3. William, his Daughter, Elizabeth, and her Husband, Pigot
...being a response to three paintings by Joseph Wright of Derby in Doncaster Art Gallery
Just look at these three. How their eyes look right out of the portraits and stare you down. Contemptuous? Aloof? Conceited? The first time I clapped eyes on them in the Doncaster Art Gallery, I knew that they had a story to tell. One that I could embellish and develop into something. Maybe something farcical, and perhaps a little bit rude.
My career in poetry owes a great deal to the Mexborough born poet Ian Parks. Ian set up a group called ‘Read to Write’ some years ago now, to share his knowledge and experience in the poetry world with all who care to come along. He has a successful track record in developing and strengthening the poetic abilities in an astonishing number of people, and has published pamphlets by many of them (including me) under his “Glasshead Press” imprint. He encourages wide reading of poetry of all types, gives marvellous writing prompts, and occasionally organises opportunities for public readings.
It was one such event that led me to the Doncaster Art Gallery1 with the intention of finding some artwork that would inspire me to write a piece of poetry. A piece that I could read right in front of that artwork at a public event that Ian had set up for later in the year.
I was instantly attracted by the three portraits pictured above. I am a sucker for portraits, and these leapt out at me because they were so photo realistic, with such relatable faces. Yes, they were in old fashioned clothes, fancy wigs and formal poses - but anyone can relate to those faces. I felt that they were the kind of faces that should belong to marvellous characters in a situation comedy set in the eighteenth century, and that the episode in which they had their portraits painted would be one of the very best.
At just 26 years of age, the artist, Joseph Wright of Derby, was still relatively young when he painted them in 1760 I don’t know how widely his talent was recognised at that stage in his career, but he was yet to become the celebrated creator of amazingly detailed paintings of scientific subjects such as “A Philosopher Giving That Lecture on the Orrery in Which a Lamp Is Put in Place of the Sun” (1764-6) and “An Experiment on a bird in the Air Pump” (1768), but his talent was plain to see.
The Character on the left is William Brooke, a wealthy businessman who dealt in fabrics. He was 69 years old and three times mayor of Doncaster when he commissioned this set of portraits. He looks self satisfied and slightly pompous in the swanky clothing created from the expensive fabrics that were his stock in trade. He seems a rather proud and overbearing figure, with a decidedly mean streak in him. I imagine that if he could have knocked down Wright’s price, he would have done, relying on his seniority, influence and position in society to put pressure on the younger man.
The central portrait is of his daughter Elizabeth. She looks quite stern, too, the kind of woman that wouldn’t take a lot of nonsense, and might have put quite a few potential suitors off over the years. She didn’t actually get married until she was 32 years old, two years before her portrait was painted. Back in those days, if I understand my Jane Austen correctly, beyond the age of 30 she would have been in danger of becoming an “old maid,” “left on the shelf.” That prospect must have been a worry for both her and her father. Of course, she would have been used to money, she clearly liked fancy clothing and jewellery, and would have wanted a man who could maintain her standard of living. The husband that she had eventually found certainly had plenty of that.
That man was William Pigot, at five years younger than Elizabeth and, like her father, made his money through the buying and selling of fine fabrics and materials. In fact he was one of the old man’s main business rivals. It must have suited Brooke very well to welcome him into the family. It combined two dynasties and gave him and his daughter greater financial security. I imagine that Pigot didn’t particularly mind the opportunity of inheriting the combination of his own and his father in law’s business and wealth when the old man eventually died, (which he did, just three years after the portraits were done, at the age of 72).
I fancy Pigot as a bit of a chancer. He would want to play the long game, taking on the stern looking wife, and the self-important father in law, with his own agenda firmly to the fore. I also fancy him as a man with a formidable sexual appetite. Over the eight years following their marriage, Elizabeth had six children, and then died, possibly of exhaustion.
Perhaps Pigot had been relatively inexperienced in the bedroom before his wedding night, and had wanted to make up for lost time. Perhaps Elizabeth also wanted to make up for lost time, and was a very willing participant in a wide range of shenanigans, at least at first. Perhaps she had lit the blue touch paper of his desire, but did not stand back at a safe distance quick enough when he went off. Whatever happened, I do think that Pigot very quickly got into the habit of engaging in very regular sexual congress of all kinds with Elizabeth and probably enjoyed dropping large and inappropriate hints about it in earshot of Brooke, much to the consternation and embarrassment of the older man.
Of course this is all idle speculation. I may be well wide of the mark, and I certainly don’t want any modern day descendants of Pigot or Brooke coming after me with threats of litigation and cease and desist orders. But then again - just look at their eyes. There’s a lot going on behind them. Joseph Wright of Derby spent some considerable time in their company whilst painting their portraits back in the summer of 1760, and he clearly knew a thing or two about the three of them.
Anyway, here’s my poem, delivered in the voice of William Brooke himself.
William, His Daughter Elizabeth, and Her Husband, Pigot (In response to three portraits by Joseph Wright of Derby in Doncaster Art Gallery) If you’ve got it you should flaunt it, that’s what I say, always have done And as anyone can see I have got wealth and influence I’ve an empire built on textiles, I’m a real man of the cloth, me. I can afford the very best, spare no extravagance So, I engaged the best artist to paint a portrait of me The best never comes cheaply, but negotiation’s free So I struck a deal with him to do two extra whilst he’s at it Elizabeth, my daughter, and Pigot there, you see? Pigot used to be the competition to my business Undercutting me and my profitability I put an end to that with an expedient manoeuvre Got him to wed my daughter, now he’s in the family. I was lucky, she’s no beauty, but then he’s not much to look at He’s also a bit dull, but he is rich, thus a good catch So, I married off Elizabeth and protected business interests I killed two birds with one stone when I arranged that match On the day the artist came over to sketch preliminaries I told Elizabeth and him to dress in something nice “This is for posterity. It’s how you’ll be remembered” But when they both turned up, I just could not believe my eyes! He had only gone and given her a dirty great pearl necklace Has he got no taste? No sense of impropriety? All in her hair, over her shoulders, spilling down between her bosoms Not the sort of thing that’s seen in polite company How shocking! What an outrage! I was almost apoplectic Under her arm and on her clothing, shooting off in diverse ways Running down her front, offending all my sensibilities They have no sense of decency, young people nowadays And Pigot, he just smugly smiled, enjoying my discomfiture “I’ll bet you never gave your wife one quite like that one, eh? Its rich and lustrous and its full of special pearly goodness If you’ve got it, you should flaunt it – Ain’t that what you always say?"
The Doncaster Art Gallery has since moved to the impressive Danum Centre, as far as I know William, Elizabeth and Pigot still grace its walls.