William Hogarth at Vauxhall Gardens: sex, art, music

London was a dirty, chaotic city in the second half of the 17th century. Vauxhall was then a rural hamlet on the south bank of the Thames, and Vauxhall Gardens was merely a square plot fringed by trees. Nothing special, except that people came out of the city to breathe the fresh air, walk and amuse themselves.

The grand walk in the centre of Vauxhall gardens

The pleasure gardens that grew up, from 1661 on, asked a fairly modest fee for admittance and entertainment. Each evening there were organised entertainments which were clean cut and fun, unlike the horrendous bear baiting and other disgusting entertainments offered in the city. However some entertainment raised well plucked eyebrows - the popularity of Vauxhall, especially its secluded paths and gardens, made it an ideal place of business for the working girls of London.

Clearly Spring Garden, as it was first called, must have been a great place for entertainment. This was where Samuel Pepys made his choice of the Ladies of the Night and where King Charles II courted his mistresses (sequent­ial­ly?). It is not hard for us to imagine enthusiastic crowds, squashing onto the river boats every summer evening, holding the shilling entrance fee in their sticky hands.

My earlier post, on pleasure gardens and the society that frequented them, started in 1729 when the young businessman Jonathan Tyers (1702-67) took over the lease to Vauxhall Gardens. He wanted his pleasure garden to become an elegant, civilised and civilising environment.

Tyers transformed what was essentially a plantation of trees into a space for performance and display, with specially designed pavilions, grottoes, sculptures and illuminated serpentine walks. Masquerades, gymnasts and magicians were impressive. Fireworks displays apparently stopping street-smart Londoners in their tracks.

The octagonal Orchestra was a building designed for the performance of music in the open air that opened in 1735. Around it in colonnades, Tyers built rows of supper-boxes where people could enjoy the music while eating and drinking. With 100,000 visitors each season, the gardens offered musicians their first mass audiences.

With Hogarth's (1697-1764) help, these green, clean pleasure gardens became egalitarian spaces where the middle classes could mix with the intelligentsia and the minor nobility. And the not-so-minor nobility; Frederick, Prince of Wales and his entourage loved going to Vauxhall.

People could enjoy in supper alcoves, decorated with contemporary paintings and sculptures. Why did Hogarth make the art choices? Because Hogarth, who was a friend of Jonathan Tyers, had recently married and moved to lodgings in South Lambeth!  Hogarth wanted to help decorate Vauxhall Gardens, giving other artists invaluable public exposure. Tyers was delighted, and in return he presented Hogarth with a lifetime pass to the gardens.

The relationship seemed to work well. David Coke (History Today, May 2012) was convinced that Tyers became one of the greatest patrons of contemporary British art and music. He argued that Vauxhall Gardens were central to the dissemination of Rococo in the public mind, at least in London. Tyers selected architecture, paintings, sculpture, furniture, tableware, lighting and music such that his gardens actively promoted the British rococo style. The artist who most benefited from Hogarth's campaign was Francis Hayman, who had four rococo paintings commissioned by Tyers for the Prince's Pavilion.

For Londoners from 1730 on, it must have seemed like stepping into an ethereal dream world, with wafting music and 20,000 glittering oil-lamps in the trees. I like the saying: music, wine and moonlight. They should have added “sex”, both paid for and free.

Music room in Vaux Hall Gardens by H Roberts, 1752. Photo credit: History Today

Now comes the interesting part. Hogarth understood that art was became increasingly commercialised, viewed in shop windows and taverns, and sold in printshops. New customs were emerging. So Hogarth’s idea was to paint and engrave modern moral subjects; to treat the canvases as his stage and the models as his story's characters. It must have been successful since today Hogarth is best known for his modern moral subjects, of which he sold engravings on subscription.

I understand why Hogarth would want create series of tragic and funny moralising stories, but did the sexy and glittering society who frequented the pleasure gardens give a fillip to his popular Modern Moral series? If Vauxhall, the very place Hogarth had helped make popular and successful, was one of the sources of his vigorous satirising of the manners and values of the day, it seemed strangely like biting the hand that fed him. Nonetheless the dates of these “moral lectures” were intriguing. Harlot's Progress prints appeared for the first time in 1732. The Rake's Progress prints were delayed somewhat but appeared in 1735. Marriage à la Mode appeared a few years later.

one print from William Hogarth's series called Harlot's Progress

Tyer and Hogarth died almost at the same time (1767 and 1764 respectively), so their careers overlapped perfectly with the greatest decades of Vauxhall’s long existence.

The most useful reference is David Coke’s essay "Vauxhall Gardens" in Rococo: Art and Design in Hogarth's England, published by the Victoria and Albert Museum London, 1984. Also see Vauxhall Gardens: A History, written by David Coke and Alan Borg, and published by Paul Mellon Centre in 2011. The Works of William Hogarth: in a series of engravings, by John Trusler 2007, is wonderful.

Gold art objects in revolutionary France - Vachette

Before the French Revolution (1789–99), each gold or silver object was stamped with a] a maker’s mark, b] a charge mark, to say the piece had been declared to the tax authorities and c] a discharge mark, to say that the tax had been paid. The amount of tax charged was of course a function of the weight of the piece. A fourth mark, the warranty, certified the silver content in the object. The warranty took the form of a letter that changed each year, enabling the buyer to determine the precise year of manufacture.

Vachette, gold box, 1789, 8 x 5 cm, Bonhams

The goldsmith guilds, makers of luxury goods, had been suppressed during the French Revolution. So after peace and normality returned to French life, gold and silver makers had to regain consumer confidence. The new warranty mark was an administrative mark replacing the charge and discharge marks used in pre-Revolutionary times. The Gorgon head mark in a circular reserve was a warranty mark, used to assure buyers that the maker had paid tax on the object and to guarantee that there had been no collusion between the assayer and the tax collector. The Michelangelo head facing right on one side of an object was the silver standard or assay mark for Paris, used until 1838 for 950 silver.

