's a false alarm, as, although he was born in Russia, his father Charles appears to have been a travelling merchant and his Mum came from Leeds.  The Moberly family seem to have moved to Lewisham just before Charles died, so I wonder if that is where Mariquita and Herbert met. Anyway, in 1884 the couple married in Epsom.  However, more importantly, in 1881 Mariquita made her artistic debut at a watercolour exhibition at the Dudley Gallery. Not to get on my soap box, but I have a real thing about female academics/artists/writers etc using only their initials, and as part of my other job I make a point of ensuring full names are recorded or else it's a sad fact that things tend to get credited to men.  I therefore find it interesting that the Lady's Pictorial of March 1881 celebrated the fact that 100 of the female artists exhibiting used their christian names in the catalogue because, as they said, 'it speaks well for the future position of ladies in art.' Preach, Lady's Pictorial! Mariquita was there with Marigolds which got a mention.

The Artist in the Garden (no date)

In 1884, she exhibited a picture of roots at the Society of Lady Artists which was her last outing under her maiden name. Her first painting at the Royal Academy was in 1885, entitled 'Annie' showing a girl in a low-necked dress in pale pink and grey striped satin against a grey-white background. She also exhibited at the Royal Institute of Painters in Watercolours with The Flight of Little Nell and her Grandfather from the Old Curiosity Shop, showing an elder man being led by a child through their shop surrounded by bric-a-brac and armour.

The Missing Hen (no date)

1886 brought a large watercolour entitled A Maiden of the Primrose League.  Now, as we discussed in my last post, the Primrose League was a conservative group, but this child wrapped up in brown velvet and fur is in the middle of a wood with a basket of primroses, so possibly is a play on words. I think recent times has rather set our teeth on edge when it comes to anything this overtly right wing, but looking at it in the whole, arguably this is a case of the more benign conservatism that used to exist with lots of 'christian' values, love of queen-and-country type malarky which would be very mainstream in nineteenth century England. Without getting too political, if you had money and/or a title in 1883 (when it was founded) I don't think it is particularly deep or sinister to be in the Primrose League. I also wonder if the iconography of primroses at this time just denoted 'traditional values.' My apologies for so many speech marks, but I often find that people who tell you that they are a thing are unlikely to be it - so if you say you stand for traditional christian values I am very clear that you don't. If you have to tell me it, it is not likely to be self-evident. Like men who tell me they are feminists. Sorry, I digress.

The Lesson (no date)

The Primrose Maiden made its way around England, cropping up in Liverpool and Birmingham before pottering over to Melbourne for the Centenary Exhibition in 1889. Mariquita returned to the Royal Academy in 1888 with two literary-based works - Lorna Doone and Martha Hilton.  Lorna Doone got a fair amount of attention as the female figure was clothed in white satin against a backdrop of crimson velvet curtains, one of which she held.  Martha Hilton, a character from Longfellow's 'Lady Wentworth' was a happy, careless girl carrying a bucket of water.  This painting not only was at the RA, but also was seen in Liverpool and in Dresden the following year.

View from a Winter Window (no date)

1887 had Jealousy one of her first animal-based works, which proved popular for its subject which reminded me of the stuff by Briton Riviere and the ilk.  A little girl tries to work at her desk but is interrupted by her little dog, which all sounds very commercial and delightful. By this time, the Moberlys were settled into married life at 24 Abercorn Place, just round the corner from the Abbey Road Studios.  It's a beautiful, tall, white building and seems huge for the two of them and their servant.  Mariquita also had a studio, 1 Cheniston Gardens, pictured here...

I love the terrarium.  By the two paintings on the easels, I'm supposing that Mariquita wished to be known for her figure paintings, if not just her portraits, which I have read was the side of the business to get into as it guaranteed sales if you were good. In 1890, just such a portrait appeared at the RA - Ellen, daughter of Edwin Waterhouse Esq. Edwin Waterhouse was a wealthy accountant, one of the founders of Price Waterhouse and this would have been his daughter Ellen Penelope Mary Waterhouse (1880-1944) aged 10.  The year also saw the profile of her published in the Lady's Pictorial, calling her a 'clever artist' and frequent flyer at the RA. They also covered her painting Meadowsweet when it arrived at the Grosvenor Gallery in May.

