Guest Post – William Hogarth’s ‘The March of the Guards to Finchley’

I am delighted to welcome guest author and blogger Jeremy Bell who is going to tell you more about a couple of hidden secrets , which he’s sure that many people will not have noticed before, within Hogarth’s painting.

The March to Finchley. Courtesy of The foundling Museum

Much has been written about the characters in William Hogarth’s painting The March of the Guards to Finchley (1751). However, there are two figures that the artist concealed within the painting, and this is the perfect year for them both to be exposed.

In this, the tricentennial anniversary of the birth of Charles Edward Stuart (1720-1788), the prince and his nemesis, the Duke of Cumberland (1721-1765) have been discovered, along with details of their face-off at Culloden.

Cumberland’s Charge

Take a look at the central detail in which a grenadier marches in step with his pregnant wife. They are assaulted by a Catholic woman, identified by her cross and priest-like robes. She attacks the couple with some verbal abuse and a Jacobite newspaper!

Another soldier seems to charge at her from behind and drive her back with his halberd. Although he is standing several yards behind the woman, Hogarth uses a trick of perspective to make it seem like he is running her through.

On closer inspection, this soldier’s swarthy face is similar to a portrait of the Duke of Cumberland which the protestant woman carries in her basket. It is covered by a copy of ‘God Save the King’, a reference to rumours of the Duke’s aspirations to rule.

Hogarth often employed such visual tricks (trompe l’oeil) to tell his stories. Notice how the artists darkened the place where the rolled-up newspaper seems to make contact with the soldier’s shoulder.

The publication’s full title – ‘The Remembrancer or weekly Slap in the Face of the Ministry’ had attacked the Duke in the year of the painting, by criticising his proposal for army discipline. The scene of rowdy soldiers begs for this necessary reform.

This Catholic woman represents the Jacobite forces which were camped just 100 miles away from London. Her charge being repelled by the pikeman is a premonition of the imminent conflict. The other end of the halberd axe appears to threaten the mother and child in the cart (positioned many yards behind him). I believe that this trompe l’oeil refers to the alleged atrocities that took place after the battle of Culloden.

Although these details are obvious once it is pointed out, I do not believe that anyone has written about this example of Hogarth’s storytelling. The artist also included a depiction of the leader of the Jacobite forces. How wonderful to discover several hints that identify Charles Edward Stuart in the year of his 300th birthday.

You don’t have to search long to find a miniature portrait of the Stuart prince – he is the only one looking to the North. A first account description describes him as a tall, slender, upright man. It was noted that his neck was ‘long, but not ungracefully so, …. with a slender stock buckled behind.’ This conforms to Hogarth’s tiny depiction of him.

Charles Edward Stuart

Hogarth has imagined that Charles has disguised himself as a British officer. He has come down from his camp in Derby to spy on the enemy’s position. He is actually being pointed out by his accomplice who crouches behind him. This man’s red hair identifies him as a Scotsman. The bayonet that overlaps his head is another trompe that hints at the Jacobite inevitable slaughter.

A Scotsman behind Charles Edward Stuart

Hogarth obfuscates the Scotsman’s finger-pointing by painting him in the act of stealing some alcohol from a barrel (that is a gimlet in his mouth). His finger-to-the-nose sign was always reported as ‘quiet don’t tell anyone.’ In this new context, he is actually telling us not to give the prince away.

Hogarth presents us with a whole line of thieves. One man steals milk from a maid, while another ‘steals’ a kiss. A third soldier points all this out to a pieman, and then steals from him in the process.

Hogarth was famous for including clever word games within his art. I wonder if he continued this line of thievery to the Scotsman (who is stealing from the barrel), and the prince who is ‘stealing away’. Commentators focus on the painter’s disrespect of the troops. However, Hogarth’s intention might have been to create this visual pun.

He who would be Charles III, is riding away from the Charles II tavern sign. In the distance we can see that Charles Edward is headed towards a barren tree – a symbol of the impending disaster that awaits the House of Stuart. It compares to a healthy tree on the other side.

