Musings on Mary Anne Clarke

by Laura Engel, Professor of English, Duquesne University

Mary Anne Clarke, scandalous mistress of the Duke of York, directed, starred, and costumed her life as if it were an eighteenth-century play. Except it wasn’t. Born to a tradesman in Covent Garden, Clarke used her wit, looks, and charm to work her way up the ranks of British society, eventually hooking up with one of the Royal sons. To bankroll her desire to furnish a townhouse, the two invented a scheme to sell army commissions to the highest bidders. Ultimately, they were exposed, and Clarke testified against the Duke before the House of Commons in 1809 wearing a blue dress and carrying a stylish white muff.

Mrs. Clarke stands in the lobby of the House of Commons, a section of which is seen through the partly open door: the corner of three tiers of empty benches and the gallery, with a strip of the Speaker's chair, showing his right elbow. She is directed to the right, with head turned to the spectator. She wears a plain blue pelisse over a white dress, a straw bonnet with lace drapery which she raises from her face. In her dropped right hand she holds a huge (?) chinchilla muff. She is elegant, alluring, and assured

Mrs. M.A. Clarke
by Charles Williams
Published February. 25, 1809, by S.W. Fores
The Lewis Walpole Library
809.02.25.03

I first encountered Mary Anne Clarke through a series of images at the Lewis Walpole Library – portraits of her as a fashionable glamour girl in neo-classical dress alongside scathing caricatures of her by Thomas Rowlandson. Immediately I was struck by the dichotomy of these portrayals – the beauty of the stylish pictures and the virulent, cruel attacks mounted by the caricatures. In one Mary Anne Clarke is breaking wind, in another she is precariously mounted on a seesaw, her legs flying in the air, in another she invites a group of soldiers to “move through her passage.” In all these images she plays a role enacting again and again the archetypal theatrics assigned to seductive and manipulative women.

Mrs. Clarke and four other women stoop down and directs blasts from large posteriors, defined by tight dresses, against the sails of a windmill (right) which pivot upon the head of the Duke of York. The four sails are inscribed respectively, Army, State, Navy, Church. The mill, on a low hill to which a winding path ascends, is Commission Warehouse. The names of the five meretricious-looking women are inscribed on their posteriors. One clutching a tree, on the extreme left, and advantageously placed on a hillock, is Carey. She says: If this wont raise the Wind, I do not know what will, This is not the first time I have employed my bottom to raise the Wind. The other four are close together: Cressaid, Sutherland, Cook, and Clarke, who says: Aye and no bad way to raise an Army-also. Between the women and the mill stands a dismayed little man with arms extended; he says: O ho this will not bring Grist to my Mill I must put a stop to this; and remove this Mill to Charing Cross

Raising the wind
Isaac Cruikshank
Published March 17, 1809 by S. W. Fores 50 Piccadilly
The Lewis Walpole Library
809.03.17.01+

Mrs. Clarke (left) bestrides a large cannon on a gun-carriage, her back to the muzzle, hammering a spike into it with great gusto; she says: "A Wise General shoud make good his Retreat". The Duke of York kneels on the ground (right), looking over his right shoulder at her, and exclaiming, "Alas! Alas for ever ruined and Undone, / See See she has spiked my great Gun". His cocked hat and sword lie on the ground. In the background (left) two military officers followed by a parson run away to the left, and on the right Mrs. Clarke beats a drum, playing the 'Rogues March', while tiny soldiers flee before her."--British Museum online catalogue

A general discharge, or, The darling angel’s finishing stroke
by Thomas Rowlandson
Published March 13th, 1809 by Thomas Tegg, No. 111 Cheapside
The Lewis Walpole Library
809.03.13.01+

