The Lion and the Cock Statue on Blenheim Palace

Jonathan Foyle's fantastic program 'Climbing Great Buildings' last night centred on Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire, one of Britain’s most famous stately homes. Blenheim was awarded to the Duke of Marlborough for his victory over the French and Bavarians at ... you guessed it... the Battle of Blenheim. Foyle began the program (available on BBC iPlayer) by looking at how ‘the tale of the Duke’s heroism was translated into stone through flamboyant sculpture’. The best example of this is perhaps the statue of the English lion savaging the French cock.

Climbing Great Buildings, 8.Blenheim Palace: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00tv99n/Climbing_Great_Buildings_Blenheim_Palace/ 

 

The symbol of the English lion – and later the British lion – as a representation of state victories was relatively original in the eighteenth century (A blog on the history of the symbol is forthcoming, hopefully). As with all novelties, the statue of the lion devouring the cock attracted much attention- most of it negative. Joseph Addison writing in The Spectator in 1711 regarded it as a ‘blemish’:

Such a Device in so noble a Pile of Building looks like a Punn in an Heroick Poem; and I am  very sorry the truly ingenious Architect would suffer the Statuary to blemish his excellent Plan with so poor a Conceit.[1]

Eighteen years later complaints were still being levelled that the device was ‘A conceit so low in so noble a Pile of Building...in an Age, when Arts, Learning and Politeness shine with the greatest lustre’.[2] Alexander Pope also refers to the statue in his poem ‘Upon The Duke of Malborough’s House at Woodstock’:

                ‘See, sir, here’s the grand approach,
                This way is for his Grace’s coach:
                There lies the bridge, and here’s the clock,
                Observe the lion and the cock,
                The spacious court, the colonnade,
                And mark how wide the hall is made![3]

 

But to Pope, and many others, the building was simply too extravagant for British tastes and the lion statue was a particularly fitting example of this pomposity. The baroque phase did not last long in Britain as it was seen to be too flamboyant, grandiose and had a certain lack of charm and purpose as Pope concluded:

   ‘Thanks, sir,’ cried I, ‘‘tis very fine,
                But where d’ye sleep, or where d’ye dine?
                I find by all you have been telling
                That ‘tis a house, but not a dwelling.’[4]

---

[1] Joseph Addison, The Spectator, vol.1, No.59, May 8, 1711

[2] ‘An Enqiry into the original Meaning of cock-throwing on shrove-Tuesday’, The Present State of the Republick of Letters, Volume 04 , Article. 10,  February 1729, p.94 (pp.90-98)

[3] Alexander Pope, Upon the Duke of Malborough’s House at Woodstock.

[4] Alexander Pope, Upon the Duke of Malborough’s House at Woodstock.

14 September 1749 - The Unfortunate Bosavern Penlez

‘Thursday 14^th September 1749 ... John Wilson and Bosovern Penlez were indicted, for that they, together with divers other Persons, to the Number of 40 and upwards, being feloniously and riotously assembled, to the Disturbance of the public Peace, did begin to demolish the dwelling House of Peter Wood’
John Taylor, The Ordinary of Newgate’s Account of the Behaviour, Confession & Dying Words of the Fifteen Malefactors Who Were Executed At Tyburn, Old Bailey Online (18 Oct 1749)

On Thursday, 14^th September 1749 Bosavern Penlez was sentenced to death. The sentence was considered extremely severe and over 800 people had petitioned for his pardon, numerous pamphlets and prints were published to the same effect. Nevertheless, Penlez was hanged on 28 October 1749 at Tyburn for being part of a riot which destroyed a pimp’s property. The mob action in which Penlez partook was a classic example of ‘the moral economy of the English crowd’.

On July 1^st 1749 a sailor had visited a brothel in the Strand and had had his possessions stolen by a prostitute. After a brawl with the ‘cock-bawd’ (the pimp) the sailor ‘denounc’d Vengeance to his House’ and returned later that night with over 40 armed sailors who proceeded to ransack the ‘house of ill repute’.