Charles Edward Stuart rides towards his death

While we, the viewer, can see this tree from our position, the branches lie just out of the prince’s sight. The symbol of his imminent defeat lies ‘just around the corner’. (My red arrow shows the prince’s sight line with the dead tree coloured in red). At this particular moment in time, Charles was still confident that he would win the day. However, the painter knows the full story. With a clever addition, Hogarth has given away the ending with a forewarning of the atrocities that will follow.

Ending on a less depressing note, I think it a wonderful coincidence that the Scottish spy who accompanies the Young Pretender looks like a character from Outlander – Jamie Fraser (played by Sam Heughan). The series, based on the wildly popular books by Diane Gabaldon, concerns time travel to the Jacobite times – here is your proof in oil!

The figure looks like Jamie Fraser from Outlander

Jeremy Bell’s book William Hogarth – A Freemason’s Harlot (2017) was written to coincide with the 300th anniversary of formation of the United Grand Lodge of England.

Over 300 illustrations show how Hogarth actually hid previously unnoticed portraits of himself within his work, along with the signs, passwords and ‘secret knocks’ of the Freemasons. It explains how Jacobite Freemasonry (which is the true original Scottish form), was used to infiltrate London gentry, and suggests that the Duke of Burlington built Chiswick Villa as a stage to welcome the return of a restored Stuart king. Indeed, the ‘failed’ waterfall at Chiswick was actually a cleverly constructed ‘carriage splash’ that would welcome ‘The King Over the Water’.

The book can be ordered via Jeremy’s website , he can also be contacted at Brotherhogarth@gmail.com

The White Cockade: a Jacobite tale

O he’s a ranting, roving lad,

He is a brisk an’ a bonny lad,

Betide what may, I will be wed,

And follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade.

(The White Cockade, Robert Burns)

Image sourced via Pinterest.

In 1745, Joseph D’Acre of Kirklinton Hall in Cumbria, was one of His Majesty’s troops defending Carlisle Castle from the approaching Jacobite army. He had left his wife, Catherine and young children in the care of his father-in-law, Sir George Fleming, Bishop of Carlisle, and they were at Fleming’s Cumbrian estate, Rose Castle: Mrs D’Acre was in the late stages of pregnancy and about to be confined.

Prince Charles Edward Stuart, wearing a white cockade; William Mosman; National Galleries of Scotland.

Bonnie Prince Charlie, Charles Edward Stuart, also known as the Young Pretender, had raised his standard at Glenfinnan in the Highlands on the 19^th August 1745 and many of the clans had gathered at his side. The prince claimed the thrones of Scotland and England in the name of his father, James Francis Edward Stuart, the Old Pretender.

A later representation of Prince Charles Edward Stuart in Edinburgh, 1745; City of Edinburgh Council

After taking Edinburgh – although not the castle – and vanquishing the government army at Prestonpans, the Highland army travelled south to invade England. One column reached the strategically important city of Carlisle on the 10^th November 1745. They surrounded the city on the 13^th and Carlisle Castle surrendered with surprisingly little resistance the next day. The men and garrison were allowed to leave a day or two later, on the condition that they did not bear arms against the bonnie prince’s army for twelve months (or, if they preferred, for a handsome bounty they could agree to be conscripted into the Highland army).

South East View of Carlisle Castle, Cumberland, by Robert Carlyle snr, 1791. (Tullie House Museum: 1935.80.5)

A letter to the newspapers, written in the aftermath of the Siege of Carlisle Castle, gave details of the marauding which had taken place in the immediate vicinity.

