Cover Story

Dearest Emily,

It was lovely to see you and Annabel for tea last week, you made me giggle to myself when I took you indoors and you sighed a big sigh, and said "Oh, I DO so love this house, GiGi."
Well, this week I've been working on the illustrations for Annabel's book- and following your exclamation- I think we shall make the Looking Glass house in the story look more like this house than anything else. So, here's a draft of the cover- I hope Annabel will like it.

Lewis Carroll's Looking-Glass world revealed cariacatures of the people he knew, particularly at Freshwater Bay. In your little book Emily, we uncovered some of them, and discovered Carroll's ruse.
So, for Annabel's book, we are having some fun with this formula.
We shall be taking Through the Looking Glass, chapter by chapter- changing the characters, but keeping the thread of the tale.
If we introduce a bit of Dante's Inferno- by turning our lovely Macracarpa into The Purgatree (that's a kind of naughty step Em- but a bit darker) where grown-ups go when they are being negative. There they come up against themselves, and choose the way out. If they don't Em- if they stay there too long- the Harpy will get them and peck out their eyes so they'll never see truthful beauty again.
Dark enough Em?
Let's have a clever Storm-cat- sort of like a white witch's familiar- who leads the rather slow-on-the uptake cleaner (GiGi) through the story where she meets some rather peculiar characters.
In our own bit of nonsense Emily, let's stray from Carroll's path, and give the story a moral.
Let's decide that if we choose to listen in life, we shall hear what there is to be done.
Let's also decide that what we listen to may take us down extraordinary paths, but that all we need to do is take one step at a time.
Let's decide too, that if we have to go to the naughty step of the Purgatree- it may bring us up against ourselves- but, that is a good thing- and we can choose how to come out. No Harpies can close our eyes then.
And finally, let's realise that a sense of fun- a sense of humour- is a very precious gift- and that we are all grotesques in the Looking-Glass world, naked to those that can see...BUT that if we can accept and live with that too?

Then, Em, we can know that to laugh, and know nonsense, means that the absurd and the ridiculous- become quite the best way to see and be seen!

I shall now work away at putting the rest of Annabel's book together so she can have it in time for her first birthday.

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxxx

Tainting the Lily

Dearest Emily,

What a lovely weekend we had for Annabel's Christening. I shall admit to some small apprehension as to how you would rise to the occasion of not being the centre of attention. I say that without criticism- you are only three years old- and getting used to sharing Mummy and Daddy with your baby sister. You did yourself proud Emily, and behaved very well indeed. I watched you throughout the day- and it amuses me to conclude that your lovely existential free-spirit soul- found its outlet in 'twirling'. Whenever something was going on that you weren't expected to involve yourself with- you simply took yourself off for a twirl or two. This, I observed, was not for anybody's benefit, other than your own joy of twirling. You would emerge somewhat giddy- recover and join in what was the next thing you needed to be involved with. Mummy and Daddy talk to the Vicar with Annabel- cue for a twirl.

Which brings me to my own cue- about our extraordinary Victorians- with a rather less salutary viewpoint this time- and an appreciation that my own little Grand-daughters were not born during this time. Especially considering your own lovely free-spirit Em, I introduce you to another- Ellen Terry...

Alice Ellen Terry was born in 1847, one of eleven children (nine of which survived) who did not go to school but started work as an actress aged nine. Befriended by our own Charles Lutwidge Dodgson- who was to be a staunch supporter and friend for life, Ellen appeared at the London Princess's Theatre regularly until 1859, then with her sister Kate travelled the Country as strolling players.

After modelling with her sister Kate for G.F Watts in 1862, and with some interference from Julia Margaret Cameron's Pattle sisters- a marriage to Watts- 20 years her seniour was encouraged.

Visiting the Isle of Wight- newly wed Ellen celebrated her seventeenth birthday modelling for Mrs Cameron in the very beautiful photograph entitled 'Sadness'.

