Lady Manners and Mr Lawrence

It's a pleasure to welcome LL Diamond, author of Particular Intentions, for a glimpse into the world of Sir Thomas Lawrence, one of my absolute favourites!

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Since publishing Particular Attachments, I’ve received a lot of compliments on the cover, so I thought it would be fun to “expose” my cover so to speak. I only use a part of the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, but my Georgiana Darcy in the story has dark brown hair and blue eyes—vastly different than the subject’s. . . well, grey hair. I love the filmy detailing on her white gown and contrasting blue waist, grey gloves, and pink rose. The detailed fleshiness of her hand that is holding the rose is what initially caught my eye in this lovely portrait. If I am careful and very methodical I can draw hands (when I have time to practice), but they are very difficult. You never think of hands as tricking the eye, but the eye doesn’t always interpret the angles correctly when an artist tries to draw them. Checking each and every angle is a necessity if I want it to look as it should, so I find a well-drawn or well-painted hand will draw my attention, as it did on the cover for The Earl’s Conquest as well. I did hope to use more of the background of the painting, but it didn’t look quite right when cropped—particularly with the unusual colouring of the peacock’s tail.

Now that the entire painting is exposed. Who painted it? And who is the lady depicted? Let’s start with the artist.

Sir Thomas Lawrence
(13 April 1769 – 7 January 1830)

Born in Bristol, Thomas Lawrence showed his talent at an early age, drawing pastel likenesses for fashionable people in his father’s tavern for a guinea or a guinea and a half a piece and eventually, supporting his family with his earnings by the age of ten.

At the age of 18, Lawrence travelled to London and became a student of the Royal Academy. He began to exhibit his work soon after and word of his talent spread so rapidly that he was made an associate of the Royal Academy in 1791. Upon the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Lawrence became the Painter-in-Ordinary to George III. While the previous generation was more restrained and smooth, Lawrence used thickly applied paint on clothing, boldly contrasted colours, and highlights that almost shimmer from the canvas. These qualities marvelled the fashionable set and earned him the commissions of many of society. He was knighted in 1815 and became president of the Royal Academy in 1820, holding that office until his death in 1830.

Lawrence was never married, though he was linked romantically with the Duchess of Devonshire, Sarah Siddons and both of her daughters, Caroline of Brunswick, and may have kept Isabella Wolff as his mistress.

As an artist, Lawrence was highly successful, however, his spending habits kept him in debt, though no one particularly knew what he spent his money on since it was said he didn’t bet on cards or horses, and never became intoxicated with his friends. He claimed to enjoy reading Jane Austen (I like him all the more for it!). Despite his lack of vices, it was estimated by his bankers that he owed twenty thousand pounds in 1807. He did have an impressive collection of artwork that was sold upon his death.


Now, who is the lady in the painting? Her name is Catharine Grey.

Catharine Grey, Lady Manners
(1766? – 1852) 

Catharine Rebecca Grey was born and raised in Ireland and later became the wife of Tory politician William Manners, who became a Baronet and later Lord Huntingtower. She wrote and published two books of poetry: Poems by Lady Manners (1793) and Review of Poetry: Ancient and Modern, A Poem by Lady M**** (1799).

In the painting, Lady Manners is depicted as the goddess Juno, which is symbolised by the peacock behind her; however, Lady Manners didn’t actually like the painting at all and it is claimed she “rejected” the work. Lawrence hoped to sell the portrait in 1794 at the Royal Academy, but no one purchased it and it remained in his possession until after his death.

Sources:

http://www.thomas-lawrence.org/biography.html

https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/artists/sir-thomas-lawrence
https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2010/aug/04/national-portrait-gallery-thomas-lawrence
https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/oct/16/thomas-lawrence-national-portrait-review

Paula R. Backscheider. Eighteenth-Century Women Poets and Their Poetry: Inventing Agency, Inventing Genre. 28 Nov 2005. JHU Press. Pg. 407.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catherine_Grey,_Lady_Manners
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Portrait_of_Catherine_Gray,_Lady_Manners,_by_Thomas_Lawrence.jpg

About the Book

She swore would never marry!

Georgiana Darcy is a lady with a secret! The last thing she wants is to return to London, but what else can she do when her brother and his wife make plans to spend the Christmas season in town. When Lizzy’s youngest sister, Lydia, joins them, Georgiana gains a confidante, but will Lydia’s outgoing nature cause problems when Lord Sele, son of a family friend reappears in Georgiana’s life?

As an insufferable boy, Lord Sele vowed he would marry Georgiana, but was his return from Ireland a coincidence or was his sole purpose to pursue her? He admits to desiring friendship, but Lydia is determined his desire is Georgiana and she will stop at nothing to see her best friend happily settled.

What is Georgiana to do when faced with the society she has managed to avoid for her entire adult life as well as the one man determined to change her mind about marriage? Will she be able to overcome her fears despite the spectre from the past that seems to be haunting her? Will she be forced to tell her secret and choose happiness or will someone from her past ruin everything?