Hexham, Nov. 19^th

I am sorry to tell you that CARLISLE is taken by the Rebels. They have plundered and destroyed all our Country. I was a Prisoner amongst them on Saturday sen’night, and made my escape from them with extream hazard of my life; I left them on Sunday sen’night. The Pretender’s son lay at my house all the last week. I left my brother and a servant maid to take care of my house; but they have destroy’d all my meat, drink, corn and hay…

Rose Castle lies a few miles south of Carlisle. On 15^th November 1745, with her husband’s fate still in the hands of the Jacobite army, Catherine D’Acre went into labour and was delivered of a baby girl, who she named Rosemary. An hour after the birth, a company of Highlanders, led by a Captain Macdonald, arrived at the gates of Rose Castle, intending to plunder it of the plate and other valuables they had heard lay inside. A servant, old and grey-haired, bravely stopped the Scots and asked them not to venture inside, knowing that the new mother would be alarmed at their presence. Captain Macdonald asked when the lady had been confined and upon being told ‘within this hour’, he halted his men. The servant added, ‘They are just going to christen the infant’. Perhaps Rosemary was sickly at birth to warrant such a hasty, private baptism, hence the extra impetus to keep the troops from the door? Captain Macdonald swept off his bonnet and removed the white cockade from it, presenting the knot of ribbons to the old servant and saying, ‘Let her be christened with this cockade in her cap; it will be her protection now, and after, if any of our stragglers should come this way: we will await the ceremony in silence’.

Rose Castle, Raughton Head
cc-by-sa/2.0 – © Alexander P Kapp – geograph.org.uk/p/2140455

The Highlanders withdrew to the coach-yard where beef, cheese and ale was sent out to them: after eating their fill they left without further disturbing mother and daughter.

The White Cockade by John Everett Millais; Wikimedia.

The following year, on the 3^rd November and shortly before her first birthday, Rosemary was publicly christened in the church at Kirklinton (as Mary D’Acre). Of course, in the first twelve months of Rosemary’s life, the Jacobite army had been defeated at Culloden (on the 16^th April 1746), the survivors of that battle vanishing into the Highlands in the hope of outrunning the British troops who were ruthlessly hunting them down.

The Battle of Culloden; Peel Ross; Highland Council

The white cockade was the symbol of the Jacobites, usually worn on a blue bonnet. There are a few myths and legends about this emblem, but it is often said to have come about because Bonnie Prince Charlie picked a wild, white rose and pinned it to his hat. The captain’s gift was preserved by the D’Acre family and, as an old lady, Rosemary recalled that:

My white cockade was safely preserved, and shewn to me from time to time, always reminding me to respect the Scotch, and the Highlanders in particular. I think I have obeyed the injunction, by spending my life in Scotland, and also by hoping at last to die there.

Rosemary, or Molly, as she was known to her friends and family, lived a long and happy life. In December 1777, at the age of 32, she married John Clerk of Penicuik (pronounced Pennycook) in Midlothian, Scotland, an officer in the navy and heir to the baronetcy of Penicuik.

Last week at Kirklington, in Cumberland, Capt. Clarke, to Miss Molly Dacre, daughter of Jos. Dacre, of that place, Esq; a young lady whose engaging temper and disposition, cannot fail of securing every wish’d for happiness in the marriage state.

In 1817, Rosemary sent an account of the particulars surrounding her birth to the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine, in which they were published. She did so, she wrote, with infinite pleasure, ‘as it reflects great honour on the Highlanders, (to whom I always feel the greatest gratitude,) that at the time when their hearts were set on plunder, the fear of hurting a sick lady and child instantly stopped their intentions’.

Portrait of Sir John and Rosemary, Lady Clerk of Penicuik by Henry Raeburn; National Galleries of Ireland.

The subject of our first biography, Grace Dalrymple Elliott, was descended from a lowland family who had served in the military during the 1700s. But on which side? To discover more, click here.

Grace Dalrymple Elliott by Thomas Gainsborough

N.B. Joseph D’Acre was also known as Joseph D’Acre Appleby.

Sources:

Edinburgh Monthly Magazine, volume 1

The History and Antiquities of Carlisle: with an Account of the Castle, Gentlemen’s Seats and Antiquities in the Vicinity and Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Men Connected with the Locality by Samuel Jefferson, 1838.

Derby Mercury, 22^nd November 1745

Newcastle Courant, 27^th December 1777

Jacobites: A New History of the ’45 Rebellion

Today we are honoured to be handing the reins over to a very special guest, the esteemed Dr Jacqueline Riding, art historian.  Amongst her many credits she was the research consultant for Mike Leigh’s award-winning film Mr. Turner (2014) and is now working on his next feature film Peterloo. 

