Prince Frederick's Barge

There's something else I wanted to recommend at the National Maritime Museum; on the ground floor they have an extraordinary object: the original barge built for George II's eldest son, Prince Frederick (left), in 1732. It's not a reproduction! This amazingly rich, gilded boat is one of the museum's largest objects at around 19.m in length, and now very delicate. It was designed by the architect William Kent and built by John Hall on the south bank of the Thames, opposite Whitehall. There's some very elaborate carving on the front done by James Richards, who succeeded Grinling Gibbons as master carver to the Crown in 1721. It features scallop shells, urns and acanthus leaves and everything is gilded in 24-carat gold leaf.

On the very first day it was afloat, the Prince used the barge to take his mother, Queen Caroline, and his five sisters, from Chelsea to Someset House to inspect the cleaning of the royal collection of paintings. On another occasion it attended a regatta at Woolwich decorated in the fashionable style of chinoiserie (which used fanciful Chinese imagery) with the footman and 21 oarsmen dressed in Chinese costume. It was to make its final appearance long after the Prince's death, in 1849, when Prince Albert was rowed to the opening of the Coal Exchange.

Amazingly, what we're seeing now was reconstructed from three pieces (the barge having been sawn up and stored in the Royal Barge House at Windsor Great Park for over 100 years). You can walk right alongside it and see the rather worn green velvet seats where the royal bottom would have been planted, while the ceiling is painted with a design representing the royal coat of arms. Given the crowded state of the London streets, this was probably a highly convenient - not to mention pleasant - way to travel!

Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.
Portrait of Prince Frederick (1724), engraving after Georg Wilhelm Lafontaine: Wikimedia Commons.
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Nelson's Coat

I blogged a while ago about our trip to Greenwich and our brief visit to the National Maritime Museum, but I wanted to mention it again, since we went back to the museum recently to see an exhibition of toy boats. While wandering around we saw quite a few things of interest from the Georgian and Regency periods, not least Admiral Lord Nelson's Trafalgar coat. I wasn't allowed to use flash, so excuse the poor photograph: there's a clearer image on the Port Cities website.

But what you don't get from a photograph is the scale of the object. I never realised how small in statue Nelson was - of course, people in the 18th century were smaller, generally, than we are today, but even so, I wasn't quite prepared for this neat, petite piece of clothing. You could see the hole from the bullet that killed Nelson in the right shoulder of the coat (a passing American thought it looked a superficial blow, until he was told it came from above and went downwards through Nelson's body). Along the back of the display they had Nelson's stockings, still stained with blood (probably that of his secretary, John Scott, who was killed earlier in the battle). Rarely have I seen such an evocative piece of clothing, and the museum also had some excellent mourning artifacts on display related to Nelson's death, including funeral jewellery and vases.


Photograph © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington. 
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Chips off the Old Block

A while ago we got wind of a fundraising scheme by The Friends of Lichfield Cathedral to auction off damaged sections of the cathedral that had been removed from the North and South Clerestory during the restoration of the East End of the building. Currently scattered around the cathedral lawn, the advert promised that the stones (which are 17th-century) could make a great garden feature and would come with a proper certificate of authentication. So off we went last Saturday to the stonemason's booth (above) to place bids on 1) part of a quatrefoil taken from below copings 2) the upper section of pinnacle and 3) copings from the Lady Chapel.

We'll get to know today if we've been successful. Perhaps, because the money goes towards the cathedral, we won't be subject to the harsh judgments of the monk, St Wulfstan, whose upset over the demolition of St Oswald's Anglo-Saxon cathedral at Worcester led him to remark: 'We miserable people have destroyed the work of saints, that we may provide praise for ourselves. The age of that most happy man did not know how to build pompous buildings, but knew how to offer themselves to God under any sort of roof, and to attract to their example subordinates. We on the contrary strive that, neglecting out souls, we may pile up stones.'

Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.
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Two Blogs to Cherish

Things have been pretty busy lately but I'm glad to say I've been steered towards a couple of great blogs that have proved to be really pleasant diversions. I thought I'd share them with you here.

I think of myself very much as a nerdy history girl, so was delighted to find some like-minded individuals at the Two Nerdy History Girls blog. Written by bestselling authors Loretta Chase and Susan Holloway Scott, it's a cornucopia of quirky historical facts ranging from proper conduct between married persons of the 1830s to the miseries of Regency London. These ladies are experts at winkling out amusing and surprising facts, and the blog is great to dip into.

For those of you who share my twin enthusiasms for Georgian architecture and landscape, David Nice's blog, I'll Think of Something Later is a very engaging read, touching on subjects such as Georgian Dublin and Wotton House in Buckinghamshire. Nice's natural writing style and his lovely photographs make you feel as if you're strolling around some splendid grounds engaged in erudite conversation. Do have a look if you can.

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Georgian Leeds: Part Two

I can't help feeling sad for Leeds Assembly Rooms. In the late 18th century it was a glorious venue where balls and card parties were held for prosperous merchant families, now it's the site of restaurant chains and nightclubs and feels slightly down-at-heel. The railway - which was extended through the town in 1865 - really destroyed the original grandeur of the building, though attempts have been made to jazz up the area (known as the Exchange Quarter) as a destination for urban professionals.

The life of the "New" Assembly Rooms began in 1777, when Sir George Savile and Lady Effingham launched them above the third white cloth hall. Thanks to some sensitive restoration you can still see the front of this building (right, now occupied by Pizza Express). It was planned by wealthy Leeds merchants - spurred on by the opening of a rival cloth hall at Gomersal - and built on the Tenter Ground in the Calls. As the name suggests, the white cloth hall sold undyed cloth, whereas the mixed or coloured cloth-makers used the market in Briggate. It was constructed around a large central courtyard and it was two storeys high at the northern end (as mentioned, The Assembly Rooms were on the second floor). Big public events were sometimes staged in the courtyard, such as Mr Lunardi's balloon ascent in 1786.

The cupola you can see in my photograph, above, actually came from the second white cloth hall, and was installed in 1786, when that building was demolished. The third white cloth hall was restored in 1991, and it was at this time that a small bell was put into the cupola (it's struck by an internal electric clock hammer, though rarely sounds now).

With the coming of the railway in 1865, they actually had to build a fourth white cloth hall (though the North Eastern Railway company did foot the bill for it). You can see in my photograph below how the North Eastern Viaduct literally sliced the New Assembly Rooms in half. Ironically this fourth hall was never fully used, and was demolished in 1895, though the building that now stands in its place (a hotel) also sports the original cupola, carefully preserved for posterity.

Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington. 
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Georgian Homes Brought Back to Life

I noticed a stirring bit of news in an article in Saturday's Telegraph. Somersham Park House in the Cambridgeshire fens (left) and Eardisley Park in Herefordshire are just two lovingly-restored Georgian buildings which are now in the final of Country Life magazine's Restoration of the Century award. Somersham Park House, for example (which was built in 1802 on the site of the Bishops Palace of Ely) had virtually collapsed but in 2002 new owners began piecing it back together, even getting a local potter to reconstruct the four-foot-high chimney pots using remnants of the damaged originals. Check out Richard Johnson Restorations for some incredible before and after photographs.

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Word of the Week: Kittle Pitchering

A jocular method of hobbling or bothering a troublesome teller of long stories: this is done by contradicting some very immaterial circumstance at the beginning of the narration, the objections to which being settled, others are immediately started to some new particular of like consequence, thus impeding, or rather not suffering him to enter into, the main story. Kittle pitchering is often practised in confederacy, one relieving the other, by which the design is rendered less obvious.

From: Captain Grose's 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue

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