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Daphne Du Maurier |
Camden features | Daphne Du Maurier | Gothic thriller Rebecca | Blue plaque for Cornish mansion
Hopes of awarding blue plaque status to the Cornish mansion made famous by Daphne Du Maurier in Rebecca seem likely to be dashed, writes Richard Osley
IT wasn’t the most controversial decision English Heritage’s star chamber of blue plaque judges has ever made, so it’s more than a slight shame its treatment of novelist Daphne Du Maurier has uncovered a bit of a snag.
Recently asked to consider her work, the lofty cabal of historians, academics and writers who judge suggestions for the tribute series must have congratulated themselves when they agreed that rather than fit a plaque to her childhood home in Hampstead, the decorators should instead be sent to investigate properties in Cornwall.
If they ever follow the road to Menabilly – the mansion which provided the inspiration for the spooky old house Manderley in Du Maurier’s gothic thriller Rebecca – they will be lucky to get past the front gates.
In fact her biographers warn that researchers are generally advised not to bother with the trip to the idyllic estate, which runs down to the Cornish coastline near Fowey, as the current landlords shy away from publicity and the property’s literary legacy.
Writer Nina Auerbach, author of Haunted Heiress, has few dissenters when she says: “The issue of Daphne du Maurier’s home is quite vexed.”
Those who have studied Du Maurier’s life and works agree that if it had been her choice, a plaque would go up on the front entrance to Menabilly rather than anywhere in north London.
“I can see why the judges might have taken that view. Du Maurier’s spiritual home was Menabilly,” says Professor Sue Zlosnik, a Du Maurier expert who lectures at Manchester University. “However, it is owned by a family which preserve their privacy and even genuine researchers are denied access. If the plaque was placed on Menabilly, therefore, no one would see it.”
Perhaps English Heritage should reconsider Cannon Hall in Hampstead, the mansion where Du Maurier spent most of her childhood. Her father Gerald Du Maurier, an actor and actor’s manager, already has a plaque in his name installed on the property.
It remains a point of debate whether Gerald’s fame was outstripped by his daughter, who also wrote The Birds and Don’t Look Now, both turned into spine-chilling movies.
Biographer Dr Avril Horner says: “Menabilly is still owned and now lived in, I think, by the Rashleigh family who will have nothing to do with the general public or its interest in Du Maurier’s life there. It is not open to the public and is a private place. Trespassers forbidden. It might be possible to approach them about the plaque but I doubt very much whether they would want one on their house.”
Maybe Du Maurier’s legion of admirers should count themselves lucky that her name made the final shortlist and that at some stage a building is likely to have a tribute erected on it.
Other nominations haven’t received such concessions and panel members appear so fussy that minutes of selection meetings suggest its been a case of: No. No. No. Yes. No. Maybe, but probably no. And no again.
Only the most “outstanding” can be honoured, a co-ordinator of the scheme insisted last week, on the grounds that English Heritage only has funds to erect around a dozen a year.
Given one of the criteria for the scheme is that passers-by should instantly recognise the name on the plates, the meanest of observers might raise their eyebrows at some of the nominations that have hurdled the selection process. There is probably an army of supporters out there somewhere for the most recent plaque awarded to Sir Francis Pettit Smith... a screw propeller pioneer from the 1860s, anyone?
English Heritage deny the selection process is a private court where the likes of panel members Stephen Fry and Nicholas Kenyon snobbishly decide who’s in and who’s not. The conservation body insists suggestions are made by the public, the public are invited to unveilings and minutes of selection meeting can be made publicly available on request.
But it did little to bat away a lasting criticism that the awards system is a little bit fuddy-duddy in its approach, where musicians and sports folk play second fiddle to high-brow names from more literary, political and philosophical circles.
Take the nomination of Keith Moon, who died in a flat in Mayfair 30 years ago. That suggestion was kicked into touch for a decade at the same session that a plaque for 3 Saville Row, the former Apple Records studios where The Beatles famously played a rooftop concert, was rejected.
“English Heritage’s argument that we need to wait another 10 years to assess their worth is spurious,” says Alan Lewis, editor in chief of Record Collector magazine. “It’s 40 years since Moon’s finest hours. How much time do they need?”
There were groans from thespians too at news that Dame Flora Robson, a fine character actress who, like Daphne Du Maurier, lived in Hampstead before moving away to the coast, was also on a recent rejects list.
Professor Brian MacFarlane, the author of an encyclopaedia of British Film, the study resource used by film students across the country, said: “I’m astonished that anyone would query the distinction of Flora Robson’s multi-media career. Flora Robson was a comparative rarity in that her screen career was as long and distinguished as her theatrical one. I am always impressed with how subtly fine and moving she was. She unequivocally warrants blue plaque.”
It’s a hearty recommendation from an expert in his field – but the blue plaques panel has shown more than once how ruthless it can be. |
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