As a 'Carte de Visite' (the popular form of calling-card which was all the rage at the time) Ellen got a card, and Julia got a great shot. But looking at the shot in context of what was happening at the time- and what happened next- it's hard to decide who was zooming who here. The exhuberant young Ellen, cared not for sitting at Julia's table philosophising with her husband's cronies- Tennyson, Henry Taylor and the Pattle sisters. She ran off with Tennyson's wild children, across the Down and up to the fort, whooping and fighting with swords. Reprimanded by Julia's sisters time and again, and with an unconsummated marriage- she became a 'difficulty'. A whole ten months later- the sisters told Watts that she should be sent back to her parents...

Ok-ish, so far. A bad match- that didn't work out. Heigh-ho. Except that Watts refused to divorce the poor girl.... for the next THIRTEEN YEARS!

So- the young Ellen was not free to marry again. At 21 she met the man she is quoted as calling 'The only man she ever loved' and eloped with him, bearing him two children. The relationship was to last seven years, and cost her her reputation which estranged her from her family (had Mr Watts found the courtesy to divorce her she may not have been thus tainted.)

Ellen chose to go back to the stage- something Watts desired her to give up. The father of her children had fled when the bailiffs called, so it's a good job our Ellen was rather talented in this way. Her craft led her to become a Dame- and to become one of the first modern stars of the British Stage. Her legacy in her craft- along with her as a generous and free-spirited woman still follows her.

It can't have been easy for her Emily- but there is nothing I have come across from the prolific letter-writer that she was that betrays this. It would have been so much kinder and more Gentlemanly, for Watts to have divorced her. A girl, soon to become woman, sent home to her parents by a neurotic genius husband who made a mistake. Simples. But instead, he refused a divorce.

Dear Dodgson- fan, admirer, and friend- was also compromised. This devout Vicar's son, at odds with his own more Bohemian soul and also existential nature, does not reveal how dearly he revered her, and how wrong he felt the marriage, which can only be guessed at. I believe (as does Jo Elwyn Jones and J.Francis Gladstone in The Red Kings Dream) that she was cast as the Tiger-Lily, in The Garden of Live Flowers chapter in Through the Looking Glass. But this is not the subject of my post- other than a crude Victorian doll-esque 'colouring-in' that attempts to push the mesh of the cracked way she was portrayed by her immediate peers, alongside Dodgson's squibs en cariacature, and possibly her own hand as actress in portraying her own personal state in a photograph entitled 'Sadness.'

Dodgson was estranged from her for a while during her years with Godwin- the father of her children with whom she eloped- his sensibilities obliterating his own moral compass which was condemned to the absurd in his writings.

However, he got over his Victorian scruples, and remained a dedicated fan and friend and copious letter corresponder over the years.

She, like the fabulous Lou-lou de la Falaise (muse of Yves Saint-Laurent)- I both revered and latterly came to know- and will tell you about later- come under my own heading- that of  'Gentlewoman'. Their grace and stoical favour Emily, rather become them.

For yourself, I wish a less challenging path. You have it, free of stigma on many counts-BUT, let's see. No road less travelled has no bumps in it. Women have gained some things by your Great-Great-Grand-Mother's suffragette sensibilities. But that is by no means all. In a world where all question values and 'tolerance'- are we not just re-writing some rules?

Plus ca change-plus que c'est la meme chose.

Do what you do- and do it authentically!

Your ever-loving Grand-Mother, GiGi xxxx

Visiting Queens

Dearest Emily,

I really shouldn't keep buying books. I work in a bookroom, and can read any that I want to. The living room is wall to wall with 'em, so is the kitchen- even the dogs room is becoming a library. But it doesn't stop me. My favourite shelves are in my bedroom, where I sit and write in the evenings. Matters Carrollian dominate the shelves, along with treasures like your and Annabel's first edition's of Alice. Then there's all my old stuff on Bloomsbury that Daddy grew up with, and an ever expanding collection on the Freshwater Circle.

One of the latest accquisitions is a little unassuming paperback, written by Vita Sackville-West's husband Harold Nicolson, on Tennyson. It drew my interest because it was written by him- and my long-standing interest in matters Bloomsbury. I enjoy gathering bits and bobs about how these people were influenced as you know. Virginia Woolf (being the Great-Niece of Mrs Cameron) poked fun at her comedic Great-Aunt in her parlour-play 'Freshwater', but I suspect that her radical and eccentric relative injected more than a sense of generation reactive scorn.

