Le Théâtre du Merveilleux - marvels in Paris...

I recently had the great luck to visit a marvellous site in Paris, and this experience proved to be truly magical and certainly most unexpected indeed. In fact, we were summoned to the inauguration of an ambitious scheme at work. Well, work is work, and business is business, neither of which play any part in my blog world. However, on this occasion they really did...

It turned out that the Théâtre du Merveilleux had been chosen as the venue and it certainly lived up to its name. This is, in fact, part of the Musée des Arts Forains which is situated in the Pavillons de Bercy. These particular industrial warehouses were built in 19th century by a student of Gustave Eiffel and had been used to hold the wine reserves of Le Chais Lheureux. The various rails tracks for transporting goods, the pulleys systems on the brick facades and stock windows are all that remain of the Pavillons' initial use. Likewise, the district of Bercy today is more easily associated with the vast sports and concert stadium than its historical association with wine which dates back to well before the Revolution, offering Parisians tax-free purchase. 

Today's museum is the labour of love of Jean Paul Favand who wished to expose fairground arts in a site that would enable each visitor to 'live' their experience of this world in an interactive manner instead of observing it in a clinical way, from behind glass display cabinets. In so doing, his museum has given this art form the recognition and respect that it merits in its entirety, instead of being considered a lesser art due to its popular origins and lasting appeal to the masses. 

 
 Since 1996, Le Théâtre de Verdure has reigned alongside three other universes; Les Salons Vénitiens, Le Musée des Arts Forains and, of course, Le Théâtre du Merveilleux . Unfortunately, I didn't manage to visit these during our time there, although I did get tantalizing glimpses through heavy, draped curtains... I will be back for a full visit, of that I am sure... Hopefully with a camera that isn't playing up...

Within the Théâtre du Merveilleux, reality takes on a dream-like form as the visitor is led on by illusion so that dreams and the imaginary become real. In this collection of spectacular artifacts and objects, a fantastic realm is created, a large-scale Cabinet of Curiosities which looks like an enormous prop box for Terry Gilliam (minus the dark edge, however...). 

Jean Paul Favand has sought to revive and animate the world of the spectacle and the travelling showcase, the Cabinet Fantastiques, by using the play of light, virtual technologies and digital images (video-mapping) projected onto the forms of his curiosities. 'Naturalias', plays on the strange, stunning forms from the plant and mineral world; 'Artificialas' uses bizarre human inventions whilst 'Virtualias' gives life to automated musical and visual instruments. There is literally no place where the eye can just look blankly; this is visual heaven, but all the other senses are summoned too! I actually felt exhausted after a short period because I just couldn't take it all in. In this marvellous setting, Tzigane music and dancing were being performed live, vast quantities of champagne, wine and exquisite food were all being served without moderation!

As said, much of the extensive collection that is housed at the Pavillons de Bercy is dedicated to fairground arts from the mid 19th century onwards and reflect the glory days of this glorious art form. The ground-breaking discoveries in technology, science and travel from the 1800's onwards literally opened up the mysterious world to an eager public. 




The fairground universe not only wished to reflect and capitalize on these new horizons that went beyond the limits of the imagination, it also sought to mirror and utilise these technological advances to its advantage. However, this fluid, adaptable capacity of the fair has been a constant throughout its long history, and fortunately still exists today. 

From the Middle Ages, itinerant fairs were commercial gatherings that acted as focal points for trade and the exchange of merchandise, often from far afield. They would also act as a means of spreading social information and diffusing news around the county and beyond, throughout the year. Their quality as a vital source of social entertainment purely in their own right did not emerge until later. 

Initially the various displays of physical prowess, the exhibition of oddities and exploits, and the demonstration of theatrical, musical and dance skills ran parallel to the main business taking place in the wooden stands. Jesters, jugglers, actors, acrobats, bear-tamers, beasts, freaks, fire-eaters, fortune-tellers, marionettistes and illusionists were just a few of the background staples to the key mercantile activities. Gradually these crowd-drawing performances grew in importance, as showmen would increasingly vie with each other to attract a paying public into stalls. 

The separation of the Church and the State in the wake of the French Revolution meant that there were fewer religious celebrations and festivals in the year. On the one hand, this left a certain void in public customs and rituals and on the other offered greater freedom to the pursuit of less spiritual matters. Little by little it became apparent that there was indeed, no business like show business. The traditional fair shows are behind the majority of today's vivid performances; those of popular theatre, vaudeville, pantomime, music hall, cabaret, magicians and illusionists all have roots therein. It was, however, the Industrial Revolution that drove the transformation on both sides of the Channel and gave rise to the greatest social phenomenon in entertainment in the 19th century; the funfair. 