About the Author

L.L. Diamond is more commonly known as Leslie to her friends and Mom to her three kids. A native of Louisiana, she has spent the majority of her life living within an hour of New Orleans until she vowed to follow her husband to the ends of the earth as a military wife. Louisiana, Mississippi, California, Texas, New Mexico, Nebraska, and now England have all been called home along the way. 

After watching Sense and Sensibility with her mother, Leslie became a fan of Jane Austen, reading her collected works over the next few years. Pride and Prejudice stood out as a favorite and has dominated her writing since finding Jane Austen Fan Fiction. 

Aside from mother and writer, Leslie considers herself a perpetual student. She has degrees in biology and studio art, but will devour any subject of interest simply for the knowledge. As an artist, her concentration is in graphic design, but watercolor is her medium of choice with one of her watercolors featured on the cover of her second book, A Matter of Chance. She is a member of the Jane Austen Society of North America. Leslie also plays flute and piano, but much like Elizabeth Bennet, she is always in need of practice! 

Leslie’s books include Rain and Retribution, A Matter of Chance, An Unwavering Trust, The Earl’s Conquest, Particular Intentions and Particular Attachments.

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A Thomas Lawrence Digest

Sir Thomas Lawrence PRA FRS (Bristol, England, 13th April 1769 - London, England, 7th January 1830) 

On this day, Sir Thomas Lawrence, one of the finest and most respected painters of the Georgian era, was born.

Lawrence's works have featured here at the Salon on numerous occasions and I have taken this opportunity to collect them into a digest. Below you will find three posts dedicated to three of this remarkable painter's most outstanding works and beneath that, posts where his evocative portraits illustrate stories from the Georgian age.

Sir Thomas Lawrence: Portrait of the Honourable Mrs. Seymour Bathurst
A wedding portrait of a society bride.

Sir Thomas Lawrence: Portrait of Elizabeth Farren
When Lawrence painted a famed actress, she was dismayed at just how slender he had made her...

Sir Thomas Lawrence: Portrait of Queen Charlotte
Lawrence captures a poignant image of the wife of George III.


Posts Illustrated by Lawrence's Works

Sir Thomas Lawrence: Portrait of the Honourable Mrs. Seymour Bathurst

Sir Thomas Lawrence PRA FRS (Bristol, England, 13th April 1769 - London, England, 7th January 1830)

On this day in 1830, the famed portrait artist, Sir Thomas Lawrence, died. Perhaps more than anyone,  this innkeeper's son left behind a body of work that captures the glamour of the Regency era and with no formal teaching, Lawrence became one of the most celebrated artists of his era. His client book included the most illustrious names in England and, as President of the Royal Academy, his wielded enormous influence in the artistic landscape of his time.

The painting that has caught my eye today is Portrait of the Honorable Mrs Seymour Bathurst, a work begun by Lawrence in 1828, just two years before his death. Born Julia Hankey, the sitter in the portrait was due to marry Lieutenant Colonel the Honourable Thomas Seymour Bathurst in 1829, and this painting was commissioned to mark that happy occasion. In fact, the portrait was not completed in time for the wedding and was not actually delivered to the client until 1830, just after Lawrence passed away.

Bathurst was a veteran of Waterloo, Member of Parliament for St Germans and son of the third Earl Bathurst. Daughter of a West India merchant, Julia was thirty years old at the time the painting was started and though she would live until 1877 her husband died in 1834, just five years after his marriage. At the time of the portrait such unhappy events were in the future though, and the painting celebrates a far brighter moment.

Lawrence has captured Julia as a vibrant, lively beauty swathed in a fine white gown, highlighted with bright pink adornments. Gold jewellery provides another bright splash of colour to her outfit whilst the dark background serves only to keep the eye firmly on the lady at the centre of the canvas. With her slightly parted lips and cocked head, Julia has a playful air quite unlike more formal portraiture, the single red rose beside her symbolic of the forthcoming nuptials.

No doubt both bride and groom alike would have been delighted with this most fetching work and it seems that the Bathurst family were particularly fond of it, as it remained in their hands until 1986.

The Death of Queen Charlotte

Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (Sophia Charlotte; Mirow, Holy Roman Empire, 19th May 1744 – Kew, England, 17th November 1818) 

Queen Charlotte by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1789

There is something about Queen Charlotte that I have always found utterly fascinating. My interest in her was sparked years ago by a portrait that I have since featured here at the Guide and it has never abated. She strikes me as a most graceful lady and one who faced the challenges of her marriage with dignity and forbearance. 

Charlotte married George III in 1761 and was a devoted wife to her husband. Throughout the long years of their marriage, with all the well- documented health problems both physical and mental that George suffered, Charlotte remained his loving and most protective companion.