1891 saw A Lesson in Patience at the Royal Academy, which I'm going to guess might have also been dog-related. The following year, at the Royal Institute of Water-Colours, she exhibited a painting of Ruskin's Study at Brantwood.  I thought 'Oh, I've seen this!' but actually everyone seems to have painted that room, so no, I hadn't seen Mariquita's rendition. To be honest, although all the pictures of the study are nice, I'm not sure it warranted that much attention, certainly not in 1882.

Once Upon a Time (1893)

In 1893, Mariquita was back at the RA with a watercolour entitled Nut Brown Hair.  She was also at the Institute of Oils with Little Ellie and Once Upon a Time which shows a little girl immersed in a book of fairy stories. At the Bradford Art Exhibition in April, she won a highly commended for her oil painting 'What Are You Laughing At?' In 1894 she was back at the RA with another Longfellow-inspired piece, 'Fair was she as she passed with her chaplet of beads and her missal.' With such a lengthy title and poetic subject, I expected the papers and the Lady's Pictorial did not let me down...

Please excuse the bad quality, but I was impressed to find an illustration. The Queen magazine also mentioned Mariquita in their review of the Dudley Gallery Art Society show, where she had the Anxious Mother, a painting of a little girl with her cat and its kittens. The Lady's Pictorial also had an image of The Miller's Daughter which was so dark that I don't include it here, but appears to be a girl stood by a mill stream, pensively, and I'm going to guess it is drawn from Tennyson. Also mentioned in a review of an exhibition in York was Hush! which shows a young girl nursing her pet dog.

In 1895, Mariquita brought us On the Threshold of the Unknown, with a bride pausing in a doorway, exhibited at the Dudley Gallery, which also might be the same painting mentioned by the Gentlewoman as exhibited in the Society of Lady Artists show, simply described as a lovely picture of a young woman in white satin. The same year, auctioneers Higgins and Son advertised an upcoming sale of the works of Mariquita and Miss H Franck at Miss Franck's studio in St John's Wood, including watercolours, oils and drawings.

Lady with a Quetzal (1896)

In 1896, Mariquita  seems to have exhibited Ruskin's Study again, as well as Hush!  and showing The King's Youngest Daughter at the Society of Lady Artists. There was a short piece in the Midland Counties Express about Mariquita's childhood and education, listing that to date she had exhibited 114 pictures and had many of them illustrated in journals - 'All of her works are marked with good taste.' It also revealed that her husband, Herbert, was a keen photographer and member of the Royal Photographic Society (although I can't find any of his photographs, unfortunately).

In 1897, she showed a piece inspired by Browning's 'The Flight of the Duchess' - For it was Life Her Eyes were Drinking at the Royal Hibernian Academy but that appears to be it. 1898 however she was back at the RA with two paintings, Thistledown and Springtime. The only thing I know about Thistledown is that it was donated to the Russell-Cotes in 1933 by Mariquita, but was disposed of sometime later when people didn't like Victorian art, which is a shame. Springtime seems to be a similar picture if the description is anything to go by as it shows children surrounded by blue and white hyacinths, this time in a wood. The same year Mariquita was still exhibiting the picture of Ruskin's study! Blimey, how exciting was that study?!

Best Friends (1897)

As we approach the turn of the century, Mariquita appeared once more at the Dudley with two paintings, A Breton Loom and the more intriguing Unsuspected Witnesses whish was described in The Queen as 'a rather amusing scene, in which two children are watching from a distance a young man saying pretty things to his sweetheart.' She also seems to have taken The King's Youngest Daughter up to the exhibition at York. I have noticed that Mariquita seems to exhibit a lot, and is not afraid of using the same painting over and over at different venues, which is completely fine, but I don't think I have ever noticed an artist do it quite so much. By 1899, I think there were otherwise undiscovered tribes in the Amazon who had seen her painting of Ruskin's study because it had got about so much.

