“Have you any plans this morning, Mrs Wylie?”
“Only those thrust upon me by fame and fortune Mrs Travers. I have an urgent request for a piece for ‘The Glasgow Lady’. Apparently they are short of quality literary contributions this month. I cannot think why they have contacted me?”
“Oh, I am sure you can Mrs W?”
“Yes, you are quite right Mrs T. Why is it that we women are so shy about promoting our own abilities?”
“At least yous have triumphed against patrilineal, societal expectations and defied consensus by becoming simply marvellous in a male dominated world.”
“This is true Mrs Travers. Sometimes I find myself saying to myself, as Mr Wylie never listens, Muriel how do you do it?”
“It could be a combination of socio-economic capital, set against a liberal democrat post war consensus, the latter being seriously undermined by about 2020.”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea of what you are talking about, but I take it last night was your sociology class? Tell me, does that include good posture, flower arranging with a speciality in the Hogarth Curve and an innate ability to accessorise?”
“Indeed Madam, genetics plays a role.”
“I knew it. Breeding, as Grandmamma always said, will out.”
“Now, I am in the dark Mrs Wylie. However, if you mean that the constant intermarriage between élites produces certain advantages for certain individuals then I am with you. Marrying Mr Wylie may have been an aberration”
“Yes. I am sure my family would have been horrified at my marrying someone who was born between The Govan Iron Works, and The Hair and Feather Mill, but I have improved on nature greatly. And let us be honest no one wears tweed quite Jasper.”
“That is true, and before I forget, I have collected his Prince of Wales check from Pullars of Perth and hung it in his wardrobe.”
“That reminds me, has he had breakfast? I know he was up early muttering about the art of monumental sculpture.”
“Oh, hours ago; he is in the shed with Mrs Dangerfield. At least she is not getting under my feet. With her new hair do and line in duster coats. Sometimes I think she could be your twin sister Mrs Wylie. At least if it was not for that wretched sniffing.”
“You can be so intolerant Mrs Travers.”
“I prefer to think of it as perceptive. Now do you want to take a wee milky coffee into the study?”
“Thank you, just the ticket to get me started on a few more recollections about my Grandmamma. Could I possibly have a piece of shortbread with it?”
“Well you could but Mrs Dangerfield, took the last of it down to the shed to keep Mr W sweet, apparently.”
“How annoying!”
“At least by next week it will be too cold for the shed Mrs Wylie”
“Indeed, Mrs T, but remember we bought him that paraffin heater last year.”
“I could always sabotage it Mrs Wylie.”
“How?”
“I have ways with wicks.”
This week the Editors, in search of sensation combined with artistry and literary style, have asked me to say a little more about my dear Grandmamma and life as it was in Glasgow a little over 60 years ago. I have a unique opportunity to do so because it turns out that my Grandmamma was secretly a journalist writing for The Lady’s Companion with a variety of noms de plume. This was to prevent my grandfather finding out that his wife was not all she seemed.
I have to confess that this came as something of a shock as the grandmamma I recall was an upright, well corseted lady who was never left alone with a gentleman caller, and once required the services of two live-in nurses for a week when she accidentally visited cook in the kitchen and saw a black-pudding on an ashet. Apparently something similar had happened on her honeymoon in Nethy Bridge and in her elderly state the memory was reawakened.
Evidently there was another side to her and I imagine that she was rather frustrated with a life that boiled down to entering and leaving rooms correctly with some fine sitting in between.
In many ways she was neglected, as my Grandpappa was not only a man of business in Glasgow, but a leading philanthropic figure in the city. He was indeed the founder of The Home for Fallen Women of which I am the current Chair. He took his cue from Prime Minister Gladstone and indeed they were known to spend weekends together selflessly searching for Fallen Women in the wynds and closes of our great cities. Of course, while Grandpappa was giving to other women, he was neglecting his own wife who found an outlet, not only as a promoter of an innovative apparatus for improving the circulation by vibration, but as a writer. Let us look back to the autumn of 1893.
Embellishing the home was one of Grandmamma’s preoccupations and of course in her own home there was not a surface left uncovered or a Queen Anne leg that was not covered in tiers of handmade lace and ribbons to prevent the vapours. She realised that there were those less fortunate who struggled to mitigate the “twin evils” of ugly rooms and limited funds. Not to be defeated she found ways that these problems might be solved. Writing as Marion she said “ I have never come across an unsatisfactory room which cannot be improved, for example by the odd cord edged cushion here and a length of her favourite silk pongee there.”
