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.

Where Did You Get That Hat?

Our second meeting with William Sitwell was more informal. Sitting in the kitchen of his office (he works in ‘Food’) drinking tea, eating peanut butter and jelly cheesecake that had just come back from a photo shoot, discussing Edith and various eccentricities of her family and upbringing. (More of this, another time…) On mentioning our plans to raise some money to develop our production through Crowd Funding, William jokingly put in his bid for a cut. When we said he’d be lucky, he rightly pointed out that we had eaten a lot of his cake.

We arrived at our third meeting with him at Weston Hall (Northamptonshire), late, but armed with an abundance of cake. Simon and I had both worked until late the night before, had a typical early Friday morning M25 drive, and would’ve been even later if I hadn’t put my foot down at the last minute.

Nevertheless cake was received gratefully, and the ever charming Mr S proceeded to show us around Weston Hall, which is described as ‘a medium sized, old english manor house’. Edith spent a lot of time here with her youngest brother Sacheverell Sitwell, his wife Georgia, and children Francis Sitwell and Reresby Sitwell. She stayed there during the Second World War, ‘knitting for the troops’ and christening herself the ‘Pullover Queen’. As manor houses go (not that I’m familiar with many) this one is lovely, light and very feminine, which was explained when we found out that since 1714 seven of the nine owners were women.

The best floor of all was the attic. (Attics, I am familiar with. Quite a connoisseur, in fact). Wooden beams, creaking stairs, Victorian doll’s houses and rocking horses. And then a whole room devoted to clothes. Simon and I laughed; it looked like our intended set for ‘Edith, Elizabeth, and I’. But the contents of the clothes rails and hat boxes here weren’t hand me downs from a drama school wardrobe, these were the real McCoy and many had belonged to Edith herself. Heavy dresses of velvet and brocade, tall hats, wide brimmed hats, hats that looked like raffia baskets. I recognised them from photos- but they were even more interesting close up. 

William had to make some calls, so he left us there, and as he went down the stairs, he called up:

‘Try things on if you like’. I stood there with my mouth open, but like lightening Simon rummaged through boxes and rails, passed me hats and gowns, and started snapping away, having his own Cecil Beaton moment.

Whilst at Weston, we also went to Edith’s grave- with a bronze plaque by Henry Moore, and on it, engraved words from one of her own poems, ‘ The Wind of Early Spring’

The past and present are as one-

Accordant and discordant, youth and age,

And death and birth. For out of one came all-

From all comes one.

Looking out over the Northamptonshire countryside, I wondered if Edith was watching over us, and what she would think of this project.

Two days later I received (my first ever) speeding fine, for our last minute dash to this appointment. Perhaps she was watching, and with her sharp and twinkly-eyed humour, decided I should pay for the hat trying on session!