Let me examine one of the last of the pre-revolutionary pieces (dated Paris 1789), marked before the First French Republic was declared in 1792. A gold and moss agate snuff box from Bonhams was made in rectangular form with canted corners. The cover was mounted with a central circular forest agate panel within a fluted and guilloche frame, flanked by panels of engine-turning within a border. The sides had similar engine-turned panels separated by pilasters, and the base was decorated with bright-chased and matted acanthus and feather scrolls. This exquisite object was tiny.

The 1789 snuff box was made by Adrien-Jean-Maximilien Vachette (1753-1839) with Vachette's pre-revolutionary maker's mark, the charge and discharge marks of the Paris warden, and a Paris mark. Fortunately we know quite a lot about Monsieur Vachette from Sotheby’s. He was born in 1746, the 15th child of his tax collector father. The young man completed 8 years apprenticeship and was registered as a master in Paris in 1779. His pre-revolutionary style emphasised classical clean lines and pilasters/flat columns.

Vachette, tortoise-shell box, post 1819, 8 x 6 cm. Photo credit V & A.

Vachette was one of the lucky artists. He disappeared during the years of The Terror and successfully resumed his profession in 1805, entering into various lucrative partnerships until his death in Paris in 1839. The V & A has an exquisite tortoise-shell box, mounted in gold and set with a miniature portrait of Monsieur de Pontchartreux. The maker's mark for AJM Vachette was signed on the rim as you would expect, but this time there were post-revolutionary Paris marks for 1819-38. Vachette’s tortoise-shell box was also small.

It is clear from the auction houses and museums that Vachette was a prolific artist, concentrating on what he knew best – small gold boxes. So that begs an important question. Did Vachette do his own decorative art works on the lids of his boxes? Assuming he did not, which other artists were responsible for the circular agate panel on the snuff box? and the painted portrait miniature of Monsieur de Pontchartreux?

Vachette, gold snuff box, 1805-9. Photo credit V & A

The Victoria and Albert does have a snuff box where the details of the painting are known. The chased and engraved gold work has glazed miniatures top and bottom, and lapis lazuli on the side panels. But note that the minatures had been painted in 1752 and 1753 by Antoine de Marcenay de Ghuy (1724-1811), a French painter and engraver. The miniature on the cover depicts the Bay of Naples while the view on the base shows Tivoli, near Rome.

Where had these two miniature landscape paintings been, between 1752 and 1809?

**

One painter decorator was very well known. Jean-Baptiste Isabey 1767–1855 went to Paris as a young man, to became a pupil of the incomparible Jacques-Louis David. Later patronised by Josephine and Napoleon, Isabey arranged their royal coronation ceremonies and prepared drawings for the publication intended as the official record of the day's events.

Napoleon snuffbox, 1812,
gold by Moulinié, Bautte et Moynier and painted by Jean-Baptiste Isabey
Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Examine a 1812 gold snuff box that had Napoleon Bonaparte stamped all over it. I love the portrait done by Jean-Baptiste Isabey. Here Isabey painted Napoleon in the coronation regalia he wore when he crowned himself Emperor Napoleon I. Surrounded with a border of alternating Napoleonic stars and bees, the emperor was sporting a gold diadem and royal cross. The snuff box itself, lushly composed of three different tones of gold, was not crafted by a French firm. Instead the job was sent to the Swiss firm: Moulinié, Bautte et Moynier.

Jacques-Félix Viennot also made French snuff boxes out of gold in the Empire era. A rectangular box with canted corners was particularly interesting because the cover and base had panels of an engine-turned cube pattern. For extra contrast, the borders were engraved with foliage on a matted ground. In the central oval is a fine portrait of Napoleon in coronation robes, painted by Isabey. The snuff box (made from 1804 on) is normally in Fondation Napoleon in Paris. Just for winter 2012 this small gold box will be located at the National Gallery of Victoria for the Napoleon: Revolution to Empire exhibition. 

Charles Darwin's grandpa, Erasmus. The real genius in the family

Erasmus Darwin (1731–1802) was born in Nottinghamshire where his father Robert Darwin was a lawyer. Presumably the family lived well because Erasmus went to university in St John’s College Cambridge, then studied medicine at the University of Edinburgh Medical School.

Erasmus Darwin House Museum, Lichfield
The Cathedral can be seen behind the house.

In 1757 he moved to Lichfield, Staffordshire to establish a medical practice there. Erasmus became a highly successful physician, and practiced for 50+ years. The doctor liked sex himself, with his wives, mistresses and other peoples’ girlfriends, and warmly prescribed sex as a cure for hypochondria in his patients. Perhaps that was why George III invited him to be his Royal Physician. More probably, the king was interested in Erasmus’ ideas on hygiene, mental health, balanced diet and the proper treatment of wounds.

Clearly Erasmus was far from a standard suburban GP. He was an inventor of extraordinary breadth, including a canal lift for barges and some weather monitoring machines, both of which were needed by local industry. Alas Erasmus did not patent any of his inventions, even his very clever flushing toilet. He seemed to believe that invoking patents would damage his reputation as a doctor. However his friend Matthew Boulton, another creative thinker and successful inventor, had no such scruples.

Best of all Erasmus co-founded the Lunar Society of Birmingham in 1765, a discussion group where thinking industrialists and natural philosophers could get together in an exciting environment. In 1776 he formed the Lichfield Botanical Society, translating the works of a Swedish botanist into English. The result was two, well thought out publications: A System of Vegetables (early 1780s) and The Families of Plants in 1787.

Erasmus Darwin House Museum, display

Erasmus Darwin was a very close friend of Josiah Wedgwood (1730–95), the founder of the pottery firm, Josiah Wedgwood and Sons. Josiah Wedgwood was also a prominent abolitionist so perhaps they shared a number of important values. Anyhow, so close were the two families that Josiah’s granddaughter, Emma Wedgwood, married Erasmus’ grandson, Charles Darwin. Sir Francis Galton (1822–1911) grandson of Erasmus and cousin of Charles Darwin, was another extraordinary polymath in that family.

I wonder how many people, even those who have read Charles’ Darwin’s writings, would know of grandpa Erasmus’ work? In Lichfield, Erasmus developed his system of evolution, and presumably influenced the later ideas of his grandson Charles Darwin. Remember it was Erasmus who wrote the Laws of Organic Life in 1794, dealing with with pathology, anatomy, psychology and the functioning of the body, decades before On the Origin of Species 1859!!! And I wonder how many people, who have seen Joseph Wright of Derby’s well known portrait of Erasmus, realise who the sitter was?

