Garrick Temple

Well, in my post about fire destroying Garrick's villa I promised you a blog on the Temple to Shakespeare at Hampton, and here it is. Garrick built the Temple in 1756 and it now houses a small exhibition about the great actor-manager; it's usually open to the public on Sundays between April and September but we made a special trip during Open House London. On this weekend you can get into a range of historic buildings for free - we had a fantastic day in Hampton and Teddington, though I regret not taking the opportunity to visit Horace Walpole's Gothic castle Strawberry Hill while we were in the area (especially as it's now closed for restoration until 2010).

Below is the front of the little Palladian Temple, which you'll recognise immediately from the Zoffany painting above, picturing Garrick with his wife Eva Maria and (I think) a little nephew, playing on the steps.


The Temple itself was possibly modelled on Lord Burlington's Temple at Chiswick House and was a nice spot to invite friends for tea and indulge in a spot of fishing. The riverbank alongside the Temple, which you can see in the picture above, was remodelled with advice by Lancelot 'Capability' Brown, who lived nearby and was a good friend of the Garricks. Their villa and the Temple were linked by a grotto-like tunnel under the Kingston to Staines Road which divides the two properties (sadly, it's not open to the public). Below are some pictures of the permanent exhibition, including reproductions of the Zoffany conversation piece and Hogarth's portrait of Garrick as Richard III.




We loved talking to the volunteers at the Temple, who fondly refer to the actor as 'our Garrick', and you have a real sense of his spirit being kept alive. Below is a sculpture of Garrick, sporting a daisy chain.


Garrick also commissioned the fashionable sculptor Roubiliac to create a life-sized marble statue of Shakespeare (below). Visitors were invited to 'sacrifice to Shakespeare' by leaving verses in his honour at the foot of the statue (these often ended up in the newspapers, thanks to Garrick's knack for self-publicity). The actor-manager also displayed his collection of supposedly Shakespearian artefacts here, including a glove, a salt cellar and a signet ring bearing the initials WS.



All Temple photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

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Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire

I've just finished reading Amanda Foreman's biog of the Duchess of Devonshire. I've got to tell you, I was somewhat disappointed. I know the book caused a sensation when it came out ten years ago, and I admire Foreman's scholarly take on the Duchess which avoids making nonsense assumptions that its subject was a proto-feminist, but a lot of the time I kept wondering if Georgiana was really worthy of a biography of such weight. Yes, she was an interesting woman, but she was constrained by her aristocratic position, which meant much of the book is taken up with trivialities: her ruinous gambling habit and the general bed-hopping of her set. This is why I've now turned to Norma Clarke's Queen of the Wits: A Life of Laetitia Pilkington because I'm more interested in figures on the fringes of Georgian society - people who had the freedom of movement than Georgiana did. I'll post more on that when I've finished it.

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Christmas Turkey

Just finished watching the BBC's premiere of Casanova from 2005, with Heath Ledger in the title role. Looks like it cost a fortune - a stellar British cast phoned in their performances, including Tim McInnery as the Doge (a spectacular piece of miscasting) and Jeremy Irons as the scenery-chewing head of the Inquisition. Great music, costumes and setting, but given that the film's wittiest moment was a shot of a pig in a ruff, I think it's fair to call this a turkey.

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Merry Christmas

Thank you for your kind support over the last month as this blog took its first tentative steps - it means a lot to me. I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy new year!


Lichfield Cathedral, Staffordshire. Copper engraved print published in The Beauties of England and Wales, 1801.
Source: Ancestry Images.


Lichfield Cathedral, Staffordshire, photographed by me yesterday.

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Boswell: King of the Rakes

Well, I confess I'm really surprised by the rake votes - not a single vote for Casanova, and a tie-breaker between Boswell and the Earl of Rochester! Well, after much deliberation, I've decided to crown Boswell as favourite rake, if only because his cosy image as Dr Johnson's biographer needs challenging.

He was born in 1740, the son of a judge, Alexander Boswell, 8th Laird of Auchinleck and his wife Euphemia Erskine. His early years were characterised by a clash between profligate tendencies and and a powerful sense of duty to his father, who wanted him to study law. Following an unrequited passion for an actress, Mrs Cowper, he hit upon the idea of going to London to become a Roman Catholic priest (the piousness of Mrs Cowper no doubt inspired this). He rode non-stop for two and a half days in order to reach the capital, and when there, abandoned his religious intentions almost immediately in favour of 'the melting and transporting rites of love' at the Blue Perriwig in Holborn.

Back in Scotland, Boswell embarked on various dalliances, one of which - with his maidservant Peggy Doig - resulted in the birth of the first of his illegitimate children. Meanwhile, virtually any woman in the vicinity took his fancy: 'At supper I fell much in love with the chambermaid who served us who was a handsome girl with an insinuating wantonness of look,' he drooled.


Returning to London in 1762, his London Journal includes many accounts of his exploits, a typical diary entry being as follows:

I should have mentioned last night that I met with a monstrous big whore in the Strand... I went into a tavern with her, where she displayed to me all the parts of her enormous carcass; but I found that her avarice was as large as her a---, for she would by no means take what I offered her... I was so much in the lewd humour that I felt myself restless, and took a little girl into a court; but wanted vigour. So I went home, resolved against low street debauchery.

Much of this seems surprising when you consider Boswell's friendship with Johnson: a pious man who took a dim view of indulgences of any kind; in Boswell's Life of Johnson he records an exchange with the writer on the subject of prostitution, in which Johnson remarks: 'Sir, it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that prostitutes are necessary to prevent the violent effects of appetite from violating the decent order of life; nay, should be permitted, in order to preserve the chastity of our wives and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, severe laws, steadily enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would promote marriage.'

As Julie Peakman observes in Lascivious Bodies (to which I'm indebted for this article), Boswell was a man of inconstant moods, who burned with passion one moment and dropped a woman the next. He later settled down with his cousin, Margaret Montgomerie, who bore him seven children, yet like most 18th-century libertines, though he loved 'that valuable woman', he continued his dalliances for the rest of his life.

Thank you all for voting!

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Word of the Week: Buffleheaded

A man with a large head, like a buffalo; dull; stupid; foolish.

From: Samuel Johnson's A Dictionary of the English Language: An Anthology

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A Rakish Reminder

A note to say that I’m out of the loop this weekend, but don’t forget to vote for your favourite rake (voting ends on Sunday!) and I’ll post about the victor next week.

In the meantime, you might want to check out these blogs:

The Duchess of Devonshire’s Gossip Guide to the 18th Century
There’s not much time left to leave a comment on your favourite tart posting for a chance to win one of Heather Carroll’s exquisite Christmas decorations!

Tempus Fugit
The time-travelling physician continues to enlighten readers on the art of 18th-century medicine from his post south of the Ohio river.

Nature Diary
Not so much a blog as a civilised stroll in the Hampshire countryside with nature notes and poetry from Colonel Brandon.

Above: The blogosphere, as depicted by Hogarth...

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