Forgotten Women (Part 3) – The Road to Equal Suffrage

While there is much focus on the centenary of the Representation of the People Act 1918, what seems to have been almost forgotten is that 2018 is also the 90th anniversary of the Representation of the People (Equal Franchise) Act, which gave women the right to vote on the same terms as men. If anything the latter is as important as the former, as it finally recognised women as equal to men when it came to the ballot box.

Although the campaign to secure women parity with men when it came to voting lacked the headlines and the colourful personalities, the women and men involved fought a 10 year campaign to redress the shortcomings of the earlier 1918 Act. In this blog, we shall see what difficulties the campaigners faced, how the tactics of the equalists were different to the suffragists and the suffragettes of the pre-war period and how changes in attitudes finally paved the way for equal suffrage to become a reality in 1928.

 

After 1918 – the war is far from over

When the Representation of the People Act was passed in 1918 giving women over 30 the right to vote, it was seen as flawed and many of the suffragists and suffragettes were not prepared to accept that women were not equal when it came to men at the ballot box. This omission, as Cheryl Law observed, “cast doubt on the claim that giving the vote to women had been in grateful recognition of their wartime service” given that the vast majority of munitionettes, nurses, police constables, bus conductors and Land Girls were excluded from the vote due to their age. There were also over 2 million women over 30 who could not vote due to the following categories – professional or business women with business premises or unfurnished rooms, shop workers and domestic servants who “lived in” and unmarried daughters still living at home with their parents.

Many campaigners realised that the war was far from over. The opposition to women gaining the vote had not gone away and the struggle for equality and recognition was still on going. In the aftermath of a cataclysmic global war, millions of demobilised men were returning home hoping to return to their old jobs or to quickly find a new one. The consequence of this was an easing out of the women who had entered the workforce in their millions during the war in order to return to a life revolving around “children, church and kitchen.” However, there was the general consensus that now that some women had the vote, it was only a matter of time before the voting age was lowered. As Margaret Viscountess Rhondda, herself a former suffragette observed, women by virtue of the 1918 Act “had passed the first great toll-bar on the road which leads to equality…..[but] it is a far cry yet to the end of the road.”

As with the pre-war suffrage movement, the post war equalist movement was divided as there was some reluctance on the part of the likes of Millicent Garrett Fawcett to launch an immediate campaign to lower the voting age. Part of her lack of enthusiasm was a desire not to burden with additional issues a government coping with demobilisation and the winding down of the wartime economy. She and other leading women’s rights activists were also more concerned with moves to push women out of the workforce, any attempted restrictions on those who were about to enter the workforce and continuing discrimination. As Fawcett told a crowd at a meeting, the struggle was far from over, “we cannot be half free and half serf.”

Another source of division was due to the fact that there were many former suffragists and suffragettes who were actually opposed to lowering the voting age for women as they believed that the so-called “flappers” were too young and frivolous to understand current issues and seemed to be more concerned with having a good time than devoting their time to self-improvement, education and preparing themselves to become good citizens.

These concerns were shared by those who opposed giving women the vote at all. Realising that they had lost the argument, they shifted towards opposition to giving women the vote on equal terms with men. This is not surprising as in the aftermath of the First World War, there was a backlash against women and women’s rights; there were many factors for this but two reasons stood out – first was the demographic factor where the war had precipitated a population change, as millions of men met their end on the trenches of the Western Front or the deserts of Mesopotamia, so there was a dearth of men especially among the economically active.

Secondly, the backlash was compounded by this gender imbalance in Britain’s post war population. This was made worse by those who returned home from the war: far from coming back to a land “fit for heroes,” they were left disappointed by a lack of jobs as well as burdened by physical and psychological injuries. As a result, there was the general feeling of being threatened by a “surplus generation” of women who were greater in number and had gained much freedom during the war and after, which led to fears of the country being swamped with women.

Post-war Britain was obsessed with the “women problem” and with the reality of Britain’s economic weaknesses becoming apparent as the 1920s and 30s rolled on, the backlash against women became very apparent, with the attacks on women workers which were most acute during periods of high unemployment. One of the ways by which the so-called “women problem” was tackled was through the 1918 Act which gave women over the age of 30 the vote with a host of other restrictive clauses as mentioned above. The restrictions were a way for Parliament to ensure that the electorate was not swamped with female voters as by the 1920s, demographically women outnumbered men. Those who opposed giving women the vote or lowering the voting age set by the 1918 act used the demographic imbalance as grounds to avoid upsetting the status quo. Another main justification was that “girls” of twenty one were still much too young and immature and not responsible enough for the duties of citizenship. The use of marriage as one qualification for the right to vote was also seen as a form of control of a woman’s decision being more tempered by marriage.  Linking marriage and the right to vote was also seen as an inducement for women to leave the work force for marriage and motherhood. It was also believed that since by the standards of the time, 30 was already considered to be middle aged, women would be put off by registering to vote as this would give away how old they were.

The perpetuation of bias against women and the change in arguments this time in denying women parity with men when it came to the franchise led to new challenges in the campaign for women’s rights and equal suffrage.  Campaigners used varying platforms to make their voice heard and to ensure that equal suffrage would be achieved in less time than the previous campaign to secure the franchise for women.

 

Making their voice heard

After the passage of the 1918 Act, the National Union for Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS) became the National Union of Societies for Equal Citizenship (NUSEC). Its main goal was to work for the enfranchisement of women between the ages of 21 and 29 to be able to vote on equal terms with men as well as to remove the current restrictions around women’s right to vote. In addition, the NUSEC was also committed to furthering the cause of women’s rights as their main objective was to “obtain all other reforms, economic, legislative and social as are necessary to secure a real equality of liberties, status and opportunities between men and women.” On the women’s rights front, they sought to encourage and educate women on their new found rights and how to make the most out of their new influence. They were also committed to advocate the opening of professions and the civil service as mandated by the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act and defend the rights of married women to employment.

