Queen Elizabeth the 1st and my invisible brother

I have a brother who lives in Canada. I don’t see him often but we get on well. We Skype now and then, although we never speak of anything serious- just put on silly voices, and hold up messages - childish swear words and insults scrawled on paper. The last time I saw him was particularly amusing as we fell into default teenage behaviour- stealing food from each others plates, taunting each other mercilessly, and playing practical jokes- much to the shock of our parents and to the bemusement of my brother’s kids.

However, for some reason I don’t tend to talk about him…not as much as I talk about my sister, who lives around the corner and is part of my day-to-day life. Sometimes when I mention my brother people say ‘You don’t have a brother!’… ‘I do!’ I say ‘He lives in Canada.’ Once, when I said that, someone replied: ‘Oh, yes…your invisible brother. ’No’, I said,  ‘He’s a real and important brother.’

And so it is with Queen Elizabeth the 1st in my play Edith, Elizabeth and I. She is a real and important part of the story, although you wouldn’t know it yet as I have failed to talk about her in any of my blogs.

Edith Sitwell wrote two biographies of Elizabeth the 1st- Fanfare for Elizabeth (1946) and The Queens and the Hive (1962). Edith always insisted that these, as well as her other non- fiction and prose work, were just written to make money, as her real work was poetry. However, when published these books were extremely successful, as were English Eccentrics (1933) and Victoria of England (1936).

In her earlier life Edith had said, after attending Winchester Historical Pageant (1908) ‘Queen Elizabeth didn’t come into it, which was such a boon. I am tired of the good lady, and I don’t care about her gowns.’ Although, she later clearly felt an -affinity with Elizabeth, and grew to resemble her, particularly in her later style of dress.

Edith told her secretary Elizabeth Slater- ‘I am a Virgo, I was born on the seventh day of September, on the same day of the year and at the same hour as Queen Elizabeth the First.’ In fact, whilst writing The Queens and the Hive, an astrologer prepared a detailed comparison of their charts. She suggested that both mentally and emotionally Edith was like the Queen, except that Edith was more creative and Elizabeth was more in touch with the common people! Along with ghosts I don’t really believe in re-incarnation and, getting to know Edith, I’m not entirely convinced that she would have talked about being Elizabeth in a past life without a twinkle in her eye and a tiny hint of a wry smile on her lips. And I hope she would have laughed at Barry Humphries reference to this when he (as Dame Edna Everage) opened a Horticultural show at Weston Hall, announcing:    

‘As for me, I’m no ordinary mother and wife

I was Dame Sitwell in a previous life.’

(See Richard Greene- Avant Garde Poet, English Genius- PG 435)

The interesting thing about Edith’s relationship to Elizabeth, for me and in terms of the play, is that Edith’s portrayal of Elizabeth reflect aspects of her own life and her perception of herself; from descriptions of being incarcerated, the fact her father didn’t want a girl, even down to physical descriptions …’That ugly face full of fire, so full of intellectual power and wisdom and vanity, and the exquisite and sensitive hands… (Edith always said that the only beautiful thing about herself were her hands!). This all highlights one of my main themes: How we tell other peoples stories and how our own lives get involved in the telling.

Another fascination and connection for me is that Edith and Elizabeth never married or had families. Edith said of Elizabeth, ‘This strange contradiction of a woman whose life, seen from one aspect, was barren, seen from another, infinitely fertile, was consistent only in her greatness.’ (English Women- Edith Sitwell -1942) They are both strong unconventional female role models, known for their intelligence, individualism and…lets face it really good noses. So why not put them on a stage together and see what happens?

So, I’ve put the record straight both Elizabeth the First and my invisible brother are very much real and have a place in my world. Obviously, only one is alive and kicking, and I think I should get onto Skype (dressed as a re-incarnation of Edith, Elizabeth or Barry Humphries?) and let him know that his invisible sister is thinking of him.

To the Manor Born

Whilst up North, during the Easter break, I had a ‘girl’s day out’ with my mum to Renishaw Hall in North Derbyshire. Edith lived there for much of her childhood as well as spending time at Woodend in Scarborough. The Sitwell family have lived at Renishaw for nearly 400 years, and it is currently owned by Alexandra Sitwell, daughter of the late Sir Reresby and Lady Sitwell.

Renishaw has one of those sweeping drives that now cuts through a golf course and as you wind up the hill, the Hall gradually reveals itself.

It wasn’t nearly as grim as I thought it would be. From photos and accounts I had expected something a bit more gothic and brooding, but it was palatably so, and the site is softened with the converted stable block with tearooms, a gift shop and museum.