Erasmus Darwin by Joseph Wright, 76 x 64cm, c1792. Derby Museum and Art Gallery.
Dr Darwin, as you can see, was a rather large man.

Erasmus lived in, and modified a large medieval house near the cathedral close, converting it into a brick Georgian town house. It was here that his Robert Waring Darwin (1766-1848) was born, later father of the naturalist Charles Darwin. And it was this building that functioned as Erasmus’ medical practice, the laboratory for his scientific experiments and the Lunar Society’s gathering place.

In Apr 1999, the Lichfield house became a museum and visitor centre dedicated to his life’s work. Once the renovations were completed, the Erasmus Darwin House Museum was filled with his furniture, books, medical equipment and inventions.

Late in life, Erasmus moved to Derby where he formed the Derby Philosophical Society, a daughter organisation of his earlier Lunar group.

Erasmus Darwin, Zoonomia, Vol. I Or, the Laws of Organic Life, 1794. 

What an amazing polymath and Enlightenment thinker Dr Erasmus Darwin was.  He made major contributions to learning in 75 diverse areas which included:

1) abolition of slavery 2) ventilation 3) mental illness 4) microscopy 5) warm and cold fronts 6) afforestation 7) water closets 8) moon's origin 9) treatment of dropsy 10) animal camouflage 11) nerve impulses 12) wind-gauges 13) artesian wells 14) windmills 15) artificial insemination 16) nitrogen cycle 17) manures 18) women's emancipation 19) biological adaptation 20) biological pest control 21) origin of life 22) canal locks 23) outer atmosphere 24) carriage design including steam carriages 25) phosphorous 26) photosynthesis 27) centrifugation 28) cloud formation 29) compressed air 30) rotary pumps 31) copying machines 32) secular morality 33) educational reform 34) sewage farms 35) sexual reproduction 36) evolutionary theory 37) speaking machines 38) exercise for children 39) squinting 40) fertilizers 41) limestone deposits 42) formation of coal 43) steam turbines 44) geological stratification 45) hereditary disease 46) insecticides 47) telescopes 48) language 49) temperance 50) timber production.

Examine Jenny Uglow's book, The Lunar Men: Five Friends Whose Curiosity Changed the World. It was published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux in 2003.

Treasures in the attic: a lost Adriaen Coorte painting

Scholars of Dutch history – do you know the art of Adriaen Coorte? I looked him up in my essential undergrad reference Dictionary of Art and Artists and found five skimpy lines.

Adriaen Coorte (c1665–c1707) was a Dutch painter, a generation or two younger than all The Normal Suspects like Rembrandt van Rijn, Gerard Dou, Jan Steen, Pieter de Hooch, Nicolaes Maes, Johannes Vermeer, Frans Hals, Willem Van Aelst etc.

Coorte, Vanitas with Skull and Hourglass, 1686, 50 × 41 cm In private collection.

Coorte was born and trained in Middelburg, which is a beautiful, small, Dutch town but not the cultural centre of Europe. And he may well have spent a few years in Amsterdam, training under an experienced artist and teacher. But it was not going to be the Big Smoke for Coorte; in 1683 the young artist returned home to Middelburg, set up a workshop and spent the rest of his rather short life designing and painting small, beautifully crafted still lifes. Yet documentary material only exists for his membership in the Guild of St Luke in Middelburg from a later date and the taxation documents he filed. Coorte was a very shadowy character.

Since only c80 paintings have been attributed to Coorte, we have to assume that art wasn’t his only life (did he run a tavern as well? did he teach?) or that not all his paintings have been identified and catalogued. I am passionate about 17th century still life paintings from the Netherlands, but to say that Coorte’s works are understated is an understatement. They are stark!

Coorte, Still Life with Butterfly, Apricots, Cherries and a Chestnut, 1685, 41 x 35cm.

After 1683, Coorte seemed to have painted mainly small studies of slightly exotic fruit and vegetables on a plain slab of stone eg strawberries, apricots, gooseberries,  peaches and watermelon. Or rare biological specimens like coral and tropical shells. The slab of stone was constantly grey, the background was universally dark and shapeless, and any household utensils were simple and cheap.

Venetian Red examined a few Adriaen Coorte  paintings, concentrating on pictures where asparagus was a very important, or sole element in the composition.

Bonhams thought that when Coorte had a butterfly hover over the fruit, he was painting it in as a compositional device to punctuate the background and to create a balance to the fruit.  I, on the other hand, thought it might have been connected to a vanitas element. Vanitas referred to the meaninglessness of earthly life and the transient nature of vanity. The fruit being painted was sometimes less than perfect, or it may have been a bug or two hovering around. The transient nature of vanity

I have heard of artists fading into oblivion after their death, only to be rediscovered in the 20th century. In this case, it seemed to be the Dutch art historian Laurens Bol who revived Coorte's reputation - Bol published a catalogue raisonné on Coorte in 1977.

More recently, there was an exhibition at the National Gallery of Art Washington DC (2003); the next year the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam and the Mauritshuis museum in The Hague were thrilled to borrowed four still lifes by Coorte from a private collection (2004). So this was more than having his career resuscitated. He went from “Adriaen who?” to “this museum urgently needs some Coorte paintings” within a few decades.

Coorte, Still Life with Shells, 1697, 17 × 22 cm. In Maastricht

Does interest expressed by the big public galleries translate into large payments at the auctions? Vanitas with Skull and Hourglass, 1686 was sold by Sotheby’s in 2008. This may be the most crowded of Coorte’s still life paintings (above). The skull and hourglass were certainly on the stone ledge as expected and the back-ground was darkly blank as expected, but many objects were squished into the small space – oil lamp, shell, book, recorder, musical score and corn bits. It sold well.

Consider the December 2009 auction of two of Coorte’s new-found paintings, each of which sailed way over the printed price estimates, including Still Life with a Peach and Two Apricots on a Stone Ledge 1692. Or see Still Life with a Butterfly, Apricots, Cherries and a Chestnut 1685 which was sold, very well, by Sotheby’s in New York in 2011 41 by 35cm.