BM3036 - C Mosley, The Tar's Triumph, or Bawdy-House Battery. (1 July 1749)

All of the windows were smashed, naked prostitutes were pushed into the street, mattresses torn, tables, chairs and all of the contents of the house were thrown out of windows to the street below. Here they were either smashed to pieces or burnt in the bonfire which the sailors had lit. It is important to note that theft was prohibited by the crowd – one small boy was seen carrying away a cage and was told to return it to the fire. As it would be difficult for the sailor to take the case to the law – he should not have been in the brothel to start with – justice had to be taken into his own hands. If he had stolen from the brothel then his crime would have been equal to which the mob was formed in the first place.

Far from being frowned upon, most reports show that the surrounding inhabitants were pleased to see action being taken against the houses of ill repute in their neighbourhood, if a little concerned about the size of the fire that was forming in the street. Mrs L---- a cheesemonger ‘happen’d to clap Her Hands, and express Her Joy vociferously’. The print below sees a woman cry “a Joyfull Riddance” out of her window, while a prostitute, a quack doctor, a diseased man, a brothel keeper and a drunk bemoan their fate at the hands of the mob. Guards were called but when they arrived to see that it was a brothel being torn apart by sailors (sailors were renowned as ‘Liberty’s defenders’) their confusion as to what was right resulted largely in inaction – with most of them huddling around the fire unsure of what to do, before reluctantly breaking up the mob.

BM3035 - P Boitard, The Sailor's Revenge, or the Strand in an Uproar. (1 July 1749)

The following night, July 2^nd, the sailors decided to continue their ‘expedition against bawdy-houses’ which ‘had to them the merit of holy War’. ‘Numbers of thoughtless giddy People, young and old, with more Mirth in their Heads than Malice at their Heart’ had began following the mob. Of these, on July 3^rd, a drunken Bosavern Penlez was one. He had entered the house of Peter Wood and was caught by a justice of the peace with a bundle of linen and sent to Newgate prison while the sailors continued on their quest to ransack brothels.

Three people were put on trial for the riot, one died in prison (a common fate), another was pardoned the night before the execution (a friend in a high place ) leaving Penlez to suffer death for a crime which he did not instigate or even take a major part in. This naturally outraged many of the public. Common arguments were that ‘many of greater Age, Consequence, and Knowledge of Things’ took part than ‘this unthinking lad’, so he should not bear sole responsibility. Others contended that nobody should be on trial as the mob was acting in the best interests of the neighbourhood. There was high suspicion that Penlez’s death was a warning against mob actions, rather than a just punishment. For these, mob action was ‘notice of such an Instance of the Old British Spirit’ which is being threatened by ‘a general Conspiracy to its Extinction’. Henry Fielding, defending the death sentence clearly believed that it was not the mob’s prerogative to take matters in their own hands and Penlez’s death was justified. However, he did concede that ‘such a riot called for some Example, and that the Man who was made that Example, deserved his Fate.’

What do you think?

September 13, 1738 - The Kicking Habits of George II

‘It is not yet become a Custom in any Court of Europe, the more is the pity, for I think it would be a truly Royal Exercise for a Prince to divert himself with kicking two or three of his Ministers every Morning...’
‘An Essay on Kicking’, Common Sense, or the English Man’s Journal (13 September 1738)

Historically and politically George II was a fairly uninteresting monarch. He spoke poor English, was politically weak, if not impotent (in 1744 he even conceded that ‘the Ministers are the Kings in this country’) and was often criticised for acting with Hanover’s interests in mind rather than Britain’s.

As a person, however, George II had a remarkable reputation for having a notoriously short temper - which he vented with his feet. Numerous satirical prints, ballads, plays and barely-coded allegories depict the king booting his hat in violent fits of temper. It was not only his hat that was on the receiving end of George’s rage, as Lady Mary Wortley Montagu declared: ‘He looked upon all men and women as creatures he might kick or kiss for his diversion’.

[Detail of] Anon, The Festival of the Golden Rump. London: 1737- here George II is depicted as a satyr passing wind and hoofing a minister.