Daisy Radcliffe Beresford

Today's subject/victim is another one I just stumbled into while looking at other things. She shares a name with my grandmother, so how could I resist? Meet Daisy...

The Royal Academy of Art School 1906

Okay, yes, she is in there somewhere - let's see - second row up, fourth in...

There she is! This is Daisy Radcliffe Clague, and she not only married a fellow artist but her daughter also went on to be an artist, so this is a triple bill of arty-goodness. Let's go back to the beginning...

Once upon a time in Tamworth, Staffordshire, in 1875, a school board inspector and the daughter of wholesale importer were married.  Not the most romantic of beginnings but William Lace Clague and Emma Elizabeth Clague were both from reasonably well-off backgrounds and so set up home first in Manchester, where their son Cyril Kingston Clague was born in 1876 and daughter Muriel Lace Clague was born in 1878. In 1879, the family settled in London in time for the arrival of Daisy Radcliffe Clague on 2nd November 1879. The family appear on the 1881 census at 83 Richmond Road, Hackney. The houses look like they have been split into flats, but you get the impression of some very grand town houses lining a nice wide road and the family had a general servant and a nurse for the children. According to friends and family, Daisy had a very alert, mathematical brain which made her a whizz at chess aged 5, but it was art that was her first love.

By 1891, all the children were at school. In the census of that year, Emma and daughters Muriel and Daisy are visiting Grandpa back in Warwickshire, but Dad and Cyril are still at the same address. Daisy went to the North London School of Art on a scholarship, receiving her Art Class Teacher's Certificate at aged 13, followed by her Art Class Mistress Certificate at 16. This was followed by a spell at Heatherley's (you simply have to go to Heatherley's!) then on to the RA from 1901 to 1906.

Deputy Charles Newell (1938)

By 1901, the Clague family had moved out of London to Hornsey, about 5 miles north west of Hackney and definitely a little less urban. The family lived in a house called Redwood in Crescent Road. Cyril had become a school teacher (he would become a school inspector like his father in due time) but neither Muriel or Daisy have any occupation against their name in the census. Daisy did well at the RA, winning the School Prize for a painting of a head from life and a silver medal for a model of a bust from life.  There was an infuriating comment in the Pall Mall Gazette on the prize giving - "clever as are the women students of our generation, the winning of the gold medal for historical painting seems beyond their power."

When I read that, I did say some unprofessional things. This is 1906 and within living memory of women not being allowed in art schools, certainly not able to paint from the life and certainly not taking them seriously. Plus, stuff your hierarchy of art genres as it favours men who inevitably (but not always) have the time, space and resources to do a big picture of sodding Napoleon. I do beg your pardon. Anyway, not only did Daisy leave school with some prizes, she also left with Frank Ernest Beresford, fellow student.

Frank was actually 2 years her junior, born in Belper in Derbyshire in 1881. He had gone to St John's Wood Art School before the RA, where he was taught by Alma Tadema, who would later become a neighbour to Frank and Daisy. Straight out of the RA, Frank won a scholarship that took him on an 18-month long tour of Asia, including attending the Meiji Emperor's annual tea party in Tokyo. He received an art award from the Japanese government in 1909 and returned to marry Daisy in 1910.

Mrs Jane Paxon Dore (1935)

In the meantime, Daisy had not just sat around waiting for Frank to return. She appeared at the May RA exhibition in 1907 with The Old Bridge at Fittleworth, following that the year later with a portrait of her father. Remarkably for such a young painter, she had the honour to appear in the RA illustrated booklet (hence the black and white below)...

William Lace Clague (1908)

The Queen magazine had a very jolly article about the female contingent of the 1908 RA:

 'It is not so very long since the young Englishwoman sat at home engaged in "elegant and genteel" occupations which she learned from such works as The Accomplished Female Instructor. Today her artistic instincts are no longer cribbed, cabined and confined.'

Daisy's portrait of her father was listed as being 'of merit' among a cavalcade of other young (and not so young) women who had work selected for the exhibition. In the summer exhibition at the Hampstead Art Society, she showed a portrait of composer Charles William Pearce and the Reverend Stewart Headlam.

Reverend Stewart Headlam (1907-8)

The Reverend has a Wikipedia page and he seems a lively fellow indeed. Both of her subjects have a religious background but I have no definitive information that Daisy was religious or had any relatives that were.  The only thing I can find is a small piece in the Halesworth Times  from 1908 where the 'Misses Clague' sang at the harvest festival with Miss Daisy Clague giving a spirited rendition of 'a dream of paradise'.  Clague is not a very popular name and it would be a coincidence that there would be two Daisy Clagues in England in 1908 (although obviously not impossible). 

1909 saw the portrait of Charles Pearce grace the Royal Academy and her portrait of her sister Muriel appeared in the Hampstead Art Society Summer show. 1910 brought a one-man show at Walker's Galleries in London, showing portraits and landscapes. The Morning Post gave it an interesting review, describing her 'great sincerity and admirable craftsmanship' : 'By-and-by, when Academic restraint has passed, she will infuse more spirit into her work, and her colour sense will develop with her feeling.' They were very hung up on how young she was, talking about how she had only recently left the RA school so I think Daisy got as good a review as she could. The London Evening Standard gave her show quite a long and detailed review, again harping on how young she was and what great promise it all showed. They use a really convoluted metaphor about eating a meal, that she had comfortably eaten her soup and joint and was working her way up to her peach melba, whereas many young artists these days go all in on their cake before having their bread and butter and end up with indigestion. They then added another, clearer metaphor, that some young artists arrive with a splash but cannot stay afloat, but not Daisy. Glad we cleared that up. I want some cake now.