Coorte, Three Peaches on a Stone Ledge with a Painted Lady Butterfly, mid 1690s

But then in December 2011, a Bonhams’ auction created an even newer record for Coorte when a previously unrecorded painting called Three Peaches on a Stone Ledge with a Painted Lady Butterfly sold for £2.1 million (Aus$3.1 million or USA $3.32 million)!!!  I don’t know the date of this tiny work (31 x 23 cm), but the mid 1690s seems about right. The painting had been found in Australia, was sent to Europe for authentication and was sold in the Old Master Paintings auction at Bonhams in London.

If I wanted to compare the simplicity and relative poverty of Coorte’s images with the lushness of other still life Dutch artists, I could do no better than Willem Claesz, a generation or two earlier. Claesz’s Still Life 1634 in the Rijksmuseum was also small, 45 x 62 cm but several gorgeous objects were arranged on the table: silver drinking bowl, green glass römer (ie a glass with a round bowl and a wide, hollow stem), a tankard and several valuable plates.

Willem Claesz, Still Life, 1634, 45 x 62 cm. In the Rijksmuseum  

The Rijksmuseum bought the their first Coorte 100+ years ago but it didn’t seem to excite much attention at the time. Today the Rijksmuseum has 5 Coorte paintings and I presume they will be looking to buy more.

Meissen: the town and its porcelain

Being a passionate collector and admirer of early European porcelain, I had been very interested to read how Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and Chinese porcelain fanatic, was desperate to crack the secret that the Chinese had held for so long. Augustus had been spending too big a portion of his annual royal budget on importing porcelain, and he believed it should have been possible to create porcelain at home. Equally exquisite, but far cheaper!

Each Elector of Saxony lived in Albrechtsberg castle, built in the C15th as a late Gothic royal residence. In 1705 Augustus the Very Strong set up a secret laboratory within his castle walls. He imprisoned the alchemist Johann Friedrich Boettger (1682-1719) and others in his castle and probably would have kept them there for life, in order to find the magical formula.

Fortunately for Boettger, he discovered the formula. The first successful experiment took place in 1708 and within two years, the good citizens of Saxony were delighted to see European-created porcelain. Augustus the Strong immediately turned part of his castle into a porcelain factory, with workshops for hundreds of designers and craftsmen. Security against prying (royal) eyes from Vienna and other cities was paramount.

Albrechtsburg Castle and the Meissen Cathedral above the River Elbe

By the end of the C19th, the factory moved out of the Albrechtsburg which was by then looking a bit tatty. So the residential palace was renovated and the space that had been utilised as a porcelain factory was opened as a historical museum to the glories of the Saxon past. City pride expanded and soon after, Meissen’s cathedral was crowned with the skeletal spires in the late Gothic style that now lend such drama to this city. By the 1880s, Meissen was offering a splendid package-deal for tourists.

Albrechtsburg Castle Museum, historical murals

Apparently the exhibition put on at the Albrechtsburg for the 300th anniversary of Meissen porcelain in 2010 was particularly impressive. The exhibition hall presented a fine analysis on three centuries of porcelain manufactured by hand, including the porcelain made for Catherine the Great of Russia and the famous 3.5 m high centrepiece created for the dining table of King Augustus III.

When Joe and I were in Dresden, we found a brilliant 4-hour tour of the medieval city on the banks of the River Elbe. Situated only 25km northeast of Dresden, it is clear that the historic town of Meissen still owes its international reputation to its famous porcelain factory Staatliche Porzellan-Manufaktur Meissen GmbH. Its 1720 logo of two crossed swords, on the bottom of each porcelain object, is one of the oldest trademarks in existence and is still a guarantee of quality across the world.

The crossed swords logo was introduced in 1720 to protect the company’s exclusivity.

We were taken on a walk through the winding and quite steep medieval streets, and very much enjoyed Albrechtsburg castle and adjacent cathedral. It is not a coincidence that Meissen's historical district is located close to the market at the foot of the castle hill.

But the highlight of the excursion for me was going through the showrooms of the Meissen factory. The tour began with a short film on the history of the factory, the raw materials used and the processes adopted. In the following four rooms, the visitors saw how Meissen porcelain was made by hand. Relief-moulded cups were thrown, and parts of figures cast, at the workbenches of a thrower and modeller. The fettler then joined the parts of a figure together. Underglaze painting was demonstrated and the tour concluded with a display of overglaze painting. Floral decorations and painting based on oriental motifs were used to illustrate this multifaceted technique with its extensive nuances of colour.

On leaving Meissen, the tour offered a chance to stop for photos at the magnificent Moritzburg Castle. Nestled among woods and lakes, the former hunting grounds of Augustus the Strong were seen en route back to Dresden. But I don’t remember Moritzburg.

A painted Meissen porcelain circular bowl and cover, mid-C18th, auctioned by Toovey’s.

A useful porcelain reference can be found in Country Life Travel (Winter 2011-2). For fine photos of Meissen's main architecture, see Bird of Prey's nest.

The Little Red Book....... of garden design.

As 18th century started, splendid country homes in Britain had formalised French gardens with straight lines and clipped everything. But as the century progressed, English landscaping became influenced by the landscape paintings that thousands of Grand Tourists had loved in Italy. Claude and Poussin’s view of the Roman Campagna inspired naturalistic garden design by the great landscaping names of the era - Charles Bridgeman, William Kent, Lancelot Capability Brown, Henry Holland and Humphrey Repton.
*

  Beaudesert, Staffordshire, a painting by Humphry Repton. 

Found in Fragments on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening, 1816

The aristocracy wanted to build for themselves a peaceful Arcadian world that looked as natural and unplanned as God originally made it. The popularity of Capability Brown (1715-1783)’s serpentine style peaked in the 1760s and 1770s. So by the time Capability Brown died in 1783, he had bequeathed rural Britain an unbeatable legacy.

