The Literary Club: Johnson and Boswell

Young handsome Boswell and more mature Johnson.

Bagpipe News

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) was the son of a Stafford­shire book­seller, a baby who appeared to have suffered neurological damage at birth.  And later he became nearly blind in one eye. Yet Samuel starred academically, until he was forced to leave Oxford after his father’s death in 1731 left him impoverished. For a very intellectual man not to be able to work in a profess­ion was devastating. So it was not surprising that he became morbidly depressed. Plus his endless tics and odd noises only increased his fear of madness, ? obsessive-compulsive dis­order.

In 1735 Johnson married a much older Elizabeth Tetty Porter, widow of a Birmingham cloth merchant. Samuel used Tetty’s income to est­ablish a school, but the school closed a couple of years later. In desperation, Samuel headed for London with his friend David Garrick. In the theatre Garrick soon became a star, while Mr John­son worked at The Gentleman’s Magazine, where he met excellent and highly literate women (unlike Tetty?). Nonetheless when Tetty died in 1752, Samuel Johnson was beyond miserable.

Luckily for Johnson, the second half of the C18th was the time for gentlemen’s clubs. Portrait painter and founding president of the Royal Academy Joshua Reynolds and wanted to distract Johnson from the wild, untameable part of himself. So in 1763 Reynolds suggested they should invite clever friends to join them to dine, drink and talk. The new club, The Literary Club, met on a Friday evening until midnight, in the Turk’s Head Tavern on Gerrard St in Soho from 1764. It lasted for 20 years.

Thanks to Leo Damrosch for writing his excellent book The Club: Johnson, Boswell and the Friends Who Shaped an Age (2019). Apart from Johnson and Reynolds, the other founding members of the Club joined quite early in their car­e­ers, well before they rose to fame. Oliver Gold­smith had yet to publish his famous novel The Vicar of Wake­field; and politician Edmund Burke was still new.

Elections were made by unanimous vote eg James Boswell, act­or/man­ager of Drury Lane Playhouse and fath­er of mod­ern economics Adam Smith. In the 1770s they expand­ed the group to include historian-Parliamentarian Edward Gibbon, politic­ian Charles James Fox and playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan. By 1775, a decade after it was founded, there were 23 men in the Club.

Other men’s clubs were united in their politics or profession, so why were these men drawn from widely different backgrounds? Appar­ent­ly Reynolds and Johnson wanted to have members from lead­ing politicians, lawyers, doctors and artists so that they could draw on a wide range of knowledge in their discussions. In the end, all members needed social skills and genius above all.

A group biography is always difficult. In this case the prob­lem was that the author had to track private convers­ations and secret love lives. So he relied on a single in-depth recreat­ion of a club conversation by Boswell, plus whatever Boswell located in contemporary C18th letters and journals.

The only thing I don’t understand was why Boswell couldn’t join the Club for years. After all, the very young Boswell already thought of middle aged Johnson as the font of knowledge when they met and befriended each other in a Russell St bookshop in 1763. So when young Boswell re­turned from his Grand Tour in 1766, he was very keen to join his mentor. Alas the other club members blocked him and he was not admitted until 1773!   

The Club, a literary party at Sir Joshua Reynolds'

Wiki

In addition to Boswell’s written material, Damrosch could draw on other commentators: a world of con­ver­sations, ar­g­­um­ents, ideas and writings. Plus he used the biogr­aphies of Club members for another source of history e.g Burke was a wonder­ful source of political information, Garrick and Richard Brinsley Sheridan knew about contemporary theatre product­ions and Hester Thrale & Fanny Burney discussed women’s literature.

I wondered if the big issues of the day excited the minds of these bright men eg the riots erupting in American colonies after Parl­iam­ent levied taxes; Captain James Cook led his first expedition to the Pacific; the Industrial Revolution was launched; and the ab­ol­it­ion of slavery was debated. Dam­rosch noted that The Club had no shared agenda; instead, ideas of the individuals raised wider questions of aesthetics and politics, attitudes toward empire and war, social issues and religion. Britain was enjoying an ex­hil­arating age.

When Johnson’s anxieties over­wh­elmed him, Hester Thrale became his most intimate confid­ante. In 1765, a year after the Literary Club was formed, Thrale took him to live with her and her husband at Streatham Place in South Lond­on. So for the last 15 years of his life, Johnson depended on Hester Thrale who was a respectful and literate companion. Plus the Thrales had an excellent home library! No wonder he managed to write his last great work, Lives of the English Poets, at Streatham Place.

The Streatham Group, led by Hester Thrale, was important for anot­h­er reason. Excluded from the men’s groups, the Streatham Group inc­l­uded a number of remarkable women: Elizabeth Montagu, leader of the blue-stockings, playwright Hannah More and novelist Fanny Bur­ney. Fan­ny’s diaries and Hester’s notebooks were full of anecdotes and imp­ressions, reporting discussions about literature as a suit­able pro­fession for middle-class women, and the need for a women’s uni­ver­s­ity. Joshua Reynold’s sister Frances Reynolds was herself an artist and club colleague, as was bluestocking Elizabeth Carter.

Neither Club planned to damage Boswell’s special relationship with Johnson, although Boswell did still feel resentful. I don’t suppose Boswell particularly enjoyed Hester’s starring role at Streatham where he drank & talked too much. But one thing I nev­er heard of before: Boswell also had frightening depressions, pre­sumably worsened by his uncontrolled alcohol, gambling and random sex.

The Literary Society continued but the glory days had ended. Toward the end of Johnson’s life, he part­ic­ipated only c3 times a year, presumably because the exp­and­ed group size (now 35) reduced intimacy within the club. 

living the Old Rectory dream - classical proportions, symmetry and natural light

The C18th was the best age for the English vicarage as the educated Anglican clergy was now living in comfort, in the reign of Queen Anne (1702-14). Firstly Queen Anne's Bounty was a fund established in 1704 to augment the incomes of the poorer Church of England clergy. The bounty was funded by the tax on the incomes of all Church of England clergy. Secondly her Tory ministers supported the Church of England by using the Coal Tax to build magnificent new churches in London designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor, James Gibbs and others. And they introduced tithes to support parish churches and clerics throughout the country.

Old Rectory at Wingfield in Wiltshire 
first built in 1539 and substantially renovated in c1790.  
Sold by the Church in 1974

During King George III's reign (1760- ), an Act of Parliament was passed to “promote Residence of the Parochial Clergy by making provisions for the more speedy and effectual building, repairing or purchasing Houses and other necessary buildings and Tenements for the use of their benefices”.