The revolution changed the landscape of the cities and countryside forever, and Man's relationship to both. Social demographics were radically altered as a result of huge changes in work practices and a growing need for workers to feed this vast industrial machine. Progress in travel literally opened up new highways as the improvement of road systems, development of new canals and the introduction of the railway led to unprecedented mobility. The population of rural areas converged on growing cities, lured by the prospect of work in the expanding manufacturing and production processes. 

The urbanization of cities further transformed the life of citizens. The more affluent were able to benefit from the homes built under ambitious housing projects, whereas the impoverished masses had to experience the dire conditions of overcrowded slum areas. Both rich and poor felt a growing need to escape from the constraints of city life. Largely speaking, both the well-off and the poor could afford to use the railway network. Train services now linked the major industrial cities, and more importantly, offered day-trips to seaside towns, causing seaside resorts to flourish. 

For those unable or unwilling to travel, yet wishing to free themselves momentarily from the confines of humdrum or soul-destroying routine, the fair became the perfect means of escape. Indeed, here the population could shake off constraints and starchy social etiquette as it lost itself in a fantastic universe, far removed from grim reality that generally offered very few dreams. The fair opened up visions and reflections of the real world to those who had little notion of what lay beyond their immediate sphere, and certainly no means to explore it themselves. The miracles of the world, real and imaginary, were brought directly from town to town via the fairground stands and shows that enthralled the audience. 

Here was a form of entertainment, and even education, that was not the preserve of a privileged elite, but open to all and sundry. Before the 'invention' of tourism with Thomas Cook and his Grand Tour the fair enabled an immobile public to travel to the four corners of the world, viewing exotic curiosities from the safe ground of their home town. 





The fervour for all things oriental, and the expansion of the colonial territories meant that wild beasts from distant lands were increasingly paraded and exhibited in the fairground menageries. George Wombwell, one of the most famous animal exhibitors and 'wild beast merchant', even managed to flog tickets to the public for the great privilege of seeing his dead elephant at Bartholomew Fair.

Alongside the marvels of the animal kingdom were displayed the exotic and the eccentric of human civilisations near and far, either 'in the flesh' or through dioramas, cycloramas, bioscopes or simply photographs. Exploiting the exotic, extravagant, bizarre and baroque, the fair played on the excesses of the five senses so that each visitor was mesmerized by the experience. To do so, all artistic styles were drawn upon, mixing neo-classicism, baroque, romantic, folklore and the symbolic to create a heady cocktail.

 Just as the frequent use of trompe-l'oeil in the decor would send out an illusion of reality, the fairground was used to convey an image of modern-day life with its aspirations to happiness and well-being. Social improvement was linked to a general notion of Progress in every domain that governed from the mid 19th century onwards and images of new advances were reflected on each level of activity and aesthetics at the fair. Indeed, each visitor underwent a shock of stimulants to the mind and senses alike via the amazing microcosm of the universe that the fair proposed thanks to modern technology. 

The fair offered the ultimate voyage of discovery, using the stalls, stands, shows , rides and attractions to lead the public into new domains and sensations. Technology and new sources of power enabled the fair to develop entertainment that literally left the participant breathless.

 Indeed, while traditional shows and performances were still a mainstay of the fair environment, the developing rides brought a new dimension to the fair universe; active visitor involvement in an invigorating physical adventure. With advances in machinery and mechanical devices, the fair could now offer unique experiences that relied on (relatively) dizzying speed and daring to thrill and enthrall a public that was avid for this type of entertainment.

The use of steam to power machines meant that rides could now greatly overtake the plodding speeds provided by horse or man-power. 


Freed from the limitation of mere muscle-power, the carousels with their wooden 'gallopers' could carry off their riders to great effect, while the newly-fangled bicycle could likewise be sampled in this risk-free environment. Indeed, after its invention in the 1860's, there were more bicycles to be found on the 'Velocipede' bicycle-powered roundabout than on the actual roads themselves. 