At the RA, she showed a portrait of her father again, but I noticed in her one-man show, she had Muriel's portrait and one of her mother (or possibly her brother's wife as the piece is simply 'Mrs Clague' and Cyril had married in 1909). I thought that it was the same portrait, but the review of the one-man show said that the first portrait was there and the portrait in the RA was even better, so she obviously painted Dad twice. Mind you in 1910, Daisy was barely out of the RA before she was off down the aisle, and she and Frank Beresford married at Crouch End on the 7th June. Frank had returned from Japan in the autumn of 1909 and held his own one-man show to great acclaim. Daisy arrived at Christ Church in Crouch End at 2.15 to streaming sunshine, and wore a white silk dress and veil leant to her by her aunt. She wore a moonstone and amethyst necklace from Liberty, bought for her by Frank, and carried lily of the valley, roses, carnations and white heather, with daisies on the streamers (which I can only assume are the pieces that hang down from a bouquet.) The bridesmaids were Muriel, Frank's sister Lilian and Hilda and Eva Cooke, cousins of the bride. The best man was artist architect Charles Lovett Gill, who was Frank's friend at the RA school. They honeymooned in exotic Norfolk.  My favourite bit in the newspaper reports of weddings is seeing what gifts people got them and what they got each other - Frank gave Daisy the necklace, she gave him an easel. Otherwise Muriel got them a thermos tea basket, Mr Elmer commissioned four pictures (a very clever wedding gift as everyone is happy), Reverend J C Cox bought them a book either by or on William Morris and the Bishop of British Hondurous bought them a magnifying glass. Amazing.

The 1911 census saw the couple living at 6 The Mall in Hampstead and both are listed as artists (hurrah!). I have a suspicion that their home was part of Mall Studios in Hampstead, which was filled with fabulously famous 20th century artists, including Cecil Stephenson who lived there in 1919...

6 The Mall (1919) Cecil Stephenson

There is a brilliant page on the building here. Daisy was commissioned to paint Miss Isabel Cleghorn, the first female president of the Teacher's Association, and it was mentioned in the newspapers how fitting it was to get a female artist to do the portrait.  Daisy gave birth to the couple's first child Cedric in January 1913 but three weeks and two days later he died. The loss of Cedric must have been a terrible blow as Daisy stopped exhibiting for a year, and the only work she seems to have done is a painting for a wedding present when her cousin got married in 1914. Around the same time, in April 1914, Daisy and Frank also welcomed their first daughter Averil Kingston Beresford. Daisy also seems to have started painting again and the couple moved to 1 Elm Tree Road in St John's Wood, a neighbourhood that would remain dear to them both for the rest of their lives.

St Bartholomew -the-Great (1914)
The figure of the verger leading the choir is allegedly Frank

In 1914, a month after giving birth to Averil, Daisy returned to the RA with St Bartholomew-the-Great, followed in 1916 by second daughter Vivian Sinclair and in 1917 by portrait Miss Ursula Ebblewhite. I did notice that the RA catalogue had quite a large number of women artists (for obvious reasons) in 1917 and will have to go back and do some maths to see exactly what the proportion was before, during and after the war. I know how to have a good time. During this time, Frank served with the London Regiment as an instructor, rising to the rank of Sargeant Major.

Around 1918, the family moved to 28 Grove End Road, not far from the Alma Tadema family at 34. Daisy had The Entrance Hall, Fallowfield, Barnet Gate at the Royal Academy. Cryptically, the Referee magazine had a few lines: 'I went last Sunday to see some pictures that are intended for the Royal Academy. I only had time to visit one studio, that of Mr and Mrs Frank Beresford, of Grove End Road. And I went to see one picture. That was a portrait of - well, wait and see.' As Daisy had the interior painting and Frank didn't have anything in the RA in 1918, I have no idea what they are talking about.

In 1919, Daisy returned, again no portrait, but this time with the Staircase of Fallowfield. I can see that the house and its associated lodge were really nice but I can't find who lived there or what the relevance might have been, other than commissions. In 1920, Daisy painted the Hall in Park House, St John's Wood.  Frank had painted the Blue Room in Park House, so I wonder if it is the same house (which was owned by pop star Rihanna, apparently).  She also showed a portrait of Miss Anne Liversidge, I'm assuming a commission for either engagement or coming of age. Then in 1921, Daisy painted the piece that she would become best known for...

Interior of the Great Hall, Guildhall, London (1921)

It was shown at the summer exhibition at the Guildhall, and by the spring of 1922, the Kensington Fine Art Society were selling prints of it as it had been so popular. My favourite review of this was from the Alfreton Journal in their Belper News section - Belper being where Frank hailed from - and they were delighted that the wife of their local artist was doing so well. The print of her painting continued to make news and obviously sell well, but I notice that most of the reports manage to mention Frank in some way. I suppose it was to reassure the potential purchasers that they weren't buying some random woman's painting, she was another painter's wife, phew! Or maybe, somehow being married to another painter ensured the quality of her work? Hmmm...