Clearly the C18th led to a great burst of parsonage building or refurbishing, so I went through Country Life magazine for the last five years, and analysed every single C18th ex-rectory that had been published. It was a labour of love since, as anyone who read my blog posts on ex-rectories would know, this is my favourite form of housing. And none more so than the handsome Old Rectory at Wingfield, near Bradford on Avon, in Wiltshire.

Old vicarages, and all the Church of England's defrocked plant, were in hot demand. While it was very sad that the Church had to lose its clerics' homes, I do understand these substantial homes suggested permanence and stability to historically minded buyers, and an evocative past.

A detailed history of the parish in the County of Wilshire was fascinating. The church of St Mary lay at the south-east end of Wingfield Village, consisting of a chancel, nave, west tower, south porch and a vestry. With the exception of the 15th century tower and chancel arch, the building dated from the C17th, and all the windows except one were from then. The later vestry, built on the north side, housed an organ that was installed by the 5th Earl Temple of Stowe. There was a private school at Wingfield from 1800, kept by the rector, Rev Edward Spencer. In 1833 there was a (second?) school at Wingfield, supported by voluntary contributions and attended by 25 children.

Now let me quote Country Life (5/3/2014). Built of Bath stone under a distinctive slate-and-stone mansard roof, the handsome Georgian rectory, listed Grade II, was originally owned by Keynsham Abbey until the Dissol­ution in 1539, and eventually bought in a ruinous condition by Rector Edward Spencer in the late 1700s. According to parish records, Spencer rebuilt the house at considerable expense in a plain substantial manner for his own residence. His smart new rectory, which sat near the church of St Mary, was soon the focal point of life in the village.

The Old Rectory was at the end of Church Lane in Wingfield village, in an area of particular natural beauty in the Avon green belt. It lay to the south of the picturesque Saxon town of Bradford-on-Avon, through which the Kennet & Avon Canal passed, and to the west of Trowbridge. The historic world heritage city of Bath provided all the services that the vicar could have needed.

Even after its sale by the Church in 1974, the Old Rectory took up a lot of land. It had six acres of gardens, hedges, mature trees, copses and pasture, and views across open countryside to the famous White Horse at Westbury.

The house was spacious and well-proportioned, with the main reception rooms, country kitchen and orangery-breakfast room on the ground floor. The first floor housed bedrooms, a bathroom and a study; the second floor had more bedrooms. The vicar had either a very large family or a lot of church visitors who needed to stay in his home.

Old Rectory at near Cradley, near Malvern in Worcestershire

Photo credit: Wolsey Lodges

The Wingfield property was entranced through wrought iron gates hinged on two substantial stone pillars flanked by a stone boundary wall. The Old Rectory was a delightful Grade II Listed Georgian family house constructed of Bath stone elevations under slate and stone mansard roofs. The front of the building dated from the 1780s although the rear parts were older. Flagstone terraces were laid out in front.

Large sash windows and a garden door with an attractive fan light characterised the front facade which faces the south. Stunning far-reaching views extended across farmland to the Westbury White Horse. The archit­ecture was typical C18th, with fireplaces surrounded by stone, cornicing, panelled doors and large sash windows.

A key feature of The Old Rectory was a purpose-built oak barn with slate roof incorporating exposed beam and plaster elevations, and a first floor with floor-to-ceiling windows in the gable ends. I am in love... and am already discussing with the moving people where my book and painting collections will go. The library in my Old Rectory will have to be spacious, filled with natural light and comfortable.

An  1835 survey found c2,000 rectories across Britain were unfit for humans. Newly installed vicars often reported flooding, squatters, wood rot, rising damp or poison from the grave yards. So was that the end of the Anglican rectory, its resident family and perhaps the entire Church of England? 

Georgian rectory in the Oxfordshire countryside

and adjoining chapel.

Social History of the Victorian Parson (Amberley, 2015) discussed the Victorian parson in a rapidly changing world. The Church battled on to remain in the centre of UK’s affairs and took on new responsibilities. After a series of reforms, the nature of the Anglican parson's appointment and tenure changed and the typical parson was now resident, well educated, public-spirited. Campaigning for new schools, healthier living conditions and humanitarian values, the vicar very often championed the lower classes. This was despite remote, hostile communities, churches that were unfit for purpose and uncooperative local landowners.

light, spacious entry of The Vale, Berks

photo credit: Curbed

The impressive cultural and literary history of rectories has been examined separately.

Rare Australian Colonial architecture in Melbourne

Convict architect Fran­cis Greenway left valuable gems of Australian Colonial architecture in Sydney that emphasised the power and authority of Australia's colonial masters. Thus his Colonial Period of architecture in Australia 1788-1840 came at the latter half of the Georgian style of building. This style was typ­ified by symmetrical facades, windows which were arr­an­ged vertically and a scale relating well to the humans who used the building.

The roots of the colonial style were in classical Roman architecture. Verandas were added to suit the harsh summers of Australia and this made Aus­t­ral­ian Colonial Georgian a version of the original European and English styles. Early public buildings were constructed around the importance of influencing community and civic identity. There was a sentimental attachment to the idea of public space with a city square ringed by great civic buildings 'to the glory of god and humanity'.

St James Old Cathedral, 
Melbourne's Central Business District
1842-7

Collins St Baptist Church, 

Melbourne's Central Business District

1845

But Melbourne was not settled as early as Sydney ... or Tasmania's towns. The first attempt at settlement in the most southern part of the Australian continent had been made way back in 1803 by Lt David Collins but it must have been a bit rough; Collins and his men decided to move to Tasmania where the group eventually settled in Hobart in Feb 1804. It was not until the Henty brothers landed in Portland Bay in 1834, and John Batman fixed the location of Melbourne, that the Port Phillip District was officially declared a settlement in 1837.

Convicts were not allowed into Melbourne so the first ships that arrived at Port Phillip in the late 1830s were full of free immigrants. Being a young set­t­lement, and a late starter in architectural design, Mel­bourne has far fewer Colonial Georgian and Regency buildings than Sydney and Hobart. Nonetheless the colony of Port Phillip District formally separated from NSW and became a state (Victoria) with its own parliament in 1851.

Victorian Regency architecture WAS built in Melbourne and a few rare examples still survive. The Anglican St James Old Cathedral is the oldest church in Mel­bourne and one of only three buildings in the central city which predate the 1850s Gold Rush. The church's foundation stone was laid in Nov 1839 by Charles La Trobe, Superintendent of Port Phillip District which itself was then only 4 years old. Designed by town surveyor Robert Russell, the church had restrained Georgian features in local bluestone.