As she entered her seventy fourth year, though, the queen was growing more frail with every passing day. She attempted to continue her duties even as her health worsened but, in spring 1818, was forced to retire from public life with a final appearance at the Mansion House in London.

Hoping to eventually take up residence at Windsor with her husband, the ailing queen entered seclusion at Dutch House (now Kew Palace) where, she hoped, she would be able to regain her strength. However, she was destined never to see her husband again and, as the year wore on, rather than gain in strength she deteriorated swiftly. Hidden away with her children, Charlotte suffered terribly as her legs swelled and joints grew sore and eventually she contracted pneumonia. 

On 17th November 1818 Charlotte settled in a comfortable armchair with her children around her and, with her son, George, holding her hand, the queen passed quietly away. She was buried at Windsor on 2nd December and her husband, suffering from dementia and many other conditions, never learnt of his beloved wife's death.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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"My mind, is, as it were, gone": The Suicide of Castlereagh

Robert Stewart, 2nd Marquess of Londonderry, KG, GCH, PC, PC (Ire), Viscount Castlereagh (Dublin, Ireland, 18th June 1769 – North Cray, Kent, England, 12th August 1822)

Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, 2nd Marquess of Londonderry by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1809-10

There are some names that echo through the ages, men and women who will always be remembered for their philanthropy, heroics, or perhaps their infamy. These are the names that seem to sum up their era for better or worse and for me, one of these names is undoubtedly Castlereagh, a man who is perhaps less well known now than he once was though for me, he is a figure of endless fascination. Today marks the anniversary of his death and it is this story that I will tell, a bleak end to a troubled existence. 

Castlereagh lived a life among the highest political spheres, serving in a number of high profile government offices in which he found himself increasingly at odds with public opinion. Associated with wildly unpopular policies and broken political promises, as he was attacked by the people, so too did his mental health become increasingly frail. In the year of his death, increasing stress saw Castlereagh's behaviour becoming increasingly erratic as he descended into paranoia.

As summer drew on, Castlereagh returned to the sanctuary of Loring Hall in North Cray, Kent, where his friends and family remarked that he cut a most unsettled and unhappy figure. With his physician, Doctor Bankhead, in constant attendance and all razors and other dangerous implements removed from his reach, the once influential man passed long and unhappy days in mental distress until, somehow, he managed to come by a penknife.

The Suicide of Lord Castlereagh by George Cruikshank, 1822

On the morning of 12th August Castlereagh's paranoia reached new heights and he aggressively accused his wife, Lady Amelia Hobart, of joining a widespread conspiracy against him. As she fled to summon Doctor Bankhead to attend the husband she had nursed throughout his decline, Castlereagh took up the blade and slashed his own throat. He was dead within minutes and as news of his suicide spread throughout the land, the nation fell into shock at such a violent end to the career of Castlereagh.

Perhaps in deference to his widow, the inquest found that Castlereagh had taken his own life whilst insane. Accordingly, he was buried with full honours in Westminster Abbey on 20th August. Even in this, the final act of Castlereagh's story, the unpopular politician's funeral procession was heckled and jeered on its way to the Abbey. Though his political opponents and colleagues alike were quick to sing the praises of Castlereagh, it is Byron's verse that has caught in the public memory, a savage memorial to a troubled man.

Posterity will ne'er survey
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveller, and piss.

"What eye has wept for him?": The Death of King George IV

King George IV (George Augustus Frederick ; London, England, 12th August 1762 – Windsor, England, 26th June 1830)

King George IV by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1822

On this day our infamous King George IV finally ate and drank his way into the grave, leaving behind a less than enviable reputation that follows him to this day. His reign was one of opulence, extremes and a life lived in the full gaze of press and public and today, we are a little muted here in the salon as we mark the anniversary of his death.

As the scandals of youth gave way to encroaching age, the once hard-partying George retired to Windsor Castle, where he indulged his love of fine foods and finer wines. Famously the now reclusive king ballooned in size, exceeding 17 stone and squeezing his corpulent bulk into corsets intended to confine a 50-inch waist. With frequent bouts of breathlessness causing near suffocation on occasion, his physicians, led by  Sir Henry Halford, toiled to ease the symptoms of gout, dropsy and any number of other problems that plagued the ailing monarch, but there could be no doubt that his time was approaching.

As Spring passed into Summer, the health of the king became a source of great concern to his physicians, who plied him with laudanum in futile efforts to control the pains he suffered in his bladder and lower extremities. The application of leeches made things no  easier for George and he began to suffer deep depressions, exacerbated by the fact that he could hardly sleep for the periods of breathlessness that afflicted him and a special chair was built which could double as a partly upright bed for the ailing monarch.

On the night of his death George retired to bed in the company of his friend, Sir Jonathan Wathen-Waller, where he slept fitfully. He woke in the early hours of 26th June 1830, breathless and in such pain that Halford was summoned immediately. As the doctor hurried to the room, George gripped Wathen-Waller's hand and told him, "my boy, this is death". At quarter past three that morning, the last King George of the glorious Georgian era passed away.