Mrs. Clarke and four other women stoop down and directs blasts from large posteriors, defined by tight dresses, against the sails of a windmill (right) which pivot upon the head of the Duke of York. The four sails are inscribed respectively, Army, State, Navy, Church. The mill, on a low hill to which a winding path ascends, is Commission Warehouse. The names of the five meretricious-looking women are inscribed on their posteriors. One clutching a tree, on the extreme left, and advantageously placed on a hillock, is Carey. She says: If this wont raise the Wind, I do not know what will, This is not the first time I have employed my bottom to raise the Wind. The other four are close together: Cressaid, Sutherland, Cook, and Clarke, who says: Aye and no bad way to raise an Army-also. Between the women and the mill stands a dismayed little man with arms extended; he says: O ho this will not bring Grist to my Mill I must put a stop to this; and remove this Mill to Charing Cross

The road to preferment through Clarkes passage
by Thomas Rowlandson
Published March 5, 1809, by Thomas Tegg, No. 111 Cheapside
The Lewis Walpole Library
809.03.05.01+

Recently, the LWL acquired a new portrait of Mary Anne Clarke that connects the two sides of MAC iconography. A watercolor by Adam Buck from 1804 echoes his image of Clarke from 1803 but differs in important ways. In the 1803 portrait Clarke is posed wearing a lovely white gown and leaning against an antique column. Her hand reaches to touch her cheek, exposing her elbow. She tilts her head slightly back (in a pose favored by contemporary teens doing selfies) and gazes seductively at the viewer. In the 1804 version, MAC is in the same dress in front of a decorative fence with her hand on one hip. She holds the folds of her gown in the other hand, and stares at the spectator with an annoyed expression. The whole image conveys a sense of motion as if MAC is walking off the stage set in a huff muttering “I’m out of here.”

Full-length portrait of a woman, likely to be Mary Anne Clarke, at the base of a statue

Portrait of a Lady
by Adam Buck
London, 1803
in Connoisseur Magazine, 1915
The Lewis Walpole Library
18 C765

Full-length portrait of a woman, likely to be Mary Anne Clarke, wearing a white neoclassical dress and standing on a balcony with a curtain drapped from the left corner.

Portrait of Mary Anne Clarke
by Adam Buck
London, 1804
pencil, watercolor and gouache
The Lewis Walpole Library
Drawings B922 no. 1 Framed

If this image is correctly dated, MAC could not have known about the world of trouble and publicity that she would encounter a few years later in 1809. But I’d like to think this portrait conveys a sense of her authentic personality, perhaps a moment where she stepped out of her proscribed role and hustled out for tea.

Recently, I visited the newly renovated National Portrait Gallery in London. There in a very crowded room in a corner flanked by a bust of William Pitt was Lawrence Gahagan’s portrait sculpture of Mary Anne Clarke as Clytie the abandoned lover of the Greek sun god. Undoubtedly most people in the room were more interested in the large coronation portrait of Queen Victoria behind her and walked right by. I wondered if in commissioning the sculpture, which she did to promote her image after the trial, she agreed to be portrayed with her breast exposed, an effect more reminiscent of Lely’s portraits of Restoration actresses than antique sculpture. It also occurred to me that if you look closely Clarke’s expression is wry, her eyebrow arched, in the same mode as the sassy 1804 portrait. She’s challenging us to acknowledge her vitality and her ability to choose her own mode of representation. Things did not end well for Clarke, a fact that is not reflected on the label in the gallery. Her presence on the stage of the museum as a memorial object is connected to an archive of defiant performances quietly hidden in plain sight.

Marble bust of a woman rising out of a sunflower. The pose, rising from the petals of a sunflower, may have been chosen as an allegory of the cast-off mistress.