F03DMAST.TIF.rescan

The NUSEC did all these by publishing several pamphlets guiding women through the registration process and how to vote. They also lent their support to women’s groups campaigning for a host of issues ranging from family to education and employment. During the 1920s, more women entered the workforce which led to the rise of organisations for working women.  Crucially, due to the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act of 1919 professions and sectors formerly barred to women were opened up and despite the barriers that existed in defiance of the law, there was no stopping women entering the workforce and professions: hence the establishment of organisations and groups that catered to the latter. Among them were the Women’s Engineering Society (WES), the Electrical Association for Women (EAW), National Union of Women Teachers (NUWT) and Women’s Local Government Society (WLGS) which provided a platform for professional women to campaign on issues affecting their sector and a woman’s place in it. Other organisations provided more practical support with the most notable example being the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) which ran hostels and leisure facilities for the benefit of working women, many of them living far away from home and needing a place to live.

Another way by which women were making their voices heard was through the power of mass media. Following the end of the war, the press developed a schizophrenic attitude towards women, women’s issues and women’s rights. While they (especially the popular and tabloid press) made much of the panic regarding “surplus women” and some took a conservative stance on a woman’s place in society; the same papers however began to integrate more women into its political discourse, highlighting the strides made by women in the political process and praised the election of women to Parliament. Newspapers such as the Daily Mail employed prominent women like the former suffragist Ray Strachey to become one of its columnists writing on a wide variety of political and social issues.

Even with the continued idealisation of women as wives and mothers, this idealism took on a new dimension of seeing housewives both as citizens and consumers whose day to day living could be impacted by government policy and in turn could help affect change. Side by side with this conservative message was the celebration of female “pioneers” with the likes of Nancy Astor, the first woman to take her seat as a Member of Parliament; Margaret Bondfield, the first woman Privy Counsellor; Amy Johnson, celebrated for her exploits as an aviator as well as a host of firsts in medicine, law, sports among others. As Cheryl Law wrote, the press gave a considerable amount of attention and coverage to “women who had achieved prominence in any sphere previously confined to men (who) were assisting in the emancipation process by virtue of the visibility of their success.”

The most visible voice came from the women who were elected to the House of Commons from 1919 onwards. Nancy Astor was elected to the seat vacated by her husband who had to leave the Commons following his elevation to the House of Lords. Although she was on the fence with regards to the women’s suffrage question before the war, following her election to Parliament, Astor took the issue of equal suffrage with dedication while her husband led the campaign from the Lords. She was also dedicated to issues affecting women and children as well as lending her support for women’s groups such as the EAW and YWCA.

Nancy Astor

Astor was followed into Parliament by other women such as the former suffragist Ellen Wilkinson, ex-Women’s Freedom League member Margaret Wintringham and former trade unionist Margaret Bondfield as well as aristocratic women like the Duchess of Atholl and Lady Cynthia Mosley (nee Curzon). While women MPs struggled to be taken seriously and were generally expected to confine their advocacy on women’s issues, they were instrumental in introducing and seeing through legislation that would have an impact on everyone, not just women.

Apart from their support of women MPs regardless of party affiliation, the NUSEC continued their non-party stance by cultivating allies within the political establishment especially sympathetic MPs and peers in their efforts to guide legislation through Parliament. In February 1920, Thomas Grundy a Labour MP introduced a bill that would lower the voting age of women to 21. Although it passed on its second reading, the bill failed as the government cited constitutional procedure which meant that if the bill became law, it would be forced to call for another General Election. Two years later Lord Robert Cecil, one of the prime supporters of women’s suffrage before the First World War, carried on the fight for equal suffrage. After Grundy’s bill failed, Cecil introduced another one in 1922 and although it was voted by a majority of 208 to 60, it suffered the same fate as Grundy’s attempt; but women’s groups saw that this was a positive step towards realising the goal for equal suffrage.

 

How the vote was finally won

The fight for equal suffrage did not have the same drama and personalities as the pre-war suffrage campaign. There was no heckling, no terrorism campaign, no publicity stunts and no great pilgrimages. As Brian Harrison observed, “[n]ow that the franchise attached to persons rather than to property, equalising it presented fewer tactical and strategic differences, and prudent suffragist leadership ensured that between 1916 and 1928, feminist self-sabotage no longer materialised.”

The suffragettes were conspicuously absent in the equal suffrage campaign which is not surprising as the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) disbanded during the First World War and both Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst lost interest in the suffrage campaign. Other suffragettes “retired” from the suffrage movement with some resurfacing in the 1930s by joining the British Union of Fascists (BUF) and becoming Fascist and Nazi sympathisers: such as Norah Dacre Fox (later Elam) and  Mary Richardson (who slashed the Rokeby Venus at the National Gallery). On the surface, as Simon Webb mused, it was a paradox that these women were attracted to a movement that was fairly hostile to female equality and rights, however on closer inspection, it wasn’t. As Lady Pethick-Lawrence (a former suffragette who was ousted from the WSPU after questioning the validity of militancy) observed, the WSPU was no different to the fascist movements and parties that gained power in Italy, Spain, Germany and other countries in central and Eastern Europe.