Nicolson doesn't fail me here. He writes beautifully, as is his reputation, and regarding Tennyson, he gives opinion, and backs it up- but the whole tone of the book is kindly- and a slight humour flavours it all, about a man from a generation that was considered 'frumpish' to the next.

Two excerpts are the subject of my post today though Emily.

The first for its amusement value-

Nicolson has been describing three of Tennyson's closest friends at Freshwater- Sir John Simeon, W.G.Ward- and Mrs Cameron. He begins by explaining that Julia was one of the few people who were not in the least frightened of the Laureate, and talks of their bracing and irreverent banter. Then he goes on to relate an amusing scene...

It is recorded that one evening the Laureate entered the drawing-room at Farringford and, as was his wont, stood poised and magnificent for a moment in the doorway glowering across at a group of his family clustered around a seated figure in a bonnet and many shawls. Suddenly a look of startled reverence was observed to flash across his face. Bowing low, he hastened across the room towards  so unexpected, so miraculous a visitor. "This is indeed-" , he began.

But it was not Queen Victoria: it was only Mrs Cameron in an unfamiliar garb.

The second is about Queen Victoria- who threatened a visit to Farringford- heralded by a 'dropping-in' by Prince Albert that probably left the household constantly on Queen alert. Tennyson developed a close friendship with Victoria over the years- and this excerpt shows their familiarity and the Queen's consideration of her Laureate's words. Nicolson relates a translation of an article published in a Berlin periodical, citing the feel of a public legend concerning their relationship:-

Shortly after Enoch Arden had appeared, (QV) heard that Tennyson's enemies and enviers charged the poem with being immoral and a glorification of concubinage. She applied to an eminent clergyman, and learned from him that cases of bigamy, it was true, were not very rare, and those whom such a misfortune befell might, perhaps, be pardoned by the Lord on the day of judgement, for the mercy of the God of Heaven and Earth knows no bounds; but that it indicated an alarming confusion on the part of the poet to represent in a kind of halo a man who tolerated the continuance of such a sinful relationship between man and woman.

Further consultation censured the poem further- and Queen Victoria- whose moral conscience was never slight- decided to have a chat with Alfred about it...

She therefore extended her drive along the seashore that very afternoon beyond its usual length, and ordered the coachman to drive further west.

She soon after saw the poet's house, which lies in the middle of a small grove of pine and firs, peering forth between the verdure and foliage around it. The Queen was accompanied by two of her daughters. When she perceived Tennyson's form in the garden- his long hair and full beard caused her to recognise him at a glance- she entrusted her sketch-book and the metal box in which she gathered flowers and plants for her herbarium to the princesses, and walked alone to the low garden gate, whither Tennyson had already hastened to meet her. She did not want to enter his house, but, walking with him along the shore, she explained to him what disquited her in regard to his poem, on the beauties of which she dwelt with that refined appreciation which is said to be peculiar to her....
"Tell me, Mr Tennyson, what have you to reply to all those objections which I mentioned to you before?"
"Very little, Your Majesty."
"What?"
"I should be sorry, Your Majesty, if the little girl yonder had to bear the stain of illegitimate descent."
"What little girl?"
"The little girl dissappearing just now behind the hawthorn hedge. Your Majesty; I mean the child carrying the bundle of faggots."
"And what has that girl to do with your poem?"
"A great deal, for if the Bishop of N. had had his way, little Anna, yonder, would be considered a child born in illicit wedlock."
The Queen had stood still.
"You do not mean to say, Mr Tennyson," she replied, that on our little island here an event such as you related in your Enoch Arden has really happened?"

"Your Majesty," said Tennyson, "there occur among the lowly and poor many traits of heroism, for which historians might envy the quiet observer of the people. Happy he who can contemplate and comprehend such traits with an unbiased mind, happy he who is able to relate them in his poems without spoiling their simple originality too much; happy above all, he of whom poets can tell such traits. His memory disseminates heavenly seed."
The Queen had walked across the lawn to the tombstone and laid her hand on its moss-grown edge. She stood there for a long while in silence, her eyes fixed on the spot where Enoch had found his last resting-place. At length she drew herself up, and, turning to go home, she said, "God bless him! He did right, after all."

