The only surviving son of a haberdasher from Bristol, John Coxe Hippisley (1746–1825) forged a remarkable, high-profile career as a diplomat, politician and general fixer through a combination of hard work, relentless ambition and a keen intellect. Aspects of his patronage, collecting and connoisseurship are reflected in a fascinating variety of art works and objects now at Mells. Yet, it should be stressed from the outset, Hippisley had little personal connection with Mells during his lifetime and never lived there, his link with the resident family being through Elizabeth Anne Horner (1760–1843), who became his second wife, and the marriage of Margaret Elizabeth, his daughter by his first wife, to Thomas Strangways Horner, Elizabeth Anne’s brother – thus making Hippisley both Thomas’s brother-in-law and father-in-law simultaneously. It was through the latter relationship that much of the Hippisley archive is housed at Mells, Thomas Strangways Horner having performed what would now be referred to as a literary editor’s role after Hippisley’s death.¹

The various paintings belonging to Hippisley now at Mells are discussed in the catalogue which forms part of the present case study. For the most part they were acquired during the 1790s onwards and relate to Hippisley’s diplomatic activities in Italy on behalf of the British government – which are also discussed in the relevant catalogue entries. The circumstances surrounding the commissioning of the present portrait in the late 1770s (MM54; fig. 1), together with questions relating to its attribution and its display history, provide a fascinating catalyst for understanding in greater detail how the trajectory of Hippisley’s earlier career path – most especially his first Italian sojourn – formed the bedrock of his idiosyncratic collection.

Baptised at Christchurch, Bristol on 17 February 1747, Hippisley attended Bristol Grammar School, established in the sixteenth century to provide a sound education for the sons of the city’s merchants and tradesmen. He then went on to study at Hertford College, Oxford from which he matriculated in 1764. Having trained subsequently at Inner Temple, he qualified as a barrister in 1771. In the following decade it was, however, his reputation for ‘gallantry’ as the would-be lover of Anne Stuart, daughter of the Earl of Bute, that attracted public attention, as he sought to displace her husband, Lord Warkworth, later Duke of Northumberland, in her affections. Unfortunately for Hippisley, Lady Anne extended her bounty to countless suitors (‘His Cleopatra, Every body’s Cleopatra’) and his pursuit proved fruitless.² It was following this unsuccessful pursuit that he arrived in Italy some time in 1779, aged thirty-two.

In Rome, Hippisley took under his wing George Herbert, son of the Earl of Pembroke, whom he had known in England, and to whom he now acted as mentor and guide. From Lord Herbert’s diary entries and correspondence we have a detailed picture of Hippisley’s activities in Italy, and his extensive network of contacts, including prominent artists, collectors, connoisseurs and art dealers. His friendships there extended from the young architect John Soane, with whom he remained close throughout his life,³ to Sir William Hamilton, the British ambassador to the Kingdom of Naples, who gifted to Hippisley upon his death his own copy of Campi Phlegraei: Observations on the Two Volcanos of the Sicilies, published in 1776, the extravagant publishing project which had almost bankrupted him. The copy, in two volumes, is now also at Mells (fig. 2).⁴

What emerges above all through Hippisley’s interactions with Lord Herbert and others is his genuine knowledge of art and antiquities, which extended across many of the major cities and sites of Grand Tour activity.⁵ He was also at times active as an agent for contemporary artists, engaging, for example, with the gem engraver Nathaniel Marchant to produce an intaglio from a bas-relief of a bacchant in the Villa Borghese for the Countess of Pembroke, a commission which involved Hippisley’s considerable diplomatic skills to accomplish.⁶ And while it was noted at the time that Hippisley engaged ‘in confidential communication with the English government’,⁷ he was also ‘perhaps much better acquainted with it & all its contents, than any Antiquarian, who makes a profession of it’.⁸