His design successor in the next generation was Humphry Repton (1752-1818) from Bury St Edmonds. Repton had written to many people he had known while he was living in Ireland, and had offered his services as an Improver of the Landscape. He soon had steady work including working on Cobham in Kent and Ashridge in Hereford. Sheffield Park Garden in Sussex, a beautiful location all year, was the result of both Brown’s work AND later Repton’s. The owners loved the lakes, cascades and waterfalls.

Repton went beyond the scope of Brown, to include a vision of the house itself and its place in the surrounding landscape. Sometimes that was literally so. In Sheringham Hall Norfolk, for example, Repton had responsibility for some of the architecture, as well as for the landscaping.

Landscapes of Taste,
written by André Rogger in 2007.

Repton coined the term Landscape Garden to describe the natural style of gardening which he felt required "the united powers of the landscape painter and the practical gardener." He introduced a softer Italian style to the English country homes, adding terraces, gravel walks, trellises, fountains and separate flower gardens. [Capability Brown would not have been pleased]. Repton also replaced the earlier classical ornaments with romantic structures like grottoes and fake ruins. We can best see this trend in the largely unchanged Repton gardens at Betchworth House Surrey.

In a sense, then, Humphrey Repton was the link between the Natural Landscape of the earlier decades of the 18th century and the return to Formality that characterised the end of the same century.

While designing a landscape for a client, Repton always created a Red Book of the estate. This was a slim volume bound in red leather and presented to the client. It contained Repton’s proposals for changes, outlined in copperplate and filled with maps, plans, drawings and water-colours to illustrate his ideas. More than a hundred of the Red Books survive, a clear indication of their importance to Repton’s 18th century clients.

I want to mention only four estates and therefore four Red Books. Repton said that one of his more important commissions was for Stoneleigh Abbey, and in his Red Book for that project, he expressed the quality of the site: “I look upon Stoneleigh Abbey as a place not to be compared to any other. Of course he WOULD say that, especially in a book that was handed to the proud owner of Stoneleigh. Sheringham Park in Norfolk received a similarly ringing endorsement. In his July 1812 Red Book, Repton described Sheringham as his favourite and darling child in Norfolk. Advertising hype was not invented in the 1950s!

I would love to have seen the Red Book for Sheffield Park Garden, had one survived.  Repton certainly visited several times in 1789 and 1790, and seems to have concentrated his efforts near the house where he created the loveliest lakes. Instead, Tim Longville recommended that we examine the Red Book for Mulgrave Castle in Whitby. In it, Repton delighted over the effect of the romantic scene in the glens, with fresh water rivulets and cascades.

Repton is largely known to history because he created, transformed or improved 200+ country homes. So what role did the Red Books play? To Repton, the Red Book was his main working tool. To the home owner, the book was a step-by-step album, documenting progress towards the final, gorgeous landscaping product. And to landscape historians the Red Books are historical texts in their own right, allowing an entirely new genre of landscape appraisal.

Repton also wrote five important books (eg Sketches and Hints on Landscape Gardening, 1794) which were published using the most valuable material from his Red Books. Read Landscapes of Taste: The Art of Humphry Repton's Red Books which was written by André Rogger and published by Routledge in 2007. Here Rogger argued that Repton’s main artistic achievement was actually the text-and-image concept of his Red Books, NOT his gardens.

Red Book for Vinters, Kent, 1797.

In Yale Centre for British Art.

In the top watercolour painting of Vinters in Kent, Repton gave the original view of the estate. In the bottom painting, he presented a watercolour, pen and ink view of the same estate in the future, assuming his landscaping design was fully adopted.

Maharaja splendour in Canada

In conjunction with the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, the Art Gallery of Ontario hosted an extraordinary exhibition in 2010-2011. The exhibition explored in depth the opulent world of the maharajas, from early 18th century until Indian independence in 1947. Maharaja: The Splendour of India’s Royal Courts allowed Canadians to see for the first time 200+ spectacular works of art created for India’s great kings — including paintings, furniture, decorative arts and jewellery. These magnificent objects chronicled the many aspects of royal life and celebrated a legacy of cultural patronage by generations of maharajas, both in India and in Europe.

Golden thrones

The jewellery was stunning. Just one example will do... very nicely indeed. The Maharaja of Patiala bought the most fabulous De Beers Diamond from Cartier of Paris who set it as the centre piece of a ceremonial necklace in 1928. The five rows of diamonds encrusted in a platinum chain became known as the Patiala Necklace, holding the seventh largest cut diamond in the world and the largest single commission in Cartier’s history. In recent years, Cartier re-found the necklace, bought it and spent four years restoring it.

2,930 brilliant diamonds in the Patiala Necklace.

Should the viewer be proud of the maharajas’ amazing patronage of all the arts? Or cringe at the outrageous distribution of scarce resources in India back then? I personally think I would be angry.

But the Ontario museum was very clear. It was the first exhibition to celebrate the opulent world of the maharajas and their unique culture of artistic patronage. The curators and interpreters did a wonderful job of presenting the treasures in a historical context, learning how the rulers lived, what they valued, the political role they played and how, ultimately, the forces of history circumscribed their powers.  I suppose their influence partially depended on how many Princely States there were in India proper. Wiki estimates that the number ranged from 160 in 1872 to 202 in 1941.

One element of colonial history need not have worried the Canadians. When the V&A showed the same exhibition in London, they made a serious attempt to put the myth of the maharajas in its proper courtly context, to explore the visual and artistic expressions of Indian kingship before and after the maharajas' Victorian heyday. As a result, the V & A show was haunted by the sad story of the princes and the British, telling how the British first bullied the princes into submission, schooling them in western tastes, then both  mocked and envied the monsters they had created. Finally, the British quit India, leaving the maharajas to be abolished. The Ontario exhibition was presumably not haunted by colonial guilt.

1934 Rolls Royce Phantom II, custom-built

Processions in India during the 1800s were complex events that celebrated various kinds of power and prestige. They revealed tensions in political authority, social hierarchy and religious tradition. And the British representatives had to assert their colonial role without appearing to endorse or participate in the worship of Hindu deities who formed the focus of much of the event. So company-paintings were produced by Indian artists, presumably for British buyers, many of whom would have been employed by the East India Company.