The last word must belong the his infamous obituary, published in The Times:

"There never was an individual less regretted by his fellow-creatures than this deceased king. What eye has wept for him? What heart has heaved one throb of unmercenary sorrow? ... If he ever had a friend — a devoted friend in any rank of life — we protest that the name of him or her never reached us."

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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Sir Thomas Lawrence: The Portrait of Queen Charlotte

In the past we have learnt something of the iconic artist, Thomas Lawrence, and the painting of Elizabeth Farren that was so disliked by the lady it depicted. Today we make a return visit to Lawrence's studio to hear the story of another portrait that was disliked by the illustrious lady who sat for it, this time the Queen of England herself.

In 1789 the 20 year old Thomas Lawrence was riding high on a wave of success. He had exhibited at the Royal Academy to acclaim, with an illustrious and wealthy client list. For Queen Charlotte, meanwhile, things were not going quite so happily; with the king seriously ill, Charlotte found herself driven to distraction by worry for her husband as his physicians struggled to come up with a diagnosis, let alone a suitable treatment.

As the king convalesced in the early autumn, Lawrence was summoned to Windsor Castle for his first royal commission, a portrait of Queen Charlotte. The queen was far from enthusiastic about the prospect and when she met the artist, found little in his character to improve her mood. Lawrence rejected the bonnet that she intended to wear for the sitting and found his subject lacking in animation; as a result, he encouraged her to chat as he painted, something that the queen did not enjoy in the slightest. Despite Charlotte's reservations, her household and children warmed to the artist greatly and enjoyed his company at Windsor.

The finished portrait depicts a woman deep in thought and I have always found Charlotte's expression to be most rueful as she sits alone before a view of Eton College. Autumnal trees are visible to the horizon and to me the portrait gives a strong impression of not just a world approaching autumn, but a woman who is likewise growing older.

When Lawrence presented the finished painting to the queen she was far from impressed with the finished result. The royal family declined to buy the work for the asking price of 80 guineas and instead it joined the portrait of Farren on display at the Royal Academy in 1790. The works were highly acclaimed and to this day Lawrence's portrait of Queen Charlotte remains a deservedly famous image, capturing a woman lost in thought at a time of enormous emotional upheaval.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
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Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

A Fatal Roast: The Death of Sir James Mackintosh

​​Sir James Mackintosh (Aldourie, Highland, Scotland, 24th October 1765 - London, England, 30th May 1832)

Sir James Mackintosh by Sir Thomas Lawrence

There is much to be said on a cold day for the benefits of sitting down to a meal of roast chicken. It is a particular favourite of mine on a Sunday and the dish in question plays an important part in our story today.!
 
Sir James Mackintosh was a politician and historian of no small note. He was a man of many talents, having trained in the law and medicine, and enjoyed a variety of influential and challenging careers that saw him well-respected in society. When his death came it was accidental, drawn out and caused by the most trivial of accidents.

On an April evening at the age of 66, Mackintosh settled down to eat and tucked heartily into a chicken dinner. A small fragment of bone stuck in his throat and though he looked in danger of choking, it was soon dislodged and it seemed that no permanent damage was done.

In fact, that apparently insignificant piece of bone had caused a very minor cut in Mackintosh's trachea. As the days wore on that minor wound grew inflamed and began to open wider yet Mackintosh kept going about his business, defying the pain that plagued and weakened him day by day. As the cause for his declining state baffled both the patient and his physician, Doctor George Darling, Mackintosh sought solace in his faith and friends.

On 22nd May 1832 Sir James Mackintosh took to his bed at home in Langham Place for the final time and by the weekend, was no longer able to speak. However, he retained his calm countenance and died peacefully in his room on 30th May, eventually being laid to rest in Hampstead with his devoted friends and family in attendance.

A Most Singular Doctor: John Abernethy FRS

John Abernethy FRS (London, England, 3rd April 1764 – London, England, 20th April 1831)

John Abernethy FRS engraved by John Cochran after Sir Thomas Lawrence 

We have met a fair few medical types here at the salon, often courtesy of my charming Edinburgh friend, the estimable Dr Dillingham. As we enjoyed tea and watched the world pass by I asked the good doctor if he might have another tale to tell and he shared the story of John Abernethy, a most singular sort of chap.

Born the son of successful merchant, Abernethy enjoyed a good education at Wolverhampton Grammar School and decided early in his life that he intended to follow a career in medicine. Aged just 15 he won the position of apprentice to Sir Charles Blicke and assisted his surgeries at St Bartholomew's Hospital. A dedicated and driven young man, he attended lectures and demonstrations given by our old friend, Percivall Pott and when Blicke succeeded Pott as surgeon of St Bartholomew's in 1787, Abernethy was named assistant-surgeon. He married Anne Threlfall in 1800, by now a pillar of St Bartholomew's, where he would remain for nearly three decades.