A few suffragettes carried on the fight by standing for political office or joining the organisations mentioned above as well as joining forces with the NUESC and the WFL. Although there were protest marches calling for the government to lower the voting age, they were few and far in between. Nancy Astor managed to persuade Lady Rhondda to reconsider her plans to fund and organise demonstrations as she wrote reassuringly, “the Government are certain to give equal suffrage without this.” To fellow MP, Eleanor Rathbone, Astor wrote of her fears that demonstrations would do more harm than good to the fight for equal suffrage by implying that politicians who supported the measure would not keep their word: “I am sure this is the wrong line to take, and it is for this reason that I am myself keeping very quiet on this question.”

The campaigners resorted to peaceful means such as speeches, petitions and meetings in order to keep the issue at the forefront of political discourse and persuade ordinary people and the establishment of the merits of equal suffrage. They pointed out several legal inconsistencies: for instance with the Parliament (Qualification of Women) Act 1918 with gave women over the age of 21 the right to stand for Parliament and become MPs but then women under the age of 30 could not vote. In 1926, the NUESC organised a demonstration in London where several women’s groups together with a contingent of women parliamentary candidates, mayors, councillors and magistrates joined in together with those representing working women and professionals. It was a remarkable event as it was one of the rare occasions when Millicent Garrett Fawcett, Emmeline Pankhurst and Charlotte Despard were together lending their support for the equal suffrage campaign. In speeches, women leaders also decried more legal inconsistencies such as for instance setting the age of consent for women at 16 who were still unable to vote at the age of 21 when that was set as the legal age for adulthood. Fawcett echoed this in a speech by also pointing out that Britain was the only country that discriminated against young women, there was already equal suffrage in the white Dominions and the United States in 1918 already gave its women the right to vote on equal terms with its men. She also pointed out that the young had something to contribute and had a stake in how the country was being governed as she added: “[t]hey will grow old quickly enough; but let us benefit from their youth as long as it lasts for helping on the right solution of the great problems that lie before us.”

nuwt_g_2_4

The 1926 march had the desired effect: although Labour was the only political party that explicitly had equal suffrage in its manifesto, its leader Ramsay Macdonald was in reality lukewarm to the issue of women’s suffrage while some of its members and the trade unions had always been hostile to women’s suffrage and women’s rights. Stanley Baldwin on the other hand together with Conservatives had many members who were sympathetic and were active campaigners for the extension of the franchise. When Baldwin won a majority in 1924, one of his pledges was to lower the voting age for women and the campaigners wanted to ensure that he kept his promise.

In 1927, Baldwin agreed to introduce a bill lowering the voting age for women to 21 and on equal terms with men. Although there was no mention of equal suffrage in the King’s Speech on 7 February 1928, the Prime Minister sprang a surprise by reaffirming that evening that a Franchise Bill would be introduced and true to his word, the Representation of the People (Equal Franchise) Bill was introduced less than a month later. The bill finally passed on its second reading on 29 March with a vote of 377 ayes and 10 noes with 218 abstaining. The act finally received royal assent on 2 July 1928 which finally meant that women had achieved electoral parity with the men.

It had taken Britain ten years to achieve what other countries had done following the end of the Great War. Which then begs the question, why did it take so long (although not as long as the pre-war suffrage campaign)? Apart from the stubborn institutional bias against women there were also big issues that dominated post-war Britain. From the national debt, chronic unemployment and industrial decline the country had a lot on its plate and equal suffrage was never high on the government’s priorities. It is only with the patience and perseverance of the campaigners and their supporters in both houses of Parliament that it was finally realised.

Secondly, why was there no resumption of militancy? As mentioned earlier, the WSPU had disbanded during the war and never really recovered. Recent research has also cast doubt on how effective militancy was. As shown by the pre-war suffragists and the greater role played by women during the war, patient campaigning and doing their part for the war effort had demonstrated women’s capabilities far more than militancy ever did. Crucially, women had come a long way since before 1914; women were now MPs while others occupied government posts such as councillors, justices of the peace and magistrates. There were also a greater number of women in the workforce and in professions as well as those blazing the trail in other aspects of public life. Cheryl Law called the equalists “prudent revolutionaries” – women who worked for change by playing the rules of the club (i.e. parliament) and it is through this that women finally had the vote on equal terms with the men at last.

 

Further Reading:

Pat Thane. ‘The Impact of Mass Democracy on British Political Culture, 1918-1939’ in Julie V. Gottlieb and Richard Toye (eds) The Aftermath of Suffrage: Women, Gender and Politics in Britain 1918-1945 (Basingstoke, 2013), pp. 54-69.

Adrian Bingham. ‘Enfranchisement, Feminism and the Modern Woman: Debates in the British Popular press, 1918-1939’ in Julie V. Gottlieb and Richard Toye (eds) The Aftermath of Suffrage: Women, Gender and Politics in Britain 1918-1945 (Basingstoke, 2013), pp. 87-104

David Rubinstein. A Different World for Women: The Life of Millicent Garrett Fawcett (London, 1991)

Brian Harrison. ‘Women’s Suffrage at Westmister 1866-1928’ in Michael Bentley and John Stevenson (eds) High and Low Politics in Modern Britain (Oxford, 1983), pp. 80-122.

Cheryl Law. Suffrage and Power (London: I.B. Tauris, 1997)

Martin Pugh. Women and the Women’s Movement in Britain 1914-1959 (London, 1992)

Simon Webb. Suffragette Bombers: Britain’s Forgotten Terrorists (Barnsley, 2014)

Advertisements

Film Review: They Shall Not Grow Old

Several of our enduring images of the First World War come courtesy of film footage: which is not surprising as the Great War was the first conflict that was captured in moving images. The Battle of the Somme, which was released in 1916, is considered to be the first war movie and had a massive impact on the British public when it was shown in cinemas, and for the first time brought the horrors of war home.