June Roses (1900)

1900 arrived and with it an address change, as she gives Ravensbury Gardens in Mitcham as her address at the RA this year. Hanging near the entrance doorway to the First Gallery was Mariquita's November described in the newspapers as a 'sylvan landscape.' In the autumn at Derby, she exhibited Treasure Trove, a life-like picture of a young flower seller which seems to have been displayed in the same room as Waterhouse's La Belle Dame Sans Merci - I always find it interesting to see what pictures are near each other and in that way I loved the display of pictures chronologically at Tate Britain, however inconvenient it made seeing all the pictures by the Pre-Raphs. I wonder if that is the same picture as June Roses? Picture titles can be so elastic.

Young Woman Reading (undated)

1901 saw a solo exhibition at Walker's Art Gallery in Bond Street of paintings, drawings, studies and sketches and it was praised in The Queen as showing the diversity of her talents in the different subjects she approached. She also took Springtime to the Dudley Gallery for another airing. In 1902 at the Dudley, she exhibited a study of an Amaryllis and at the Society of Women Artists she showed Loves Idyll with lovers walking beneath chestnut trees with the lights dappling down in different colours.  She also took Treasure Trove off to the Royal Academy.

In 1903's Royal Academy, Mariquita had two canvases; firstly, a sweet picture of little girls in a meadow, A Fairy Tale which was illustrated in the newspapers but to be honest I am more intrigued by her other entry The Magic Brook: "Who drinks of me will become a white roe," which The Queen  described as being rather fanciful with people, animals and landscape all vying for attention.

I'm puzzled by the absolute silence around her in 1904 as even when she wasn't in the RA, Mariquita always had something going on but no, nothing. 1905 saw another solo exhibition at Walker's Gallery in Bond Street. She was also praised for her work at the Autumn exhibition at Brighton, where her study of children was placed in a prominent position and was felt worthy of it.

The Secret Path (1906)

Despite having The Secret Path in the 1906 Royal Academy, it went by without notice.  All attention for the year went to her painting The Rosary which was exhibited in November in the Modern Gallery. This was a three quarter length portrait of a beautiful young woman in a brilliant green gown, gazing away in thought. The mentions of her work begin to slow down as her entries into the RA slow. 1907 brought Trust, a painting of terriers displayed at the Cheltenham and County Fine Art Exhibition. We have to wait until 1910 for another Royal Academy, and that was with The Motor Veil.  Now, I don't know what I imagined that would be, possibly some grand sci-fi epic and the fact I couldn't find the painting just fired up my imagination, so I Googled 'Motor Veil' and was maybe a little disappointed to find it just meant one of these...

 

I definitely need my Motor Veil Problem (TM) solved immediately! Sadly, no sign of the painting.

The Duet (1912)

In 1911 Mariquita exhibited The Old Floor Cloth Factory at the Royal Water-Colour Society, followed  in 1912 by The Duet showing a little girl and dog playing the piano and Night in Venice at the Modern Gallery. 1913 saw Off to the Front which made me nervous but I think it is just a portrait of children at the seaside (I hope). She also had a vivid painting Kingfisher Blue which was much admired, together with an RA entry, On the Staircase.  Interestingly, she gave a talk to the English Goethe Society about the old Goethe House where her mother and siblings all lived when they went to Weimer after her father's death. She knew Goethe's daughter-in-law well, and Goethe's grandchildren gave her some of the writer's relics and she drew the interior of the house.

Mentions really slow down now. In 1914 she had West Looe, Cornwall at the Alpine Club's Spring Show. Her last RA outing was in 1920 with In the Workshop which had no mentions in the press. In 1922, she held an exhibition of her work at her Ravensbury Gardens Studio in October. In 1925, in Derby she had another dog painting, this time The Ragamuffin's Forty Winks showing, as the paper reported, the sort of dog 'who walks into your heart and stays there.'  Finally, at the Royal Institute in 1928, she showed some flower paintings. In 1921, Herbert and Mariquita were visiting people in Lyme Regis, both now in their 60s, Herbert a retired bank manager and Mariquita, an artist. Herbert died in 1931.  She followed him on 1st November 1937, the day before her 82nd birthday, leaving over £18K.