However, the visitor was no longer an earth-bound individual, but could travel with others, through the air on swings, experience 'water rides' on swinging yachts and above all fly through illusion and fantasy, with the guaranteed thrill of sensation... Some of the more impressive 'Venetian' carousel-salons took on huge proportions, and these travelling palaces would encompass a dance hall, bar, showroom along with the ride itself, all of which would require 18 train carriages for transportation. 

The aesthetic design of all fairground stands was already considerably more eye-catching than anything comparable in sedentary commercial stalls, however with the new fairground attractions this décor took on a whole new exuberance. As travelling fairs needed to assembly and dismantle with speed and efficiency, the consequent rides were required to meet these practical demands. The need to hide the functions and mechanics of these dream-machines meant that their construction and decoration evolved significantly. 


Each structure had to be robust, yet sufficiently manageable to transport whilst still displaying a wealth of decorativeness to feed the imagination of a public thirsty for fantasy. Typically, the dramatic pose of the galloping mounts was born of a practical need to enable the workers to stack and pack the horses with greater ease. Likewise, the heads of certain mounts could be folded back to facilitate manoeuvres and presumably repair work.

All the wood carvings and panels were highly ornate, decorated with the twisting forms of shells, leaves, feathers, scrolls, columns, billowing material, swirling ribbons and completed with mirrors that reflected the whole to dizzying effect. Figures and creatures from mythology and popular folklore featured throughout, as mermaids, unicorns, winged horses, griffins, dragons, chimeras, centaurs and sphinxes found their place alongside more humble farm yard beasts. 


In this manner, it was not unusual to find transmogrified references to mythical characters next to those of contemporary society, with notable military subjects used to reflect the patriotic spirit of the times. Here was a luxurious display of polychrome and gold leaf used to dazzling, regal effect in an environment where the visitor was king for a day. Key to this creation, of course, were the master carvers; Orton & C.J Spooner Ltd (Burton-on-Trent) and Anderson's of Bristol in Great Britain, and Gustave Bajol, of Angers in France.

Parallel to the visual experience was that of the barrage of noise. This would be generated by the bells, drums and cymbals used to attract the public and announce a forthcoming event alongside the cries and claims of hawkers and the hypnotic patter of showmen, promoters and entertainers. 

To mask the clanking and banging of ever-noisier fairground machinery organ music was employed. These were initially fairly simple, but soon grew far more sophisticated with the arrival of secular barrel organs from Germany. 

Music organs evolved from being mere accompaniments to shows to becoming complete 'orchestras' which were magnificent art pieces in their own right - taking up the whole show stage. The introduction of the Gavioli patented 'music book' organs in France of La Belle Epoque. These ran using the perforated card system that was the basis of the Jacquard weaving process, and effectively replaced the old 'metal-tooth' system. 

Such music organs provided an unlimited repertoire of music and influenced fairground music everywhere, once adopted by other key manufacturers, Limonaire and Marenghi. These organs were incredibly ornate and often took central position on the attraction, helping to create the magic of the experience. Many such organs can be seen at the Dingles Fairground Heritage Centre, near Lewdown in Devon (hello Pippa!), which is well worth a visit.

As technology developed, the sensation rides took precedence over the other shows. Impressive roundabouts, referred to as Scenic Railways took the place of more traditional shows. The advent of the circular steam 'switchback' system brought a whole new set of thrills to ordinary platform rides. 

With the undulating movement over the tracks, powered by the centrally-positioned engine run on steam, the fairground experience became all the more invigorating. Progress was seen in the mounts and seating of the rides themselves. Indeed, the Venetian gondolas and royal chariots finally gave way to motor cars and aeroplanes, whilst the ghost trains and 'dark rides' gained in popularity, as did the Big Wheel from the end of the 19th century. ( Interestingly, the Ferris Wheel was created to mark the 1893 World Exposition in Chicago, and was devised to rival Gustave Eiffel's contribution of 1889...)

In a New Year card for 1909, Gustave Bajol noted:

Qui veut son aéro n'a qu'à me faire signe,
Je suis un créateur rapide ; jour et nuit
Mes sujets guillerets marchent sans rouspétance
Et leur chant de victoire en se mêlant au bruit
Accompagne, joyeux, l'inlassable cadence.

The introduction of electricity to power the rides heralded a new era. The greater possibilities offered by such energy was somewhat offset by the knock-on effect of other advances in technology. The arrival of permanent motion-picture theatres led to a decline in interest for fairground image displays and performances which could no longer compete or claim to be the 'greatest show on Earth'. Later, the advantages of gramophone and amplified means of music meant that there was little call for the large organs which were costly to transport and maintain. Similarly, the traditional fairground artistry began to change, either in accordance with changing tastes or simply out of practicality. 