One of the founders of Melbourne, John Batman, was among the sub­scribers who paid for the church. It was built at the corner of Collins & William Sts, opened in 1842 & completed in 1847, although the tall, octagonal, Romanesque tower came later. This is a rare Melbourne example of a Colonial Georgian style building, having simple design, pleasing proportions & Greek detailing at the doorways. The style reflected Robert Russell’s experiences in Sydney, especially cont­em­poraries Francis Clarke and Francis Greenway's work.

In 1848 St James became Melb­ourne's Anglican Cathedral, until the more centrally located and elaborately designed St Paul's Cathedral was consecrated in 1891.

Designed by John Gill, the Collins St Baptist Church 1845 is the oldest Baptist church in Victoria. Unlike most Melbourne churches of the period, which were either Gothic or Romanesque, this Collins St church was in the form of a classical Greek temple, with four Cor­in­thian columns facing lovely Collins St, one of the most important streets in the Central Business District. The steps and lamp standards enhance the building's classical grandeur. To fit in with the Baptist dislike of decoration in churches, the interior had plain plastered walls.

Banyule Mansion in Heidelberg
a suburb of Melbourne
completed 1846

Como House in South Yarra, in Melbourne
Originally built 1847 and expanded at least twice more

Banyule Mansion 1839-46 was built in the Flemish Gothic revival style. It was built overlooking a creek, just when Heidel­berg was emerging as a separate town on the northern edge of Melbourne! Also designed by the ar­chitect John Gill and built by the Englishman Joseph Hawdon, Banyule was a wond­er­ful piece of archit­ecture, similar in style and size to many of Sydney's early government buildings: gabled parapets, corner pinn­ac­l­es, bay window and porch and chimneys. Believed to be Victoria’s oldest ex­t­ant col­onial mansion, the original large estate has since been broken up.

Como 1847 was a typical grand residence in Como Ave, South Yar­ra. It was built for Edward Williams, the colonial advocate who became a Supreme Court Judge in 1852. The original Como was already grand by the standards of its time, but later it was vastly enlarged. It was added to in 1855 by land speculator John Brown, showing the affluence that Melbourne enjoyed in the gold rush era. This beautiful estate was sold 1874 to pastoralist Charles Armytage. Later generations of the family lived in Como, until it was sold to the newly formed National Trust of Australia in the 1950s.

Tens of thousands of settlers and diggers poured into Victoria following the discovery of gold in 1851. But by then, the Colonial Period of architecture in this state was largely over. What a shame gold wasn't discovered 10 years earlier - Melbourne might have been a more Georgian city.

"Anti-Jacobite" wine glasses, after the Battle of Culloden

Inga Walton wrote very well about the National Gallery of Victoria exhibition called Kings Over The Water (2013). Although religion played a significant role in the propaganda surrounding the overthrow of King James II, it was not necessarily an overriding factor in the Jacobite movement. A large proportion of Jacobite supporters were Protestants and members of the Tory party! Others were partisans in the cause of Irish & Scottish nationalism. Both groups supported the claims of an indigenous Stuart dynasty over those of a foreign German house, as the Hanoverians were described. And they opposed the subordination of the monarchy to the will of a small group of powerful and self-interested, English land-owning aristocratic Whigs in parliament.

This momentous political and military struggle continued after the death of King James II with the Stuart supporters declaring James Francis Edward to be James III. I have written at length noting that to explicitly support the Stuart claim would have been treasonous. So popular songs and works of art bearing the likenesses, mottos and emblems of the exiled dynasty became a more subtle weapon in the battle to win the public over to The Cause.

Jacobite material culture, including medals, portraits, ceramics, prints and glassware had to use coded symbols to express loyalty and solidarity. By far the most common symbol was the six-petalled white heraldic rose, an ancient emblem of the Stuarts. And the thistle, representing the Stuarts’ claim to the Scottish throne; the thistle surmounted by a crown was an ancient badge of Scotland. The oak leaf and the acorn also held great significance, since the oak was an ancient Stuart badge and an emblem of the Stuart Restoration. Stuart supporters relied on the ambiguity of these fashionable motifs to obscure their real intent.

Pro-Jacobite glass with two handles, 1745,
in the Drawing Room at Trerice in Cornwall

120 small private clubs, gatherings of Stuart sympathisers, were the focal points of Jacobitism in the mid-C18th. A number of Masonic lodges were known to be Jacobite, as were many hunts, part­ic­ularly if they were maintained by an aristocratic patron sympathetic to The Cause.

Owing to the covert nature of Jacobite allegiance, it was initially assumed that these vessels were produced in secret in the provinces. However the vast majority of authentic Jacobite glasses were wheel-engraved! This was a relatively new decorative technique in England in the 1740s, a skill confined to the major London glass workshops. Only five engravers have been identified.

The Jacobite struggle reached its peak in 1745 when King James II’s grandson, Charles Edward Louis/The Young Pretender (1720-88) led an armed invasion, the last pitched battle fought on British soil. The buoyant mood of Stuart supporters and hopes for the restoration were soundly quashed at the bloody Battle of Culloden in 1746. This earned Bonnie Prince Charlie’s opponent on the field, Prince William Augustus, the nickname "Butcher Cumberland".

After Bonnie Prince Charlie spent some months in 1746 wandering in the northwest Highlands and Islands of Scotland hiding from British forces, he finally sailed to permanent exile on the continent. In the battle’s punitive aftermath, active suppression of the Highland clans led to measures such as bans on the wearing of tartan and on other aspects of Gaelic culture. These events continued to arouse strong nationalist feelings, then and now.

Jacobitism, as a living political cause, ended. Nonetheless, the doomed political and military adventure that was the failed Stuart bid to recapture the English throne assumed a potent afterlife in romantic literature and art.

Prosperity to the Duke of Cumberland, c1746
anti-Jacobite glass, 16 cm high
Bonhams 2011

But here is something I had previously not heard of! The NGV exhibition concluded with an acknowledgement of the dynastic status quo: anti-Jacobite glasses with emblems expressing loyalty to the Hanoverian monarchs. Most common of these was the prancing white steed of Saxony, an emblem of the German House of Hanover, often accompanied by the motto ‘George and Liberty’, celebrating the new political settlement.

How extraordinary! The Jacobites had to be secretive because to support the Stuart claim would have been treasonous. But why did supporters of the royal family and of Parliament need symbols on their wine glasses? And why did the loyal wine glasses often include a portrait of the Duke of Cumberland (1721-1765)?