In 1923, the New Society of Artists had an exhibition and both Frank and Daisy appeared - Daisy had a portrait of Mrs Levita and her children (her husband Lieutenant Colonel Cecil Levita CBE MVO was chairman of the LCC housing committee). What becomes irritating to an old feminist like me is that I have to search under Mrs Frank Beresford to find Daisy half the time, which is both time consuming and hacks me off. One reporter in 1929 exclaims that he was so pleased to find that Frank's wife was an artist too! Seriously, I almost feel compelled to chain myself to something.

In 1924, the Beresford family spent some time in Belper, where little Averil and Vivian were much admired. I see that Belper had a children's beauty competition (it was a different time) and in 1929, one of the winners seems to have been little Beres Pym, the daughter of Frank's cousin.  Yes, I have mentioned that for a reason. Moving on...

In 1925, Daisy's portrait of Averil was on display in Derby which got the Belper News all over-excited and meant they could mention Frank again. To be fair, I always appreciate the local newspaper's support of artists and the fact they supported Daisy by extention is touching.  They also said that Averil was 'an accomplished little lady, it is said, on the pianoforte.' Lawks.

1927 saw Frank and Daisy hold a small exhibition of work in their home before the Royal Academy. I think we've seen this before and is a practice that I find fascinating - are they seeing what their friends think before sending work in? Is it like test-screening? Anyway Frank had three he was sending in and as it turned out, only one was accepted. Daisy showed work that she had been commissioned to do - a portrait of Mr S David Coates DL JP which was presented to him at a dinner at the Savoy Hotel. Also she showed a portrait of the late principal of Isleworth Training College which would be hanging in their dining room. She also had a painting of Merchant Taylors Hall which was apparently sent to the RA but didn't appear and was a commission anyway. Again, Daisy appears as 'Mrs Frank Beresford' with no mention of her actual name anywhere. The two girls played piano and entertained while people looked at the paintings, and they were both mentioned by name.  However, not Daisy. Hmmm...

Not that I was worried, but Daisy returned to the RA in 1928 with a portrait of Wendy, daughter of C E Bartholomew - this is actually Dorothy Wendy Bartholomew (1916-1941) daughter of match magnate Clarence Edward Bartholomew (1879-1946). They also had a son, Gilbert, who was a couple of years older than Vivian Beresford and I bet he really liked the piano. Hold that thought.

Window the the Memory of Henry Hudson (1929)

In 1929, the couple had their now annual 'at home' just before the RA.  Daisy showed various portraits of children, and an interior of St Ethelburga Bishopsgate Street, with the memorial window to Henry Hudson. Drama occurred in 1930 when Daisy loaned a miniature of Averil to her husband's exhibition at Foyle's new art gallery in Manette Street, London, where it was stolen. Averil was interviewed and she said she had been looking forward to having it for her 21st birthday in 1935 and she very much hoped someone would return it - which they did, 3 days later.

I am used to mentions of artists slowing as they get older and possibly rely on commissions rather than having to razzle-dazzle at the RA every year and it certainly feels like Daisy and Frank's annual paintings and piano party is seen as both old-fashioned and very much enjoyed. Both she and Frank were in their 50s, so not exactly old, and goodness knows the Belper press loved the couple, but I find it unusual that their mentions drop so heavily - excuse me, her mentions drop or at least become very firmly tied to him.

Ann's Tune (1932)

In 1932, artist and sculptor (and St John's Wood neighbour) William Reid Dick commissioned Daisy to paint his daughter Ann. She is playing the piano and on the lid is Dick's sculpture of The Sling Boy in bronze. I wonder if that is a portrait of his wife Catherine on the wall? 

The Princes' Vigil 12.15am, 28 January 1936 (1936) Frank Beresford

1936 brought one of Frank's best-known paintings, The Prince's Vigil.  The Princes involved are Edward VIII and the Dukes of York, Gloucester and Kent around the body of George V. I think until recent years, I would not have known what on earth is going on in this picture, but obviously we all saw the Princes and Princess Anne perform the Vigil for the late Queen. Apparently, when Frank went to see the body, he was so moved by the vigil, he asked permission to set up his easel and captured the image over 49 hours without sleep.  It was, as you can imagine, a hit at the RA that May. It was bought by the Queen.

Frank wasn't the only one who had a brush with royalty as Daisy's last entry at the RA was a miniature of the Queen, in 1938. Also in 1938, Daisy had various portraits at the United Society of Artists exhibition including Mr Sinclair White, Mrs Thornton in black velvet and fur, Miss Dorothea Crompton and a head study of the Countess du Bouzet, which had very fine hair indeed. 

Averil Kingston Beresford (1936)

Back to her daughters for a moment - Probably painted for her daughter's 21st but exhibited the year after, Daisy's painting of Averil is a dreamy, deb-of-the-week portrait. Averil trained to be a school teacher, following in Clague family footsteps and remained living at home until she married Gabriel John Spence in 1950.

Daisy, Frank and Vivian Beresford (1939)

Vivian followed her parents into art, attending the RA School and by 1939, preparing to send in work to the May exhibition. She also became engaged to Gilbert Bartholomew, the heir to the match business. She married in 1939, two months before her mother's sudden death. I was actually surprised by how extensive the coverage was, given that we were at war, but an awful lot of newspapers covered Daisy's death.  I think the popularity of Frank's picture of the princes' vigil helped as it got mentioned in a fair number of the shorter reports, but I especially liked Hampstead News' piece entitled 'A charming hostess and a clever artist. A loss to the world of art.' The couple had just returned from a holiday when she was suddenly taken ill and passed away aged only 60. She was buried at St Pancras beside her parents and baby son.