Mysore Scroll, mid 1800s, now 6 ms long

Paintings of Indian architecture, occupations, castes, rituals and festivals in India were fascinating eg The Mysore Scroll with its 1,250 individuals portraits in mid-1800s dress. The British often used company-paintings as illustrations for publications, or sent them home as souvenirs. This type of painting declined in popularity around the 1840s with the introduction of photography.

A less arty but perhaps more spectacular exhibit was Star of India, an amazing 1934 Rolls Royce Phantom II custom-built for His Highness Thakore Sahib of Rajkot. Built with a polished aluminum hood and wing panels, the Star of India was expected to fetch a mind-boggling £8 million when it went on the open market in 2009! Even a German museum page that is normally blase about the top end of the Rolls Royce range became a drooling mess when examining the Star of India. It was not just a car; rather it was a symbol of a bygone era, when the maharajahs reigned in India and displayed their unfathomable wealth in the shape of fanciful and ever more lavishly designed cars. Unfathomable seems to be an appropriate word.

For those who couldn’t get to the exhibition, I have three recommendations. See the stunning images in Maharaja: The Splendour of India’s Royal Courts at The Victoria & Albert Museum, in Alain Truong's blog.

Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer, Maharaja: The Splendour of India's Royal Courts, 2009

Or read Maharaja: The Splendour of India's Royal Courts (2009) by Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer. Their goal was to examine the real and perceived worlds of the maharaja from the early 18th century to 1947, when the Indian Princes finally ceded their territories into the modern states of India and Pakistan. Or read Maharaja: The Spectacular Heritage of Princely India (1988, 2009) by Andrew Robinson and Sumio Uchiyama. Both books show that the Maharajas spent their lives in extravagant expenditure and unparalleled splendour. The authors created quite a picture, full of throne rooms, gilded ceilings, crystal fountains, gardens with strutting peacocks, treasures made of precious metals, bejewelled elephants, weddings, celebrations and festivals.

See a splendid film on the Maharaja Collection,  recorded  while the treasures were still in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

Stunning jade art; stunning prices

I know a great deal about European art but I am not at all familiar with Chinese art objects. Nonetheless I was impressed with the report from Woolley and Wallis fine art auctioneers, Salisbury. A Chinese Imperial white jade carving of a recumbent deer sold in Nov 2010 for £3.8 million (USA $6 million or AUS $5.4 million). Created in the 1735-1796 reign of Emperor Qianlong, the deer was part of four Imperial Chinese jade carvings from Crichel House in Dorset. These carvings had been exhibited in a London gallery as part of Asian Art London during the week before the sale.

Woolley & Wallis in Salisbury also auctioned an imperial ghanta/ritual bell that sold for £2.4 million. The Buddhist ghanta, exquisitely crafted in white jade, represented the female aspect of wisdom and ranked among the most important symbols in Tibetan Buddhism. Furthermore jade was believed to ward off evil spirits. So items like this were very welcome as a wedding present, but I wonder how many proud parents could afford such gifts.

white Chinese jade deer, 21 cm long
Qianlong reign

sold for £3.8 million in Nov 2010

Woolley & Wallis, Salisbury

From the Kingdom of Khotan, on the southern leg of the Silk Road, yearly tribute payments consisting of the most precious white jade were made to the Chinese Imperial court, and from there it was worked into art objects by skilled artisans. Clearly jade was more valuable than the precious metals that the West was passionate about (gold and silver), explaining why jade came to be thought of the imperial gem. If that was the case in the 18th century, it is not surprising that jade would have been used the imperial family for the finest objects and cult figures.

And what an imperial family it was. Emperor Qianlong was the sixth ruler of the Qing dynasty and enjoyed the longest reign period in all of Chinese history - 61 years. Even in 1796, at the grand old age of 85, he had to be pushed into abdicating the throne on behalf of his son. Historians seem a bit rude about Emperor Qianlong, but there is general agreement that he was truly an important patron of the arts. More than any other Manchu emperor, Qianlong seemed to spend a great deal of money and time on expanding the imperial collection.

Why was a mythical deer chosen and what, if anything, was the symbolic value of this beautiful creature? The closest I could find is that a mythical horned Chinese deer-like creature is said to arrive only when a sage has appeared. Thus it is a good omen associated with serenity, prosperity and long life.

The auctioneers at Woolley and Wallis explained that prices had risen tenfold over the last four years because of the recent increase in Chinese buying power. So the would-be collector today is advised to examine the jade very carefully for its density and translucency, for its tactile and visual aspects. Quality is clearly more important than colour or size. A world's record for white jade was set in 2010 when an imperial white jade seal from the Qianlong period which sold for USA $15.6 million – it must have been very high quality jade indeed.

A seal personally commissioned and used by Emperor Qianlong sold for £2.7 million at Bonhams Sale of Fine Chinese Art in Nov 2010.  Seals were used to print stamps that were used in lieu of signatures. Often in jade, ivory or precious hardwood, each seal was used on personal or public documents and contracts that required formal acknowledgment. This particular seal, with its inscription Self-Strengthening Never Ceases, has been linked to the Emperor's 80th birthday celebration, so it was extremely imperial. Of even more interest to historians was the fact that the seal had been based at the Yan chunge Pavilion in the Forbidden City during its use by the Qianlong Emperor.

small jade seal, 4cm square
Qianlong reign

sold for £2.7 million

Bonham’s Auction of Fine Chinese Art London,  Nov 2010

Country Life magazine (8th June 2011) noted that during this May, at least nine English salerooms held sales of Far Eastern works of art, often achieving prices well above the estimates. How long, they ask, before the deep well of British Far Eastern material runs dry? 

In the meantime, Country Life was very impressed with a yellow jade ruyi/septre acquired by a British officer in Beijing in 1900, during the Boxer Rebellion. Made in the palace workshops during the Qianlong era, it was sold by Bonhams for £1.3 million inclusive. Carved from a semi-opaque pale greenish stone with a few pale brown inclusions, the upper side of the shaft had two crisp shallow relief cartouches of archaistic C-scrolls. The surface was lustrous, a double red silk thread tassel suspended from the end of the shaft.

jade septre, 37cm long

Qianlong reign

sold for £1.3 million

Bonham’s Auction of Fine Chinese Art London, May 2011

Despite the belief that quality was more important than colour, I wondered if white jade was more treasured than green or yellow jade. Bonhams noted that the popularity of yellow jade was well documented as early as the Ming Dynasty. The number of Imperial vessels and decorative items worked from this sought-after colour in the court collections suggested its popularity within the Qing court, particularly under the Qianlong Emperor.