In presenting an engraved Duke of Cumberland stem wine glass c1740 for auction in London in 2011, Bonhams tells the story. Prince William Duke of Cumberland (1721-65), third son of King George II, was destined for a serious career in the army. As the leading British general of the day, he was chosen to put a decisive stop to the Stuart Pretender in the Jacobite rising of 1745. Cumberland’s appointment was popular, and caused morale to soar amongst the public and troops loyal to King George. As a result Cumberland is best known for his defeat of the Young Pretender at the Battle of Culloden, finally quash­ing the Jacobite Insurrection.

Prince William Duke of Cumberland might have been called "Butcher Cumberland" by Jacobite historians. But for everyone else, Cumberland was a hero. The drawn trumpet bowl glass was decorated with the bust portrait of the hero and inscribed beneath the rim Prosperity to the Duke of Cumberland, the plain stem with conical foot.

engraved Duke of Cumberland portrait wine glass, c1750

anti-Jacobite glass, 18 cm high

Bonhams 2013

Another engraved Duke of Cumberland portrait wine glass c1750 was similar in design. The drawn trumpet bowl engraved at the rim with the inscription 'Prosperity to the Duke of Cumberland', above an oval portrait medallion of the Duke in profile. But this later glass had a multiple-spiral air-twist stem and folded conical foot. In 2013 Bonhams noted this belonged to a rare group of Anti-Jacobite glasses depicting William, Duke of Cumberland who defeated the Jacobite uprising at the Battle of Culloden.

They did not suggest why anti-Jacobite wine glasses were rarer than Jacobite wine glasses. Nor did they explain why the Duke of Cumberland's name and portrait were used, rather than King George and Liberty as suggested at the National Gallery of Victoria exhibition.

Best exhibitions in an C18th country mansion: Compton Verney

Compton Verney is a Warwickshire manor that dates back to the C11th Domesday Book. In 1435, it was acquir­ed by Richard Verney (1435-1490) with the cooperation of his broth­er, the Dean of Lichfield and Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. I haven’t seen an image of the Compton Verney mansion as it appeared in Tudor times, but it must have been splendid. Being so close to Stratford-upon-Avon might have added to the mansion’s glamour.

In 1711 a later baron George Verney, decided to rebuild the house in classical style. This baron's house may have been influenced by Blenheim Palace; Britain Express suggests that Sir John Vanbrugh, architect of Blenheim, was directly influential in Compton Verney.

 The new house was set in grand formal gardens in Baroque style. But when John Verney, the 14th Baron, came to the title, he called in Scottish architect Robert Adam (1728–1792) to re-build the house (yet again) in the 1760s. Robert Adam apparently swept away the courtyard house in favour of a U-shaped design with a grand class­ical porticoed entrance, as shown in the photo.

U-shaped Compton Verney

with porticoed entrance

designed by Robert Adam

In 1769 landscape designer Capability Brown (1716–1783) was invited to remodel Compton Verney's 120 acres of grounds. He demolished the medieval chapel beside the lake and stripped the estate of its formal gardens, planting thousands of oak trees to augment his sweeping vistas and the Palladian bridges.

Behind the house is Compton Verney chapel, re-built by Capability Brown in 1776 in the neo-classical style. There were still medieval and brasses, fit decoration for a chapel centred around a large altar tomb from the 1630 era of Richard and Margaret Verney.

How perfect that the first-ever exhibition about landscape designer Capability Brown was set in Compton Verney’s own Capability Brown landscape in 2011. Perhaps that exhibition inspired the Capability Brown Festival which will be held in 2016 to mark the 300th anniversary of his birth, celebrating his life, works and landscapes.

 family chapel, 

rebuilt by Capability Brown

 landscaped gardens and bridge,

 designed by Capability Brown

Post WW2, Compton Verney was derelict and threatened with destruct­ion but it was not purchased by the Compton Verney House Trust until 1993. In Phase I of the renovation programme, the exterior of the building was restored to its Tudor condition and the rooms inside were somewhat modernised. In Phase II a new education centre and offices were created in the restored historic out-buildings, linked to the mansion by an underground tunnel. Not only has this precious historical man­sion been taken off the English Heritage’s Building-at-Risk regist­er; it is now a functioning arts centre. I haven’t seen it myself, so I am very grateful to Britain Express.

Within Compton Verney’s Robert Adam Hall Gallery there are 6 permanent exhibits. These are: 1] Medieval Germanic art 1450-1650; 2] Golden age of Neapolitan art 1600-1800; 3] Chinese bronzes; 4] British portraits from the Tudor period on; 5] British folk art and 5] textiles. In addition to the permanent exhibits, Compton Verney hosts a range of temporary art exhibitions and an ongoing programme of classes and workshops.

Art gallery

For me, the two most important temporary exhibitions in 2015 are:
1. Canaletto: Celebrating Britain, March 2015-June 2015. Once the British economy was booming and the Jacobite threat had evaporated, the Georgian Revol­ution created a new, more confident generation that was increasingly assured by Britain’s status as a major world power. It was prepared to be less regimented by Palladian rules and more eclectic in its architectural patronage.

During his nine-year stay in Britain (1746-55), Canaletto documented traditional views and landmarks, and also the latest ach­iev­e­ments in architecture and engineering. The depictions of these new building projects celebrated Britain’s new-found wealth and assurance. The Canaletto: Celebrating Britain exhibition examined the architecture of Baroque masters such as Wren (St Paul’s and St Mary’s Warwick) and Hawksmoor (Westminster Abbey’s west towers). The Gothic revival marked Britain out as the new Venice, which was the real subject of Canaletto’s great canvases on display in this exhibition. I recommend the publication Celebrating Britain: Canaletto, Hogarth and Patriotism.

2. The Arts and Crafts House: Then and Now June 2015 - Sep 2015. This exhibition traces the origins and legacy of the historic Arts & Crafts Movement and its fascination with the creation of the home. Through the work and ideas of John Ruskin and William Morris, the exhibition will explore how new generations of designers created new ways of living and working eg a] the link between house and garden, using nature as the major inspiration. The exhibition will also feature work by CR Ashbee, Sidney and Ernest Barnsley, MH Baillie Scott, Ernest Gimson, Gertrude Jekyll, Edwin Lutyens, May Morris, CFA Voysey and Philip Webb.

An 18th century desk - for work or for drinking pleasure?

In the later C18th, when the object called a sideboard was transforming into a large and important piece of furniture, the cellaret was merely a detached receptacle. The cellaret was an elegant piece of mahogany furniture, almost always designed in the neo-classicist style, that could be octagonal, circular or oval. The important part was actually inside, lined with zinc partitions to hold the bottles and ice. A tap might be fixed in the lower part for drawing off the water from the melted ice.