Mary Anne Clarke (née Thompson)
by Lawrence Gahagan
marble bust, 1811
24 3/8 in. x 17 3/4 in. (620 mm x 450 mm) overall
Purchased, 1965
Primary Collection
NPG 4436

 

She Knew Purgatory When She Saw It

by Sandra Markham, Project Archivist, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University Library

Although Annie Burr Lewis is primarily associated with Farmington—and her world there with Wilmarth Lewis and Horace Walpole—she was born in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1902, and that seaside city on Narragansett Bay always held an important place in her life. Her grandparents John and Elizabeth Auchincloss purchased a forty-acre estate on the bay in 1852, and by the time her parents Hugh and Emma Auchincloss inherited Hammersmith Farm, the sprawling shingle-style house on the property was the family’s summer respite from their New York City townhouse. Before her 1928 marriage, Annie Burr Auchincloss was an active participant in the summer social set in Newport’s private clubs and on the ocean beaches in nearby Middletown. After their marriage the Lewises continued to spend time at Hammersmith Farm, but following her mother’s death in 1942, Annie Burr Lewis purchased her own home, small early eighteenth-century house at the edge of the family estate. Renovations made it comfortable for the Lewises to enjoy their own property and to host a stream of guests when they spent their summers in Newport.

It was different there from British-inspired scholarly focused Farmington: Newport offered Annie Burr Lewis a more relaxed lifestyle and regular access to her adored nephews, nieces, and their children, as well as a house full of American family furniture and treasures she’d grown up with. She had grown up too with Aquidneck Island and knew well its topography and history, which she documented with her camera and by collecting local landscapes in prints and paintings to hang in her home.

She was no doubt pleased to add to her collection a small wash drawing of a familiar scene near Second Beach in Middletown when she received it from longtime friend Frances “Doll” Hamill (1904-1987), in 1959.

wash drawing of the Rhode Island coastline near Newport, with a sailboat in the distance on the left

Scituate Beach & Purgatory from the Hanging Rocks near Newport R. Id.
by Anthony St. John Baker
Wash with black ink and pen, Sept. 1825
Lewis Walpole Library

Hamill was an antiquarian bookseller in Chicago and a trusted source of eighteenth-century British material for the Lewises’ Farmington collections. The drawing, entitled “Scituate Beach & Purgatory from the Hanging Rocks near Newport R. Id.,” was made by British diplomat Anthony St. John Baker (1785-1854) while he was visiting Newport in September 1825. In addition to providing another view of familiar places in Newport to hang, Hamill’s gift had a second relevance for Annie Burr: to remind her of the time ten years before when she had challenged the text on an exhibition label in the National Portrait Gallery, London, and provided the evidence to effect the change.

Typed card signed WSL

Typed account of the history of the drawing and Annie Burr Lewis’s identification of the setting of the National Portrait Gallery (London)’s Bishop Berkeley portrait

The Lewises had been touring the museum in 1948 or 1949 with its director Sir Henry Hake (1892-1951) when they stopped to admire a painting of the renowned Irish clergyman and philosopher George Berkeley (1685-1753), who had spent several years living in Newport. The accompanying wall label said the portrait had been painted by John Smibert in 1730 in Bermuda.

Color portrait of a man in black gown with white-tabbed collar (indicating he is a clergyman) seated half-length, turned toward the right. On the right in the distance is a landscape scene of a bluff by the ocean with trees on the top of the bluff

George Berkeley
by John Smibert
oil on canvas, 1730
NPG 653
© National Portrait Gallery, London

Annie Burr Lewis knew about Bishop Berkeley, and she knew about Newport. She disagreed with the Bermuda attribution, and she spoke up about it. To her, it was a matter of local history, topography, and iconography. She knew Berkeley had come to the American colonies in 1728 intending to establish a seminary in Bermuda. She knew he had instead settled in the northern section of Newport (now Middletown) in a house he named Whitehall, but he had never gone on to Bermuda—he returned to England in 1732 after funding for the school could not be secured. With her keen interest in historic buildings, Annie Burr had likely toured Whitehall, which by 1949 had been the property of the Colonial Dames for fifty years, and Annie Burr was a member of that society. With male family members alumni of Yale University, she also likely knew that Berkeley had given his house and nearly a thousand books to Yale College when he departed. Most importantly, though, she recognized the rocky bluff that Smibert painted in the background of the portrait. It was not Bermuda, it was Purgatory, one of Rhode Island’s most noted geological features, as familiar to her as it would have been to George Berkeley. That promontory on Sachuest Bay (not Scituate) has the famous Purgatory Chasm, a glacial cleft in  conglomerate rock 120 feet long, 150 feet deep, and 10 feet wide. It is just a mile south of the Paradise Rocks—also known as Hanging Rock and Berkeley Seat—where Bishop Berkeley is known to have spent time composing his treatise Alciphron or The Minute Philosopher (London, 1732).