Abernethy became known for the quality of his medical lectures and soon he had to give up his plans to host them in his own home as the demand far outstripped capacity. Instead, the governors of St Bartholomew's built a lecture theatre for Abernethy's use and he became the founder of the hospital's famed medical school. Although noted as a medical educationalist, he was less famed as a surgeon than Blicke or Pott though he did succeed Blicke as surgeon in 1815.

Abernethy was utterly outraged to discover in 1824 that his lectures had been published in The Lancet by Thomas Wakley, who had not sought the surgeon's permission. Wakley responded that his sharing of the lecture content was a democratic move and would prevent medical knowledge being disseminated only among an academic elite. The furious Abernethy attempted to bring the matter to court but his case was rejected, an occurrence he never accepted.

However, there was another side to Abernethy and he became known for his rigid and strongly-held opinions. He taught from his own book, Surgical Observations on the Constitutional Origin and Treatment of Local Diseases, and countenanced no contradiction, dryly deriding any who questioned him and making occasionally influential enemies. The irascible surgeon did not trouble himself with developing a bedside manner and treated his patients with the same brusque approach that he brought to his students and colleagues. 

Despite or perhaps because of these eccentricities, Abernethy became famed in London. He amassed a small fortune thanks to an appointment book full of extremely wealthy patients who would travel from as far as Scotland to attend his surgery. Abernethy retired in 1827 as a result of failing health and died at home four years later.

A Salon Guest... Re-thinking the death of William Pitt the Younger: His Legacy

We've got the best china out today to welcome Stephenie Woolterton with a guest post on William Pitt the Younger, a subject on which she is the toast of the town!

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William Pitt the Younger by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1781

At half-past four on the morning of Thursday, January 23, 1806 - 208 years ago today - William Pitt the younger took his final long sigh. He was only 46 years old. In an ironic twist of fate, the date of Pitt’s death fell on the 25th anniversary of his first entering Parliament as the youthful MP for Appleby. His friends and remaining family were devastated, and his demise sparked dramatic convolutions in the British political world. It was a dreadful calamity, coming soon after the defeat at Austerlitz in December 1805, and the fall of Pitt’s much-desired Third Coalition formed to beat the military dictator Napoleon. Opposition in Parliament was mounting against Pitt, and many of his intimate friends felt it was time he permanently resigned from office. The incessant pressure and arduous work involved was taking a mortal toll on Pitt’s health, and he himself was aware that he had not been well for many years. Indeed, upon resuming office for the second time in 1804, Lord Eldon recalled Pitt prophesizing that his health was so delicate that doing so may cost him his life [1]. 

Whatever the immediate causes were of Pitt’s death, his friends and medical attendants variously ascribed it at the time to anxiety [2], overwork, and a constitution which from “the early habit of the too free use of Wine operated unquestionably to weaken the Powers of the Stomach” [3]. Pitt had also suffered numerous attacks of gout, at least partially as a result of stress and worry, and he was especially prone to recurring stomach complaints involving loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, severe abdominal cramps, retching, inability to eat, and weight loss. His physician Sir Walter Farquhar, who later wrote an account of Mr. Pitt’s health, justified his course of medical advice by asserting that he repeatedly urged Pitt to retire from politics. “But Mr. Pitt’s memorable reply was that his country needed his services, and he would rather prefer to die at his post than desert it” [4]. 

Throughout his time in politics, Pitt’s devotion to duty was considered remarkable; he possessed an unwavering love of honour, truth, and, above all, his country. It may be said, in fact, that he sacrificed his life in the service of it. Pitt’s close friend William Wilberforce recorded in his diary entry of 23^rd January 1806 that “Pitt [was] killed by the enemy as much as Nelson,” and later wrote to a friend that he believed Pitt died of “a broken heart” [5]. As sentimental as it may come across to a modern reader, the point may truly be made. The perpetual setbacks of the war rarely allowed Pitt to obtain a gleam of victory, although he always affected a sanguine, and at times overly optimistic, disposition. Although he presented a façade to the world at large of an aloof, cold, and haughty man, this was a mere mask to hide his inherently shy nature [6]. For those who knew the ‘real Mr. Pitt,’ as it were, he was an incredibly generous, and selfless man. One of the best descriptions of Pitt is presented thus: 

"...of the amiableness of his [Pitt’s] private character no one can form a just idea who had not the happiness of enjoying his acquaintance and society. He had a peculiar sweetness and benevolence of disposition, a kindness of heart, an unaffected ease, frankness, and simplicity, and a natural flow of spirits which made his extraordinary intellectual powers as pleasant and fascinating in the common intercourse of life as they were commanding in the [House of Commons]” [7]. This was the Mr. Pitt who won the love and undying affection of those who knew him best. His death left a gaping hole for those he left behind; it was a sense of pain and grief keenly endured by his political associate, right-hand man, and long-term confidante Henry Dundas, Lord Melville. 