So, we know Vivian and Averil were married and seem to have had long and happy lives, which makes a lovely change, but what of Frank?

A Doodlebug in St John's Wood (1944) Frank Beresford

Frank became a war artist for both the British and American Air Forces and received the Exceptional Service Award from the American Air Force. He was apparently heartbroken when his beloved St John's Wood was bombed, missing The Hall Studio in Grove End Road, where Frank remained living.  In 1949, Frank remarried and I will endeavour to not be as sniffy as the newspaper reports were. When Frank became engaged in February of 1949, the Hampstead News wrote 'Mr Beresford is 67 years of age; his future wife is considerably young.' Oh yes, just how young? Well actually, we've already met her.  Frank married Beres Pym, aged 31. When I saw her name, I thought so she became Beres Beresford? That's unusual. But, as one newspaper reported, her name was not a coincidence, she was a distant relative. Beres was the daughter of Frank's cousin.

Frank and Beres in the Studio

Beres was a nurse and so not a bad companion for Frank's later years, and the couple were together until Frank died in 1967.

So, what to say about Daisy, excuse me, Mrs Frank Beresford? It is hard enough tracing a woman artist when they adopt their married name, but that just seemed to give the press free rein to call you by your husband's name.  I know it was commonplace in the past, but it just looks weird now and, if you are both artists, makes the husband suddenly the senior partner. Cedric's death made a very obvious stop to Daisy's output for a couple of years, and then she had to begin again. They were not poor by any stretch of the imagination, there was no notion that Daisy should give up painting because she was a wife and mother, but any woman who stops her career for her children appears to be punished by slipping off the ladder. Daisy suffered in two ways; by pausing her work because of a death and by losing her name to marriage. Neither of these change who she is or change the quality of her work, but both had the effect that women artists were less serious - hence the confident assertion that none of them would win the medal for history genre painting. 

Daisy is this week's lesson on how society backgrounds women in little ways which we should never stop noticing.

If You're Fond of Sand Dunes and Salty Air...

I came by today's subject by a slightly roundabout route, so I'll take you through my mental process - I have mixed feelings about Henry Treffry Dunn. His account of life with Rossetti, his dislike of Fanny Cornforth and worship of Alexa Wilding, all mark him as a somewhat unreliable narrator (although there are worse, I'm looking at you Hall Caine) but I didn't realise he was another person where he's not the only artist in the family.  In fact, arguably, his sister is rather more interesting.  Meet Edith Dunn...

Now, that is a pleasent little vignette I have found, and the reason is that she was famous in her time and the newspapers ran lovely pieces on her, which will make my life easier no end.  Also, there seems to be a fair number of her paintings online, so at least we'll have some illustrations, which is not always guaranteed. Let's start at the beginning...

Sorting the Catch (no date)

Edith Dunn was born in 1841 in Truro, Cornwall.  Her father, Henry Littlejohn Dunn (1810-1870) was a grocer and tea seller. As her brother had both an autobiography and biography written, Edith's childhood is nicely recorded. In No Peacocks Allowed (1964) by Gale Pedrick, we learn that 'of all the shops in Lemon Street, Truro, the establishment of Henry Littlejohn Dunn had the nicest smell.' He was a tea and spice importer and Edith's childhood would have been filled with the smell of coffee, nutmeg, cinnamon and ginger. He also sold crystalised fruit and other sweet things that arrived in packing chests and china jars, so the shop was full of colour and the promise of the exotic. Edith was fourth of six children, her siblings being Emily (1837-1903) (grandmother of Gale Pedrick, author of a biography of Henry/Rossetti), Henry Treffry (1838-1899), Frances (1839-1932), then Edith (1841-1913), followed by Ellen (1842-1913) and finally Leonard (1845-1848).  All except Leonard managed a decent innings, even Henry who had a very colourful life and issues with alcohol. Despite that many children, even mother Frances Treffry Dunn (hence Henry's middle name) managed a very respectable 1806 to 1900, outliving two of her children.

An Afternoon Rest (no date)

As a child, Edith was artistic, but apparently all the Dunn children were, inheriting their talent from their mother who worked pictures in silks. The family was middle-class in aspiration, and the children had privileges unusual for that period, including art school for those that wanted it (although apparently their father was hoping someone would follow him into grocery, if not another proper job). Edith's sister Frances told her daughters that the siblings were all fans of jokes and pranks, but elder brother Henry was their mother's favourite, so when the children were caught being boisterous, all would be punished except Henry. This did not enamour him to his siblings, but he could always turn to Edith for a sympathetic ear.

St Patrick's Day (no date)

Studying first at the Truro School of Art, Edith won medals, including one for composition in colour aged 15, and was mentioned several times in the graduation speeches in 1857, including a second medal for shading from a cast.  When Henry also won a medal, Dr Barham stated he was glad to see that Edith's siblings shared her obvious talent (according to the glowing report in the Royal Cornwall Gazette).  She also exhibited in the 1860 Truro School of Art exhibition, showing the Madonna del Seggia and a copy of Man of Sorrows as well as The Flowers' Revenge. When she was old enough, she was allowed to travel to the South Kensington Museum School and by 1861 she was living as a boarder in Chelsea at 34 Paulton Square Court. She also went to Heatherley's School of Art...

