A Gallery of William Hogarth

William Hogarth (London, England, 10th November 1697 – London, England, 26th October 1764) 

The legendary William Hogarth died on this day in 1764; in the past, I have offered a closer look at three of his paintings and below, you can find a gallery of this famed artist's work!

I'll be tweeting other Hogarth paintings throughout the day too...

The Shrimp Girl 
A snapshot of Georgian England...

The Painter and His Pug
A beloved pet is captured on canvas.

Miss Mary Edwards
A most unusual patroness...

The Gaols Committee of the House of Commons

Wedding of Stephen Beckingham and Mary Cox

Self Portrait

The Graham Children

The Court

A Scene from the Beggar's Opera

The Lady's Last Stake

William Hogarth and Miss Mary Edwards

William Hogarth (London, England, 10th November 1697 – London, England, 26th October 1764) 

On this day in 1764, one of the most iconic painters in the history of English art, William Hogarth, died. Beloved of court and public, Hogarth turned his hand to portraiture, caricature and satirical prints. His subjects ranged from the street vendor to his own beloved pug and, as we shall see today, the most noteworthy names in Georgian society.

Miss Mary Edwards of Kensington was a most singular sort. One of Hogarth's favourite portraits, the eccentric heiress inherited a fortune in her early twenties and she and the artist enjoyed a fruitful, close friendship as she brought commissions and inspiration to his door including a portrait of her own infant son and caricatures of society types who had once mocked her somewhat unorthodox approach to life.

When the time came to paint Mary herself in 1742, she was thirty seven years of age and had lived an eventful life, including marrying and then casting aside a most avaricious and scheming husband, Lord Anne Hamilton, whom she believed intended to relieve her of her fortune. In this oil painting Hogarth captured his adored patron perfectly, his brush picking out a kindly, playful and undeniably appealing face, the central figure of Mary in her vibrant red dress shining out against a formal dark background.

Behind Mary a globe and bust suggest wisdom and artistry respectively and she rests her hand on the head of a loyal, adoring dog, marking her out as a most dependable sort. Her clothes are fine yet not overly extravagant, the jewellery around her neck likewise ornate but not quite dazzling. As we can see from Mary's decision to leave her marriage rather than lose her fortune and place in the world, she loved and valued freedom and independence and the scroll at her elbow bears testament to this, reading:

Remember, Englishmen, the Laws and the Rights.
The generous plan of Power delivered down
From age to age by your renown’ed Forefathers. . .
Do thou, great Liberty, inspire their Souls!

This portrait is not simply that of one more sitter in the appointment book, it is a friend captured forever on canvas, Hogarth's brush showing us how highly he thought of this most illustrious lady. One year after Hogarth completed this lovely painting the lady was dead yet she lives on even now, vibrant, happy and adored, in this remarkable painting.

The Painter and his Pug

It is no secret that I adore the pets who share my house, nor is it privileged information that my constant companion is Pippa, my wonderful hound. A man who shared my love of dogs is, of course, William Hogarth, the legendary painter who, like my sister, shared his home with a pug. 

Hogarth's pug went by the name of Trump and it's fair to say that he was a celebrity in his own right, with small porcelain figures of Trump being sold to Hogarth's fans, whilst the painter himself was on occasion depicted as a pug too!

The Painter and his Pug by William Hogarth, 1745

In the 1730s, Hogarth began work on what would become The Painter and his Pug. The work depicts Hogarth as a picture within a frame whilst Trump sits outside it, reality alongside the constructed and framed image of Hogarth. Although the finished portrait shows Hogarth in informal dress, initial work on the canvas showed a very different figure, with the artist resplendent in wig and formal dress. Clearly Hogarth had a rethink though and chose to depict himself as a craftsman, rather than a figure of wealth and importance. 

He has taken great care over other aspects of the painting too, as the self-portrait rests atop a bile of books by Milton, Swift and Shakespeare, whilst the palette in the foreground bears the words, "Line of Beauty and Grace". Although Hogarth painted out "and Grace", over time it has become visible again and this refers to Hogarth's artistic beliefs set out in his work, The Analysis of Beauty.