More than a hundred years now, we see the films – silent, jerky and in black and white – then wonder what it would be like if it was coloured or to learn what were the soldiers saying. Thanks to the wonders of today’s technology, the award winning director Peter Jackson has just done exactly that, and had produced a very moving film based on material held in the archives of the Imperial War Museum.

They shall not grow old

Produced in cooperation with 14-18 NOW and BBC Films, They Shall Not Grow Old contains much never seen before footage taken during the First World War. Instead of various historians, commentators and academics as talking heads, we get war veterans guiding us through the film which makes it powerful and compelling as we are watching it through their eyes. The commentary ranges from optimism when war was declared, with many men viewing enlistment and being sent to the front as a relief from unemployment or their boring jobs back home. As these eager soldiers are finally sent to France, the amazement and wonder is palpable in their voices given that the vast majority of those who served in the war had never left their hometown or village, let alone visit London or travelled abroad.

The film starts out in black and white but as the men are marching towards the trenches, the black and white fades away and the images are in full colour; which makes these men and what they are experiencing somehow real to us, as if we are in the trenches with them as well as encountering the devastation before our very eyes. Thanks to professional lip readers, we see a soldier shout “Hi Mum!” while waving at the camera while in another scene, we hear an officer shout “fix bayonets!” as his troops are getting ready to go over the top. There’s also the boom of the huge guns and hearing them gives one an idea of what it was like in the front during the heat of the battle.

One interesting fact I learned from this film is how many of the soldiers who died at the front did so not because of being killed in battle or due to their wounds but because of mud. Bad weather made the trenches unbearable. Apart from the dangers of frostbite and trench feet, water and flooding resulted into mud which was made worse by the rain. The mud became so thick that many soldiers who became stuck perished.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. The trench also became a sort of community with one soldier musing that if there was no fighting, the trenches were a fun place to be – there was kindness; sharing; bonding over jokes, music, stories and sports. Down time was also an opportunity to get to know their enemy and for the vast majority of the troops, this was their first encounter with a German and the overall feeling was one of sympathy as well as learning about the nuances of German regional identity.

They shall not grow old 2

They shall not grow old 3

They shall not grow old 4

As the war went on, it’s clear to the soldiers that not only has their initial romantic notion of war gone but also the death and destruction on an unprecedented scale demonstrated in the words of one soldier, that the “veneer of civilisation has dropped away.” By the time 1918 rolled along it was obvious that the troops were exhausted; so much so that when the Armistice was signed on the 11th of November, there wasn’t as much rejoicing as relief that it was over.

Disappointment and disillusionment was palpable when the troops went home and were demobilised. Despite the promise of a “land fit for heroes,” many veterans struggled to find employment and readjust to civilian life; they certainly struggled to relate to people back home no matter how well meaning. As one veteran puts it, he and his fellow soldiers were “a race apart” what they saw and experienced were something that a great many people did not and could never understand.

The First World War to us is now a distant memory but with They Shall Not Grow Old, briefly makes history come alive in an informative, meaningful and deeply moving way.

 

Note: Screen caps from They Shall Not Grow Old taken by blogger.

 

The Armistice and Remembrance 100 years on

100 years ago today the guns fell silent on the world’s first truly global war.

This was the war that gave us annual commemorations and war memorials around the world, a marked grave for every soldier, the wearing of the poppy and millions of people killed and maimed; and was a war so terrible that no family in Britain remained untouched. This year the festival of remembrance is especially poignant as it falls on the day that is the centenary of the Armistice.

Even after 100 years and four years of remembrance, we struggle to comprehend the numbers.  It’s said every Remembrance Sunday that if all the British and Empire dead walked four abreast past the Cenotaph it would take three and a half days for them all to pass. We can make no sense of such numbers.

These men and women were not conscripts; for since the 17th century Britain has always been mistrustful of a standing army, deeming it to be the weapon of foreign tyrants. They enlisted voluntarily and gladly – soldiers, sailors, airmen, nurses, stretcher bearers, pioneers, ambulance drivers – because they believed that fighting to defend their country was, in the hackneyed phrase beloved of certain politicians, the right thing to do. They came from every class and every part of the Empire

Cook’s son – duke’s son – son a belted earl

Son of a Lambeth publican – it’s all the same today!

What Kipling wrote of the army that went to South Africa in 1899 was even truer in 1914-1918. What I believe we struggle with, having the benefit of hindsight in a much more cynical age, is how the British men and women of 100 years ago were prepared to suffer struggle and sacrifice and death on such a monumental scale, yet it is clear from historical records that although they enlisted for many and complex reasons, the people of 1914 believed that what they were doing had to be done, and that they were the people to step up and do it. In the words of historian Gary Sheffield

The country in 1914 was a democracy, albeit an incomplete one, governed on liberal principles. For such a state to wage a total war, involving not just the armed forces but the whole of society, the consent of the masses was essential. By and large, in First World War Britain, that consent was given.

Near my home there is a war memorial, as there is in so many towns – it stands outside the hospital that that bears its’ name. The names are weathered and faded, and the men it remembers – a lot of them – are overwhelmingly the ordinary men who were soldiers for the duration. ‘Private,’ ‘private’, ‘private,’ ‘corporal’  – only occasionally ‘2nd Lieutenant,’ ‘Colonel’ or ‘Sergeant.’ The men who faced the German machine guns at the Somme, floundered through the mud at Passchendaele of climbed the cliffs at Gallipoli were just that – ordinary men – who had no idea that they were performing what their children and grandchildren would think of as something extraordinary and worthy of remembrance; or that at a time when most of them would expect to have been forgotten even by their descendants, we still celebrate their courage and camaraderie. I wonder, as well, what the world would be like if this generation had lived.