Now Emily, just how this private interview came to be on public record in a German magazine is one thing that questions its verity, but my guess is that it is a story related by Tennyson himself- it sounds like his words, his sentiments, and his validation. If it is a likely story- I reckon Tennyson provided the transcript.

Anyhow- it amuses your Grand-mother to think of Tennyson mistaking Mrs Cameron for his Queen, and then to read that the Queen he was constantly awaiting, walking along to the Bay, past Mrs Cameron's house. Thank goodness Julia didn't spy her out of her window and demand a photo shoot.
Or, Em, would Mrs C have wanted to take her photograph? She admired great men, and fair women- but beyond intellect or beauty, didn't lionise if they didn't fit in with her brief.

Queen Julia of Freshwater Bay beat to her own drum. Queen Victoria was very much concerned with her own duty and conscientious responsilbility. Two interesting women Emily.

Enough for today, the sun is shining- hope you and Annabel are enjoying it. Looking forwards to seeing you both next weekend,

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxx

Now you are Three

Dear Emily,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Have a lovely day and don't eat too much cake,

your ever-loving Grand-mother,

GiGi xxx

A Boat called Alice

Dearest Emily,

Off on a tangent today as we get ready for the Yarmouth Gaffers Festival. In recent years it's been a favourite festival whether working at the Bookroom, or trawling around the foodie stalls with Uncle Joe's sudden passion for Wild Boar sausages, drooling over the vintage cars and loving the happy family vibe. I've got so many photos of the beautiful rigs, bunting flying in the spectacular Yarmouth sunset over the harbour- happy days!

Looking at pictures of Gaffer rigs on the internet this morning- I came across this fabulous painting by Paul Hewson...

Oooh, look Em, how gorgeous is this Old Gaffer? Her name- it appears- is 'Alice'. On initial searches- and reading an excerpt from The Gaff Rig Handbook  b y John Leather- there was a sloop of the same name that was designed to demonstrate the practical comfort and seaworthiness of American yachts to English yachtsmen- built for Thomas Appleton of Boston. She sailed over Mastered by Captain Arthur Clark with three hands and a steward- accompanied by one of Longfellow's sons in 1866. Taking three weeks to get from Nahant to the Needles, she was then laid up in England-with her namesake still about- as this beautiful painting and other photographs indicate.
I'll keep an eye out for her at the weekend Emily and see if Grumpa can get some more pictures for you!

Your ever-loving Grand-mother,
GiGi xxx

After a Fashion

Dearest Emily,

Since we put your little book to bed so to speak, I started turning my attention to matters Dimbola once more. We ( the Committee for Building and Decor ) were discussing plans for 2015, which is Julia's Bi-centenary and we want to mark it well.

A problem that I perceive, is that we keep coming up with Mid-Victorian references for decor ( naturally ) and Indian ones, and French because that is Julia's path- but nothing actually 'fits'. Pugin was too heavy for Julia's tastes, Arts and Crafts as it was then- neither aristocratic enough for Mrs C, or at the time 'Bohemian enough' for her. She and her sisters did not adopt the Crinoline which was 'de rigeur' for the day- she did embrace the birth of anilyne dyes that produced garishly bright colours ( something the pre-Raphs abhorred. ) She loved light- that is central to her- and her house reflects that love. She put windows facing the sun everywhere in developing the two houses, and in her 'Glass-House' ( a former Chicken-Coup ) draped fabrics and shawls a-plenty to work with the effects of light and subject.

As a Woman who was forever trying to 'arrest beauty' through her lens, she cared not for her own appearance unduly, and there are not many photographs of her for study. Not considered a 'Beauty' though her sisters were very much famed for theirs- this seemed inconsequential to her, and in turn I think, generally people did not know quite how to pigeon-hole this rather remarkable lady.