Art Students at Heatherley's

Founded in 1845, Heatherley's was the first art school to let women into the 'life' room on equal terms to the men (according to their website) and anyone who was anyone went there, including brother Henry. Here's where things get a little confusing - I saw from her entry in the Big Book of Lady Artists that I own and rely on, that Edith was at the RA from 1862 to 1906, however I don't think that is entirely the case.  I think that she was exhibiting generally between those times but there are actually no Dunns at the RA before 1870 (I'll come to why that date is important in a sec). However, she must have been exhibiting somewhere, such as the Royal Scottish Academy, the Glasgow Institute as well as more local shows in Cornwall.  Like no doubt scores of other young women artists, I think Edith flew under the radar, and the first mention I can find about her is in 1865 when she illustrated the story 'Among the Hop Gardens' for the London Society Magazine.  She also provided 'charming' illustrations for 'Ten and Twenty' in the Belgravia Magazine in 1866, and some of her pictures were being sold as engravings in the Public Opinion magazine.

Fisherwomen at Scheveningen (c.1875)

Edith was also a contributor to the British Workwoman magazine and there is a great article on her contribution here. Her first images seem to be from the mid 1860s but continue for over 20 years. Often there are images of mothers working with the children around them, but I'm not sure how autobiographical they are (as we will see). These are both an ideal for working class women and an unfortunate reality - there are many images of Victorian women doing 'women's work' - sewing, cleaning, cooking etc - while also caring for children, and all are pictured as, for want of a better phrase, having it all, being a great mum and doing work. Everything is clean and tidy and under control. As a working mother myself, children and work are a reality, you have to manage the house and do your work and it is rarely as blissful and unchaotic as it appears, and literally no-one is wearing an apron.

Drinking in the Dunes (no date)

In 1867, Edith appeared at the Society of Female Artists exhibition - the review in the Illustrated Times is astonishing in its back-handed praise, saying what a good thing this Society has offered 'a legitimate exercise for those feminine pencils which have encroached too much of late on other galleries.' Well, thank goodness for that, can't have women getting out into other galleries! The horror. Anyway, Edith presented Wild Fruit  and Adeline which were warmly received and the newspaper remarked that they gave a better example of her work than the woodcuts that had appeared in magazines. This was the same year that her brother took up work as Dante Gabriel Rossetti's assistant at Cheyne Walk. 

Waiting for the Queen (c.1890s)

There is an intriguing passage in Gale Pedrick's book No Peacocks Allowed: Life with Rossetti. Edith met one of her brother's friends, James Shepherd and the pair fell in love. James lived at 1 Cheyne Walk and worked at the War Office, and born in 1832, so a little older than Edith. The couple decided they would marry in August of 1867, but as Edith returned to Cornwall to prepare, her beloved James died suddenly a fortnight before the wedding.  Rossetti provided sympathy and kindness to the bereaved girl, insisting that Edith and her mother stay with him when they came to London for the funeral. For this kindness, her mother embroidered Rossetti a counterpane as thanks for taking such care of the family. Harry and Edith remained in the circle of artistic London friends, although increasingly Edith remained out of the city. According to Pedrick, when their friends came down to Cornwall, they discussed such things as the opening of Elizabeth Siddal's grave. It seems that Edith was also acquainted with William Michael Rossetti as well as his brother, as when her brother turned to alcohol, William Michael wrote a kind letter to Edith about her brother's 'deplorable illness' - mind you, if ever anyone could empathises with a someone caring for an addicted sibling, William could.

Coast Scene (c.1870s)

Edith remained in mourning but not at home. Clad in black, she tripped off to the continent, loving especially the Netherlands, favouring scenes of Dutch landscapes, seascapes and scenes of family life. She appeared in the 1868 exhibition of the Bath and West of England Society (which I'm guessing is to do with the Bath and West Show which still happens every May? I have extremely fond memories of going as a child).  The Cornish Echo reported that Edith (now back in Truro) sent a portrait of Sir Samuel Spry.  She also offered a painting of Sir Samuel and his family, which was a copy of a piece she had done for the Spry family, but the Society refused it as they never exhibited copies. 

1870 brought an unexpected change - Edith got married. She married Thomas Oliver Hume (1833-1916), fellow artist, at All Souls, Langham Place, London. Thomas had already been married previously to Emma Stableford, in 1857. The couple had children - John Henry (1858-1881), Joseph Oliver (1859-1949), Edith Mary (1863-1900) and Emma (1864-1942) - so Edith was marrying into a ready-made family. Emma was born on Halloween 1864, her mother dying less than a month later, which makes me suspect complications or infection following the birth. Emma was buried alongside her parents in Leicester, her mother and father dying in 1860 and 1861. I found it interesting that Thomas did not put her in a grave that he would also in time share. Hmm, back to Edith. Some writers assumed that it was a burden for Edith to take on the family and would have hampered her career, but it isn't as simple as that. In the 1871 census only John and Joseph are living with the couple (both Thomas and Edith are pleasingly listed as artists). I am trying to see where the girls went and failing miserably, however both Little Edith and Little Emma married early and had families of their own by the 1881 census, so I am assuming they either went off to boarding school or relatives of their late mother. Joseph also married and became an inspector of Roads for the local council in London.  John Henry moved with his father and step-mother to Harting in Sussex, where they are all listed as artists in 1881 (although it looks confusingly like Edith is artist and wife or artist's wife). Sadly, John Henry died shortly after the census and is buried in the churchyard there.