The Flight of Nicolette (no date)

The problem I have with Mariquita is that, other than the two paintings at the Russell-Cotes (now only one), it's hard to match pictures to the titles and descriptions in the newspapers.  I was grateful for the couple of occasions that the newspapers reproduced an illustration, however bad. We have a fair number of pictures available online, but most without dates.  A specific case of this is Shackleton's dog...

This was up for auction on a few sites, but without date that I could see.  Mariquita became known for her animal paintings and I'm going to guess this was from the 1910s, because it is possible that there were no better-known dog painters around then - Maud Earl went to New York in 1916 and Briton Riviere was very elderly by that point. This occurred possibly during the pause between expeditions, or maybe as a tribute to the dogs of the Endurance.  Possibly with hindsight, I find her picture of the dog almost too filled with pathos to look at comfortably.

Anyway, in conclusion, this was a tricky post as there is both a lot of information and a lack.  Mercifully, the Lady's Pictorial was backing her all the way and the little review of her career they did in 1890 was very helpful, but I would like to know and see more of her work and work out exactly where she fits into the nineteenth and twentieth century's story of art. I want to see the red curtains of Lorna Doone and I want to know when she painted The Flight of Nicolette and hopefully, with time, we will know more about the little ladybird and her wonderful career.

A Brief Pre-Raphaelite

 As you will know by now, I love artists who illustrate in a Pre-Raphaelite style, as an awful lot of them tend to be women, but also you get a snapshot of artists who need to work and get paid so that opens up the field. Another of my passions is how everyone is connected and how looking at an artists can lead you to other well-known Victorians. Before I ramble on too much, let me introduce you to the wonderful art of Miss May Sandheim...

I met May through this extremely tatty copy of Christina Rossetti poems (and yes, I did see that the introduction was by Alexander Smellie, I was just being grown-up about it. Tee hee).  I have a weakness for Goblin Market and own lots of different copies with lots of different illustrations, but always have room for more.  This didn't cost me very much (obviously) and I wanted to know more about May Sandheim, who I admit I knew nothing about.  I ended up in a very wet, cold graveyard. Let's start at the beginning.

from The Nursery Song Book (1908)

Isaac Sandheim (1846-1928) came from Dublin, where he was a dentist.  His father Julius, a Rabbi, had come over from Prussia in 1838 and settled in Ireland.  He married Miriam, who came from Sunderland, in 1843 and had seven children, of whom Isaac was the second eldest. Julius was the First Reader and Secretary of the Dublin Synagogue and may have also worked as a dentist which might therefore have been a family business. Isaac went on to marry Ann Woodburn in 1876 and their first daughter May Catherine was born in Dublin in 1877, on 3rd May, which I'm guessing accounts for her name.  She was followed by Herbert Julius (1882-1926), Lionel Woodburn (1884-1934) and finally Violet Marian (1893-1968).  Although May was born in Dublin, the births of her siblings tell an interesting story - Herbert was born in Glasgow, Lionel was born back in Dublin and finally Violet was born in London, where the family settled at 26-30 King Street in Hammersmith (now a listed building). By 1901, they had moved to 14 Phillimore Gardens in Kensington - to my mind, I was more impressed with King Street as that was a whacking great big house, but the Kensington address is gold-plated and beautiful, so I can see why the Sandheims lived there. 