Readers might like to pursue the topic of imperial jade art objects in a book written by Cathy Scott-Clark and Adrian Levy in 2002. The Stone of Heaven: Unearthing the Secret History of Imperial Green Jade’s story began in 1735, when jade-obsessed Chinese emperor Qianlong tried to extend China's reach into present-day Burma, reputed to contain the world's finest jade. Or read Christopher Proudlove's article, "Chinese jade: the collectors' market", in The World of Antiques & Art, Issue 80, Feb-Aug 2011. 

jade bell, 18cm high

18th century

sold for £2.4 million

Woolley & Wallis Auctions, May 2010

Bligh, Mutiny on the Bounty, breadfruit

TWO gold medals, awarded to William Bligh (1754 –1817) of Mutiny on the Bounty fame, are to be offered for sale at auction at Melbourne's Dallas Brooks Centre by his descendants (26th-28th July 2011).

This Cornish lad had a rapid rise up navy ranks. Captain James Cook, of international fame, made Bligh his sailing master on the Resolution.  Bligh accompanied the great man in July 1776 on Cook's final voyage to the Pacific.

In the 1780s, Bligh was a captain in the merchant service. Then in 1787, he was selected as commander of HMS Bounty. The botanist Sir Joseph Banks wanted to transplant a crop of breadfruit to the West Indies as food for slaves. The Bounty arrived in Tahiti in 1788, having been delayed 11 months by severe weather, only to find that the breadfruit was out of season. Bligh decided to give the crew six months' shore leave in the tropical paradise; there they waited for the new seeded breadfruit to grow into saplings mature enough for transportation.

Transplanting Breadfruit from Tahiti by Thomas Gosse, 1796. National Library of Australia

Many of the crew settled into cosy domestic relationships with local women, making life in Tahiti very pleasant. So when it was time to sail for the West Indies in 1789, there were already rumblings in the ranks. Under the leadership of Fletcher Christian, the crew mutinied at sea and placed Bligh and 18 loyal followers in an open 7-metre boat with food and water, but with no charts or navigation aids.

Why did the crew do it? Probably not because Bligh was a vicious and cruel ship captain, at least by standards of the time. He might have been an arrogant sod, but he was an educated man, a scientist, and a captain interested in the health and welfare of his crew.

Bligh, in what is regarded as one of the greatest seagoing feats in history, navigated from the memory of his charts, guiding the overloaded and unstable vessel on a very long voyage and arriving in Timor 47 days later.

A second successful attempt was made to transport the breadfruit, accomplished in 1793.

The mutineers turning Lt Bligh and some of the officers and crew adrift from His Majesty's Ship Bounty, April 1789, by Robert Dodd

The first medal up for auction today was awarded in 1794, given by the Royal Society for Bligh's successful work relating to breadfruit. Bligh’s medal carries the inscription on the rim: BREAD FRUIT TREE CONVEYED TO THE WEST INDIES. The estimate for the medal is $50,000.

The second slightly smaller medal, estimated at $200,000, is the Naval Gold Medal 1795, awarded to ship captains. Bligh won it for his role at the Battle of Camperdown 1797. This was an important naval action between the Royal Navy fleet and the Dutch navy, in which the British captured 11 Dutch ships without loss of any of their own.

After his exoneration by the Court Martial inquiry into the loss of the Bounty, Bligh remained in the Royal Navy. He even served under Admiral Nelson in one important battle or another in 1801.

Bligh was offered the position of Governor of New South Wales by Sir Joseph Banks and appointed in March 1805 at a hefty salary. William Bligh was the fourth Governor of NSW between 1806-1810, still very professional and exacting, and still irritating other people. He was aware that some of the officers were acting in their own interests, at the expense of farmers. When he legitimately questioned the unjust trade and land grants being exercised by New South Wales Corps officers, Bligh was arrested by the army in 1808. This was Australia’s only military coup and for the next two years, until the arrival of a new Governor, officers of the Corps took over the role of Governor! Only when the new Governor Lachlan Macquarie arrived with his own regiment in 1810 was justice regained.

Another trial back in Britain and another promotion for Bligh! He was promoted to rear admiral of the Blue and then to vice-admiral in June 1814. What a career!

Portrait of William Bligh, 1804. National Library of Australia (left) and his medal (right)

George Frideric Handel - Georgian gentleman

George F Handel (1685-1759) had been a court musician in Hanover and didn’t travel to London until 1710, when he was 25.  Apart from a brief return to Hanover where he regained the position of court musician in 1712, London became his permanent home. Fortunately Handel had no trouble finding homes of British friends and patrons who would allow him to lodge with them.

Handel, 1727, by Balthasar Denner, National Portrait Gallery London

His timing was perfect. The newly established Italian opera company at the Queen's Theatre in Haymarket was searching for a composer, so Handel’s Italian opera career in London quickly got up and running. They had loved him in Hanover and, largely, they loved him in London.

What a flexible chap he was. During his early years in London, Handel started to attract people interested in English church music, people who would have heard his music at St Paul's Cathedral in those early years. And later oratorio, as well.

What was the difference between opera and oratorio? Like an opera, an oratorio included the use of a choir, soloists, an ensemble, various distinguishable characters and arias. But opera was musical theatre, complete with characters, costumes and scenery. Oratorio, on the other hand, was just a concert piece.

Handel's Georgian terrace house in Lower Brook St, Mayfair

In 1723 Handel finally moved into his own place: a newly-built Georgian terrace house in 25 Lower Brook St Mayfair, three storeys high as you can see from the image, plus garret rooms for the servants. Despite the fact that Handel never married and had no children, he also took the upper floors of the adjoining house at 23 Brook Street.