Her book Jacobites: A New History of the ’45 Rebellion has just been released by Bloomsbury Publishing. As a bonus, at the end of her article there is a competition to win a personally signed copy of her beautiful new book. So, without further ado, we’ll leave Jacqueline to tell you more. 

The recent commemorations for the 270^th Anniversary of the Battle of Culloden (16^th April 1746), the last battle fought on the British mainland, and the phenomenal success of the TV series Outlander, have certainly brought the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion back into the news, as well as the broader public consciousness. This, in turn, has generated an interest in discovering the history behind Diana Gabaldon’s popular novels (the inspiration for the TV drama).

Thomas Sandby, A Sketch of the field at the Battle of Culloden, 1746, Royal Collection Trust/ © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Over the centuries, many books have been written on the ’45 that could be described, broadly speaking, as either pro-Jacobite or pro-Hanoverian: the former vastly outnumbering the latter. But in recent years there has been a desire among established and emerging scholars alike, to present this extraordinary moment in British history in all its complexity, and to place it, correctly, in an international, as well as national and local context. In this spirit, my book, Jacobites, straddles different disciplines, blending military, social, political, court, cultural and art history, and shifts, chapter by chapter, between an international setting, to the national, regional and local: from the battlefields of Flanders and the Palace of Versailles, to the Wynds of Auld Reekie and the taverns of Derby.

Paul Sandby, Horse Fair on Bruntsfield Links, Edinburgh, 1750 © National Galleries of Scotland

I also based the narrative, as far as possible, on first person or primary accounts – letters, journals, diaries and newspapers – through which the reader discovers what was known, or believed, by individuals or groups, at the moment the action or event is occurring. Vital to this was the year and a half I spent working on the Stuart and Cumberland Papers, the private papers of the exiled Stuarts and William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland (commander-in-chief of the British army at Culloden), both in the Royal Archives at Windsor Castle. The book’s style is often, therefore, closer to reportage and current affairs, than a retrospective history. In this way I aimed to avoid the overwhelming sense of romantic doom that tends to envelop ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ and the ’45, while, hopefully, keeping the reader in the moment: after all, in the years 1745-6, nothing was certain.

Nicolas de Largillière, James VII and II, c.1686 © Royal Museums Greenwich

To whet your appetite, here is a quick introduction to the ’45.

In 1745 Charles Edward Stuart (b.1720) had one key aim: regaining the thrones his grandfather, the Roman Catholic convert James VII of Scotland and II of England and Ireland, had lost in 1688-90 to his protestant nephew and son-in-law William of Orange, who reigned as William III with James’ eldest daughter, Mary II. This ‘Glorious’ Revolution confirmed a Protestant succession in a predominantly protestant Great Britain, which, from 1714, was embodied in the Hanoverian dynasty.

Following George I’s accession, several armed risings in support of the exiled Stuarts occurred, most notably in the years 1715 and 1719, and Jacobite (from the Latin for James ‘Jacobus’) plots continued to plague the new Royal Dynasty. By this stage, on the death of James VII and II in 1701, the chief claimant, the ‘Old Pretender’ (from the French for claimant ‘prétendant’) was his only legitimate son, and father of Charles, James Francis Edward (b.1688). A major French invasion of Britain in support of the Stuarts in early 1744 had been abandoned, mainly due to severe weather, leaving Charles, who had arrived in France to lead the invasion, kicking his heels in Paris.

Allan Ramsay, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 1746 © National Galleries of Scotland

A year on, having understandably lost patience with his chief supporter and cousin, Louis XV, and with the greater part of the British army fighting in Flanders against the French, leaving Great Britain largely undefended, Charles secretly gathered together arms and a modest war chest, and set sail from Brittany, landing a small party at Eriskay in the Outer Hebrides on 23^rd July 1745. His audacious – or reckless – plan was to gain a foothold in the Western Highlands, rally support en route south via Edinburgh, meet up with a French invasion force at London, remove the Hanoverian ‘usurper’ George II (r.1727), and then settle in at St. James’s Palace, while awaiting the arrival of his father, King James VIII and III. And while luck and the element of surprise were on his side, for a time it proved almost as straightforward as that…

To find out more you will of course need to read the book, but in the meantime here is a chance to win your very own copy.