Packing Fish (no date)

1883 saw Edith's debut at the May Royal Academy exhibition with The Departure of the Herring Boats. Thomas also showed A Corner of an Old Orchard. I've often wondered when husband and wife are both exhibiting artists, does that make it easier? You both understand what is happening in May and so can combine efforts to get the paintings to London, or does it become a rivalry? Thomas had begun his RA run in 1871 but as the decade went on, it's clear to see who had the greater success. 1884 saw four paintings by Edith to Thomas's one - Edith had Mending Nets, Returning Home, Etaple Shrimpers and  Fisher Chrildren and Thomas had On the Cornish Coast, all of which obviously came from their joint love of coastal life.

Visch Vrouwen (1886)

1886 saw two more paintings at the RA from Edith (nothing from Thomas). Edith had Waiting and  Visch Vrouwen which was admired in the Lady's Pictorial, which printed a line drawing illustration (above) and described it thus - 'The picturesque figures of the fisherwomen, with their white caps and woollen sabots, dividing their fish as they kneel and stand on the beach, are admirable. There is power and beauty too, in the calm sea in the distance, and the group of eager watchers, eagerly waiting for the boats to come in.'

 

The Oyster Ledgers (1887)

The Lady's Pictorial also showed a sketch of The Oyster Ledgers, 'a very clever picture' that was on show at the Institute of Painters in 1887. Edith had a year out of the RA that year but was back in 1888 with By the Old Cross. It's interesting that her Royal Academy work is not what has ended up on ArtUK or on the internet generally, hence it is quite difficult to date a lot of her paintings.  This also might be because the titles have changed over time so we might see an RA painting of some women by the sea but it is now called something different.  Edith has 29 works in public collections which is really impressive, but only three have the pictures attached, which is a shame.

Through the Glen (no date)

In 1890, Edith appeared at the RA with 'Is Father Coming?' which I am going to assume is a picture of a fisherman's child and I am very hopeful it's a Holl-esque scene of impending misery. 1891 Edith showed a picture of fishermen which was again admired by the Lady's Pictorial at the Royal Institute of Water Colours. In the census of that year, she was listed as an 'artist, figure painter' and Thomas was a 'artist, landscape painter' and Edith's mother was living with them. 1892 saw Les Blanchisseuses d'etretat or 'Washerwomen on the beach at Etretat, a subject covered not only by Gustave Courbet in 1869 but then also in 1894 by Eugene Bourdin. I think it was the women's habit of hanging their clothes on the cliff and on the pebble beach that caught the eye of painters. 1892 also saw Edith's illustrations appear in Told After Tea.

1896 seems to have been Edith's last visit to the RA, this time with Cleaning the Lines. In 1899, both Edith and Thomas appeared at the Sussex Artists show, Edith showing Little Friends and Thomas with landscapes. Mentions of her work, although never plentiful, definitely begin to slow from here. 1900 was a rough year for the Humes.  Firstly, in August, Thomas's daughter Edith Mary died suddenly, aged only 37 and leaving behind a husband and children. A few months later, on December 12th, Frances Dunn who had been living with her daughter and son-in-law also died, aged 95. As her favourite son, Harry, had died the year before almost estranged from the family, it could be argued that this contributed to her death, but in the grand scheme of this post, 95 is not a bad age at all. I can't find either Edith or Thomas in the 1901 census so I'm hoping they went abroad for a well deserved break.

Lunch for Two (c.1880s)

In 1903, Edith had paintings in an exhibition at the Central Hall in Bournemouth, which is interesting as her work appears in the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery, so I wonder if that is where Merton Russell-Cotes bought from there (or even loaned it to the exhibition). By this time, Edith was in her 60s and Thomas in his 70s and so I think they lived a quiet, painterly life in Sussex where they were very much liked and well known. When Edith died suddenly in June 1913, the West Sussex Gazette spoke in glowing terms of how pleasant and talented she was. Thomas followed in 1916, with his obituary in the Sussex Daily News speaking of how he was a talented sportsman in his youth and how his son Joseph had been at Gallipoli.

A Fisherman's Tale (undated)

Although Edith Hume is not the best known of nineteenth century women artists, there are some pages on her and she has a Wikipedia page which is a step up from a lot of the women we meet here. I must admit it is a little tiresome that a fair amount of her narrative is always given over to her brother Harry and Rossetti, which I admit is exciting and involves alcohol, but on the whole does not add much to Edith's own story. I also am a little dubious about how she 'had to take on the role of mother to her step-sons and put her own career aside', a common refrain in her story, as she seems to have had a great career in terms of women artists of the period and her sons were not babies when she married their father. I simply think Edith suffers from being a woman in a male dominated field, and not only that, her work is very feminine and very specific. If you are not into seaside scenes, she probably isn't for you. She might well have been an unbothered spinster and still could probably not have done as well or be remembered more than she is now, so in a way her brother does her a favour of at least keeping her name in books. There are lashings of sadness in Edith's life, not to mention the lives of her nearest and dearest, so her ability to continue working is really impressive.  The fact her husband does not have a Wikipedia page is not lost on me. I think the best we can do is keep talking about these women artists, about their lives rather than the lives of the men around them, and eventually they will slot back into the art history narrative.

Well-Behaved Women

 This is not the blog I planned to write today, but I'm ticked off and so everyone has to hear about it. It all started when I first saw this tshirt...