When cartoon characters emerged in popular culture, they were soon adopted by the fairground milieu, ever-eager to reflect the latest eye-catching trend. Unprotected by royalty regulations, these new figures proliferated to the detriment of the traditional images and symbols. Intricate relief and sculpture work was gradually replaced by a more modern use of painting, and much later fibreglass moulding would replace carvings. Naturally, the adaptability of the fair was its strength, yet even the greatest showman, such as P J Barnum could recognize the difficulty of satisfying the whims of the crowd.

"'The public is a very strange animal, and although a good knowledge of human nature will generally lead a caterer of amusement to hit the people right, they are fickle and ofttimes perverse." 



 

Today, tastes have changed considerably so that the fairground no longer draws in the public in the same manner. Much of this phenomenon can be explained by the fact that the fairground is no more the key purveyor of multi-sensory experiences. Television, theme parks, amusement arcades, computer games and the internet all offer the public an endless supply of entertainment, ready to be consumed as either a solitary pursuit or a group activity. Our fun has become more interactive on a global scale, yet far more anonymous too. 

Our drives and desires are increasingly heightened through over-stimulation and yet we have become somewhat jaded; blasé and difficult to please. Greater humanity towards man and beast alike, and a politically-correct stance means that the' living novelty acts' of yester year are no longer be acceptable. The demise of the inhumane menagerie and mercenary display of human 'curiosities' can only be positive; adieu performing bears, caged lions, Siamese Twins, limbless human 'trunks' and the Elephant Man himself, to mention just a few... 

However, we really do need all the fun of the fair, just as much today as we did in the past - surely nothing can beat the Dodgems, and even the humble slot machines and shooting galeries have their merits. But somehow we tend to neglect the fairground today, despite all it has to offer. The view over the town from the Big Wheel last year was incredible, even in the rain. But more than anything else, I'm waiting to go back to cast my greedy, beady eyes over the Musée des Art Forains...

Siberian Sunday with a Neva Masquerade kitten...

Masha

This is what happens when you 'crack' for something, or someone, should I say... So here's our beautiful Siberian Neva Masquerade kitten, Masha.

We chose that name because of the Russian ring, obviously, but it also reminded me of a book I treasured as a child, illustrated by a certain Masha.

This picture book featured a Russian witch's cat, the proud Tabinka, that was turned white by a spell that had backfired, and also a lady-like Siamese, born to sit on a cushion... Masha has already found a place on hers and is about to write her story in our lives...

Masha

Edith Holden's Nature Notes in a Country Diary...

Published by Webb and Bower 1979

While trying to clear out the accumulated objects from under my bed this summer, I came across a book that I'd strategically placed there two years earlier. At that time, I had been moving house, and was on a mission to get rid of all things that were unnecessarily cluttering up my life and living space. Feeling a strange surge of sentimentality towards the book in question then, I'd hesitated about giving it away, yet didn't feel sufficiently motivated to read through it either. Consequently the book, The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady, remained in place, in a literary no-man's land, only disturbed by the cat brushing past it during his forays around the bedroom furniture, dislodging the dust and fluff gathering on its resting place. I can't even remember how long I have had this book exactly, although I do know it was given to me. I also recall being pleased to finally possess it, due to memories it brought back of my teenage years when all types of related 'Edwardian Lady' merchandize seemed to abound everywhere, though I had never managed to get my hands on the actual book itself. I still have a school folder that I decorated with images cut out from themed wrapping paper from the early 80's. Years later I did buy a book that had been brought out following a televised account of the book's creation and the life of its creator, Edith Holden.

My old folder - thirty years on...

In my hands, The Country Diary Companion (Josephine Poole, published by Webb and Bower in 1984) suffered the same fate as the book it was supposed to accompany.... On retrieving both books this summer, I decided it was time to give them the attention that they deserved, with the intention of either handing them on to a new home, or keeping them in the manner required, not simply one of benign neglect. Just as I had hesitated reading The Country Diary two years ago, this time I initially shied away from doing so too. When at last I turned my attention to the book, and learnt about its background I realised that The Country Diary and Edith Holden both seem to have been preserved in a strange aura, caught in a unique sphere that seems to have altered our perception of this artistic endeavour in several ways. 