The question Jacqueline has devised is for you is to tell us

Who is your favourite rebel and why?

There is no right or wrong answer and you don’t need to provide your address as we’ll email the lucky winner. The rebel can be from any period of history.

How to enter

Please reply to this post using the ‘Leave a Comment’ at the end of the post.

The Rules

All entries must be received by midnight on Tuesday 17th May 2016.  The competition is open to readers in the UK only (prize courtesy of the publisher).

Good luck!

THE COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED.

THE WINNER HAS BEEN NOTIFIED AND WE WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO ENTERED.

If you’re not our lucky winner but would like to buy a copy of Jacqueline’s book, it can be purchased from Bloomsbury Publishing,  Waterstones, Amazon plus many other leading book sellers.

Featured image: The Battle of Culloden; Peel Ross; Highland Council.

A Jacobite link to Grace Dalrymple Elliott’s cousin

Constance Bouchier Smith and the grandson of the Young Pretender.

As part of our ‘Blog Tour’ we are delighted to have been asked to write a guest post for the wonderful Geri Walton.

We have chosen to focus on Grace Dalrymple Elliott’s cousin who was connected to a young lady by the name of Constance Bouchier Smith and we examine her relationship to the grandson of the Young Pretender. Without giving any more away, we will hand you over to Geri to tell more over on her blog ‘Unique histories from the 18th and 19th centuries’ by clicking HERE.

 

Georgian Hair and Clothing – Fashionable but Fatal

The extravaganza, or, The mountain headdress of 1776. Lewis Walpole Library

Georgian fashion dictated that women wore ‘big dresses’ accompanied by the even bigger hair so with all that fabric and ‘high hair’ fashion it should come as no surprise that accidents happened. With that in mind, we thought we would take a peek at the fires caused by the fashions of the day.

Image from the film ‘The Duchess’ showing the Duchess of Devonshire, renown for her love of fashion and hairstyles, being set alight by the candles

We had no idea that there were so many incidents reported in the newspapers about hair and fabric being set alight by the open fires and so many deaths resulting from these incidents, so here are just a few.

The preposterous headdress, or, The featherd lady. Courtesy of the British Library

London Chronicle (London, England), September 28, 1776 – October 1, 1776

Edinburgh, Sept 25. We hear from Dundee, that a few days ago, as a young lady was writing, the candle set her head-dress on fire. It burnt some time before she was aware; the then wrapped a handkerchief round her head to smother the flame, but it also catched fire; it was, however, extinguished with having scorched the lady much; but the fright affected her so much that she died in two days. Her name was Wedderburn*, an amiable young lady and her death is deeply regretted.

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post (London, England), March 17, 1778 – March 19, 1778

Last week a very melancholy accident happened to Miss Vane, daughter of the Hon. Mr Vane of Bielby , in Yorkshire; being sitting by her fire she dropped her keys within the fender and, stooping to take them up her head-dress took fire, and she was burnt so dreadfully before it could be extinguished, that she expired in a few hours.

Lady with mountainous headdress in garden Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Public Advertiser (London, England), Monday, January 7, 1793

Lady Elizabeth Pratt is out of danger from her late unfortunate accident, which very deeply affected the venerable Earl, her father. Her Ladyship had her head scorched by her head-dress catching fire while she was reading.