The Painter and his Pug was completed in 1745, a decade or so after work on it began. As a dog-lover, it is a painting that immediately speaks to me because of the way in which Trump is presented, obediently sitting before his master alongside the books, palette and words that mean so much to the artist. He is a vital part of Hogarth's life and art, as much a part of his inspiration as the literature on which Hogarth's portrait rests. Trump would not be the only pug owned by William Hogarth but his place in history is assured, captured forever in this striking work.

The Execution of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat

Simon Fraser, 11th Lord Lovat (Scotland, c.1667 – 9 April 1747, London, England)

Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat by William Hogarth

Today I have two posts on offer; one is a little piece on the matter of writing and the other is a somewhat more grisly affair. 9th April marks the anniversary of the death of Simon Fraser, 11th Lord Lovat and the last man to be publicly executed in England as he met his maker on Tower Hill.

Lord Lovat lived a life of controversy and was not above double dealing and subterfuge to achieve his ambitions. When the Hanovers and Stuarts went head to head, Lovat played both sides like an expert but when the moment came to choose his colours, he made a fatal mistake and chose the Stuart cause.

A wanted man, Lovat was discovered hiding on an island in Loch Morar  and arrested. With no time wasted the infirm and aged Lord Lovat was moved from Scotland and taken to London to face a trial that lasted less than a week. Age had caught up with the once fearsome character and left him unable to see or hear and barely able to walk or stand. His cunning, which had served him so well throughout his life, was no match for the English law and his conviction on a charge of treason was a forgone conclusion from the day his trial began.

The death sentence was passed on Lovat on 19th March 1747. He languished in prison until the appointed date of 9th April and then, with some difficulty due to his physical condition, he was conveyed from his cell to Tower Hill. At the block he was received by his executioner, John Thrift, and an enthusiastic audience keen to see the death of this notorious character.

An enormous crowd gathered to witness Lovat's execution and such was the scrum to get a good view that a bank of scaffolding collapsed beneath the weight of spectators, killing twenty people. This struck Lovat as singularly hilarious and he laughed uproariously before setting his head on the block, becoming the last man to be beheaded in England.

William Hogarth and the Shrimp Girl

William Hogarth (London, England, 10th November 1697 – London, England, 26th October 1764) 

The Painter and his Pug by William Hogarth, 1745

Today marks the birthday of the great William Hogarth, the legendary English painter, satirist and printmaker. He has long been a favourite in this salon and I first encountered his work as a lass when my own mother decorated a wall of our home with his magnificent Marriage A-la-Mode series. We young Gilflurts made up our own stories to accompany the pictures but none of them were half as shocking as the real narrative; still, it certainly set our creative juices flowing!

To mark Hogarth's birthday I have decided to feature one of my favourite paintings, The Shrimp Girl. Undated, it is believed that the unfinished oil on canvas dates from the 1740s, and was started as an experiment in working with different styles. By this point in Hogarth's career he was an established, hugely successful figure with nothing left to prove. His sitters paid vast sums to commission paintings and his works were instantly recognisable, influential and lauded by the most illustrious names in the country as well as the public who enthusiastically brought prints of his work and saw them displayed as they went about their lives. Despite all of this, Hogarth wasn't content to rest on these successes and when he painted The Shrimp Girl he was looking to develop a less formal style, experimenting with elements of impressionism and a light, frivolous touch.

The Shrimp Girl by William Hogarth, 174o-45

The identity of the woman in the painting is lost to time yet she would have been a familiar sight around the fish markets of the capital. From the basket that sits neatly atop her head the smiling girl sells shellfish, the pewter tankard used as a half-pint measure. Hogarth kept the painting at home until his death, never quite finishing the work, and when his widow, Jane Thornhill, showed it to people after his death, she told them, "They say he could not paint flesh. There is flesh and blood for you".