Half a crown could achieve a great deal in those days. Fans were one of her favourite decorative objects and she believed would warm a room in moments when used as the backdrop for a plant or combined with some Japanese swords which could be purchased for a couple of shillings. Once mastered, the next opportunity might be found in using an unframed oil sketch trimmed “with a scarf of pongee” or muslin and some fans of the palm variety. Her seminal lecture at the Glasgow Exhibition of 1901 ‘Fanning About’, was the talk of many a converzatione for months. Unsurprisingly Charles Rennie MacIntosh and his wife were acolytes.
If Grandmamma gave help to the artisan housewife, then she also gave hope to the most financially challenged members of society, providing of course they could afford a penny for The Ladies Companion. As she says in 1893 “packing cases are the friends of the poor”. Large packing cases for example “make admirable ottomans and seats for cosy corners”. She also highlighted that smaller ones could become footstools when used with some stuffing and a length of serge. One might even use appliqué with scraps for a more decorative effect. A fruit -box painted and with rod and curtain fitted made a useful medicine cabinet.
Black paint and gold Arabesque designs were very much of the moment. Grandmamma even saw an opportunity to fit out an entire room with packaging. She said, “I have seen a small snuggery furnished almost entirely with transformed packing cases – nothing beats a set of orange boxes covered in flock wallpaper.” This she felt would leave the poor with sufficient funds to spend on one decent piece of furniture, like a piano or a tea table.
What a pity she never met my husband, Jasper; he throws nothing away.
Of course, Grandmamma was not just a one trick pony. There was more to her than just silk pongee. She was very keen on women and health. Writing as Ninon, she was virtually at war with prematurely grey hair and “afflictions of the scalp.” Her column Health and the Toilet was one place where women could get her no-nonsense advice. I would like to share with you modern Glasgow Ladies of 1960 some of the advice she gave to her correspondents. I feel these snippets will be of comfort to many of you – I’m sure you are all able to work out the questions without my detailing them individually. (If you require information, please contact Editor of ‘The Glasgow Lady’ and include a s.a.e..)
Dear ‘Very Miserable’ – “You can remove the superfluous hairs with Horn’s Hair Solvent.”
Dear ‘One in ignorance’ – it is difficult to explain, ask your mother.
Dear Edith – one should never breakfast in bed.
To ‘Aladdin’ – gentle friction will increase the size of your bust.
Dear ‘Little Dorrit’ – Three or four years is a long time but keep on with the ointment.
Dear Mary – Write to the Harness Medical Battery Company, they can deliver by bicycle.
Dear ‘Charlotte’s Friend’ – A good rub down with a rough towel morning and evening should sort out all your worries.
To ‘Miss Peril’ – If you cannot undergo the electrolysis then bleach with peroxide.
Dear Ruby- a warm bran poultice, firm massage, and a rough towel will see to things nicely.
Dear Ada – You cannot beat the gentle application of swansdown.
“Sorry to disturb yous, Mrs Wylie, but I wondered if you might like a fill up?”
“Ooh yes please Mrs Travers.”
“Thought as much; and seeing as her with the sniff has eaten all the short-bread I just mixed up some batter and have made some pancakes do you wish a couple?”
“Indeed, I do. I should not, but I will. Goodness Mrs T! You are soaking.”
“Well it’s come on rain and I just went oot tae grab the washing. So, if you give me a couple o’ minutes, I have a change o’ clothes in Sebastian’s wardrobe, hangin’ next to his Rita Hayworth outfit. I’ll need to grab a towel from the linen cupboard first.”
“Well you do that, you don’t want to catch your death. I have nearly finished my piece I just want to say something about knitted pantaloons.”
“Like what?”
“Like my grandmother wore them when cycling.”
“What with her legs going round and round?
“Yes apparently.”
“Well I never! Where did she go?”
“Well apparently she went all round the West End delivering to Suffragettes.”
“What?”
“Medical grade batteries.”
à bientôt
Muriel Wylie
October 1960
(Grandmamma October 1893)
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