By George – it’s Svengali!

Busson is not an aristocratic surname. So, it is not surprising that the Parisian tradesman and speculator, who left France in 1789 to avoid charges of fraud, decided to add ‘du Maurier’ to enhance his prospects when he moved to London. But, as new locations offer new opportunities for trickery, Robert Mathurin Busson du Maurier, ended up in prison as a result of confidence schemes in his new country. In the 13 years he was in England Robert fathered six children and, having had enough of domestic responsibilities, abandoned his family and moved back to France until his death in 1811.

Robert’s fourth son, Louis, grew up in London but moved to Paris in 1815 with his family at the age of 18 to study opera. However, this was not to be his career and he eventually became an inventor and scientist. In 1831 Louis married Ellen Clarke who was the daughter of the notorious regency courtesan and schemer, Mary-Anne Clarke. Their first child, George Louis Palmella Busson du Maurier, arrived in 1834.

In a family that had no shortage of inventors and manipulators, George grew up believing he came from 12^th century aristocratic stock and that his grandfather, Robert, had fled the French Revolution leaving vast estates behind. Sixty years later, George would coin the name ‘Svengali’ in his gothic novel ‘Trilby’ to describe a man who seduces, dominates, and manipulates others.

As a good, compliant and possibly ‘manipulated’ son, George studied chemistry and aspired to become an opera singer.  However, in 1856 with the death of his father (and encouraged by his mother), he was able to pursue his true passion – art. George studied art in Paris, Antwerp (where he lost the vision in his left eye), Düsseldorf and London and was friends with James McNeill Whistler and Edward Poynter (President of the Royal Academy).

By 1860 George had found his artistic voice as a magazine illustrator and cartoonist. Within three years, he was appointed to the staff of Punch magazine and remained working for them until his death in 1896. As a prolific artist, George also produced illustrations for The Illustrated London News, Once a Week, London Society, and Harper’s Magazine to name but a few.

George enjoyed satire and took aim at the Pre-Raphaelites, the aesthetic movement, Oscar Wilde, the nouveaux riches and patrons of the arts. Characters like Mrs. Ponsoby de Tomkyns and Sir Gorgius Midas populate his works, and he popularised sayings like ‘a curate’s egg’ and ‘bedside manner’ to mock the clerical and medical professions respectively.

Despite his lampooning, George was very much part of the cultural, artistic and literary world of 19^th century England.  He provided illustrations for works by Thomas Hardy, William Makepeace Thackeray, Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell, George Meredith, Henry James and his own novels.

In 1891, George’s deteriorating eyesight shifted his career from drawing to writing. His first novel, ‘Peter Ibbetson‘ was a modest success and was subsequently adapted for the stage (as both a play and an opera) and later for the screen. George’s second novel, ‘Trilby’, published in 1894 was a sensation. Riding the wave of the public’s fascination with gothic horror, it is the story of a poor artist’s model Trilby O’Ferrall and her transformation into a diva through the control of a satanic hypnotist. In 1894 it was the number one best-seller and spawned a raft of ‘Trilby merchandise’ including: shoes, scarf pins, songs, dances, soap, toothpaste and even the place name for a city in Florida. The soft felt Trilby hat came from the hat worn in the London stage adaptation. The novel has been filmed at least nine times and the plot inspired Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel ‘Phantom of the Opera’ and the wildly successful Andrew Lloyd Weber musical.

George died of heart failure (as did his creation, Svengali) before his third novel ‘The Martian’ – a romantic fantasy in which an earthling becomes possessed by the spirit of a female extraterrestrial – was published. He was sixty-two years of age. On his memorial panel at Hampstead Cemetery is the inscription : ‘A little trust that when we die / We reap our sowing. And so – good bye!’

Apart from his artwork and writing, George’s legacy of inventiveness – his ‘sowing’ – continued in his children and grandchildren. His son, Sir Gerald Du Maurier, was a famous stage and screen actor and manager who gave his name to the Du Maurier brand of cigarettes; George’s daughter, Sylvia Llewelyn Davies was the mother of the five boys who were the inspiration for the stories of Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie (she is played by Kate Winslett in the 2004 movie, Finding Neverland); and Gerald’s children were all regarded for their creativity – particularly Daphne – who wrote 17 novels, three plays and several non-fiction works that provide literary portraits of her family.

The National Gallery of Victoria has 37 works by (or after) George du Maurier in the collection. Most of them provide a sense of his role as social commentator of the Victorian middle classes and high society. In them we see a treasure trove of detailed Victorian fashions, drawing rooms, tastes, etiquette and foibles. While the works are ‘truly Victorian’ they can still resonate with today’s world.

The Victorian world knew a lot about social distancing – particularly as practised between the sexes and by the ‘helping staff’:

There will always be someone who tells us how we have to behave:

There will always be people who will try to ‘game the system’ to get away with things:

People over the border will be only too willing to commentate on our plight:

And there was, and always will be a ‘Karen at Bunnings’:

Thank you, George, for your continuing role – but this time as a non-satanic ‘Svengali’!