DSC08338

The Great War is as distant from us as the battle of Waterloo was for them. Why do we have this deep need to remember every year? Up until the 1990s, remembrance ceremonies (apart from the one at the Cenotaph) barely existed. Two world wars were treated as if they were historical incidents that should be decently brushed under the carpet: then shops and offices started to observe the 2 minute silence at 11am on November 11. It was almost as if some collective decision had been made formally to remember and acknowledge the sacrifices and sufferings of people who, had they not fought in two great wars, would barely be remembered.

One hundred years on, the story of the Great War, especially on the Western Front, continues to grip the imagination and stir up deep emotion. You only have to watch programmes were made with surviving veterans, and see their grief for a lost father, sweetheart or comrade, and their memories of battle: still vivid and poignant after nearly a century.

Personal bonds to those who fought 100 years ago remain strong, and I think that’s why the remembrance of the wars of the 20th century is significant to so many people. Up until 1914, death in war concerned only the families of the soldiers involved. The war of 1914-1918 was almost a mass media war and came to define a culture, with songs, plays, poems, fashions, developments in technology and above all films, photographs and sound. We see them – we hear them – they come very close as they mug and smile for the camera, or wave at the cameraman as they march past. We can see what they experienced and relate it to our own family experience and in some ways the suffering becomes personal – it brings home with great force exactly what great grandad suffered at the Somme, or what great uncle endured at Gallipoli. So we wear the poppy – that humble field flower that grows in profusion where the soldiers fought and fell, and which lasts a day or to, just like those men. The innocence and trust those young men and women placed in the hands of their leaders was totally and tragically misplaced; so I see each act of remembrance as an atonement. We stand in the silence, and we try to comprehend the heart breaking bravery of so many who were, as they saw it, simply doing their duty. We listen to the names tolling like a funeral bell, and read the war memorials, and think not just of the lives cut short but the fatherless children, grieving parents and the thousands of women left with no marriage and a family to raise, often in hardship and poverty. It is right to be moved by the courage while being enraged by the futility.

And perhaps that is why we still choose to remember: the deep sense that by doing so we are making small repayments on a massive debt we can neither ignore nor ever really repay.

Annual remembrance has not always been solemn. In the 1920s many veterans believed that the best way to honour dead comrades was to live life to the full, and according to historian Hew Strachan, the Festival of Remembrance was established in the 1920s so that old soldiers could have a singsong and a drink to celebrate their survival and mourn the dead once the solemnity of the Cenotaph ceremony was over. It was only in the mid-1920s that the orthodoxy for solemnity became established and the parties came to an end.

There is no right way to remember. All that matters is that we do.

 

 

Some thoughts on Weeping Window at the Imperial War Museum

In 2014 to celebrate the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War, the Tower of London played host to an installation entitled Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red which comprised of nearly 900,000 red ceramic poppies each representing a British and colonial soldier who died while serving at the front. Conceived by artist Paul Cummins and designer Tom Piper, the installation attracted some 5 million visitors during its three month run.

Over the next three years, the installation undertook a nationwide tour and now with the centenary of the Armistice drawing near, the poppies are now currently on display at the Imperial War Museum in London under the name Weeping Window, where a cascade of poppies can be seen pouring from above to down below. I went to view the installation over this weekend and I have to say that time has not lessened their impact.

As the centenary of the First World War draws to a close, the poppies recall not only the sacrifice of those who fought, both men and women, but those they left behind; whose sacrifice was not blood and pain but tears of grief and pain for loved ones and lives changed forever.

 

Weeping Window is currently on at the Imperial War Museum London until 18 November 2018. For more information please visit: https://www.iwm.org.uk/events/poppies-weeping-window

https://www.1418now.org.uk/commissions/poppies-weeping-window-iwm-london/

The blogger visited the installation on 20 October 2018. Photos were taken by blogger.

Exhibition Review – Fashioned from Nature (V&A) and Voice & Vote (Palace of Westminster)

The natural world has always inspired fashion through patterns, prints and design as well as being a source of materials used to make clothes and accessories. Nature is an enduring theme and one that has never fallen out of fashion due to its timelessness and universality.

The V&A’s current exhibition Fashioned from Nature looks at how the natural world has influenced fashion and been a source of material for the production of clothes from the 17th century until the present – the downstairs gallery focusing on both these aspects. For centuries the demand for materials such as wool, fur and bone stimulated both domestic and foreign trade. Several places in Europe became famous for a particular product: such as England for its wool, Italy for silk and France and present day Belgium for lace. From the 17th century onwards, the establishment of global trade links and the acquisition of colonies outside Europe resulted in the introduction of materials and fabric such as cotton, pineapple fibre as well as the skins from animals such as the crocodile. The later development of faster means of transportation and production meant that such materials became more widely available and cheaper.

 

Another main aspect of the exhibition is with regards to the influence of nature in fashion design, with the enduring popularity of floral prints and embroidery seen in extant pieces and fabric swatches from the 17th and 18th centuries to the present day. Flowers were also popular as accessories such as hair ornaments and corsages pinned to dresses and gowns, and technological advances during the 19th century meant that the use of artificial flowers became widespread. This was especially the case for weddings where orange blossoms made of wax were a common alternative to the real thing.