During his Roman sojourn, Hippisley engaged in one other activity which had long-term consequences for his future life and the trajectory of his career, namely his marriage to Margaret Stuart early in 1780 (fig. 3).⁹ Margaret was the daughter of Sir John Stuart of Allanbank and sister to John Stuart, whom she accompanied to Italy in the spring of 1779, together with her brother’s wife, Frances, an heiress of the Coutts banking family, as well as her own sister.¹⁰ Having failed to enter into marriage with the daughter of the Earl of Bute in the 1760s, Hippisley now successfully formed a liaison with another prominent Scottish aristocratic family. In view of Hippisley’s later role in promoting Catholic emancipation, and his close relations during the 1790s with Henry Benedict Stuart, Cardinal York (younger son of the ‘Old Pretender’), it is also significant that the Stuarts of Allenbank were by tradition staunch supporters of the Jacobite cause.

The present portrait was made in Rome, at some point between the autumn of 1779 and the early spring of 1780. During that time Hippisley patronised a number of artists, including the Anglo-Italian sculptor Joseph Plura the Younger. Born in Bath, the son of the Italian sculptor Giuseppe Antonio Plura, Plura the Younger had entered the Royal Academy Schools in 1773, at which time he was employed by the sculptor Joseph Nollekens. Plura arrived in Italy in 1777, where he became friends with the Welsh artist Thomas Jones. It was in all probability Jones who provided him with an introduction to Hippisley the following year.¹¹ Plura was at work on the bust of Hippisley in September 1779, when Lord Herbert commented on seeing it 'yet finished'.¹² What became of it is unknown. Hippisley also patronised the Irish painter Henry Tresham, with whom he apparently collaborated on a slim volume entitled A Rhapsody on Antique Rings, published in 1780, a copy of which survives at Mells. In September 1779, it was reported that Tresham was also painting Hippisley’s portrait ‘sitting on the Capitol of a column, a Book in one hand and a Map of antient Rome in the other’. According to Lord Herbert, who made this observation, Hippisley’s ‘position seems to me very much forced, & his countenance much older, and with an expression of unhappiness’. The painting has not been located and may not even have been completed.¹³ Indeed, as it has been observed, Tresham’s activities in Rome as an agent and art dealer intruded on his artistic ambitions and, as a result, none of his Italian pictures have survived.¹⁴ It is possible that the perceived problematic nature of the composition may have prompted Hippisley to seek other portrait options.

In the Pars portrait, Hippisley strikes a confident pose reminiscent of the celebrated classical statue the Apollo Belvedere. He sports fashionable lilac satin breeches and a red jacket edged with gold braid, one hand resting on his cane, the other clasping his hat, which would perhaps have perched rather unsteadily on his elaborate powdered wig. Hippisley stands on a paved terrace leading towards a track, indicating that he has or is about to take a walk in the surrounding countryside. Beyond, in the distance, is the town of Ariccia, nestling in the Alban hills situated to the south-east of Rome. At his feet, in a prominent position, is a plant which, we can assume, had some specific personal or emblematic significance, yet to be ascertained.

Until comparatively recently, the portrait had been attributed to the Italian society portrait painter Pompeo Batoni, on stylistic and circumstantial grounds. Certainly, the painting is highly reminiscent of Batoni’s myriad portraits of British Grand Tourists, in both the flamboyant pose and the attire of the sitter. It can be compared for example to Batoni’s full-length portrait of Francis Basset of 1778 (fig. 4), standing in a scarlet coat, hat and cane in hand, against a backdrop of St Peter’s Basilica and Castel Sant’Angelo, Rome.¹⁵ Hippisley was himself familiar with Batoni, who in late 1779 was painting the portrait of Lord Herbert (fig. 5).¹⁶ However, Hippisley, in what might be regarded as a more unusual step, commissioned his own portrait from the English artist William Pars (1742–1782), known primarily as a painter in watercolour of topographical landscape.