Until 1889, May was taught at home, but then she was enrolled in the Oxford Gardens School in Kensington.  After that, May attended the Hammersmith School of Art and in 1895 was mentioned in the newspapers for her work in light and shade. A year later she was mentioned again, this time for 'an address for political services rendered' which was presented to the Assistant Secretary of the local Unionist party. Her piece was in black and white between two columns with cherubs carrying a wreath of primroses. At the end of the newspaper piece, it mentioned that May was the daughter of Isaac, one of the local representatives to the Council of the United Synagogue, and a prominent worker for the local Conservative party. Given that the primroses probably referred to the Primrose League who were against Home Rule, I think we can see where the Sandheim family stood on that issue, possibly why they chose to leave Dublin for London.

The Pied Piper (1906)

In 1897, May's portrait of Queen Victoria was on show to a large audience at her studio in Dunsany Road, according to the newspapers. The Brook Green Studios at Dunsany Road were a hub for artists in the 1890s including Edward Fellowes Prynne who would have been one of May's neighbours. The large oil painting of the Queen was on display in 1898 as well, together with her other work at the Hammersmith Industrial Exhibition.  She also won a prize for a drawing of a girl's head at the same exhibition (reported in the Jewish Chronicle which also mentioned her father). Her bookplates appeared in the 1899 exhibition for the Ex Libris Society, showing two plates in black and white, one for herself 'May Kathleen Sandheim' - that brings me to a slight problem May suffers from.  She is recorded as Mary Kathleen, May Kathleen, Mary Catherine etc etc. While all the official records I can find have her as May Catherine, the variations don't help when I am trying to find her. Thank goodness she has an unusual last name because if she was a 'Smith' that would be harder to know if it was her or not.

In the 1901 exhibition of Hammersmith student's work, May was again praised, this time for the character in her work, but she was about to publish the work that would define her. In 1902, a series of 'dainty booklets' entitled Poets of the Renaissance by Sydney Dark and Harry Roberts were published with decorative borders and tailpieces by May. 1903 saw May's profile raise considerably as her work was praised at the Ex Libris Society exhibition, the poetry booklets continued their run and her work appeared in the London Stage Annual at Christmas. 

May's work in bookplates and decorative borders means that her work can crop up anywhere, such as this picture mount for a card of Ellen Terry. Her black and white line images are powerful and she is obviously a skilled illustrator which makes her permanent move to books inevitable and welcome.

1904 saw The Golden Heart and Other Fairy Tales by Violet Jacobs, together with a reprint of Charles Kingsley's The Water Babies with eight new illustrations.  Intriguingly, she illustrated the cookbook The Cult of the Chafing Dish by Frank Schloesser, which luckily we can read here.

In 1907 May teamed up with Frances Brundage for a pair of books Our Wedding and The New Baby (also known as Our Baby in some editions, such as the one for sale here). This was praised in the newspapers as a perfect wedding or new baby present, which is very clever marketing. The year also saw the publication of Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti, published by Andrew Melrose with an introduction by Alexander Smellie (again, great name). The reviews were positive calling May's illustrations 'graceful,' 'beautiful' and 'dainty.' The strong Pre-Raphaelite leaning of the illustrations reminds me of Percy Bulcock from around the same time.

I mean, come on...

The Day Dream (1880) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

How about this one...?

All of that. Her figures look remarkably Jane Morris-esque and remind me of Rossetti's works during the 1860s and 70s. There is something about the swirling heads around her in A Cup for Memory above that oddly reminds me of both the train of spirits in Ferdinand Lured By Ariel by Millias and the gathered queens in this Rossetti illustration...

Either way, the book is filled with extremely Rossettian maidens, mainly sighing.  Okay, one more...

Beautiful.  The Bookseller said that May's illustrations possessed 'a charm and an individuality of their own' while other publications again called her work 'beautiful' and 'graceful'.

Possibly not quite as graceful is The Nursery Song Book from the same year, this time with extremely colourful illustrations.  I much prefer the black and white, although to be honest, all of them are slightly demented. I'm a particular fan of Curly Locks, which is unaccountably sinister...

Also, it looks like the children on the front cover are screaming and trying to surrender...

I mean, what is going on there? I'm guessing she is meant to be singing, but they look like they are desperately trying to stop the sun from rising.  That is a very large sun.  Okay, one more that is slightly less disturbing...