Global trade and exposure also meant that materials could be sourced from abroad, whether it was new materials or as a way to top up or replace European stock. This was particularly true with fur and feathers: for instance the North American beaver was highly sought after the decline in numbers of the same animal in Europe. Exotic birds from the Americas, Asia and Africa also provided the feathers used to trim hats, fans, gowns and coats, which unsurprisingly led to issues around the environment cost and questions about the ethics of such a trade to satisfy demand for more and more fur and feathers in the name of fashion.

 

This brings me to the one major issue I have with this exhibition. While it was relevant to highlight the cost of fashion to the environment and wildlife, it is tackled in a heavy handed and patronising way. The sections dealing with how industrialisation and growing demand led to greater awareness in the late 19th and early 20th centuries is treated in a much more backhanded manner with the implication that industrialisation was a bad thing over all. However those that deal with the present can’t resist beating the visitors over the head with shrill pronouncements about fast fashion being bad for the environment and workers’ rights in the developing world. I detect a sense of snobbery here as the exhibition’s interpretation puts the blame on the poor and those who cannot afford designer and sustainable fashion for any current environmental problems the planet is facing thanks to the rise of disposable fashion.

Overall the exhibition has a lot of offer in terms of content and information however I wish there was more about the work of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB), as they demonstrated how patient campaigning, royal patronage and generating awareness led to the egret’s numbers recovering after they were hunted to near extinction for their feathers. What was the big let-down in the end was the exhibition failing to ask and explore that all important question – shouldn’t the fashion industry and its allied sectors put its own house in order first before presuming to lecture the public on the negative impact of fashion on the environment?

 

oooOOOooo

As we continue to commemorate the centenary of the Representation of the People Act of 1918 which gave women over 30 the right to vote, the Palace of Westminster has decided to mount its own exhibition about the tumultuous road that led to female suffrage. Westminster’s offering however goes one step further as the exhibition also delves into the 90 years since women were able to vote on equal terms with men and the 99 years since the first woman took her seat as a Member of Parliament.

wow-london3

Entitled Voice and Vote, the exhibition charts the history of the history of female suffrage and female participation in a chronological manner. Before the 19th century, not only were women barred from voting, they were even forbidden from entering the Houses of Parliament. After the Napoleonic Wars, a group of women managed to find a way to enter the building, watch and listen to the debates from the ventilator; this also coincided with calls for social reform and women were at the forefront of many of these campaigns which ranged from prison reform, abolition of slavery, improvement of working conditions among others.

When the Palace of Westminster was rebuilt following the 1834 fire, a Ladies’ Gallery was added so that women especially female relations of MPs could watch and follow the debates. However, heavy metal grilles were placed over the windows which obstructed the view and made the gallery hot and uncomfortable. One woman likened the Ladies’ Gallery to an eastern harem where women were literally shut up, out of sight out of mind; and eventually it became known as the “Cage” and yet another symbol of women’s lack of political and social rights.

The next two sections dealt with the struggle for women’s suffrage and while there was too much emphasis on Emmeline Pankhurst and the suffragettes on what should have been a more balanced view that included the suffragists (many of them men), it was fitting that this exhibition highlighted the stunt pulled by the Women’s Freedom League (WFL) where one of their members chained herself to the grille in the Ladies’ Gallery, not only to submit a petition to grant women the right to vote but also to point out the hated symbolism behind the grille.

Women over 30 were finally given the right to vote in 1918 and the following year saw the election of Nancy Astor to Parliament. She was quickly allocated a space which proved to be inadequate as more women were elected as MPs and yet again highlighted that Parliament was still very much a male dominated institution. Despite the fact that women could stand for the Commons, the House of Lords was still barred to them and Viscountess Rhondda, who had inherited her father’s title, led the campaign to open the upper house to women. This was finally realised with the Life Peerages Act in 1958 while female hereditaries could take their seat from 1963.

The exhibition was on display at St Stephen’s Hall and given that the hall was undergoing repair and conservation work might account for the small space allocated – which is a shame as I believe that using the whole area would have demonstrated what major strides women had made in public life and cementing their place in history.  It may be slightly fanciful to suggest that the exhibition, by being shoved into a corner of a great public building, is symbolic in itself of the fight that women had and in many ways still do have to be taken seriously in the wider public sphere – it’s impossible to imagine new male MPs being designated as ‘Blair’s Babes’ or ‘Cameron’s Cuties’ in the trivialising and patronising way that female MPs have been. Despite the small space however they were able to recreate what it would have been like peering through the ventilator or the Ladies’ Gallery; and objects from the Parliamentary Archives and loans from other collections were able to bring to life key events in the struggle for the right to vote and participate in political life.

At present, women have occupied many of the highest political positions from being Speaker of the House of Commons to the Premiership. One leaves the exhibition thinking that women have come a long way but more needs to be done. A journalist once remarked that women would have true equality with men when they didn’t have to be at least as twice as good as men in any job to be taken seriously, and the rise to positions of power and influence of mediocre and untalented women was as taken for granted and unquestioned as that of their mediocre and untalented male counterparts. Looking around the current crop of female politicians perhaps women have achieved that true equality: no-one is really remarkable and some are outright mediocre or nonentities. No different to the vast majority of men after all.