On her next trip to Newport, Annie Burr photographed Purgatory from a vantage point similar to that of Smibert and sent the evidence to Hake; he validated her findings in a letter to Wilmarth Lewis and pledged to correct the museum’s record.[i]

Typescript letter signed by H.M. Hake

Henry Hake to Wilmarth Lewis, October 12, 1949 (Wilmarth Sheldon Lewis Papers, The Lewis Walpole Library)

A triumph for Annie Burr Lewis? Not quite. According to the painting’s entry in the updated National Portrait Gallery’s collection catalogue Early Georgian Portraits (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1977), Wilmarth Lewis is credited with the new information,

The artist is known to have painted details of actual landscapes in some of his American pictures and the background is perhaps the whale-head promontory on Rhode Island known as Hanging Rock to which the sitter possibly refers in the lines from Alciphron: ‘we then withdrew to a hollow glade between two rocks where we seated ourselves’ (dialogue II, section i). W.S. Lewis, in September 1949, noted when staying near Whitehall, Newport, R.I., the farm where much of this work was reputedly written, that the headland about two miles away resembled Hanging Rock.[ii]

and the headland actually resembles Purgatory, not the craggy outcrop ledge of Hanging Rock. Anthony St. John Baker, in a second drawing titled “Hanging Rocks on Scituate Beach near Newport R.I.,” provides that evidence in an opposing perspective to the work given to Annie Burr. [iii] This view—from Purgatory toward Hanging Rock—shows the distinct difference between these two glacial topographies.

wash drawing of a rocky coastline in Rhode Island

Hanging Rocks on Scituate Beach near Newport R.I.
by Anthony St. John Baker
Wash with black ink and pen (?), 1850
in Mémoires d’un voyageur qui se repose : with illustrations: in four parts
Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library

Annie Burr Lewis died of cancer one month after she received the gift from Doll Hamill and never saw the “corrected” entry in the National Portrait Gallery catalogue. While Baker made these two drawings a century after Smibert painted George Berkeley’s portrait, it is clear the landscape in the background of the painting is not Hanging Rock but Purgatory. That point and the mistaken credit leave Annie Burr’s contribution in Limbo, and the catalogue record in the National Portrait Gallery to be revised once again.

____________

[i] Henry Hake to Wilmarth Lewis, October 12, 1949 (Wilmarth Sheldon Lewis Papers, The Lewis Walpole Library).

[ii] https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/explore/by-publication/kerslake/early-georgian-portraits-catalogue-berkeley

There is another version of the portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution https://npg.si.edu/object/npg_NPG.89.25

[iii] Anthony St. John Baker served a variety of diplomatic posts in Europe and America, but resided in Washington for three terms, 1811–1813, 1815–1822, and 1824–1828, after which he retired to England and wrote a seven-part remembrance of his years abroad. Titled Mémoires d’un voyageur qui se repose, it was published privately in London in 1850 in an edition of fifty copies, at least two of which were extra-illustrated with maps, prints, and his own drawings in ink and watercolor. The wash drawing “Hanging Rocks on Scituate Beach near Newport R.I.” is in volume three of the four-volume set at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. That volume also includes three other views of Newport and the area. In both of his drawings, Baker identified the beach “Scituate” rather than its correct spelling Sachuest; locally, it is known as Second Beach.