Cellarets reached their heyday during the second half of the 18th century, perfect timing for British designer Robert Adam (1728–1792). In his Works In Architecture of 1778, Adam suggested that his countrymen liked to partake of wine even more than the French!

The considerable amount of wine consumed by the Eng­lish and French upper class required bespoke furniture forms that could accommodate the storing, chilling and serving of wine. Important diners did not want to have to wait for the serving staff to be racing back and forward to the large wine cellar below the house, or out in the gardens of the estate.

George II cellaret, mahogany
40 cm high; 73 cm wide; 38 cm deep. 

George III cellaret, mahogany
with reeded corners
zinc lining and zinc partitions,
44 cm high, 78 cm wide, 57 cm deep
photo: Online Galleries

Some craftsmen chose to specialise in cellaret design and manufacture. Cellarets could be built into sideboards that would have stood in the dining room. Others were free standing i.e plain or decorated containers that did nothing beyond what a cellaret was designed to do – hold bottles of wine. For example, see the George II mahogany cellaret in the top photo that had a rather plain, hinged rectangular top enclosing divisions for eighteen bottles. The sides were carried by handles and then sat on the floor on bracket feet.

But then I found a cellaret in a piece of furniture that a] had nothing to do with food or drink and b] was never placed in a dining room. Examine a George II mahogany pedestal desk (below) that had oak drawer linings and gilt metal mounts - this desk would have sat proudly in the study. Yet the pedestal desk hid two secrets - an unusual cellaret drawer and a side compart­ment for glasses. The elegance of its design, quality of timber and craftsmanship, and its fine quality gilt metal handles suggest a dis­tinguished London workshop. But what was the owner thinking, having quiet tipples in his study, perhaps with an important guest? And did his wife know?

George II pedestal desk

Mahogany, c1760

148 x 77 x 75 cms

Photo credit: Solomon Bly

same desk with zinc cellaret

same desk with compartment for glasses

The auction house Solomon Bly suggested that Thomas Chippendale (1718-1779) might have been the London cabinet-maker responsible for this clever, hidden design. This is not as far fetched as it seems since Chippendale was known to have collaborated in furnishing a couple of interiors designed by Robert Adam. But did he make hundreds of desks with a zinc cellaret and a space for glasses, or was this a once-off design for a special friend?

Some time later I found a George III mahogany cabinet that was never a desk; rather it looked like an expensive chest of drawers. At the bottom, two of the "drawers" were actually a cellaret with fourteen compartments for wine bottles. Auctioned by Aingers, this chest of drawers was 91cm high, 65cm wide, 42cm deep. It too suggests to me that Georgian gentlemen with money were very inventive with the furniture they used to store, or perhaps hide, wine.

George III mahogany, apparently a normal chest of drawers

Contains a cellaret with 14 compartments for wine bottles.
91cm x 65cm x 42cm.
Photo credit: EJ Ainger

Princess Sophia of Hanover, Queen of Britain?

Queen Mary II (d1694) had no children but her sister Anne (1665–1714), who inherited the throne after Mary died, was pregnant most years of her married life. Just one of these 18 live births survived infancy and, if he lived, would have eventually inherited his mother’s throne. Called Duke of Gloucester, young Prince William was seen as a Protestant champ­ion. This was because his birth guaranteed the Protestant succession, estab­lished in the Glorious Revolution that had deposed his Catholic grandfather King James II.

Tragically not a single child survived Queen Anne, as we will see.

On the Continent, Princess Sophia (1630-1714) of Hanover was triply blessed. Firstly she was a child of Frederick V, Count Palatine of the Rhine. Secondly she was a grand daughter of King James I. And thirdly in 1658 she married Ernest Augustus who later became elector of Brunswick-Lüneburg-Han­ov­er. Sophia was a very educated young woman, a gifted linguist and a witty writer, raised in the vigorous Protestant life of the Dutch Republic. Even more to her credit, Sophia became a friend and admirer of Gottfried Leibniz while he was a scholar in residence at the Court of Hanover. And she was a dedicated patron of the arts.

Sophia became a widow in 1698, and at that point historians asked if her name was being considered as a successor to the British throne. We know that the House of Commons in London had earlier refused to place her in the succession.

But by 1700, the state of affairs in Britain suddenly became bleaker. Prince William, duke of Gloucester had just passed away at 11. King William III (d1702) was ill and child­less. Whatever the British Parliament thought of Sophia, they absol­ute­ly did not want the throne to revert to another Cath­olic! The Parl­iament had to bypass over 36 (or 56, depending on the source) Cath­olic candidates who had a better claim by blood than Prin­cess Sophia had. So the Parliament rallied; they passed the Act of Settlement 1701 with a sense of urgency. This Act, naming the Electress Sophia of Hanover and her Protestant heirs, settled the succession question for all time.

Princess Sophia, Electress of Hanover
by John Smith, after Friedrich Wilhelm Weidemann
36 x 25 cm, mezzotint, 1706
National Portrait Gallery, London

Since the Act of Settlement of 1701 called Sophia “the most excellent princess Sophia, electress and duchess-dowager of Hanover”, one wonders why British politicians did not bring Sophia to London straight away, to prepare her for her royals tasks and to enable her to immediately rule, in the event of Queen Anne's death. Queen Anne was not at all old, but she was grossly overweight, always pregnant and incapable of walking. Plus there was still a terrible fear that Queen Anne's Roman Catholic half-brother, the Old Pretender, would launch himself back to Britain and grab the throne. It made sense that the Protestant successor should have been made very visible in Britain.

In the event, the very excited heir presumptive Sophia had to watch the last years of the reign of Queen Anne from a distance. In June 1714 Sophia was sit­ting in Hanover with her bags packed and her maids ready to travel, when she died aged 85. Queen Anne died in August 1714, aged 49. Two months later Sophia’s son George, a man not at all interested in leaving Germany or in learning English, became King George I (1660–1727) of Britain.

Although I feel terribly sorry for Sophia, I wonder if the world would have been a different place, had she become the British queen? Probably not. Sophia was already a very elderly lady. Could she have prepared son George better? Of course. George may not have even vaguely understood that the Jacobites (and some of the Tory Party) would want to depose him and replace him with Anne's Catholic half-brother, James Stuart. He had to learn quickly - in 1715, the Jacobite Rebellion commenced.