Possibly not this exact tshirt from the lovely Spark Company but they certainly have this currently.  The description reads "This Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History tee is an essential for any feminist's closet. Fun to wear when you're smashing the patriarchy. Because who cares about being ladylike!" and she costs £28, which I also have feelings about, but their clothes are lovely and money goes to help female charities, so here we are. The same tshirt appears in the Royal Palaces shop, A Mighty Girl shop and any number of etsy/redbubble/god, even Shein. All of them saying women have to be the feisty rulebreakers in order to matter.

However, I do not like this sentiment, for one reason - again, we are telling women what to do.

I understand the idea that we should not accept the status quo as the patriarchy does not exactly help us (rude) and so we should disobey. Smash stuff up! Slash paintings in the National Gallery (please don't)! Chain yourself to something or get trampled by the King's horse (again, please don't)! However, I don't agree that is the only way a woman makes history and also buys into the Socio-Patriarchal ideals in order to smash the system. Or something.

My contention is that again we are telling women what to do - you have to be rebellious, you can't be 'ladylike' or else you are part of the patriarchy. You must never, never be well-behaved. By whose standards? Why can't I make history in an orderly manner if that is available to me? Why would that make me a bad feminist? Also, didn't some of the top women I like not feel the need to smash stuff up? What about Eleanor Fortescue Brickdale?

Good old EFB (seen here with Byam Shaw) was fairly well behaved and did amazing art, although admittedly she did not exactly get remembered until recently.  Okay, how about Evelyn De Morgan...

Come on now, EDM has to count as a well behaved woman who made history as she was very successful and didn't offend anyone's sensibilities in the meantime.  Her work can be challenging but she didn't punch anyone or accost a horse. So it is possible to be well-behaved and make history!

Only, that isn't what the statement means. Let's go back to the 1970s...

Me, 1973

Okay, that's unfortunate, let's try again...

This smashing woman is Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Pulitzer Prize winning historian who is responsible for the phrase in question. In a 1976 article (on Puritan funeral practices), Laurel said 'Well-behaved women seldom make history,' meaning that historians have a nasty habit of overlooking women who are just getting on with stuff. 

Scotland Forever! (1881) Lady Butler (well-behaved)

The phrase, in essence, is a criticism of historians, not women. That historians have a habit of overlooking the contribution of women unless they are punching horses or showing everyone their pants. Now, I agree, almost whole-heartedly (we'll come to that) that it is a historian problem, not a woman problem, and further to that, it's become an 'everyone problem' as historians have set the standard for what is 'good' and 'noteworthy' to the detriment of everything else. I am forever haunted by a question I received on a panel at the National Portrait Gallery for the Pre-Raphaelite Sisters exhibition in 2020. A lady in the audience asked (I think seriously) if the reason women artists had been forgotten was because they were not very good. That took my breath away, especially as within the exhibition were some amazing paintings, but I hear that repeated in various forms. I have heard another feminist commentator say that women in the past weren't as good as men as they didn't have the opportunity to be so - well, the second part is sort of true but still some are insanely good. 

Fanny Cornforth (1874) Dante Gabriel Rossetti (both not well-behaved)

So, using our new best friend Laurel's quote in the sense she meant, how about the reverse of that - do naughty women always make history? It does ensure that the (normally male, let's be honest) historian sees you as your contemporaries will clock you first and flag you as a problem.  I also think historians (including me) do make the mistake of seeing bad behaviour in the past as ever-so modern and noteworthy, when it could just be bad behaviour. There is always the challenge of excusing bad behaviour because of the strictures of society rather than giving the woman the agency to be equally as awful as a man, and held equally as accountable. I would counter that plenty of badly behaved women slipped through the cracks as they were the wrong social class. Fanny Cornforth is arguably an example - judged as 'badly behaved' by her contemporaries who were in a hurry to forget her, however, threads of her still kept appearing at least until the 1930s, then again in the 1960s. She was 'badly behaved' and the historians kept her in as a warning to others, but I supose that is still making history of a type.  What about Alexa Wilding?

Alexa Wilding 1970s

Alexa had three children out of wedlock, which cannot been seen as behaving in Victorian terms, yet she is one of the most elusive of the models. Arguably, she covered her tracks so well that none of her contemporaries realised what a scallywag she was, so no-one tipped off the future historians. Also, although she is one of the most recognisable faces of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, could she be accused of 'making' history, rather than just appearing in it?  How about an artist then?

Maria Zambaco (1870) Edward Burne-Jones

By any stretch of the imagination, Maria Zambaco did not follow the societal rules set out for her. She had an affair, she left her husband, she was notorious by their standards to the point that all sorts of stories still circulate - my favourite being the attempted suicide and rolling around on the pavement until the police turned up which I very much doubt happened. Great story though. Anyway, we all know her and her amazing art, right? I mean, if riotous women make history, then Maria must be right up there! Only she's not. In fact, the only place she seems to occupy is Burne-Jones' crazy lover.  I mean, in one way, she is remembered in history but not in the way she would probably have liked...

Mary Emma Jones (1874) Emma Sandys

I will bring this ramble to a conclusion and say that I disagree with the tshirt but I agree with Laurel to a point. I think women, full stop, have a problem making history. The default is always to the man and it always has been. I'm not saying that all historians are sexist, but our ancestors held entirely different views than us on the position of women and therefore we have to get beyond that in-built sexism in order to see who in the past is worth a look at. By using the interpretation that you have to be difficult, law-breaking, and frankly appalling on the tshirt, you are part of the problem. You can be all those things (good on you) but equally, you can be the opposite (good on you as well).  Furthermore, there has to be an understanding that for most women, there were boundaries that stopped them fulfilling their potential, but that doesn't stop them being fascinating (possibly more so for people like me who like to hear what was achieved despite society). We also need to not over-compensate for women - not everything is gold and not every bad decision is fine because it isn't such a big deal now. People are complicated.