The attribution of the portrait to Pars was first suggested in 1974 by Sir Brinsley Ford, who was alerted to the possibility that it was by William Pars through an entry in the diary of the artist Thomas Jones, on 24 February 1780: ‘Went with Pars in a Chaise to make a Drawing of the Tomb of the Horatii at Albani which Pars is to introduce in the background of a whole length Picture he is painting of Mr. Hippesley [sic]’.¹⁷ In the background, rather than the tomb of the Horatii, is the church of Santa Maria Assunta and Palazzo Chigi, Ariccia, which features in a watercolour by Pars, also dating from about 1780 (fig. 6). Through Jones, we also know that Pars painted at least one other portrait at the time, that of the ‘Marchesa S’a Marco’, which he commenced in Rome and completed in Naples.¹⁸ Nor was this a one-off, as the Scottish artist James Irvine reported in 1780 that ‘Pars has painted some very good portraits’.¹⁹ An earlier portrait drawing by Pars of a young woman named Miss Croney, dating from 1770 (fig. 7), indicates that he was perfectly adept in the genre of portraiture.²⁰

Hippisley’s choice of Pars to paint his portrait may have been guided by happenstance. Following travels in the Middle East and Switzerland, William Pars had arrived in Italy at the end of 1775, accompanied by the wife of the miniaturist John Smart. Following her death in the summer of 1778, his friendship with his fellow artist Thomas Jones intensified, and by the spring of 1779 Jones and his ‘messmate’ Pars were boarding together in Rome and entertaining company on a frequent basis.²¹ It was a few months later, on 19 July, that Jones recorded an excursion with Pars and Hippisley to the Villa Madama, followed by dinner together that evening, and again a week or so later.²² The friendship evidently blossomed, Hippisley introducing his protégé, Lord Herbert, in September.²³ It was the following February that Jones recorded Pars as working on Hippisley’s portrait. In June 1780, Hippisley left Rome. Sadly, Pars did not have long to live. Having travelled to Naples in the summer of 1781, where he continued to produce portraits as well as landscapes, he returned to Rome, where after catching a chill in Neptune’s Grotto at Tivoli, he died following ‘a fit of Shivering’.²⁴

In his article of 1974 in Apollo Magazine, where he suggested the portrait was by Pars, Brinsley Ford noted that the attribution was considered by Andrew Wilton, the leading authority on Pars, to be ‘seriously worth considering’.²⁵ Ford also wrote candidly to the owner, Lord Oxford:

I did not want to commit him [Wilton] too deeply to accepting my attribution, which may turn out to be wrong, but I think he was more convinced by it than I have suggested. He said that judging from the photograph it could hold its own with most of the works of portrait painters of that date. And I think it is a very fine portrait. Quite frankly I think it is much more interesting to own what might be the finest portrait by Pars, and the only one that has so far come to light, than one of 200 portraits painted by Batoni of Englishmen on the Grand Tour.²⁶

On circumstantial evidence alone, the attribution to Pars is entirely credible.

Although the portrait of John Coxe Hippisley hangs today at Mells, it has been in the Manor House only since the mid-1950s. The earlier whereabouts of the portrait are uncertain, although it may well have hung at Coxe Hippisley’s country house at Warfield Grove, Berkshire, and later at Ston Easton Park, Somerset, the house belonging to his second wife, Elizabeth Anne Horner. In more recent times, it was among a number of family portraits, formerly at Selwood House, Mells,²⁷ loaned to Commander Richard John Baynton Hippisley of Ston Easton Park by Julian Asquith, 2nd Earl of Oxford and Asquith, as he could not accommodate them in his own property. It was at that time, in 1955, that Brinsley Ford wrote to Commander Hippisley enquiring of the whereabouts of several portraits of Sir John Coxe Hippisley, including the present work. As Ford later told the Earl of Oxford, he was informed by Commander Hippisley that there was indeed a full-length portrait of Hippisley at Ston Easton, but when Ford wrote again to ask whether it was likely to be the one by Pars he did not receive a reply.²⁸

