Hill Country; Part 2 (a small photography pilgrimage)

Back in Bolton, before leaving for Sri Lanka I had been talking with my  MA course leader (top Yorkshire man and great photographer) Ian Beasley about what I was going to do In Sri Lanka. During the course of the conversation we discovered that the famous Victorian portrait photographer Julia Margaret Cameron had died there on her families’ coffee plantation. So we decided that I would have to see if I could try and find her grave.

Julia Margaret Cameron was born the daughter of a colonial official in Calcutta  in 1815. Moving in circles of Victorian high society she knew many of the great artists and thinkers of the time, such as Charles Darwin, John Herschel (astronomer) and the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson. She was given a camera by her daughter on her 48^th birthday and spent the next couple of decades making some of the best known (not to mention most arresting) portraits of the time, documenting a cross section of Victorian society. She didn’t work commercially, she did it because she loved doing it (presumably). In 1875 she moved to their family home in Ceylon, after their coffee plantation failed and the family fell on hard times. She died in 1879, after catching a chill. Her husband Charles Hay Cameron, 20 years her senior died the following year.

So, I looked on the internet (home of all truth and nonsense) to find out where she might be buried, and found a website called (would you believe it?) ‘findagrave.com’. This cheery website told me that she was buried at Glencairn church, Dikoya. So, whilst up in tea country near Nuwara Eliya we decided to go and see if we could find it. We took a (really uncomfortable) two hour bus ride to the town of Hatton, and then a short tuk tuk ride to Glencain, just past Dikoya.

In need of somewhere to stay we found an old tea planters Bungalow (built  1906) called ‘Upper Glencairn Lodge”. It was like stepping back in time - full of furniture from the 1930’s and looked as though it had all been there since then too. 

Upper Glencairn tea planters bungalow. 

Inside; the living room and bar.

Living room and bar

Dining room

It was surrounded by hills covered in tea, mostly from the Norwood Estate which you can stay in for a small fortune, and a beautiful lake at the bottom of the valley. It was like a living postcard. 

View over the tea fields to the lake. 

We asked about the Anglican church and were told it was only about 1 km away, so after unpacking and having a look around the house we headed off for a stroll to see if we could find the grave. The road wound around the valley a short distance, with tea pluckers and kids waving and saying hello. It all looked idyllic. Then we found the little church, which was straight out of an English country village…perched on top of the valley, overlooking the lake. 

view of the lake on our walk to the church

A couple of kids on their way home from school...Umbrellas are not just for rain. 

The English country church at Glencairn, overlooking tea fields and the lake. 

As we began to read the names on the headstones (all English names, all died late 1800’s/early 1900’s) I was feeling quite exited! Could this be it? If so, did the good lady herself attend this church on a Sunday morning?

Well actually, no.  After about a minute a lady came out of the house next to the church and started chatting to us. I explained that I was looking for the grave of a lady called Julia Margaret Cameron and she said “ah yes, Julia Margaret, not here…church at Bogawantalawa”. How disappointing…it had seemed such a nice place for the great lady to end up, with a cracking view too, I was sure she would have appreciated it!

Hey ho, we were dutifully shown around the church, and had a look at the ancient Bible (which the lady was particularly proud of). Feeling a bit deflated I took down the name of the place – Bogawantalawa (a bit of a mouth full) which the lady seemed positive was Cameron’s correct burial place (the fact that she had heard of her at all was encouraging at any rate) and then headed back to the planters lodge for gin and tonic.  

The Bible, dated 1879 (the year that Cameron died)

Some graves, but not THE grave...overlooking the lake.  Not a bad spot to end up.

Back at the Bungalow for drinks on the lawn, and Noah badly needs a haircut. 

View from the bungalow; sunset over the lake and mountains. 

View from the bar; old drinks cabinet.

The next day, we set off for Bogawantalawa…another stunningly beautiful 40 minute tuk tuk ride through the plantations and tea factories, hills and waterfalls and eventually arrived at the small Anglican church. Not so much a village, as a collection of houses, the church wasn’t quite as quaint as Glencairn, but never the less looked old enough to be right. 

Bogawantalawa Anglican Church

We got out and started looking, and almost immediately Britta found it! There it was, sure enough; Julia Margaret Cameron…the dates were right, 1815 - 1879, and it was a double grave, with her husband Charles Hay Cameron 1795 – 1890.  Standing looking at it, I suddenly realised that perhaps I should have brought some flowers or something to put on the grave…it looked as though it could do with some! I didn’t have anything to leave on it I’m afraid, so I just took some photos instead, hoping that would be in some way appropriate. It didn’t look much different from all the other graves (also all English names, mostly double barrelled) and to my mind looked a bit sad and forlorn sitting in a dusty, weedy graveyard. Not sure what I’d been expecting (some sort of grand monument, or Jim Morrison style shrine perhaps?) but I suppose after all the anticipation of looking for it I must have thought that it would be at least marked out as a bit special…

Here it is; the slightly unremarkable joint grave of Julia Margaret Cameron and her husband Charles Hay Cameron. 

The grave, with church...she was apparently quite religious (as were most people back then I suppose) so I guess this was her local parish church. It felt slightly surreal to be there, and to imagine her coming here.

Well, there’s a lesson for us all I guess…no matter what we do in life, after a few generations have been and gone we all end up as just a dusty old grave. And I suppose it’s not as if her surviving descendants can pop along to put some fresh flowers of the grave every now and then! That makes it even worse that I forgot to bring anything...

The tuk tuk driver was slightly bemused…why had we come all this way to look at this unremarkable grave. I explained who she was, and he seemed none the wiser. I took some photo’s whilst wondering what Mrs Cameron would have thought about me making this little pilgrimage to her final resting place, until eventually the vicar arrived and asked us in to his house for a cuppa. He was called Jonathan (which apparently is a Tamil name) and told me that in his spare time he was a gospel singer and had released three albums. I wonder what the vicar of Bogawantalawa in Cameron’s time would have thought about that?

Inside the church...lots of plaques were on the wall to long dead and forgotten Englishmen.

Jonathan; the Gospel singing local parish priest.

I don’t know why, but now that I’ve been and searched out her grave, I’ve been looking again at her work, and feel just that little bit closer to it. Her portraits have a feeling of intimacy, and I suppose I feel at some level a little more intimate with her too, now that I’ve been and seen where she ended up.

For those that need to see her work, just google her, or follow this link;

http://www.atgetphotography.com/The-Photographers/Julia-Margaret-Cameron.html