Afternoon Tea

This self-portrait was created in 1810 when the Duchess of Bedford was 27. The Duchess depicts herself bejewelled in green velvet holding a mask. Several versions of this miniature exist; they were often given as gifts to nearest and dearest. These were painted two years after Anna Maria’s marriage to Francis Russell, Marquis of Tavistock, later 7th Duke of Bedford.

Aside from creating afternoon tea, the Duchess of Bedford was a controversial figure. Queen Victoria found her ‘good natured and obliging’, whilst Lord Melbourne branded her self-serving and ‘a cunning woman’. She was involved in a scandal in 1839 that briefly but severely marred the young Queen Victoria’s reputation; she, with others, accused an unmarried woman, Lady Flora Hastings, of being pregnant. Lady Flora died of a stomach tumour after having to publicly refute the claims.

The Earl of Sandwich is depicted here by Gainsborough against the background of Greenwich Hospital. In his left hand, he holds a plan of the Infirmary of Greenwich Hospital which was built during his second of three terms as First Lord of the Admiralty.

Far from a gambler, he was known to have been a moderate man, more interested in cricket and the music of Handel than cards, but nonetheless his private life was complicated. His marriage was marred by his wife’s mental illness and his mistress, the singer Martha Ray, with whom he had five children, was fatally shot on the steps of Covent Garden theatre by a rival love interest.

This portrait was commissioned for Greenwich Hospital by its then Governor, Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser as a tribute of thanks to the Earl of Sandwich who had given him his patronage and continued to stand by him through difficult times.

The Last Supper originally served as the centre predella panel for a polyptych in an altarpiece for the Cathedral of Camerino, in the Marche region of Italy. The theatre-like setting looks strange when out of context but the direct, frontal perspective into the scene would have made sense when placed, as it likely was, directly over the altar, at the base of an enormous altarpiece.

Christ is, unsurprisingly, not concerned about the cucumbers that appear in this work. He looks unflinchingly towards Judas, who has is back to us and is distinguishable by his lack of halo.

Cucumbers appear in an inordinate number of Crivelli’s works, most usually dangled to the side of the Virgin’s head. They could be symbolic of her womb; the thick skin of continental cucumbers representing an impenetrable barrier into which seeds have somehow been planted.

In a later Crivelli, depicting Mary and Jesus enthroned between Saints Francis and Sebastian, a large cucumber is positioned to the right of the Virgin’s head and a snail is making its way along the base of the work. It was believed that snails could self-fertilize (some can), and therefore they also came to represent the Virgin for some artists of the period! The small figure in widow’s garb is Oradea Becchetti. She commissioned the altarpiece and was clearly very proud to have done so because the inscription right at the bottom tells us that she paid for the altar and the painting ‘at no small expense of her own money’. An early humble-brag.

These monks are neither from the 11th century, nor are they from the Devonshire town of Tavistock where scones and cream were first served, but they’re an irresistible reminder of the origins of the cream tea which was incorporated into afternoon tea in the early 20th century. Claudio Rinaldi worked mostly in Florence and is known for painting genre subjects depicting ordinary people going about their everyday lives. This joyous work is unlikely, therefore, to be portraiture; we can only hope that the monks that Rinaldi interacted with on a regular basis were that happy!

Thérése Tallien, a Parisian ‘it girl’ in the early 1800s is reputed to have bathed in strawberries. Her salons were also legendary which is hardly surprising since she once appeared at the Paris Opera wearing a white silk dress, as she is here in this gorgeous painting by Gerard, and absolutely nothing else. The famous politician and diplomat, Talleyrand, reportedly commented that one “could not be more sumptuously unclothed!”.

After divorcing her first husband, she had a brief dalliance with Napoleon, and longer dalliances with other men, before finally marrying the Prince of Chimay, gaining some respectability in her final years.

Mme Tallien may have become a princess, but she was unable to wear a coronet festooned with strawberry leaves; they were reserved for high ranking members of the British aristocracy. The coronet of a duchess has eight strawberry leaves. Strawberries symbolise humility, presumably an attractive trait for those occupying exalted positions in any society.

The strawberry not only symbolises humility but also love, and, occasionally, lust.  This medieval image of courtly love from 1470 is called The Fountain of Life. It appears in a secular manuscript by the Italian friar and humanist Leonardo Dati. There is a strawberry bush in the bottom right section of the work that alludes to the strawberry’s association with eroticism, desire and temptation.

It would seem, however, that the young musician on the right quite doesn’t quite have the maturity to carry off this gig just yet!

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.”
                                                                                                                                                                           Henry James