I saw warm recommendations for two books I have not read. The Georgian Princesses by John Van der Kiste is an account of the princesses and consort Queens of the Georgian era, from Princess Sophia to William IV’s Adelaide. And JN Duggan wrote Sophia of Hanover: From Winter Princess to Heiress of Great Britain, 1630-1714.

The life and creative times of Dr Samuel Johnson

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) was born in Lichfield near Birmingham. The family house, facing the market square, was built by his bookselling father as both a home and a bookshop. He was a very unheal­thy child, deaf in one ear, blind in one eye, a survivor of small-pox and a sufferer of Tour­et­te's syndrome. Samuel’s early years were not easy due to these health issues and his pa­r­­ents’ finan­cial problems, but he must have been a clever lad. His years at Lich­field Grammar School gave him a classical education, and his father’s books opened the rest of the world.

Samuel’s father died a bankrupt, so the young man had to earn an income as best he could from journalism and translation. In Bir­mingham he met the much older widow Elizab­eth Porter whom he married in 1735. She had three adult children from her first marriage.

Samuel and his wife set up a gentlemen’s boarding school near Lichfield, using her money. A friend who lived in the bishop's palace even lent his prem­ises for private theatricals or­ganised by talented local schools. But Johnson’s school failed. Joh­n­son and his wife moved to London in 1737, along with another penniless man of culture, David Garrick.

Georgian townhouse in Gough Square, London

Built in 1700

lived in by Samuel Johnson 1748-59

In London, Johnson’s writing career improved, just in time to benefit from the growth of publish­ing, in Eng­lish and in the classical languages. Within a year Johnson began to write for The Gentleman's Magazine, founded only a few years earlier and still growing. This magazine involved itself in literature, music and par­liamentary debates!

Dr John­son’s London house from 1748-59 was a lovely Georgian townhouse in Gough Square, just north of Fleet St. Providing a home and a workplace for Johnson, the site has been res­t­ored to its orig­in­al cond­it­ion, containing pan­el­led rooms, a pine staircase and a co­ll­ec­tion of contemporary furnit­ure, prints and port­r­aits. I recommend that people visit the house, paying particular attention to the parlour-living room, the garret where he worked on a long table, the library that once had 3,000 volumes for Johnson’s reading pleasure and his first floor rooms set aside for lodgers.

The house could not have come at a better time. In 1747 Johnson had already pl­anned a major task: compiling an Eng­lish Dict­ion­ary, with the consent of the Secr­et­ary of State. The work re­qu­ired a keen lo­gical faculty, and an in depth coverage of English lit­­er­a­t­ure of the prec­eding 200 years. After 9 long yrs, and with only 6 copyists assisting him, Johnson completed the mammoth task in 1755. He had written definitions for 40,000+ words, with 114,000 quotations, publ­ished in 2 large folio vol­um­es.

Mrs Johnson became very ill in 1751. When she died, Samuel’s grief was overwhelming. He continued his work as a journalist, editing, writing prefaces and contribut­ing articles to journals. In 1756 Johnson proposed a New Edition of Shakespeare which did in fact appear after a few years. Both Joh­n­s­on and Sir Joshua Reynolds began to write articles for the Idler. But pov­er­ty was never far away. Nor was depression. Being a Man of Letters did not provide a high income. And his loyal wife, once a reliable source of at least some income, had died. In 1759, no longer able to afford his lovely home, Johnson moved into rooms at the Staple Inn.

Samuel Johnson's London house

first floor, for lodgings

Jo­h­n­son had always lived frugally by his writing, until he re­ceived a pen­s­ion of £300/year from King George III in 1762, quite late in his career. The time where he was threatened with debtor's prison were over. He still wrote, but now he could afford to spent time in coffee hous­es in conversation. 

Since his early work on the debates in The Gentleman’s Magazine, Johnson had taken a keen interest in politics. Late 1765, he sup­p­l­ied the parliamentarian William Gerard Hamilt­on with his views on questions being discussed in parl­iament and wrote papers for him. 

The core of his literary life in London was his friendship with Henry and Hes­t­er Thrale, people who made their money from Anchor Brew­house in Southwark. Hester invited her other good literary friends, for her­self and for John­son. In fact Johnson knew the best and the brightest in London, including writers Jam­es Boswell and Fanny Bur­ney; painters Al­l­an Ramsay and Sir Joshua Reyn­olds; Irish playwright Oliver Goldsmith; statesman Edmund Burke; and writer/publisher Horace Walp­ole.

Samuel still had a bit of fun in older age. The Vauxhall Pleas­ure Gardens had been laid out south of the Thames during the 1660s. The whole of cultivated London flocked to the gardens to see a statue erected to their beloved compos­er, Han­d­el. But Johnson’s last years were sad and sickly. He died in 1784, at 75. Later Mrs Thrale published her Ane­c­dotes of the Late Sam­uel Johnson in 1786, as well as her Letters to and from Johnson. Bosw­ell's biog­raphy was published in 1791. In 1791 Westminster Abbey was chosen for Samuel’s monument.

Thomas Rowlandson , an evening concert in Vauxhall Gardens, 1784. 

In the supper box on the left, the diners were James Bos­well, Samuel Johnson, Hester Thrale and Oliver Goldsmith.

For images of Dr Johnson’s beloved house, see British Heritage magazine, April/May 1977 and Discovery Britain magazine, Nov/Dec 2014.

Red Lion Brewery (gone), Red Lion Hotel (extant)

Ever since writing and lecturing about The Festival of Britain in 1951, I feel I have to go back to see what architecture had been lost (as well as examining what architecture had been gained). We know that Royal Festival Hall, that opened to the public in 1951, stood on the site of Red Lion Brewery.

The Red Lion Brewery is a new book written by Victoria Hutchings, to be published by Calder Walker Associates in late 2013. The publishers say the book provides a history of the Red Lion Brewery, estab­lish­ed in the C16th, and owned for over 100 years by the bank­ers Hoare's from 1802-1933. Although the name Red Lion Brewery was chang­ed to Hoare and Co in 1924, it remains as one of Britain’s oldest brew­eries and pioneered many brewing developments. Note that Hoare and Co, brewers of Wapping, acquired 11 public houses throughout Britain’s south east, at the same time. The book is meticulously researched from inside the family archives and from Hoare's Bank.

So let us go back to 1802 when the brewery came into the hands of the Hoare family. Since that time, the business has passed down from one generation of the family to the next without outside intervention. The Red Lion Brewery must have been enormous, consisting of a large range of buildings facing the River Thames, and covering 3 acres. 