That's better. By 1908, May's reputation for graceful illustration was growing and the edition of Christina Rossetti's poems continued to be a hit, with seemingly new audiences finding it throughout the year and the publisher continuing to promote it. Then suddenly, at the age of only 32, May died in Bournemouth.

I was confused as May lived in Kensington, but putting together her young age and the seaside location, I thought that maybe she had gone to the seaside to improve her health and sadly it had not worked.  Then I saw a brief mention of her place of death - Alderney Manor.

Whilst I was a bit confused by the fact that Augustus John lived there for a while, from around 1901 to 1911 it was a sanatorium specialising in consumption. I think it is entirely likely that May had TB (like that other fabulous line illustrator Aubrey Beardsley) which ultimately killed her. She is buried in the Bournemouth East graveyard. I went and found her on a particularly chilly afternoon...

I find an awful lot of extremely talented artists ended up in book illustration, often at the expense of their 'fine' art and are therefore ignored by the official History of Art (TM).  There are some, such as Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale who managed to combine the two, getting paid twice on her illustrations as she made them into full size paintings. Mostly they fall into May's category, producing the most beautiful works of art held between two covers. I wonder if it was her preference, as I sometimes guess that artists move to illustration in order to get paid on a regular basis but money was not a problem for May. It is definitely a skill as her work stands out among other more bland and generic illustration of this period, not just because it heavily leans into Pre-Raphaelitism but it makes Rossetti work in black and white (arguably better than Rossetti managed). It is definitely time for us to include the other mediums in our study of Pre-Raphaelitism and its legacy so that May Sandheim's work can be rediscovered.

Bye Bi-Centenary

 Do we celebrate 200th year anniversaries? Last year's Jane Austen 250 was a blast, so I turned an excited expectant face to my beloved Mr Walker and asked if there were any rumours of exhibition for the bicentenary of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood that will be occurring in 2027 (Holman Hunt), 2028 (Rossetti) and 2029 (Millais).  He gave me his long suffering look (which I am very familiar with) and said words to the effect of 'What do you think?' 

Before anyone points out the obvious, I am very well aware that time/money/resources/money/logistics/ money and money are the main problems here and even Mr Walker had to agree that if the government gave a lovely big sack of cash over to the museums of this land and said 'have at it,' getting a retrospective of Homan Hunt/Rossetti/Millais or anyone else would be possible.  A lot of work but possible. All this led me to wondering about 100 years ago and the sort of fuss that went on for the centenary of the PRBs...

Another thing that got me wondering was coming across this cartoon (by E H Shepherd of Winnie the Pooh fame) which was in the newspapers in response to the very popular William Morris centenary exhibition in 1934 at the V&A. Morris was still known and popular, with thousands of newspaper article about him which only increased in 1934 when everyone was talking about him.  There were special editions of book reviews about his literary output, plus new biographies about him.  The exhibition was opened by Stanley Baldwin (yes, I know, I will come to that in a moment), who was about to become Prime Minister again, so that got a lot of traction in the papers. Baldwin talked about how unique and amazing Morris was and he was declared a genius once more. Stanley Baldwin was, of course, the nephew of Morris's best mate, which doesn't hurt and draws on an essential point - Centenaries only work when people are around to remember you.

Let's start with Holman Hunt as the oldest of the main PRB trio, therefore his centenary appeared in 1927. I must admit I thought HH was going to be the one with the slimmest newspaper coverage, but I had not counted on the power of a widow.  Fanny Holman Hunt (sister of the first wife Edith - he married them alphabetically which is handy) had an open house and told stories of her husband to members of the Londoners' Circle who did some sort of Holman Hunt pilgrimage and she told a special story about this painting...

Christ and the Marys (1847-c.1900) William Holman Hunt

Hunt apparently hated his weird palm tree (he had never seen a palm tree at that point) so much he turned it to the wall and refused to look at it for decades until finally finishing it in old age. The papers also latched onto the craze for The Light of the World that had gripped the world when it went on tour to the Empire in 1905 to 1907, drawing massive crowds. This would have been within living memory for many of the readers, and of course Hunt died in 1910, so his centenary was less than 20 years later.  He would have been very much remembered.