On January 28, 1806, Lord Melville wrote to William Huskisson of Pitt’s loss, confiding “I am certainly very miserable, and as there is not an hour of my life for these twenty four years past that does not at this moment and for ever continue to bring his image to my Mind, I cannot summon up or suggest to myself any Recourse from which I can collect a Ray of consolation…I must wait for that Species of Apathy which buries every thing past in one indiscriminate Oblivion” [8].

Others, even those not privately acquainted with Pitt, were equally struck by his loss. On January 25, 1806, two days after Pitt’s death, Colonel Ralph Creyke of Marton wrote to Wilberforce. In contemplating Pitt’s premature demise, he lamented “what a sudden and awful change! It really is a noonday eclipse. But when will that former light be re-lumined?...When we lose those whom we value and esteem, our memory dwells with pleasure upon every, even melancholy, circumstance which accompanies the close of their life…I shall ever revere his [Pitt’s] memory for standing between the dead and the living, and staying the plague which, in the French Revolution, had infected the Continent, [and] might have spread and desolated this island…” [9].  In life, Pitt was viewed as the ‘Saviour of Europe,’ [10] and in 1802, Canning composed verses commemorating Pitt as ‘The Pilot That Weathered the Storm’ [11]. 

Fast forward to the twenty-first century, and what is Pitt’s legacy? In this sense, one does not refer to his political legacy, for that has been a contested argument amongst historians from the time of his death. To debate Pitt’s political legacy is not my purpose. What interests me most is what Pitt the man has left behind. In other words, what has survived the passage of time? It has been rumoured that Pitt’s tutor and one of his executors, the Bishop of Lincoln (George Pretyman Tomline), and probably others, destroyed most of Pitt’s private papers. Consequently, whilst there are still numerous archives throughout the world containing Pitt’s letters, most of these reflect Pitt’s political life rather than anything of a personal nature. In the absence of more knowledge, it can only be speculated that something regarding Pitt’s domestic life may have been destroyed in order to suppress or conceal information from the eyes of the public. In reflecting on his life, and particularly upon the man he was in his daily life, it may be useful for the social historian to gather together information regarding Pitt’s items that are still in existence. I have chosen to include Mr Pitt’s watch, which is preserved at The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, and Mr Pitt’s waistcoat, which is in the safe keeping of his former alma mater at Pembroke College, Cambridge. Pitt’s connection to Cambridge started when he entered as a Fellow Commoner in 1773, and continued for the rest of his life. He was one of the Members of Parliament for Cambridge University from 1784 until his death. His strong connection to Cambridge can still be felt today in name of The Pitt Building, at the Senate House which showcases a life-size tribute to Pitt, and in his unmistakable seated statue on the grounds of Pembroke College. Pembroke still elects a William Pitt Fellow, and interested visitors may still take a peek inside the Thomas Gray Room that was once occupied by Pitt. 

Throughout my time spent in researching William Pitt the younger’s life, I have been led to search for various items that are reputed to have once belonged to him. One of these objects is Mr Pitt’s watch. After some research, I discovered that Pitt’s watch is still held at The Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. It was bequeathed from the Right Hon. R.A. Christopher on 16th November 1852. It’s an English gold fob watch, with a gold case, and was made by John Holmes in 1782. On the back of the watch there is an image of a stork holding an anchor which features as part of the Pitt family crest, and underneath it is engraved ‘William Pitt 1782.’ Pitt kept the watch, presumably from 1782 until his death when it passed to his servant (I’m unsure which one - his valet John Pursler, perhaps?), who handed it over to Mr. Dundas, M.P. more than twenty years later. That watch, a mourning ring, and a box containing Pitt’s hair were bequeathed to the Rt. Hon. R.N. Hamilton [12]. It must have passed from there to the Rt. Hon. R.A. Christopher, and who then bequeathed it to The Fitzwilliam Museum. Below are several images of the watch.

Needless to say, it was exciting to receive photographs of Pitt’s watch! The watch remains, by kind permission, the copyright of The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (accession number M. 1&A-1852).

Lastly, on a recent visit to Pembroke College Archives and Manuscript Reading Room, I was enabled to view and take personal photographs of Pitt’s waistcoat that they have in their possession. I was received with a very warm welcome, and was allowed to peruse some rare and beautiful Pitt artifacts and letters. According to the provenance note on the waistcoat, it belonged to Lady Hester Stanhope, Pitt’s niece, and was given by her to her physician, Dr Charles Lewis Meryon. He in turn gave the waistcoat to his nephew, Lewis Meryon who presented it to Pembroke in 1910 (Pembroke College Archives, Gifts and Bequests L. Meryon). Below is a photograph of William Pitt’s waistcoat I took on the day of my visit to Pembroke. It remains the property, by kind permission, of the Master and Fellows of Pembroke College, Cambridge.