Red Lion Brewery and shot tower, from the Thames River

Note the lion above the roof line. Image credit: Dictionary of Victorian London

The malthouse was the oldest part of the complex, displaying thick crossbeams and joists, and old staircases with broad landings. Like many other London breweries, the Red Lion Brewery was supplied with the purest water by means of a deep well. This well had a diameter of 5’ to the depth of 100’, below which it was carried by two bore-holes 300’ down to the chalk. A further supply of water was obtained from the London Clay by their lesser wells i.e those that were only used in summer when the Thames water was not cold enough for supplying the refrigerators. The peculiar flavour of dark Porter Beer gave rise to an opinion that only Thames water could produce good Porter.

The main building facing the river was of five storeys built in brick, with stucco work on the river and back elevations. The river front had Roman Doric columns which extended through the upper floors and carried an entablature. The podium, which extended below the wings at each side, had recessed semicircular headed windows and doorways. Above the entablature was a lion made of Coade stone which stood on a substantial base incised BREWERY. This lion statue could clearly be seen on both sides of the Thames.

The rear elevation also had a rusticated podium with a slight projection at the centre. This projection had coupled Doric pilasters supporting a pediment. The roof of the main building was designed to act as a large shallow tank for the storage of water. It was formed of cast-iron plates, which extended up to form parapets. The street and courtyard elevations of the subsidiary buildings and the arched entrance from Belvedere Road were also stuccoed. The buildings, all with cornices below the parapets, were of three storeys.

Royal Festival Hall and shot tower, opened 1951

Photo taken from the same vantage point across the Thames.

Only the tower remained in place.

Red Lion’s buildings ceased to be used as a brewery in 1924 but were not demolished until 1949, to prepare the South Bank site of the 1951 Festival of Britain. In the mid 1950s the stone lion was saved and placed outside Waterloo station on a high plinth, then painted red as the sym­bol of British Rail. Initials of the sculptor William Wooding­ton and the 1837 date were accidentally discovered under one of its paws. Later the red paint was stripped off to reveal the fine Coade stone surface below. In 1966, the statue was moved from to its current location on Westminster Bridge, and has since been protected by British Heritage.

The Shot Tower, which you can see in the first two images, was to create the shot needed for projectiles in weapons and had nothing to do with beer. Used for its purpose from 1826 until 1949, the shot tower might have gone the way of the brewery before the 1951 Festival of Britain. But it was kept as a Thames landmark for Festival goers and was not demolished until 1967, to make way for the Queen Elizabeth Hall.

**

The Red Lion Hotel, set at the foot of the Henley Bridge, also over­looks the River Thames. Emerging in the 16th century as a coaching inn on the road between London and Oxford, the hotel has been offering beer-based hospitality for many centuries. The brick façade was added in Georgian times. Alterations in 1889 included the addition of a porch on which a red lion was placed.

Many of the hotel rooms are identified by the names important people who, at some stage in the hotel’s history, used those rooms. Dr Samuel Johnson and Mr James Boswell stayed there in 1776. King George II was a frequent visitor to Henley and was familiar with the Red Lion from his boyhood days. He certainly visited in 1788, accompanied by Queen Charlotte and two princesses. The Prince Regent, later King George IV, was another visitor.

Red Lion Hotel, Henley-on-Thames

Note the red lion.

Readers might enjoy reading "The Lambeth Waterworks and the Lion Brewery", in British History On Line.

The Cultural and Literary History of Rectories

In a topic close to my heart, I wrote that village rectories, the traditional family homes of Anglican ministers, have a sad history. Although rectories have had their ups and downs since the early C18th, the period since the early C20th has posed perhaps the greatest challenge for protectors of church heritage. Real estate agents are, however, delighted. Old vicarages, all the defrocked plant of the Church of England, are in hot demand - these substantial and elegant homes propose permanence, stability and an evocative past.

The old romantic images return. For many the archetypal Georgian rectory nestling beside an ancient church evokes a scene from Jane Austen. For others it conjures up something much darker and elemental, such as the parsonage on the Yorkshire Moors where the Brontë sisters led such confined yet creative lives. In more modern times, we might think of Vikram Seth at the Old Rectory near Salisbury, where George Herbert lived, or Edmund de Waal growing up in the Chancery at Lincoln, home to the very creative Benson family a century earlier. In general we agree that these village homes exude serenity, restraint, civility and continuity; values that have a particular resonance in an age of anxiety and dislocation – and the romance endures, despite the clerical incumbents moving on.

Sir John Betjeman's former home in  Farnborough, Berkshire 

had been built as a vicarage in the mid 18th century.

Now a book has come out that talks not about the rectories’ archit­ecture and financial values, but about the long association rectories have had with writers in Britain. Deborah Alun-Jones wrote The Wry Romance of the Literary Rectory (Thames and Hudson, 2013). For her, as for most Anglicans probably, the British rural idyll was epitomised by the iconic mellow walls of the rectory. Sir John Betjeman's home (photo below) was even voted best parsonage by Country Life magazine for its exceptional architecture, beautifully-kept gardens and spectacular views over the Berkshire Downs.

Deborah Alun-Jones paired up eight English rectories with the authors who lived in them. Each chapter offered an architectural history of each rectory and a biography of each writer’s fam­ily. The authors were: 1] Sydney Smith, 2] Alfred Tennyson, 3] Dorothy Sayers, 4] Rupert Brooke, 5] John Betjeman, 6] RS Thomas, 7] George Herbert and 8] the Benson and de Waal families. Each chapter expl­ored the life of the writers during the time they lived at a particular rectory and the effect it had on them.

Life in the rectory was often creative and supportive, but sometimes the residents had to overcome great adversity eg parental psychosis. And the bitter, unrelenting cold. Nonetheless there was a common experience that created and nurtured talent. It says a great deal about the place of religion in English life, about the cultural consequences of having an educated and married clergy, and about the effect on the imagination of being simultaneously privileged and isolated, well-connected and poor.

I am not sure where the impact of the rectory was greater. Perhaps it was where the writer had been a child who grew up in a rectory with his/her clerical father (eg Tennyson, Sayers). Or was it where the adult writer chose to live in an old rectory (eg Brooke, Betjeman), perhaps because of the values that these houses symbolised. The Old Rectory in Berkshire certainly spread its magic on John Betjeman. He ran a campaign to revive and sustain local parish life.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson lived in his father's rectory in Somersby Lincs. 

It was built in the early C18th

In either case, it must have worked. Deborah Alun-Jones showed that the serene exterior of the rectory did indeed prod­uce a golden age of literature. Eight Poet Laureates, presumably the greatest writers and poets in the English language, were brought up such homes. The Bensons were clearly impacted! Their father EW Benson became Archbishop of Canterbury later in his career, and in the meantime the four children all grew up to be writers.