Morning Music (1867) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I put money on Rossetti being the one that drew the most newspaper coverage for his centenary in 1928. I was very much wrong. Firstly, I fully appreciated the people of Sheffield claiming Elizabeth Siddal as a 'Sheffield Girl' (Sheffield Daily Telegraph 16 & 24 May 1928) - how fitting that Rossetti's special year was made in part about how amazing Miss Siddal was. Hastings also had a celebration at St Clement's Church (where he married the Sid).  Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery had a 'small' centenary exhibition, drawn from their own collections with two exceptions - they borrowed Morning Music from Mrs J R Holliday (wife of James Richardson Holliday, although they apparently gave the work to Birmingham in 1927) and a chalk sketch of a figure from Dante's Dream which was borrowed from Misses Ethel and Helen Colman (of the mustard family) of Carrow Abbey.  The sisters also owned the finished oil (now in Dundee) which they would have lent as well but it was so huge no-one could work out how to move it safely.

Dante's Dream on the Day of the Death of Beatrice (1880) Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The Daily Express published a very interesting piece about the lack of 'Rossetti Girls' in society in 1928. Apparently, you could go to all manner of parties in Chelsea these days and never meet 'one tall woman with great weary eyes, the butterfly mouth and hollow cheeks which the Pre-Raphaelite idea demanded' - well, quite. Apparently, women are all unnatural energetic these days and refuse to be languid. I hope you are all ashamed of yourselves.

I think some of the confusion over the Rossetti centenary is that his poetry was not really fashionable and his painting was overshadowed by his love-life which was neither spicy enough for the tabloids or romantic enough for the academics to be of great interest. Also, people kept making it about other people - not only Elizabeth (well done Sheffield) but also Frederic Shields, Walter Deverell, not to mention bloody Hall Caine who popped back up like a cold sore, in case we forgot who loved Rossetti the most. So many of the little articles seem to begin 'the centenary of Rossetti's birth reminds me of this entirely other person.' Sorry Rossetti, you will have to wait until everyone thinks you are the most important one...

Just Wake or Waking (1865) John Everett Millais

Millais's hundredth birthday the year after obviously benefitted from the heightened awareness the previous two brought. He had already been mentioned multiple times in the retellings of the PRB origin stories. Millais, like Hunt, also benefitted from surviving children, with his daughter placing a red rose on his statue in Tate Britain's garden. Birmingham also held a centenary exhibition (well done Brum) throughout June.  Southampton claimed him as a son of a city (born round the corner from TK Maxx) and Christie's sold Just Awake (now known as Waking) complete with a rather high profile visit from Mary Millais (1860-1944), the model (aged 5). Despite the extra publicity and an expected price of two thousand guineas, it only made five hundred.

John Ruskin (1853-1854) John Everett Millais

Scotland claimed Millais, fighting off the claims of Southampton and Jersey and the Sphere had a double-page retrospective of his life, work and Presidency of the Royal Academy.  It had a picture of Holman Hunt and a picture of Ruskin, but no picture of Rossetti, which is telling. Very little of the press coverage was about his marriage and the surrounding scandal, with only the Sphere mentioning Ruskin at all. I wonder if that was because, like Hunt, the children and grandchildren were around to steer conversations? On that note, Esme Millais, granddaughter of the artist got engaged in the same year (excellent timing) and received far more publicity than it possibly warranted.

Going back to the cartoon, the amount of publicity around Morris's centenary in 1934 surprised me. May Morris was obviously still with us (as was Jenny) and he was declared 'the greatest of Victorians' in the Salisbury Times which is a bold assertion.  