I will finish with a slightly naughty story - I recently had the pleasure of meeting a very famous male art historian who was having a very busy day and was obliged to say hello to me because of the event we were attending. He vaguely mentioned he might have heard of my work (I think he was being polite as I got the feeling he hadn't and why should he?) and I asked what he was working on-

 "I'm writing a book on [insert extremely famous male artists on which there are already thousands of books]"

"Of course you are," I replied. I didn't mean to be rude, so apologies if you are reading this, Famous Male Art Historian (I doubt you are), but in that moment I felt disappointed that you weren't going to write about a woman, or a working-class person, or a person of colour, or in fact any other artist than one that even I know a load about. Write a book about the famous male artist if you want, but how about writing a book about Mrs Very Famous Male Artist, and how she fitted into his life and work, or didn't, or what she did with the money, or the art, or even what she served him for lunch while he was painting that very famous masterpiece we all know so well.

Women Seldom Make History.

That's a depressing tshirt, but sadly it's true and it's only a problem for us now if we don't go back and turn over the pebbles of history to see the interesting stuff underneath. We can't fix what the past historians did, but we can make a valiant effort to not repeat their prejudice and complacence.

Review: Bloomsbury in Wiltshire

 I don't feel like I've been out and about much of late - the hot weather is not my favourite and so I've been staying in, but on the way back from visiting my Dad, we popped into Salisbury Museum to visit their current exhibition, Bloomsbury in Wiltshire...

I've been to Charlston on a few occasions now and absolutely loved it, but had no idea of the relationship between the Bloomsbury set and my home county. Turns out there are plenty of links, not least Ham Spray House, home of Carrington, Lytton Strachey, Ralph Partridge and Frances Partridge. There is also Cleeve House in Seend, not far from my home-town Devizes, Mill Cottage and Brook House in the south of the county, home of Julia Strachey, Stephen Tomlin (Mill Cottage) and Henry and Lady Pansy Lamb (Brook House). There is also the Guinness family house, Biddesden House, where Carrington painted a trompe l'oeil window in 1931. Blimey, I had no idea...

Well, mercifully, Salisbury Museum, next to the glorious cathedral, has an exhibition to sort all that out. In two big rooms of glorious stuff, it tells the story of how these complex, talented people lived, loved and worked in a few beautiful houses. Starting with Strachey and Carrington, possibly the best known of this side of Bloomsbury thanks to the 1995 film, and Ham Spray House, you can see artworks from this period when they lived together with Carrington's husband, Ralph Patridge.  There is a lovely pencil sketch of Carrington by Mark Gertler...

Carrington's work is unusual and it is a treat to see it. I was particularly struck by the Lily which was made from oil, ink and silver foil on glass which made it glitter...

A Lily in Spanish Landscape (c.1928) Carrington

Now, here is a slight criticism and I completely understand the problem - Carrington is also Dora Carrington and throughout the exhibition both versions of her name are used, which is not exactly confusing but a bit inconsistent (I was very hot and slightly sun-stroked and for a few minutes thought it was two people, I admit). It is definitely not as straightforward as Gluck (Hannah Gluckstein) who was Gluck and only Gluck, but I would definitely have stuck to one and possibly 'Carrington' would have respected the artist's wishes (she hated her first name and thought it vulgar). Anyway, possibly the most touching object in the room was a lock of Carrington's hair...

There are two locks, one given to Gerald Brenan, who she painted in 1921, and one taken on the day she died, together with flowers gathered on that day. She died in a tragic manner, taking her own life after the death of her close friend, Lytton Strachey. 

Gerald Brenan (1921) Carrington

Blimey, next room please...

Bust of Julia Strachey (1928) Stephen Tomlin

A frequent visitor to Ham Spray House (which, I'm sorry, sounds like a ham-scented perfume) was Lytton's niece Julia, writer, who met sculptor Stephen Tomlin there. The couple married in 1927 and moved to Mill Cottage, Swallowcliffe. Among other visitors were more familiar names, such as Duncan Grant...

Self Portrait (1909) Duncan Grant

Duncan Grant was also a cousin of Strachey (it's a small world) and at least two of Grant's paintings were displayed at Ham Spray House. There are also beautiful paintings by other friends, such as Vanessa Bell...

Venice, Gesuati (c.1930) Vanessa Bell

as well as decorated tiles by Carrington...

Ham Spray Tile, decorated by Carrington

...and paintings showing friends working in their own interiors, making you feel this was a world within our own post-war world.

Raymond Mortimer sitting at a desk at Long Crichel (undated) Edward Le Bas

It is quite easy to forget there were more people under the Bloomsbury umbrella that just the Woolfs and Bells - in that way, it is very similar to the Pre-Raphaelites. Carrington is Bloomsbury-adjacent, and you can see the ethos and mindset of that group spreading across the southern counties, painting, writing and living in a challenging (and privileged) way. There is a romance to all that free love and heartbreak and the art is undeniably beautiful, so take yourself off to Salisbury and enjoy a thorough gorgeous exhibition of the little-known aspects of Wiltshire history.

Bloomsbury in Wiltshire is on until 27th September and more information can be found here.