The two nicest rooms for were quiet composing, towards the rear, and performing /rehearsing with guests, towards the front. His home was close to the theatres in which he would be working, yet in a neighbourhood filled with people of substance.

During the 1730s he performed in the newly-built Covent Garden theatre, giving both operas and oratorios there. In the 1740s, Handel started to prefer English oratorios; for these, Covent Garden theatre remained his favourite venue.

Because he lived in Lower Brook St for most of his decades in London, the house naturally became the location where his wrote his most beloved pieces. Two of his best known oratorios, Messiah and Samson, came out of the Lower Brook St study in 1741, as well as Zadok the Priest and Music for the Royal Fireworks.

Even in his later years, Handel seemed to have attended the oratorio performances, and even occasionally performed in them. Although he didn’t have many social engagements during his later years, people could still visit him at home. He died in 1759.

I am not sure what happened to the house between 1759 and the Edward­ian era, but I do know that in 1905 the house was bought by an antiq­ues dealer for himself, his children and his grandchildren. The chan­g­es the Edwardian dealer made to the house were naturally incompatib­le with the Handel era.

When, in 2000, the Handel House Museum Trust took over the job of returning the house to how it would have looked in Handel's day, there were some problems. No original architectural interiors remained from the early 18th century, except for the staircase. And because none of Handel's original furniture has been found, a contemporary inventory had to be used as a guide for installing age-appropriate furniture back into the house.

It is wonderful that this very house has recently become Handel House Museum, opened to the public to celebrate Handel’s life and works. Since music was always played in this house during Handel’s residence in the mid 18th century, music is again played there now. The museum offers a programme of weekly concerts, music rehearsals and educational events throughout the year. And since it was after all a home and not a conservatorium, portraits of Handel and his contemporaries are now displayed in finely restored Georgian interiors.  Exhibitions in the House Museum bring this very English world of Handel's to life.

Front room, used for musical performances and rehearsals

Of the 76 years that Handel spent on this earth, 49 of them were in London, living as a proper English gentleman, albeit with a strange German accent. So Britain's love afair with Handel continues today. Founded by musical director Denys Darlow in 1978, the London Handel Festival has been part of a Handel revival, specialising in the performance of his lesser-known works. In 1981 the London Handel Orchestra and London Handel Singers made their debut at the Festival.

**

I wasn't going to mention this but in 1968 Jimi Hendrix moved into the top floor flat in 23 Brook Street with his English girlfriend. The flat is now the administrative office of Handel House Museum. To mark the 40th anniversary of Hendrix’s death in 1970, Handel House presented an exhibition called Hendrix in Britain. With images, music and objects, the exhibition followed his impressive  career in London and his lasting impact on rock music universally. And the connection between Handel and Hendrix will continue to be marked... by an English Heritage Blue Plaque on the facade of Hendrix’s (and Handel's) residence.



From "Anna Maria Grosholtz" to the mighty "Madame Tussaud"

Joe and I had been to Madame Tussaud’s wax museum in London with our sons (before they were too independent and stroppy to travel with us). But at that stage I had no idea if Madame Tussaud was a real person or not.

Anna Maria Grosholtz (1761–1850) was born in France, but as her father died when she was still a neonate, her mother had to take work wherever it was offered - Switzerland. Mrs Grosholtz worked for one Dr Philippe Curtius, a physician who used wax modelling to illustrate anatomy lessons for young students.

Dr Curtius moved to Paris in 1765, starting work by setting up a wax exhibition. In that year he made a waxwork of Louis XV's last mistress, Madame du Barry, a cast of which is the oldest work currently on display. In 1767 Mrs Grosholtz took her daughter and joined Dr Curtius in Paris. The first exhibition of Curtius' waxworks was shown in 1770 and seemed to be very popular. In 1776, the exhibition moved to the Palais Royal.

Wax model of a young Maria making a wax model, in the Berlin museum 

Dr Curtius taught young Maria Grosholtz the art of wax modelling and found that she was a very interested pupil. In 1778, she created her first wax figures, mostly famous people like Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire. Apparently she lived at Versailles from 1780 to the Revolution a decade later, which might explain how she knew royals so well.

But knowing the royals was not a good thing, once The Revolution started. It could have been a very dangerous time for Maria, but fortunately she was called back to Paris and met many of the people who played a significant role in French life then, including Napoleon Bonaparte.

Maria Grosholtz was arrested during the Reign of Terror (1793-4) and was at great risk of execution by guillotine. But due to the intervention of a member of the Committee of Public Safety, Maria, Dr Curtius and his family were saved  and released. When the mob stormed the Bastille, Maria had to make wax death masks of the victims of the guillotine, particularly King Louis XVI, Queen Marie Antoinette, Marat and Robespierre. These death masks were hugely popular and guaranteed her a steady career.

On his deathbed in 1794, Dr Curtius left his collection of waxworks to his protégé. In 1795, she married François Tussaud, an engineer from Mâcon, and became Madame Tussaud.

Chamber of Horrors, in the London Museum

Life improved in the new century (1802) when Madame Tussaud and the children travelled to London, but I have no idea what happened to the husband. Due to the ongoing Napoleonic Wars, she was unable to return to France, so she exhibited her collection across the major cities of Great Britain and Ireland for 33 years. 

I wonder if Madame Tussaud herself was aware of the newsworthiness of her travelling exhibitions. At a time when news was communicated largely by word of mouth, Madame Tussauds’ exhibition was a kind of travelling news service, providing insight into global events and bringing the ordinary public face-to-face with the movers and shakers of the era.

Thus it took decades before she could open her first permanent exhibition in Baker St in London, a salon richly decorated with mirrors in the old French taste. However as anyone who has visited will know, the main attraction of her museum was rather macabre: the Chamber of Horrors. This part of the exhibition included victims of the French Revolution that she made with her own hands, plus more recently created figures of murderers and other low lifes.

After living through the most hideous and dangerous era in French history, Madame Tussaud would have initially considered herself lucky to survive to 35 years of age! She must have truly been blessed, since she actually died in comfortable old age, at 88. Long after her death, the museum moved from the Baker St Bazaar to its present site in Marylebone Road (in 1884).