In The Shrimp Girl in it we see a natural, joyous face at odds with the sometimes idealised look of the formal Georgian portraits that I so adore. This painting illustrates a long-lost moment of London street life, one of thousands of such moments that occurred every day and Hogarth has captured it, immortalising the unknown, cheerful young woman forever. The Shrimp Girl is not Hogarth's most dramatic work, nor his most magnificent; it tells no satirical tale, not does it present us with an illustrious figure of national importance but it does show us the everyday face of Hogarth's London and that is why, for me, it is his one of his greatest works.

If you want to see more works by Hogarth, visit me on Pinterest!

The Last Hanging at Tyburn

To end the week of Halloween, we return to the Tyburn gallows on the anniversary of the last public hanging at this iconic place, that of a highwayman named John Austin. Now, I take as my inspiration the notes of my dear of grandmother Gilflurt and unfortunately, a rather ribald night with the Duke of Marlborough resulted in a gin spillage that has smudged the date somewhat and she is too cloudy to recall at present. Historians are not in agreement on the date of this final hanging with both 3rd and 7th November 1783 given as likely candidates. Since the trial at the Old Bailey definitely took place on 29th October, I am going to plump for 3rd so let us continue!

On 23rd October 1783, John Spicer was on the road for London, having left Grays in Essex with the intention of finding a new situation in life. Unfamiliar with the city, Spicer had been glad to make the friendship of two men who offered to direct him to reputable lodgings and travelled with him for a couple of days. However, rather than conduct him safely to a rooming house, the men took their victim to open fields near Bethnal Green and threatened him with a cutlass, leaving him in no doubt that he would die if he did not go along with their demands to hand over his valuables. Despite being outnumbered and unarmed, Spicer fought furiously but Austin and his accomplice were able to wrestle him to the ground, tying his hands tightly and taking all of his possessions.

The attack was interrupted by James Strong, a local man who had been working in his employer's garden. His efforts to apprehend the assailants were unsuccessful but he took the badly wounded Spicer to the infirmary, where his injuries were tended. It appeared then that Austin and his accomplice had made good their escape but the greedy felon returned to the scene of his crime in daylight to see if he had left anything behind. Strong apprehended Austin, who complained that he was an innocent man; he explained that he had been forced to participate in the robbery by a stranger, who threatened him with death if he did not comply. Whilst the men waited for the watch to arrive, Austin was locked in a stable and, when he was released, the takings from the robbery were found concealed in his makeshift prison.

Industry and Idleness, Plate 11; The Idle 'Prentice Executed at Tyburn by William Hogarth 

After hearing the testimonies and defence, the judge, Mr Eyre, passed sentence of death on Austin and just days later he was taken by cart to the Tyburn gallows amid a crowd of spectators. The condemned man apparently passed the journey in a dignified fashion though panic overtook him as the noose was fixed and he told the crowd, "Good people, I request your prayers for the salvation of my departing soul; let my example teach you to shun the bad ways I have followed; keep good company, and mind the word of God." This short speech completed, the cap was put over his head and as he began to speak again the cart started forward and the noose tightened; rather than face a quick death, Austin was slowly strangled for ten minutes.

Austin was the last man to die at Tyburn and from that day hangings moved to Newgate. There are many more stories to tell of this dark place but for now, I hope you pass a restful Sunday and take care on the road to London, no matter how friendly your travelling companions might seem.

"Love and scandal are the best sweeteneers of tea": The Life of Henry Fielding

Henry Fielding (Sharpham, Somerset, England, 22nd April 1707 – Lisbon, Portugal, 8th October 1754) 

Enough of monarchs and royals for a while, it is high time we made the acquaintance of a famed name of Georgian literature. The best claret is open, grandmother Gilflurt has been safely dispatched for a promenade in the park and I am privileged to welcome Henry Fielding, a man whose work was bawdy, satirical and often controversial. In between travelling, writing and creating a general stir, he even found time to establish the Bow Street Runners, London's very first police force.