The beginning of April, but still freezing and nothing visibly in bloom, but Mum and I (knowing that there was tea and cake just around the corner) battled on. The gardens were designed by Sir George Sitwell, (Edith’s father) and developed between 1886 and 1936. Statues, imposing hedges, fountains, woodland, a lake (you know the score), and also some alluring names for the different areas; the ‘Stone Tank garden’, the ‘Wilderness’ and the obligatory ‘Secret garden’.

It is a hard not to look at this place and just write Edith off as someone who came from a very priveleged background, and easy to imagine, as my Mum said, how much fun it would’ve been to grow up there. But she was remembering my upbringing, running around our garden barefoot in summer months with small tribes of siblings and friends, making dens and putting on plays. Edith and her brothers may have had all this space but not the freedom to enjoy it. And Edith certainly didn’t have the relationship with her parents that I have with mine. As the first born, it was a huge dissappointment that she was a girl (and interestingly she never inherited any of the Sitwell homes, presumably because of this fact).

‘My parents were strangers to me from the moment I was born’, she says in her autobiography ‘Taken Care of’. Sir George spent a lot of time overseeing his gardens from wooden platforms, inventing things (including a small gun to shoot wasps with) and writing books. Titles such as, ‘Lepers’ Squints’,’ Acorns as an Article of Medieval Diet’, ‘The History of the Fork’, and aptly (or perhaps I mean ironically) ‘The Errors of Modern Parents’. Although, it is also easy to reduce him to an eccentric stereotype, and on talking to Renishaw’s archivist - Christine Beevers, this is something she is trying to change by providing a more rounded picture of him.

Edith’s mother (Lady Ida) was a beautiful young socialite who married young, and perhaps inappropriately. She later had a reputation for drinking and gambling, and at one time was tried and imprisoned for fraud. Edith wasn’t conventionally attractive, was fiercely intelligent, played the piano, read poetry, but had interests and ambition that stretched far beyond being a decorative society lady. As a child she was asked- ‘What are you going to be when you grow up?’ And on replying ‘A genius’ she was promptly sent to bed. She desperately wanted to go to university, but was forbidden by her father, as he believed it to be ‘unwomanly’. Her education instead took place with a tutor, whilst the curvature of her spine was corrected by a metal apparatus- ‘fondly’ known as the Bastille.  

It occurred to me, whilst walking with my mother, how different Ida and Edith were from each other and how difficult their relationship must have been.

In the afternoon we went on a tour of the house; my mother held the eager party up by going AWOL to text my dad. She asked a lot of questions, stood in front of an exhibit that the guide was trying to describe, and narrowly missed tripping over an antique sofa. But (to my knowledge) she has never been imprisoned for fraud or ever had problems with drinking or gambling, and more importantly she, like Edith, is fiercely intelligent, funny, always interested and ever supportive of my crackpot schemes. I can gossip with her about clothes men and music, but I can also discuss the latest play at The Globe or have a good debate about an article in the New Scientist.

Standing next to my Mum in one of the darker hallways, with an imposing staircase, I felt lucky… and a little sad for Edith. I re-considered my attitude to the notion of being ‘Privileged’. And I began to understand why, despite being to the ‘Manor born’, she never felt at home here, and why she needed to escape to an entirely different life.

Back on Track

It’s been a long time since I’ve written here, but from now on, it will be hard get rid of me. Which is how I feel about Edith Sitwell. For better or worse, she’s part of my life now.

Since my last blog in September 2012, we’ve had many adventures with Edith, much has happened and much has changed. Firstly, I’m no longer a mild mannered receptionist. I left for a short sojourn in London playing a gloomy eyed barbarian in Roman Britain for Clio’s Company, (pictured below) and had a few auditions, (including an exciting one at the National Theatre for an Alan Bennett play) but without success.

I returned to the wonderful world of temping, this time as a faceless filer, with the decision to work hard and keep my head down. But Edith was still with me, and my secret ‘other’ life, away from endless admin, continued.

We received an invitation from, William Sitwell, great nephew of Edith, and members of Peters, Fraser and Dunlop, the agents of the Estate to talk about copyright issues.

The West London office had uber receptionists, who not only offered coffee but also recommended it highly (note to self: pay attention to this in order to get a better class of temp job in the future). Simon and I were suited and booted, but nervous. This could be the end of it all. But on the contrary: there were apologies for the inconvenience caused, discussion of plans and permission given (within reasonable parameters) to work on the material and cake...really good cake. As if this wasn’t enough, the charming Mr Sitwell then said that, obviously, in terms of research, I would need to visit Weston Hall (a Sitwell home) and see Edith’s books, hats and clothes. 

When we left Simon said that he thought I was going to literally jump out of my chair and kiss everyone with excitement! I didn’t because I am a sensible adult (even if I do spend a lot of my life dressed up!), but instead I floated down the road to our next destination… We were off again…‘Edith, Elizabeth and I’ was back on track.