After enquiring the measurements of the waistcoat in order to determine Mr Pitt’s physique, the honorary archivist at Pembroke informed me that the length down the back (visible from the front) is 64 cm, the length straight down from the front centre to the tip below the last button is 48 cm, the measurement of the circumference at the armpit is 88 cm (including packing), and the waist is 82 cm. In looking upon the waistcoat in person, it becomes immediately apparent that Pitt was a very tall, slim man. As it was originally in the possession of Lady Hester Stanhope following Pitt’s death, it can be surmised that Pitt owned the garment in his last years of life. Lady Hester Stanhope only came to live with Pitt after her grandmother’s death in 1803. I would date to the item to between 1803 and 1805. There are many other items associated with William Pitt the younger that are still in existence, either in a private collection or in a public archive around the world. These are only two of many objects I have researched. If you’re interested in researching the life of William Pitt, or have more information about him, I’m happy to converse with you. In conclusion, Pitt’s memory deserves more attention and reverence. What more could Pitt have achieved had he not died in January 1806? We shall never know. His memory, accomplishments, and brilliance need a far greater historical presence than it has received in recent years. Much has been written about his political life whereas little is widely known about the man he was in his private hours. Therefore, my focus is to concentrate on Pitt the Man, as opposed to Pitt the Minister. This is my tribute to a most deserving and misunderstood man.

References

1. Stanhope, Earl Philip Henry (1867) Life of the Right Honourable William Pitt, Vol. IV (3^rd Edition). London: John Murray, p. 174.

2. Aberdeen Papers, BL Add Ms 43337, Lord Aberdeen’s note on January 31, 1806.

3. Rosebery (1900) Letters relating to the Love Episode of William Pitt, together with an 4. Account of his Health by his Physician Sir Walter Farquhar, London: John Murray, p. 48.

4. Rosebery (1900) Letters relating to the Love Episode of William Pitt, together with an Account of his Health by his Physician Sir Walter Farquhar, London: John Murray, p. xvi.

5. Wilberforce, R.I. & Wilberforce, S. (1843) The Life of William Wilberforce: By his Sons. London: Seeley, Burnside & Seeley, p. 330.

6. Reilly, R. (1978) Pitt the Younger. London: Cassell, p. 135.

7. The Monthly Review, Vol 12 (1903), pg. 29.

8. Melville to Huskisson. 28 January 1806. Huskisson Papers, British Library, Add Ms 38759.

9. Wilberforce, W. (1840) The Correspondence of William Wilberforce, Volume 2. London: Albemarle Street, pp. 63-64.

10.  Rosebery (1918) Pitt. London: Macmillan, p. 255.

11.  Hinde, W. (1973) George Canning.  London: Collins, pp. 94-109.

12. Timbs, J. (1864) A century of anecdote from 1760-1860, pp. 182-3.

Biography of the Author

Stephenie Woolterton has an MSc in Social Research, and a background in Psychology. She is currently researching and writing her first book on the private life of William Pitt the Younger. She is also working on a historical novel about Pitt’s ‘one love story’ with Eleanor Eden. 

She blogs at: http://anoondayeclipse.blogspot.co.uk, and can be contacted via Twitter at: www.twitter.com/anoondayeclipse.

Written content of this post copyright © Stephenie Woolterton, 2014.

Sir Thomas Lawrence and a Portrait of Elizabeth Farren

Sir Thomas Lawrence PRA FRS (Bristol, England, 13th April 1769 – London, England, 7th January 1830)

Today marks the anniversary of the death of a Sir Thomas Lawrence, president of the Royal Academy and artistic legend of the Regency era. Not only can I attest that Lawrence was a consummate gentleman, he remains one of my favourite artists and today, I feature one of his most iconic works of art, the portrait of Elizabeth Farren he first exhibited in 1790.

The 30 year old Farren was a hugely successful actress and renowned beauty when she sat for Lawrence. His portrait of her was one of a dozen submitted by Lawrence to the Royal Academy but it was the work that caught the eye of audiences, who were bowled over by Lawrence's depiction of texture and the character that shone through. Under Lawrence's brushstrokes Farren is an elegant, vibrant beauty framed against a pastoral background and draped in a dazzling array of fashionable textiles. One might almost reach out and touch the satins and silks she wears, one glove and a most flamboyant fur muff held casually in her hand as she gazes at the spectator.

Despite the glamour of the portrait, Farren was dismayed when she saw it and reproached the artist for making her too thin and appearing bent in the middle. She commented that she would prefer that he redo the painting to make her "a little fatter", a request he refused to honour. In fact the portrait captures an elegant, glamourous and somehow mischievous woman; her face is characterful and her clothes the height of fashion. So well-received was the painting when it was displayed that the artist reneged on the original price he agreed with Farren's lover, Edward Smith-Stanley, 12th Earl of Derby, and raised the purchase price from 60 guineas to 100!