Fielding was the first of seven children born to Colonel Edmund Fielding and his wife, Sarah Gould Fielding, the daughter of a judge who had disapproved deeply of the marriage. Never a great one for managing his finances, Colonel Fielding decided to give up the military life in favour of agriculture when his son was just an infant though he was never as successful as he had hoped to be. Sarah died when young Henry was just 10 years old and after a protracted legal battle he and his siblings were passed into the custody of his maternal grandmother, leaving Colonel Fielding to meet a sad end in a debtor's prison after he lost what remained of his estate to a dishonest financial broker. Dispatched to Eton College, Fielding proved himself a gifted student and formed abiding friendships with boys who would go on to be influential figures.

Upon his graduation in 1724 the young man went to London where he enjoyed something of a gadabout existence and formed an attachment to the wealthy Sara Andrews of Lyme Regis. Set on marriage, Fielding courted Sara until disaster struck and, involved in a fight with a fellow admirer, he was hauled before the town magistrates. Not to be deterred, Fielding made a botched attempt to abduct Sara and was left with no choice but to flee the town, finally admitting defeat in this particular pursuit. 

Casting about for something else to do with his days, in 1728 Fielding oversaw the unsuccessful staging of his first comedy, Love in Several Masques, at the Drury Lane Theatre. With his dramatic and romantic aspirations similarly thwarted, he left England behind to take up study at the University of Leiden, remaining there for just over a year before he fled the Netherlands and a growing pile of debt to return to England. During his time away he began to develop his signature satirical style, taking merciless aim at the Walpole administration and on his return to England, he found that his farces were suddenly exactly what the public wanted. In 1734 he married Charlotte Craddock, with whom he would have five children, though only one would survive to adulthood. He and Charlotte were devoted to one another and she inspired leading ladies in more than one of his works. 

By now a manager at the Little Theatre in Haymarket, Fielding continued to enjoy theatrical success and acclaim. Audiences lapped up his savage comedies and he became hugely influential, certainly contributing to the introduction of the Theatrical Licensing Act of 1737. With the Act, Fielding found his particular themes outlawed and retired from the theatre, taking up a career as a barrister. However, he was soon editing a journal, The Champion; or, British Mercury, with many of his articles showing an anti-Jacobite stance, a theme that would continue throughout his journalism.

Henry Fielding by William Hogarth

The writer had inherited his father's financial acumen and provided himself with a secondary income stream by writing satirical stories and articles. Time after time his shots at Walpole and his government hit the mark, his works selling as quickly as they could be printed and this was the case for his first novel, the anonymous An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, published in 1741. With Charlotte's death in 1744 Fielding was overcome with grief and he returned to London to live with his sister Sarah, who was also a novelist, and his maid, Mary Daniel. He and the pregnant Mary married in 1747 and the man who had once tried to abduct an heiress found himself engulfed by scandal again, though if Fielding cared, he hardly showed it. The couple adored one another until Fielding's death and faced the gossips of London without shame.  

Regardless of the mockery and disdain of his peers, Fielding's professional achievements were rewarded when he was named as London's Chief Magistrate and in 1749 he and his half-brother and fellow magistrate, John,  were behind the creation of the Bow Street Runners. As passionate about reform as he was about mocking Walpole, Fielding championed judicial reform and the often horrendous conditions in London prisons. 

Henry Fielding's tomb

This same year he published the book which is arguably his most famous, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. This work was hugely successful, capturing the public imagination with its comedy, adventure and romance. However, by now the writer's health was failing and he was increasingly disabled by gout, reliant on crutches. Perhaps mirroring the personal challenges he was facing, his next work, Amelia, was far less farcical, examining the relationship of a husband and wife as they deal with the tribulations of life.

Whilst on one hand Fielding appeared to be a pillar of the establishment, on the other he possessed a devilish streak and in 1752 he established The Covent-Garden Journal, a controversial paper in which he could air his opinions. By now in declining health he travelled to Portugal to seek a cure with his family, but his efforts were unsuccessful and Fielding passed away in Lisbon. 

The story of the author's last trip was published in his charming and evocative last work, Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, a bittersweet coda to a life lived to the full. The magistrate, playwright, author and reformer was buried in the city's English Cemetery, his name deservedly immortalised by the works he left behind.