 

 

The bloggers visited both exhibitions on 1 September 2018. Photos were taken by blogger

Fashioned from Nature is currently on at the V&A (London) until 27 January 2019. For more information, please visit this link: https://www.vam.ac.uk/exhibitions/fashioned-from-nature

Voice and Vote: Women’s Place in Parliament is on at Westminster Hall (Palace of Westminster) until 6 October 2018. For more information, please visit: https://www.parliament.uk/get-involved/vote-100/voice-and-vote/

Book Review – The Husband Hunters by Anne de Courcy

In 1883, Alva Vanderbilt, tired of the snubs from New York society, carefully planned a ball that would finally throw open the doors of the “400” to her and her husband William Kissam Vanderbilt. She decided on a costume ball, a type of event that had not been held for years, and her guest of honour would be her dear friend, Consuelo Drogo Montagu Viscountess Mandeville and future Duchess of Manchester. The viscountess was born Consuelo Yznaga, and Alva had known her since they were children growing up in the South during the heady days before the Civil War would shatter the world they knew.

For weeks people talked about nothing but the ball and it emerged that the doyenne of New York society Mrs William Backhouse (Caroline) Astor was not invited. The reason for this is because the two women had not been formally introduced and etiquette dictated that the more senior woman would call on her junior counterpart first then a reciprocal call would follow. After learning that her granddaughter was eager to be invited and had been hard at work on her dancing lessons, Mrs Astor made the first move followed by Mrs Vanderbilt and sure enough, an invitation to the ball appeared.

The farce above demonstrated how far the likes of Alva Vanderbilt were prepared to go to break into society, and having Mrs Astor call on her was a social triumph. But for the ambitious Alva, that wasn’t enough. She also began grooming her daughter Consuelo for a grand match: and that meant following in the footsteps of her godmother Lady Mandeville who finally became Duchess of Manchester in 1890.

51WSsMsfp5L._SX323_BO1,204,203,200_

Alva’s machinations are one of the many case studies chronicled by Anne de Courcy in her latest book, The Husband Hunters. Subtitled Social Climbing in London and New York, not only does it deal with the well-trodden path of analysing and chronicling the numerous American heiresses who traded dollars for a title and status, but also how their parents – especially the mothers – made it their life’s mission to break into the upper echelons of American and above all New York society.

By the 1870s America was experiencing an economic boom made possible by the end of the Civil War, industrialisation and population movement to the west in search of better work prospects especially in farming, mining, herding and railways among others. Many people rose from grinding poverty to wealth beyond their wildest dreams and soon began to acquire the trappings of wealth – mansions, yachts, trips abroad, jewellery, clothes, works of art and ostentatious entertaining. It was the period of the Gilded Age where luxury, vulgarity and ostentation were watchwords.

The old rich in places such as Boston, Philadelphia and especially New York City looked on these nouveau riche arrivistes in horror. To the old guard, wealth was not to be flaunted and should be balanced by good works and serving as a pillar to the community, but these newbies believed that social acceptance could be bought if the price was right, and de Courcy describes how this was all done.

New York society was especially difficult to penetrate and even more so under Caroline Astor, its self-styled doyenne. She was aided by Ward McAllister, a journalist who became her confidant and assisted her with planning her parties and balls. Through his journalism, he penned articles advising on behaviour, etiquette, dress and deportment but today he is best remembered for coining the myth of the “400” as a reference to the number of people who could fit into Mrs Astor’s famous ballroom and which became a byword for exclusivity. It became the goal for many a pushy social climber to break into its ranks because to be invited by Mrs Astor signalled social acceptance.

One roundabout way to secure that all important invitation was to marry off a daughter to an impoverished European aristocrat. The British were preferred –  not only because of a common language but also due to the exclusivity of British titles. Thanks to primogeniture the pool of titled men (both for the peerage and baronetage) was smaller than their continental counterparts and to aristocrats in need of money the nouveau was less important than the riche. And this is precisely what happened: from the 1870s to 1910, a large percentage of the peerage married American heiresses and not even Mrs Astor would dream of snubbing a titled aristocrat and his American heiress wife.

De Courcy makes a convincing case for the appeal of the American heiress to cash-poor peers. Not only were they treated equally under American inheritance laws but they were perceived as lacking the airs and graces that were the hallmark of aristocratic society. Thanks to their father’s money, they had the best money could buy in terms of clothes, jewels and experience. Many of them were also well educated and well-travelled thus being more sophisticated, confident and more at ease in conversing with people. Others had quirks and traits that allowed them to break down social barriers such as Consuelo Duchess of Manchester who could play the banjo which enlivened many a house party or dinner.

However not all American heiresses were beautiful or sophisticated or intelligent. Looking at some of the photographs in the book, it is hard to believe that they would have turned heads by virtue of their looks. In the end, one can argue (and de Courcy does not shy away from saying) that money was the main deciding factor for these matches. If the heiress was intelligent, beautiful and talented it was seen as a bonus and an asset but these marriages were a straightforward exchange of status and cash. Happiness and compatibility were also not major concerns and unsurprisingly a lot of these transatlantic marriages were unhappy, with some ending in divorce.

While the travails and tribulations of the American heiress turned British aristocrat has been well trodden, De Courcy also trains her eye on their mothers. American society was matriarchal, the men might have made the fortunes that raised the family’s economic status but it was the women who used the money in order to cement the social standing that they believed should go hand in hand with their newfound wealth. The phrase “keeping up with the Joneses” springs to mind as the women vied with each other to build bigger houses; acquire jewellery, works of art and paintings; wear the latest fashions and throw the most lavish balls of the season. The men were pretty much reduced to being human cash machines and had virtually no say when it came to family matters even with their daughters’ futures. It’s not surprising that many of these millionaires resorted to escaping from their own marriages metaphorically and literally.

The fierce competition and relentless ambition became too much but as the 1890s rolled along, the criticism became much more strident and as the United States became embroiled in an economic recession, the conspicuous consumption of these Gilded Age personalities left a bitter taste in the mouth. By the beginning of the twentieth century there was a backlash against these transatlantic marriages and as America increasingly began to play a role in international affairs, more and more people began to realise that they didn’t need aristocratic marriages for social validation.