Julia Margaret Cameron was certainly not what we would call 'Cool' in the eyes of the well-dressed Victorian Ladies. Harpers magazine would not have featured her and her sisters off-beat style of making their own brightly coloured dresses, waisted with curtain sash-cords- or rated her trailing red shawls or flailing bonnet strings as she rushed hither and thither creating her next project. Nor would they understand the hastily prepared meals ( it seems mostly of bacon and eggs! ) that were flung together for a last minute gathering at the end of a busy day. These meals were attended by an envied clique of poets, artists, writers and philosophers. Vibrant and heated discussion continued into the night, the Ball-room became a whirl of impromptu gaiety and this in summer evenings often spilled out onto the Down, where young couples let down their hair and ran and danced, whilst their elders sat and re-invented the philosophical wheel of the time.

How different from the rigid conformist socially aspiring scene of the time. It was expected that one dressed just like everyone else. It was expected that one held particular suppers for particular people- and Julia did- she idolised Eminent Victoria Men. But- not in the same way. Described as 'slightly comic' Julia was so much her own woman, that she defied definition. Her sisters came in for a lot of spiteful gossip for their beauty alone, and Julia was sniped at for her opinions and bookishness.

But actually Emily, what strikes me, and is setting me off at another tangent- is where I came in to all this. When I first visited Juila's house, something seemed very familiar indeed. I had always been fascinated with the Bloomsbury set, yet had not come across the connection between Julia and Virginia Woolf ( she was her Great-Aunt. )

More and more, I understand how this group was influenced by Julia herself- how these particular Victorians inspired the next generation artistically and style-wise. Julia unwittingly was the epicentre of what I shall now call- 'The Pre-Bloomsbury Sisterhood' as a jumping off point...

Theatrical, left of field, hard to define and very very much it's own particular style.

Here is a photograph that Julia took of her Daughter-In-Law that very much sums up my train of thought today.

More another time...

Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxx

Freshwater Bay Through the Looking Glass. The story so far...

Dearest Em,

As GiGi gets further into the story and nearer to the day of having a completed manuscript, I thought it might be a good time to tell you how this all came about. It kind of began as a bit of a joke...

It was spring 2012, and the good old trustees of Dimbola were fighting again. The war this time was about plans for increasing the tearoom and Gift Shop turnover. This is GiGi's area and committee, and our chairman put forward a fab new design and revamp centred around Lewis Carroll's 'Mad Hatter'.

Someone commented that our Julia could be the Queen of Hearts! Someone else said- 'Oh no she couldn't, someone else 'Oh yes she could', and so it went in true trusty trustees style. In one ear for GiGi, but not quite out the other. Something was ringing bells...

That night I went home and read 'Alice' and then 'Through the Looking Glass' and the bells got louder.
The clue was in the Tenniel illustration. It was said of John Tenniel that he could see a photograph, or someone just once, and then cariacaturise them. Well there it was...

Our Jules was not only there in the illustrated cariacature, but also references to her in the text. I looked further, more characters became unmasked- but surely someone must have made the connection before? Handy working at the Bookroom Em's. Especially when there's a heap of stuff Victorian and Island-based. My research library could not have been better stocked! Yes, there had been some tenous links to Tweedledum and Tweedledee being the Tennyson boys, and Lynn Truss's Tennysons Gift, put Dodgson firmly in the Freshwater spotlight. However, it hadn't all been uncovered and put together as to what I increasingly knew it was. Also lucky for me, there were some of the most wonderful and respected Academic bods to confer with right here under my nose about the researched ( and hitherto unresearched ) history of its real-life counterparts.

'Through the Looking Glass' was not only a satire of characters here, but it was set here too. Walking those two characters Milly and Marley Middleton up Tennyson Down and through 'The Wilderness', I was fortunate in being able to see the twists and turns of each chapter daily, right in front of me.

Then there was the poetry parodies to unravel ( most of these have been discovered. ) Then, good old Professor Jowett Master of Balliol ( who regularly stayed her at GiGI's house when translating Plato during his Easter, summer and Christmas holidays- when he taught the Tennyson boys how to play chess ) cropped up as another character, and introduced me to the Oxford Movement and what had preceeded the book.

