A partridge by the name of Frances - not a bird, but a woman who was born Frances Catherine Marshall on 15 March 1900 at Bedford Square, London and died just a month short of her 104th birthday. Francis became a renowned hostess, diarist, pacifist and writer, being one of the Bloomsbury set, an influential group of literary and artistic personalities, intellectuals and philosophers.
(Sorry, no picture of Frances or the book, since I haven't time to request permission from the publisher)
(Sorry, no picture of Frances or the book, since I haven't time to request permission from the publisher)
Born one day before Francis was another woman -
my maternal grandmother, Ethel Maud Gleadhill.
Nan also had a large circle of friends, but they would have been very different to the Bloomsbury circle, as her life was one of life-long commitment to working for charities and community groups.
my maternal grandmother, Ethel Maud Gleadhill.
Nan also had a large circle of friends, but they would have been very different to the Bloomsbury circle, as her life was one of life-long commitment to working for charities and community groups.
Have you ever heard of Frances Partridge? I hadn’t, until reading her biography by Anne Chisholm, the book for Book Club February’s review. The author had met Frances before undertaking the biography and was fortunate to have access to her diaries and those of Frances’ mother (also an interesting woman). The author has skilfully presented a life woven with complex relationships in a detailed but engaging read.
The youngest of six children, Frances grew up in a busy Victorian household; her father a well known architect and her mother, an active supporter in the Suffragette movement. Family life was filled with lots of social occasions and musical evenings at home with friends. The children were encouraged, without judgement, by a liberal thinking mother to explore life for themselves.
Frances was averse to boredom, rebelling against the restrictions of society's conventional expectations without doing anything outrageous. Her curiosity in the intellect, philosophy and Freudian thinking gave her a philosophical approach to life, which stood her in good stead during her unconventional relationship with Ralph Partridge while he was still married to artist, Dora Carrington who was in a love triangle with Lytton Strachey, a homosexual. After Lytton’s death from cancer Dora committed suicide, leaving Ralph and Frances free to marry in 1933. They adored each other and were very happy together with Frances accepting Ralph’s brief affairs early in the marriage. They constantly wrote letters to each other telling each other everything and correspondence also flowed between them and many friends.
As pacifists, Frances and Ralph railed against Churchill and England being at war, while personally they were at loggerheads with close friends. Life changed for Frances, she and Ralph now living outside London, as she had to do without servants - cooking and cleaning. She wasn’t put off by the rubble and ruins in a bombed London, still managing to go to the tailor’s, visit an art exhibition and enjoy a lunch of salmon, asparagus and zabaglione with a friend. She didn’t feel guilty, as “to enjoy herself was to triumph over the hated war”.
The focus in life for the Bloomsbury set was the pursuit of knowledge with love, personal relationships and individual pleasure to the forefront.
The youngest of six children, Frances grew up in a busy Victorian household; her father a well known architect and her mother, an active supporter in the Suffragette movement. Family life was filled with lots of social occasions and musical evenings at home with friends. The children were encouraged, without judgement, by a liberal thinking mother to explore life for themselves.
Frances was averse to boredom, rebelling against the restrictions of society's conventional expectations without doing anything outrageous. Her curiosity in the intellect, philosophy and Freudian thinking gave her a philosophical approach to life, which stood her in good stead during her unconventional relationship with Ralph Partridge while he was still married to artist, Dora Carrington who was in a love triangle with Lytton Strachey, a homosexual. After Lytton’s death from cancer Dora committed suicide, leaving Ralph and Frances free to marry in 1933. They adored each other and were very happy together with Frances accepting Ralph’s brief affairs early in the marriage. They constantly wrote letters to each other telling each other everything and correspondence also flowed between them and many friends.
As pacifists, Frances and Ralph railed against Churchill and England being at war, while personally they were at loggerheads with close friends. Life changed for Frances, she and Ralph now living outside London, as she had to do without servants - cooking and cleaning. She wasn’t put off by the rubble and ruins in a bombed London, still managing to go to the tailor’s, visit an art exhibition and enjoy a lunch of salmon, asparagus and zabaglione with a friend. She didn’t feel guilty, as “to enjoy herself was to triumph over the hated war”.
The focus in life for the Bloomsbury set was the pursuit of knowledge with love, personal relationships and individual pleasure to the forefront.
In contrast, Ethel left school when she was 14 and went to work as a seamstress at Finney Isles, a department store on the corner of Edward and Adelaide Streets in Brisbane. She took the train home to Nundah after her first week of working, to be met at the station by her elder brother with a wheelbarrow to help carry home her weekly wage of 2/6 ( two shillings and sixpence). When she was 19, Ethel went to work as a waitress at the Grande Hotel in Beaudesert and just 12 days after her 21st birthday she married Leonard Tasman Keating, who worked at Enrights, a large family-owned department store.
Nan and Pa’s married life was busy raising four children (3 boys and one girl, my mother) while being active in community affairs and sporting clubs. Nan devoted her life to working for charities, including the Red Cross, QCWA and community groups and the Golf Club - a long list of organisations. During the war Nan was the head cutter on the sewing line to make bloomers (pants) for the war effort. Many servicemen stationed nearby at Canungra were invited to share the family roast after church on Sundays, being warned against looking at my mother (who was 19 in 1945)
Photo: Pa, Maurice (eldest child), Maurice, my mother, Valma perched on the hall stand (usually featuring a potted plant)
Photo: Pa, Maurice (eldest child), Maurice, my mother, Valma perched on the hall stand (usually featuring a potted plant)
One of Nan’s endeavours was raising money for the building of the Beaudesert branch of the Red Cross, her continued service to Red Cross being recognised by the Distinguished Service Medal to the Red Cross. I remember as a child taking great delight in sifting through the piles of jumble people had dropped off to Nan’s house for the next Red Cross jumble sale. My mother remembered being dragged to meetings, sitting under tables and church pews which left her with a determination not to be involved on any committees during her adult life. However in her memoir (unfinished, due to ill health) my mother also remembered a happy childhood, realising later Nan's generous heart in lending a helping hand.

It seemed everyone in Beaudesert knew Nan, affectionately called Keat - except for the young policeman new in town. He tried to book Nan for parking in front of the Post Office (the no parking zone was new) but she gave him the runaround very smartly. As a driver she was apt to wave to Mrs So&so across the street, almost causing an accident. Nan’s cooking, however, was without fault, winning prizes for her baking and preserves, with cauliflower pickles being a family favourite.
Currently I’m in the process of preserving the memories of my mother’s family through a wealth of photos and memorabilia chronicling a life of hard work, with Pa also recognised and rewarded for over 50 years working at Enrights. Although he was in charge of menswear, Pa won a prize for his window display of Berlei corsetry in 1932.
I could imagine Mr Peacock in the British comedy, ‘Are you being served’, raising his eyebrows at my Pa’s handling such intimate women’s garments. Where were Mrs Slocombe and Miss Brahms?
I could imagine Mr Peacock in the British comedy, ‘Are you being served’, raising his eyebrows at my Pa’s handling such intimate women’s garments. Where were Mrs Slocombe and Miss Brahms?