Written at very beginning of the 20th century, Edith Holden's Nature Notes was never intended to be a diary in the sense we may understand today. There was certainly no, or little intention to inscribe the creator's thoughts on the events or aspirations of her personal life. Nature Notes was precisely that, a collection of watercolour paintings accompanied by remarks, poetry and observations on the natural world that surrounded Edith Holden in the year 1906. This is very far removed indeed from the incessant chatterings of society today, reliant on social networks for self-promotion and endless 'selfie' photographic accounts of the latest exploits... Beyond her art, much of Edith Holden's personal life remains somewhat vague. The facsimile reproduction of Nature Notes burst forth in the 1970's, causing her name to become well known, yet providing little understanding of the person herself.

Nature Notes emerged from obscurity, to become an international bestseller over thirty years ago, having spent virtually seventy years as a 'hidden' family heirloom in the Holden family. When Edith Holden's great niece, Rowena Stott, presented the manuscript of Nature Notes to a publisher in the mid-seventies, it finally received the artistic recognition that it deserved, yet had never actually sought. While Edith Holden was indeed an illustrator who had striven to attain renown during her artistic career, it is ironic that she ultimately acquired this through the work that had never been more than a beautiful study piece to show to art students. This meteoric success also came posthumously, of course, some fifty years after her death in 1920. As glad as I am that this beautiful book became a national treasure, I do think that it has fallen victim to its success over the years, drowning Edith Holden in an superficial and unmerited sea of quaintness. The Country Diaryof an Edwardian Lady represented a marketing gold mine; the subsequent wave of 'pretty-pretty' articles that flooded the market from the seventies onwards created a never-ending line of cosy, safe products. These items appear to have enduring success with older ladies, which isn't a bad thing in itself, and I suppose I'm heading towards that age bracket too... However, Edith Holden appeals little to younger generations and the twee material spin-offs have detracted from the genuine artistic merit of Edith Holden's art. This process of nostalgic 'prettification' has rendered the earthier, natural quality of the original work rather asepticized and created an unblemished, idealized image of country life that surely has little resemblance to reality, then as now. To a degree The Country Diary has been preserved as an comfortable and comforting image of the rural idyll we imagine to have existed in the halcyon Edwardian days before the Great War and industrialized farming techniques ripped this world apart forever. The beauty of Nature Notes is based largely on its purity, tranquility and earnestness; to concentrate on a perceived lacy prettiness is to do Edith Holden's art a great disservice and paint a misleading portrait of the artist herself. 

For my part, I had a very inaccurate image of The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady, considering it to be simply the artistic pursuit of a lady whose leisurely lifestyle enabled her to pass her time in such a privileged manner. The Country Diary was indeed beautiful, but maybe a bit dainty all the same... How one can be misled by one's own misconceptions! Although Edith Holden certainly enjoyed the privileges that money, education and a certain breeding could offer, her life was far from one of idle pastimes and frivolous pleasures. While she was certainly born into a relatively affluent middle-class milieu, the term lady encourages us to 'read' Edith Holden incorrectly and seems to belittle her achievements due to the connotations of the lady-of-leisure label. Although personal details are slim, enough facts are known about Edith's life to show her as a woman who was quite atypical for her time, lady or not. It is difficult to know just how far she upheld the feminist cause in words and deeds, yet here was a woman whose determination and strength, and rather unconventional lifestyle seem to highlight feminist traits.

 In some ways, her life parallels that of Beatrix Potter, and it is certainly interesting to look at the paths of these two women who were contemporaries. Both Edith Holden and Beatrix Potter were born during Queen Victoria's reign, in 1871 and 1866 respectively. Unlike their monarch, whose personal life was reigned by her marital concerns and rhythmed by maternity, these two Victorians married later in life and were to remain childless. The artistic careers of both were closely linked to a great knowledge and profound respect for nature in all its forms. Likewise, their lives were concerned with the preservation and protection of wilderness and wildlife. Beatrix Potter bought and managed a farm and extensive land in the Lake District, all of which was left to the National Trust, as were many of her original illustrations. Edith supported the work of the National Council for Animal Welfare, using her illustrations for their cause, whilst also producing commissioned images for the RSPCA, donating money and delivering tracts against cruelty towards animals. Naturally, her early death at the age of 49 means that we will never know what Edith Holden would have gone on to accomplish. During her lifetime, she had perhaps fewer strokes of luck than her contemporary. Both women came from supportive families yet Beatrix Potter appears to have suffered less from the weight of family dynamics and disruptions. Edith seems to have been caught up in family feuds and financial concerns that may have hampered her creativity and bound her down through the filial obligations of a spinster daughter. Interestingly, at a late age both women entered marriages which met family disapproval. Of the two, Beatrix Potter seems to have a better sense of business acumen, or perhaps simply had better contacts; the publication of her work through Frederick Warne and Co led to lifelong success. Her determination had already made itself apparent when her early scientific observations and drawings in the field of mycology were rejected since written by an 'amateur female'; she went on to submit them under a male name. Despite having work exhibited several times and illustrations published on numerous occasions, Edith never enjoyed the fame and fortune of her contemporary whose Tale of Peter Rabbit had met great acclaim on publication in 1902. Today, her Country Diary has its own renown, but I still do not think that its creator has the respect she merits.