Such fun Emily, and lots been done and yet to do! Nights sat working on my bibliography, 'colouring in' ( as Grumpa calls my artwork ) and reading, reading, reading.

The even lovelier thing is the symbiosis of this at good old Dimbola. The board decided in September to widen their articles to encompass the incredible 'Freshwater Circle' and lovely Bob two doors down is writing a publication to sell at the House, accompanying his lectures ( you've got to come and hear him Em, he's such a good speaker! ) It's all rather exciting. This area is an incredibly rich part of our National Heritage, it's landscape enticed Tennyson, yes, and then Julia to Dimbola, but more Em and more and more.

My part is the Dodgson study and I'm playing with my cover today, what do you think?

Back to Dimbola and our entree. We did revamp the tearoom. We moved the shop into a better space and cleared the hall-way ( Julia's old ballroom ) of its earlier clutter. The lovely waitresses started serving us coffee with a smile stencilled on. The wonderful volunteers got together to enter for an award this year ( they had all worked their free of charge at Christmas to help the Trust. ) Visitors began to get louder, and relax more over their Sunday lunches, using the hallway as a gathering space.
Julia's former home began to feel cosier and more friendly. I like to think Julia approves of all this somewhere. We aren't even due to launch the changes until Easter, but already there's a vibrant and positive aura emanating from its walls. The new Freshwater Circle is alive and kicking. Dimbola has a history of vital and unique characters populating it's halls, and a new chapter begins to evolve.

I'm really honoured to be a part of all this team-work Emily, I hope you enjoy it when you come again at Easter.
Do you think I found the discoveries, or do you think they found me? I think I know, and I'll tell you why next time!

There you are today with Daddy off on your 'Winter Wonderland walks' today, my little muse.

Can't wait to see you again! Your ever-loving Grandmother GiGi xxxxx

I like this party, I do. I feel quite so Arty, don't you?

Dearest Emily,

Following your lead since you have already seen this and I hear your preference is for Rossetti, I thought I would take myself along to the Christie's Preview last night- which was nice.

Eight rooms dear girl, lots to see, and all themed- though I would have preferred it chronologically. I like seeing what came first, and how it all progressed best of all.

What strikes me seeing it all in 2012, is how wonderful it is to see a group of passionate people devoting their talents to a cause. I rather like the obsession with painting the beauty of the simplest of lives- and the romanticism they gave to this. It was clearly a novelty in an Empiric society.

Seeing all this work now makes me see it anew. My recollections of The Pre-Raphaelites date back to a time when GiGi was a teenager. As a keen Fashion Student of 1977, I had overdosed on what had gone just prior to the up-coming Punk scene. Pre-Raphaelite influence through Fashion had sent Henna hair dye sails soaring as the Titian Head of hair was all the rage. Biba had adopted the Pre-Raph colour-palette and Fleetwood Mac had set the stage akin to Tableaux. My school desk reeked of the Patchouli oil rubbed in by my Hippy predecessor, and to be frank dear Em, I was so over it all!

Art-rock just seemed so more me!

This overkill spilled over into the early eighties, with middle England lapping up the tapestry designs through Liberty, and Kaffe Fassett made his career out of it. By the time Christies had their last Pre-Raph sale in 1984 I think it had somewhat run its popularity course.

But seeing it all again now, I can see it with fresh eyes. It is particularly interesting to me how the Victorians reacted to a World that was fast-changing. The Economic climate, Industrialisation and the birth of the Railway. Many of these fast-changing aspects are so akin to the world we are in right now. Perhaps that is why they fascinate me so much at the moment.

I love the 'Back to the Land' attitude they favoured and it being the stimulus for beauty.

Any-how my lovely, the point your Granny is making is that the Zeit-geist is as the Zeit-geist does. It's reaction, and then reaction against after over-kill.

Plus ca change, plus que c'est la meme chose as that French-lot say ( them who in fact carried on more successfully with the Pre-Raph muse... )

GiGi's fave is Burne-Jones! His beauties somehow feel the most appreciated by the Artist.