In 1956, following the death of Commander Hippisley, the contents of Ston Easton, and the house itself, were sold at auction. The contents included the portrait of Sir John Coxe Hippisley and at least three other Horner-related family portraits, identified as ‘Lady Hippisley’, ‘Lady Hamilton’ and ‘Mrs. Strangways’. ‘Lady Hamilton’ was Elizabeth Strangways (1694–1729), second wife of James, 5th Duke of Hamilton. ‘Mrs. Strangways’ was Susanna Strangways (d. 1758), wife of Thomas Horner (1688–1741), while ‘Lady Hippisley’ (fig. 8) is identified here as Margaret Stuart, first wife of Sir John Coxe Hippisley, whom, as we have seen, he had married in Rome in 1780.²⁹ The present whereabouts of all three portraits are at the time of writing unknown, and their appearance is known only from black and white photographs at Mells, taken presumably at the time of the sale. What is known is that the Lady Hamilton went for £18, while the Lady Hippisley and Mrs Strangways fetched £5 each.³⁰ The fate of such pictures, sold at country house auctions in large numbers in the 1950s, is uncertain. As one dealer who attended many such sales noted: ‘This is the period when gilt picture frames were being bought up and burnt to salvage the gold off them. In some instances, if the frame was large enough, even if it was of gesso or carved wood, it made no difference’.³¹

The portrait of Lady Hippisley, whether it still exists, is none the less of significance. While its dimensions are unrecorded, it appears to be full length. Lady Hippisley stands in an Italianate landscape, posed by one of the most celebrated antique objects of the period, the so-called Medici Vase, which stood in the garden of the Villa Medici in Rome until 1780, when it was transferred to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. In March 1780 Hippisley told Lord Herbert that he had entered into a clandestine marriage with ‘Miss M. Stuart’, who, although he thought came without a dowry, had a legacy of £3000.³² It was perhaps to celebrate the marriage that the portrait was commissioned, although it is possible it was made prior to the event and commissioned not by Hippisley but by her brother, John Stuart (or ‘Stewart’), with whom she was travelling in Italy, and through whom Hippisley had first met her. Although the artist is unidentified, it is, in terms of dress and composition, reminiscent of the kind of Grand Manner portrait produced by Reynolds, Gainsborough and Romney at that time – and it makes a fitting companion to the Pars commission. Indeed, it is likely, given the context, that it was also painted by Pars.

Although the portraits of John Coxe Hippisley and Lady Hippisley were both due to be auctioned at the Ston Easton sale of 1956, his portrait was withdrawn at the last minute, evidently at the request of Julian Asquith, who wished to retain ownership. As the executors of the vendor informed the Asquiths, the London-based art dealers Agnews had travelled to Bath specifically to bid for the portrait of Hippisley, having recently bid £1400 for a ‘similar type of picture by the same artist’ – namely Pompeo Batoni. Further, Agnews ‘considered that they had been treated badly in that the picture had been withdrawn at the last moment’ and had asked the auctioneers to pay half their expenses. In the event the Asquiths agreed to pay the portion of the expenses demanded by Agnews.³³ Clearly, it was not Sir John Coxe Hippisley himself that was attracting attention but the kudos and financial value associated with an image purported to be by Batoni.

In a gossipy letter to Julian Asquith, his mother, Katharine, wrote at the time about the ‘saga’ over the repossession of the portrait of Hippisley ‘alias the Red Man’. As she noted, evidently at the very moment the picture was being delivered to Mells Manor:

I suddenly heard from Evelyn [Waugh] that he was coming down to attend the sale of the contents of Stoneaston & remembering your charge I wrote to Mr Hyppisley [sic] & asked if I could have the red man back. I really couldn’t face the others. He was awfully surprised – but very nice about it & said of course he would have it withdrawn from the sale. He appeared to know nothing about the contents of the house or their value.³⁴

The ‘others’ were, of course, the three aforementioned female portraits, ownership of which Katharine Asquith had agreed to relinquish.³⁵ The next question was where to place the portrait, given its size in relation to the house. At the time, in the same letter to Julian, Katharine even thought it might be sold, ‘when a decent time has elapsed’. Today, however, the portrait of Sir John Coxe Hippisley hangs in the Dining Room at Mells (fig. 9), recognised not as by Batoni but by William Pars – and all the more worthy for that reason.