Clerk Saunders (1861) Edward Burne-Jones

The one that shocked me most was Edward Burne-Jones. 1933 should have been his year, especially after the roll over of the PRB where he was sometimes mentioned but no. The Saturday Review started their piece on him with "Anything to do with Camelot makes me sick," quoting a young person in response to poor old Ned. Wales claimed Burne-Jones, with the Western Mail declaring he was the greatest of all Welsh artists which is a bold move for a chap from Birmingham. They also claimed King Arthur and Camelot was Welsh too, so there's that. Stanley Baldwin also opened a centenary exhibition at the Tate for his uncle, declaring that modern life could be so vulgar and ugly, we all need a bit of beauty. Gwen Reverat (Granddaughter of Charles Darwin) referred to the 'childishness of Burne-Jones ideal' in her review. Ouch.

Love and the Pilgrim (1896-7) Edward Burne-Jones

Possibly reflective of a general lack of interest, when Love and the Pilgrim sold in March of 1933, it only made £210, as opposed to almost £6k it had made in 1898. The Truth pondered what the problem was, as you got value for money in size (10 feet by 5) but concluded that slumps come to us all, and probably no-one would want to buy a Burne-Jones for many a year to come...

So, going by my very unscientific newspaper-extrapolation of information, I was surprised at the levels of interest and attitude on both ends of the scale.  I was aware that by the late 1920s, love for the Pre-Raphs was not going to be at a pinnacle, but I did not see the dislike for Burne-Jones on my bingo card.  The people giving the reviews were artists (because the Guardian's Jonathan Jones was yet to be born/fashioned in the darkened cave devoid of joy and whimsy) with both Gwen Reverat and Robert Anning Bell not exactly raving about Ned's angels and knights. Starting your review quoting someone who is nauseated by Burne-Jones is an exciting stance. I wasn't surprised by the low interest in Holman Hunt, although the coverage he got was positive. Millais' coverage was respectful and quite family orientated. Rossetti's was scatter-gun and about lots of other people.  Morris was triumphant. People's love for him, his genius, his contribution to the world, made the press coverage positive and weighty. Burne-Jones got less than 400 mentions in his year, Morris got almost 2.5K; the only other one near him was Millais with 1.6K, and that included his granddaughter's wedding announcement. Morris went last, but I don't think he benefitted from that because surely Burne-Jones would have had more too, but I wonder if Burne-Jones and Millais suffered at all from their bad auction results? Despite Millais otherwise positive year, there was a bit of niggling over the drop in auction result, despite the visit from the model.

Next year is Holman Hunt's bi-centenary and I am fairly certain no-one has a big retrospective planned (please correct me!) and in fact, of all the Pre-Raphaelite and adjacent artists who should have one, I don't think I've ever attended a purely HH show. Following on from that, I have heard rumours for Rossetti, but nothing for Millais.  Possibly Morris and Burne-Jones stand a better chance as there are public bodies who have sizeable collections of their works to form a basis for an exhibition. Herein is the problem - exhibitions are expensive (yes, Mr Walker, I am listening) and the sheer expense of loans and getting them to you is a problem. While I argue that such exhibitions would be popular, my sensible husband points out the logistical nightmare that has to be balanced, and that is nationally speaking.  When those works of art are now spread over the world, that is yet another layer. Which brings me to Jane Austen...

250th logo from the Austen Centre

Last year was Austen's 250th anniversary of her birth and didn't we all know about it? Ever the queen of transmedia, I saw ads for tea-towels, tea=cups, special editions of her novels, showings of the films, walking tours of Bath etc and numerous small exhibitions.  She managed full coverage which will no doubt continue as we have yet another Pride and Prejudice on Netflix and The Other Bennet Sister coming to the BBC this year. Maybe this is the model we need for our Pre-Raphs. There was no big exhibition (British Library had a small display) but she was omnipresent in an impressive way.  So how about some documentaries, showings of The Love School and Dante's Inferno? Small exhibitions all over the place together with tea-towels and t-shirts. Walking tours of graveyards and riverbanks. I'm up for it all. Jane Austen has shown us that maybe we don't need a blockbuster to make an impact. 

So, let's get planning.