Born in Moseley, Birmingham (exactly like me!), Edith Holden was the fourth of seven children in the Holden family which had left Bristol to settle in Birmingham in 1865. Edith's middle name, Blackwell, was given in honour of a cousin, a pioneer female doctor, and this choice would serve to reflect the rather unconventional nature of her life. Indeed, from the beginning Edith's background differed from what would be deemed suitable for a 'picture-perfect' Edwardian lady. Firstly the family were religious liberals, of Unitarian faith, who devoted themselves to the Socialist cause. The Holdens were members of the Birmingham Labour Church and Arthur Holden, at the head of the household, played an active role in public life, elected to the Birmingham town council shortly after Edith's birth. Although his position as owner of a varnish and paint factory in Birmingham secured his family a certain affluence, Arthur Holden used his wealth and power to carry out philanthropic work. The Midlands were already under the influence of the Arts and Crafts Movement, with its reaction against the dehumanising force of an industrialized society and its awareness of the need to help the underprivileged. He was instrumental in setting up the 'Cinderella Club' - an organization that enabled impoverished children from the Brummie slums to be fed and entertained. It is not surprising that many of the Holden children and their partners demonstrated a marked interest in Socialism and performed charity work for the poor and vulnerable. Numerous children were taken into the household over the years, to receive the attentions of the various members of the Holden family, not least Edith herself. Evelyn married a man devoted to charitable causes, and gladly gave up her flourishing artistic career to accompany him in his missions. 

The matriarch of the Holden family, Emma, was a former governess who personally undertook her daughters' education and encouraged their vivid interest in the natural world around them. Artistic, musical and literary skills were manifest in each child, with three daughters going on to become painters and illustrators. Unfortunately the succession of births weakened Emma Holden who suffered from ill health from Edith's childhood years. Edith went to study art at 13 years old at the Birmingham Municipal School, finally satisfying her artistic desires, but her mother's ill health and the practical concerns of the family business cast a long shadow over the whole household. As she grew older, Edith increasingly found herself in an unenviable position since she had neither the artistic acclaim of her two sisters, Violet and Evelyn, nor was she married. Fortunately Edith never met with the fate of 40% of the female population, forced to enter the domestic service workforce, but she did not lead the carefree existence alluded to by the title Edwardian lady. Far from living on a pittance, the Holden family were nevertheless obliged to move several times, leaving behind impressive houses with extensive gardens in favour of ever-modest homes in order to save money. 

In 1891 Edith went to study art near the Highland district, at Craigsmill Art School near Stirling, under the painter Joseph Adam. Her love of the dramatic landscapes of the Highlands and Dartmoor and the flora and fauna therein were to stay with her all her life, and inspired many of her works. Several of these were exhibited by the Royal Birmingham Society of Artists between 1890 and 1907, but her Nature Notes manuscript was created when the family lived at Olton, Solihull. Indeed, in 1906 Edith had started to teach art to the older girls in the private Solihull School for Girls and used her own collection of phenological observations for her students to copy. At this time Edith also illustrated her sister Effie's poetry and later produced work for other children's books, including a piece called The Three Goats Gruff. Between 1907 and 1917 Edith had work shown in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, in addition to the Royal Academy of Arts, but it was not until after 1911 that her life was finally based in London. At the age of forty Edith married a sculptor Ernest Smith, several years her junior. That this marriage did not wholly please the family was perhaps due to the inconvenience of losing a dutiful daughter and sibling who could help with family arrangements, although that is speculation. Emma Holden had died in 1904, leaving a bereft husband who was struggling with the ownership of the family company and sorely tested by the family feud that ensued. The only release from this tension and comfort from the loss of a beloved wife and mother were the Spiritualist seances that became a regular occurrence in the Holden household. Emma Holden had always held strong Spiritualist beliefs and had written two religious books but on her death the family turned increasingly to this means of communication with the 'Other Side'. Automatic writing was performed as the Holden sisters transcribed messages sent by their dead mother and these were finally published anonymously by Arthur Holden as Messages from the Unseen, shortly before his death in 1913. Much has been made of this Spiritualist involvement, emphasizing the occult and perhaps even the morbid, yet the Holdens' interest would seem to be driven by a purely positive force and belief in life, both natural and spiritual. It is not surprising that Edith herself proclaimed that she was guided by a spirit called Hope; she certainly needed hope and courage. 