Female Whimsicalities 1793 Courtesy of the British Museum

Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser (London, England), Wednesday, July 8, 1778

An evening paper has the following whimsical article: amongst the many accidents which happened on Sunday evening last from the lightning, the following, however extraordinary, may be relied on as a fact. About half past nine, just as the thunderstorm began, three ladies took shelter under one of the trees in St James’s Park : One of their heads was erected to an enormous  height, and consequently stuck full of long wire pins : unfortunately these acted as conductors, and set her head-dress on fire, by attracting the lighting. Her two companions screamed with horror, but so stupefied with fear and astonishment were all parties that not one had presence of mind to remove her from the shelter of the tree into the rain. In spite of every efforts made by those distressed ladies, the fire raged with great violence for above ten minutes, destroying in that time above eight yards of  gauze, a small quantity of hair and a prodigious load of wool, powder and pomade. At last two young fellows, supposed by their being furnished with syringes, to be apothecary’s apprentices, seeing the fire from an adjacent tree, and apprehending it might  set the whole park ablaze, sallied forth  to the poor lady’s assistance, and levelling their syringes with infinite adroitness and success  both before and behind in a little time happily extinguished it.

As soon as the storm abated, she was bought to a house in Spring Gardens, where our correspondent saw her. All her hair was burnt down to a black crumbling stubble and her face was singed with the flopping of the flames over it, that she cut a most shocking figure. It being intimated that she lived in Threadneedle Street, a coach was called, and she was conveyed home to her family. The writer of this article cannot dismiss it without earnestly requesting his fair countrymen would drop, at least for this summer, so dangerous a fashion as high heads.

The Bum Shop, 1785 Lewis Walpole Library

Clearly as these instances of hair or clothing being set alight were not rare as a very a sensible couple advised their daughters to how to cope with such an event:-

Bath, March 1809.

A beautiful young lady, in a neighbouring city, was lately rescued from the most imminent danger of being burned to death. As the method of her preservation from this dreadfully calamitous situation might be successfully adopted in like cases, a minute detail of all the circumstances ought to be generally known. Her muslin dress, being touched by a candle; caught fire, and the flame instantly blazed above her head. Fortunately two of her sisters were in her chamber. One sister with a long and strong pair of scissors, blunt at both points, with great expedition and steady resolution, cut through all her clothes on the hind part of her neck all down her back; that is, through her gown, her stays in the space between two whalebones, her shift, and the bindings of  her petticoats.

As one sister was thus employed, the other slit up the gown at the wrists; and then immediately, with a pair of tongs from the fender, took firm hold of the clothes on fire, upon the fore part of the neck, and pulled them forcibly forward and downward from the shoulders; when all the garments instantly dropped off upon the floor, and were thrown into the chimney in a blaze. The time between the commencement of the fire, and till the young lady was rescued from all danger, was less than two minutes.

The flame, had scorched her face and neck, so as to be very painful for some hours; but not even a blister had arisen. A delay of but a few minutes longer, would have occasioned incurable mischief; either death or deformity must have been the inevitable consequence.

It may be proper to explain how these measures of prevention were so promptly and successfully executed. All the sisters had previously received complete instructions from their parents in what method to proceed in such a dreadful emergency, if their muslin dress should catch fire. They had frequently consulted together how to act in the moment of alarming danger. Each of them had provided a proper pair of scissors for the purpose. It is impossible to describe the exact of joy, which the sisters and the parents expressed upon this happy occasion. They united in fervent thanksgivings to Providence for this wonderful deliverance from so dreadful a calamity.

But, it wasn’t just women’s hair that caught fire, as we see here.

Salisbury and Winchester Journal 25 May 1767

To end on a slightly cheeky note, this young woman must have heard about the perils of setting your clothes alight and wasn’t prepared to take any chances!

Luxury, or the comforts of a Rumpford. © British Museum

* It appears highly likely that Miss Wedderburn was Miss Susanna Wedderburn, the daughter of Sir John Wedderburn of Blackness, a Perthshire gentleman who joined the 1745 rebellion of Charles Edward Stuart and, captured at the Battle of Culloden, was afterwards hanged as a traitor; there is a burial date of the 18th September 1776 in Dundee for a Susanna Wedderburn.

Sources Used

The Athenaeum: A Magazine of Literary and Miscellaneous …, Volume 5

Annual Register, Volume 21

The Peerage.com