De Courcy charts the rise and fall of the transatlantic marriage and social climbing phenomenon in thorough detail. In the end while the money the American heiresses brought into their marriages did save many a crumbling estate and some were the mothers to figures who made an impact in our history, in the long run their presence did not arrest the decline and fall of the British aristocracy. Instead they served as sticking plasters, delaying the inevitable but nonetheless nothing more than a short-lived social phenomenon.

Exhibition Review – Sir Richard Wallace: The Collector (The Wallace Collection)

In 1870, Richard Wallace (1818-1890) received a windfall from his employer the 4th Marquess of Hertford which comprised an art collection consisting of Old Master paintings, 17th and 18th century furniture, snuff boxes and perhaps the second largest assembly of Sevres porcelain in Britain (all in addition to homes in Britain and France as well as land in Britain). Ostensibly the inheritance was a reward for the services Wallace had performed for the 4th Marquess as his private secretary and art advisor, but the long standing belief was that Wallace was the illegitimate son of the 4th Marquess by a mistress, Agnes Wallace Jackson.

RW_1024x1024

Since the 4th Marquess of Hertford never married and had no legitimate children, the title and the estate passed to a nephew: however as his art collection was his private property, the 4th Marquess decided to bequeath it to Richard Wallace. The inheritance would be the bedrock of the Wallace Collection and it is fitting that the museum has decided to mark the bicentenary of its founder’s birth with an exhibition looking at Wallace’s life and interests through the objects he collected.

During his lifetime, Wallace was well known as a philanthropist – known for his work for the poor both in Britain and France as well as being an art collector. His philanthropy and collecting came together as he was a generous lender of objects from his collection to museums and art galleries and he gave money to enable museums to purchase works of art. In 1872 – by then Sir Richard Wallace – he arranged for a loan of his collection to the Bethnal Green Museum (now the V&A Museum of Childhood) with the stipulation that no admission charge would be levied. The exhibition ran until 1875 and by the time it had closed some 2.3 million people had visited.

On Wallace’s death in 1890 he left everything to his widow Lady Wallace (their only son Edmond having predeceased his parents). In 1897, Lady Wallace died and she left her husband’s art collection, papers and Hertford House to the nation on the condition that admission would be free (much like Wallace’s stipulation to the loan to Bethnal Green Museum). The Wallace Collection finally opened to the public in 1900 and since then has become well known for its stupendous collection of Dutch and British paintings, French porcelain and furniture, arms and armour.

To celebrate the bicentenary of its founder, the Wallace Collection has put up an exhibition simply entitled Sir Richard Wallace: The Collector. Featuring archival material from the collection’s files that charts key events in Wallace’s life; such as the codicil in the 4th Marquess’s will where he bequeaths his private property to Wallace, receipts that showed how much Wallace was prepared to spend to add to his collection and a catalogue for the Bethnal Green Museum exhibition.

The main highlights of the exhibition of course are the featured objects that demonstrate what kind of a collector Richard Wallace was and his main interests. Unlike the 4th Marquess who collected Old Master paintings and 18th century French porcelain, Wallace’s tastes ran more to Medieval and Renaissance decorative art, arms and armour and non-Western art. He was also particularly drawn to objects that had an interesting provenance or story behind them.

What stood out in the exhibition for me were objects that had royal provenance: such as a dagger than belonged to King Henry IV of France which was presented to him as a wedding gift (and later carried by the Emperor Napoleon as a talisman), and a pair of jewelled cups that were made for the Qianlong Emperor for the annual New Year rites. I can imagine that what attracted Wallace to acquire both was not only the craftsmanship and attention to detail that was very evident but also the fact that both were owned by monarchs and had an interesting story behind them.

 

 

The story behind an object would have most likely been a motivation for the acquisition of the Horn of St Hubert, which as tradition dictated was used by the saint while out hunting when he encountered the stag with the cross between its antlers. For many, many years it was displayed at Chauvirey-le-Châtel until the 1870s, when it was sold to Richard Wallace who paid 16,000 francs for it.

DSC09782

As knowledgeable as Richard Wallace was about art and although he took great care with his purchases, he was not immune to purchasing fakes and reconstituted pieces. Some of the Renaissance jewellery that he acquired were not made in the 16th century as advertised but were very clever 19th century copies or outright forgeries, but such was the craftsmanship that they quickly became works of art in their own right. Another example was a silver gilt basin that was made in Portugal in the 16th century but someone later added the coat of arms of Pope Pius IV (1499-1565) in order to increase its value and fabricate an important provenance on a well-made but obscure piece.

DSC09779

The exhibition is small but perfectly formed and does shine a spotlight on Richard Wallace which enables the visitor to get to know more about the man behind the collector and philanthropist. Despite the fact that his collecting slowed down in the 1880s due to being affected by the agricultural depression, Wallace remained committed to ensuring that his collection was accessible to the general public and this was finally realised in 1897 when Hertford House and its contents were given to the nation, an act of generosity which was described by a fellow collector and rival, Ferdinand de Rothschild as a “windfall…..[whose] artistic value is inestimable” and to this day it remains a jewel among Britain’s museums.

 

Sir Richard Wallace: The Collector is on at the Wallace Collection from 20 June 2018 to 6 January 2019. Admission is free and for more information, please visit https://www.wallacecollection.org/whats-on/sir-richard-wallace-the-collector-3/

The blogger visited the exhibition on 31 July 2018, photos also taken by blogger