All the Holden siblings were obliged to take sides in the fight over the ethics of the family company, and Edith certainly did not escape the maelstrom of divided loyalties. She supported her long-suffering brother Kenneth, and as such was set against her other brother, Bernard and the sisters who had taken his defense. The gravity of the case was such that it was taken to court with Edith obliged to speak out against both Bernard and Violet. A relative calm in the family was only reached after the death of Kenneth who died in middle age in 1917. By this time Edith had already been married for several years, living in Chelsea, an artistic quarter of London. As assistant sculptor to Countess Feodora Gleichen, Edith's husband encountered many other artists such as George Frampton who sculpted the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens and Edith probably benefitted from these new acquaintances. Edith's work Young Bears Playing was exhibited at the Royal Academy of Arts in 1917, under the name Mrs Ernest Smith and book illustrations continued to be produced during these years. However, it is hard to know if her married years were as happy and fruitful as one would hope. None of the Holden daughters had children and city life, despite its advantages, kept Edith far from her beloved countryside and never brought her lasting artistic acclaim. 

So it was that during an inquest into her accidental death in 1920, aged 49, suicide was put forward as a possible cause. There are veiled allusions to marital infidelity on her husband's part, but this would surely have been the lot of many women. It is difficult to believe that someone for whom art and the love of nature were unwavering constants in life, would have chosen to end existence prematurely. Edith died whilst collecting horse chestnut buds near a water course in Kew Gardens; her body was found the day after the accident, having drowned in the cold March waters. Edith's death seems tragic since she surely had far more to create and contribute. In this manner her life was cut short, depriving us of so much, but above all the knowledge of how her professional and personal life would have developed. Nevertheless, in a strange way, her demise seems a very natural death, in every sense of the word. Edith Holden entered eternal sleep almost a hundred years ago yet was brought back to life through her art, decades after passing away.

A beautiful televised biographical study of Edith's creation of Nature Notes was broadcast by Central Independent TV in 1982. Spread over 12 episodes, devoted to the calendar months of the year, the series combined exquisite views of wildlife, breathtaking scenery and the art of Edith herself (thanks YouTube!). Flashbacks to events in Edith's personal life were thread throughout the whole, to great effect, while the choice of the actress Pippa Guard was wise. Nevertheless, a completely new view of Edith Holden's life is surely long overdue. Her posthumous success has shrouded much of the art and the individual, either in the sentimental blur of Seventies' and Eighties' Edwardiana or the obscure sensationalism of Spiritualism. Having finally retrieved my Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady from under my bed, I have realized that Edith Holden needs to be reclaimed from the shadows and not just relegated to the archives of the years that have been unjustly labelled the 'tasteless' decades.

This summer Laura Ashley held an exhibition to commemorate the founding of the label 60 years ago. Vintage clothing was put on display in ‘Laura Ashley: The Romantic Heroine’ in The Ball Room, Bath. When Laura Ashley's flowing frocks of Victorian-inspired prints burst onto the scene in a flurry of flounces, frills and lace, they were referred to as ‘soft-core femininity’ and ‘Victorian type demureness’ by the Daily Mirror (January 1st 1970). The trend for Victorian, Edwardian and Art Nouveau designs and a thirst for nostalgic hazy images drove a whole generation, and Edith Holden seemed to slot into a public appreciation for all things 'past', though not passé. It is a shame that her work hasn't been honoured in the present. We need to see Edith Holden in her entirety, less the Edwardian lady and more a woman very much of her time, yet unique in her relative independence and lack of conventionality...