The Destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii, John Martin (1789–1854)
Katarina Trajkovic
The painting shows the moment of destruction of the sister cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii in 79 AD; the destruction is specifically shown from the viewpoint of Stabiae, a town near Pompeii. It is a dramatic scene of terror emphasised through an almost monochrome palette and chaos of the scene. The smoke of Mount Vesuvius spreads across the upper border of the painting and in the background creating the vivid, monochrome pallet of reds. In the foreground, the painting shows survivors desperately trying to flee the scene. The background is filled with lava and eruption colouring the sky and sea red; the only source of light are the bolts of lightning visible through the cloud of smoke.
The artist did not travel to Pompeii and was certainly not at the scene of destruction, he was only aware of it through the written and painted works of his contemporaries. The painting was purchased by Tabley in 1826. John Martin painted another version for the Duke of Buckingham in 1822, now in the Tate Gallery.
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Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalen with a View of Jerusalem Beyond at the Time of the Crucifixion, Thomas Christopher Hofland (1777-1843)
George Vincent
Thomas Christopher Hofland, was a founding member of the Society of British Artists, an alternative to the Royal Academy. The present painting is something of a mystery. The title makes little sense in light of its Biblical source material. In the Gospel of John (20:11-17) the resurrected Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, in the guise of a gardener, just after two brilliantly white angels had appeared before the tomb. The title of the painting suggests a stranger alternative timeline, where Jesus is simultaneously being crucified and appearing to Mary, yet within the painting there is no visual sign of the crucifixion in the background. Jesus himself, who we may assume to be the ghostly figure amongst the rocks at right, looks more like an angel than a gardener, though this may perhaps have been done to emphasise his glorified risen body. Whether the title of the artwork has changed at some point, or the painting’s conception was confused from the start is unclear, but what is clear is that it remains an enigma.
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Boat on Tabley Mere (1808), Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851)
Kailyn Huang
There is nothing quite like the view from the window by J.M.W. Turner’s painting of Tabley House on a windy day. Tucked behind the thickets of the vast estate, the Tabley Tower is visible to the squinting eye. Shrouded in a hazy ambience, its distant form lends itself to daydreaming. In my visits to the estate, I find myself envisioning the days when Turner himself inhabited these grounds as a guest of the Baron de Tabley. The painting’s spurling clouds and churning waves are animate, tangible. Even the rippling of the sails and sailors’ voices are preserved in Turner’s lively brushstrokes. Today, the tower is little more than a decorative folly, it’s mere untouched for decades. When I shift my gaze from this image of the past to the serenely static present, the spirit of Tabley House becomes a tangible presence, one that whispers stories from the lives that it has lived.
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Thomas Archer
The Hands of Sir John Bryne Leicester (1835-1895) and Catherine Leicester Warren (1838-1881) with an Orange (c.1840), Artist Unknown
Popular among the Victorian upper classes, life casting is the process of accurately recreating the likeness of a subject by forming a direct impression mould of it, which would then be filled with plaster. The resulting casts often bear the remarkably fine details from the original subject. This example of life casting captures Catherine Leicester Warren and Sir John Bryne Leicester, 3rd Baron De Tabley, both holding an orange. The uniqueness of this as a double casting featuring a fruit sets it apart from the other hand statues at Tabley. Although detailed information about the work is scarce, fruit often symbolised fertility, prosperity and health. It was not unusual for casts to be commissioned in an effort to preserve the presence of children if they were to live short lives. Two of the other children died in infancy, perhaps motivating this commission. The reality of their adulthood meant that they were often apart, however, the cast indicates an early closeness between the two as the eldest surviving children of Tabley. Whatever the intentions of the cast may have been, it is certainly an interesting way to see how the family interacted with trends of commemoration at the time.
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The Waistcoats of Sir John Fleming Leicester (1762-1827)
Ema Fitzekova and Georgia Sanders
The waistcoats of Sir John Fleming Leicester are expanse, ornate and bold, boasting roughly forty within the collection. Since the reign of King Charles II (1630-1685) the waistcoat was a staple in the wealthy man’s wardrobe, and in accordance with changing contemporary styles Sir John’s waistcoats reflect both those Regency fashions and his own personal swashbuckling yet glamorous style. Dated between 1780 and his death in 1827, these waistcoats tell Sir John’s life story, such as his marriage to Georgina Cottin in 1810, in which his wedding waistcoat dons the initials of the bride and groom, to the progressive change in his measurements between his shoulder and underarm, pointing to a developing physical defect. The waistcoats of the collection allow for a more personal viewing of Sir John’s life, behind his stately exterior, or rather, his suit jacket, and provide a closer look into the life of the prestigious familial figurehead, both in terms of his physical self and artistic self.
The abundance of waistcoats and the luxurious materials used served as indicators of John Leicester’s affluence. The garments were made from fine silks and adorned with intricate handiwork of metal embroidery, detailed appliques, or lavish trimmings. Before the era of industrialisation, such work required a high level of skill and many hours until a product was finished. It is interesting to consider why so many waistcoats were preserved as the 18th and 19th centuries were a time of sustainability, when fabric was expensive and even the rich constantly remade and adjusted their clothes. Yet John Leicester kept buying more luxurious materials and ordering more waistcoats as his body changed due to scoliosis. Overall, the waistcoat provides us a unique glimpse into the life of historical men, as it affords them an option to reveal their inner life and personality, while still remaining true to the purpose of clothing and showing off the wearer’s status and wealth.
Dispatches in Art History 