One reviewer remained unconvinced about whether Alun-Jones achieved her goal of proving that “these structures mirrored the stereotype of the national psyche: the cool, calm exterior concealing the turbulence and drama of the inner self.” Surely that was true of most homes, Lee Randall said; life inside a rectory was only as rich and varied, as good and as bad, and as creatively inspiring as life in any other dwelling? Probably true, but I still wept when reading of Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s really horrible childhood.

In 1842 Charlotte & Emily Brontë went to Brussels, boarding at the pensionnat run by Claire Zoë Parent and Constantin Heger. An unpublished homework essay by Charlotte, in French, on the subject of  L'Amour Filial/the love of a child for her parents was marked by her teacher, Constantin Heger, who left his corrections and comments. Hand-writing analysis has since confirmed the identity of the author.

What is the connection with rectories? A fund was raised on behalf of the Brontë Society from three different sources, paying £50,000 for the essay in December 2012. The essay's future home will be at the Bronte vicarage-museum in Haworth, West Yorkshire where everyone will be able to see the document on public display.

In June 1913 Constantin's son, Paul Heger, donated the four surviving letters Charlotte wrote to his father to the British Museum.

Sir Stamford Raffles

Thomas Stamford Raffles (1781–1826) was born in London. I had imagined that colonial officers were the second or subsequent sons of decently comfortable families who knew they would never inherit their fathers’ estate or business. But Raffles was neither well-born nor well educated. His parents chose, or had to send him to work as a clerk in the East India Company when he was only 14.

According to Victoria Glendinning’s newest biography, Raffles' views were modern. As well as being clearly anti-slavery and against the capitalist exploitation of rural workers, he disliked cock-fighting and gambling, distrusted missionary proselytism and despised capital punishment. Raffles was a free trader, not an exploiter of distant populations. But was he an imperialist? The historian Bernard Porter said yes, but a decent sort of imperialist.

Despite his charming looks and useful connections, Raffles might not have been the most popular man in the Company. Well-born competitors did not like this upstart competing for their jobs and spouting radical ideas. They found him aggressive and overconfident.

Portrait of Sir Stamford Raffles

painted by George Joseph in 1817

Now in the National Portrait Gallery

It all happened very quickly. In 1805 Raffles was posted in Malaya; Java was seized from the Dutch in 1811 and Raffles was appointed the Lt-Governor of Java; he was knighted in 1817; and Singapore was founded in 1819. As governor, Raffles might have slipped back into traditional colonising behaviour – but he did not. Instead he introduced partial self-government, banned the slave trade, restricted the opium trade, led an expedition to rebuild Borobudur and other important local sites, and ended the hated, exploitative system of land management practised by the Dutch.

Why did he choose Singapore as the centre for the East India Company’s empire? Clearly the small island was geographically half way between India and China. But there may have been two other reasons. Firsly there were no dreaded Dutchmen on the island of Singapore. Secondly Raffles believed that Singapore had once been a fine city in the original, pre-Muslim Malayan civilisation.

Until Raffles signed the treaty in 1817, the area had boasted nothing more sophisticated than fishing nets and village life. So it was the treaty that secured the transfer of control of Singapore to the East India Company. Clearly the island state has changed since 1817!

Victoria Glendinning was impressed with her subject’s sensitivity towards, and interest in local culture. Raffles went out of his way to learn the local languages, especially Malay. And he was a passionate collector of Javanese cultural artefacts and manuscripts.

Raffles had been forced to return to London in 1817 to vindicate his reputation at the end of his term as Governor-General of Java. Still, he used the time wisely, writing and publishing a learned book on the History of Java. Sir Stamford, as he styled himself, was no colonial dilattente, sipping gins in plantations, remote from real life.

Raffles Place and Sir Stamford Raffles' statue located on the river in Singapore

Raffles had two beloved wives and 5 children. The first, Olivia, died in 1814; the second, Sophia, wrote the books and promoted his post-mortum reputation. This was a family that stayed together, even in steamy jungle conditions, filled with deathly tropical diseases. What a terrible shame that four of the five beloved children died in childhood and the fifth died at the end of adolescence.

Raffles himself ran his health into the ground by overwork. Soon after he returned to Britain in 1824 and with the Singapore matter settled, Raffles turned to his passion for botany and zoology. This talented man was a founder (in 1825) and first president of the Zoological Society of London and the London Zoo. He planned to stand for Parliament, but he died in his early 40s.

The part of the story that is not clear is why Raffles was thought of as unsuccessful by other colonial officers in that part of the world. before his Singapore action. Clearly he was sacked from his posts in Java and Sumatra, and criticised for going beyond his official authority. It is easy for us moderns to guess that Raffles’ unilateral abolition of slavery in Indonesia was not going to go down well with the Company. And we can understand that his first constitution for Singapore, which outlawed gaming and slavery, was not likely to be applauded by his peers.

But was the East India Company ruined in SE Asia? Hardly. Yet when Raffles retired through ill health and returned to Britain, he received no compensation and no pension, and was even required to pay back some of his salary. Clearly he was being severely punished by the Company he had served since he was 14.

This was strange.. since in London, in 1817, he had been lionised. He was taken up by Princess Charlotte and was knighted by the Prince Regent. The collections of antiquities and animals that Raffles brought back from the East were hugely valuable because they brought him celebrity, and this made it hard for the East India Company to dismiss him.

Raffles collected wonderful cultural objects during his years away, objects that may well have disappeared from the history books. Unfortunately for us, their ship back to Britain in 1824 sunk and lost a lot of their precious treasure trove. Fortunately for us, the objects that did not drown are now in the British Museum.

Raffles Hotel, Singapore

I came across Raffles twice in Singapore; once seeing his statue at the quay and once drinking gin slings at his famous hotel (both unveiled in 1887). Readers should try the gin slings themselves AND read Raffles and the Golden Opportunity by Victoria Glendinning, published by Profile Books in 2012.

One Heart and Mind is a one-act play, written by the members of Act IV Theatre Company, that concentrates on the last twenty years of Stamford Raffles’ life. Historical events have been accurately drawn from Raffles of the Eastern Islands by C E Wurtzburg and Raffles by Maurice Collis. The conclusion of this rags-to-riches-to-rags story was that Raffles was eventually destroyed by the East India Company for propagating a humanitarian philosophy that was way ahead of its time and for founding Singapore without the permission of Head Office.