Years later Farren would marry the man who had commissioned the work and take the title of Countess of Derby, whilst the portrait was an illustrious launch for the 21 year old Lawrence's career at the Academy. He went on to become one of the most sought-after artists in England, celebrated in the most illustrious circles of the Georgian and Regency era.

From Queen Caroline to Cannes: Henry Brougham, 1st Baron Brougham and Vaux

Henry Peter Brougham, 1st Baron Brougham and Vaux (Edinburgh, Scotland, 19th September 1778 – Cannes, France, 7th May 1868)

Henry Brougham by Sir Thomas Lawrence

Today's post is unapologetically self-indulgent as I am marking the birthday of one of my favourite, if somewhat abrasive, characters, whom I first discovered whilst happily adding to my  Pinterest boards many moons since. Henry Brougham, 1st Baron Brougham and Vaux achieved fame as the advisor to Caroline of Brunswick, bought his way out of a scandal involving Harriette Wilson and enjoyed a long and successful political career before retiring to the sunshine of France!

Brougham was born into a wealthy and influential Edinburgh family, the son of Henry and Eleanora Brougham, who made their home at Brougham Hall. As befitted his station in life, the young Brougham enjoyed the best in education and in his mid teens found himself at the University of Edinburgh, splitting his studies between science and law. His academic career was dazzling and by the age of 25 he was a Fellow of his University; despite his illustrious family connections Brougham was determined to make a success on his own and financed his studies through journalism, eventually founding The Edinburgh Review in 1802, a publication for which he wrote a number of erudite, challenging pieces.

Henry Brougham by James Lonsdale, 1821

The following year Brougham left Scotland to pursue a career as a barrister in London, his fame as the founder of The Edinburgh Review opening the most fashionable society doors to him. The stylish, urbane Brougham became a leading light in Whig political salons and in 1806 joined a diplomatic mission to Portugal on behalf of Charles James Fox. Whilst on the mission he developed a staunch opposition to the slave trade and found his interests diverted away from law and journalism towards politics, eventually becoming Member of Parliament for Camelford in 1810. Just as he had made his mark at university, so to did he throw himself into his political career, speaking often and eloquently in the House of Commons and distinguishing himself in debate.  In fact, Brougham still holds the record for the longest Commons speech, clocking in at six unbroken hours; that's a figure that even we very chatty Gilflurts would find hard to beat!

Tiring of toiling in the rotten borough where he held his seat, Brougham stood in Liverpool in 1812 but found himself utterly trounced; this same year he took office as advisor to Caroline of Brunswick, estranged and loathed wife of the Prince Regent. He was out of the House of Commons until 1816, when he was returned as Member for Winchelsea. Just as he campaigned passionately for the abolition of slavery, now he added the cause of education to his interests, championing schools for the poor and disenfranchised.

His political career back on track, Brougham was to take a new office as Attorney-General to Caroline in 1820. With her husband now king, Caroline found herself in the throes of a messy and vitriolic divorce, the full power of the Tory Pains and Penalties Bill focused on her. Fuelled by accusations of adultery on Caroline's part, the Bill aimed to dissolve the marriage and strip her of her title and she employed Brougham to lead her defence in the Lords. In fact the bill did pass through the House but by a meagre nine votes; fearing an embarrassing defeat in the Commons, the bill was withdrawn and Brougham found himself famous throughout England. One year later the charming and highly eligible bachelor married Mary Spalding, with whom he had two daughters.

Brougham was not without his own scandals and in 1826 was one of the illustrious clients named in the Memoirs of Harriette Wilson, written by the titular courtesan. Invited to buy his anonymity by Wilson and her publisher, John Joseph Stockdale, our hero paid up, saving his name for the time-being at least. Not content with mixing with royals, avoiding scandal and championing reform, he even found time to develop the Brougham, a small horse-drawn carriage!

Harriette Wilson

Happily ensconced in the twin worlds of politics and law, Brougham was not universally popular. Seen as ambitious, arrogant and overly-influential, Brougham's critics could do nothing to stop his still-rising star and in 1830 he was appointed Lord Chancellor and given the title Baron Brougham and Vaux. Whilst in office he passed the Representation of the People Act in 1832 and the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, two causes for which he felt very strongly. However, his personal conflicts with his fellow Whigs began to become more prominent and when the government was reshuffled in 1834, Brougham was removed from office.

Statue of Brougham in Cannes

Although he continued to be a force to be reckoned with in the Lords, Brougham now returned to his early loves of journalism and academia and in 1835 visited Cannes whilst en route to Genoa, falling instantly in love with the picturesque surroundings. Just as he threw himself into politics, law and courtesans, the Baron became a pillar of the town, providing funds and leadership with which to improve and develop the burgeoning community where he would eventually die and be laid to rest. Today Baron Brougham and Vaux is still remembered in Cannes thanks to a very fine statue that commemorates this colourful, abrasive and very ambitious fellow.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

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