The 18th-century painter and engraver William Hogarth is best known for his bitingly satirical observations of London life. His unique style has continued to be admired and copied by artists and cartoonists down the years.
In 1749 he was in his early 50s and enjoying a successful career when he bought a quiet country retreat in Chiswick, away from the bustle of the city.
Today, Hogarth’s House is about as far from a rural idyll as it is possible to get. The Grade I-listed building is hemmed in by a business park, the congested A4 and a major roundabout.
It seems a cruel fate for the home of the man who first defined the “Line of Beauty”. Hogarth’s line – a pleasing serpentine curve – sadly does not apply to the volume of traffic thundering along just yards from the front door.
The house is nonetheless charming. It was built in about 1700 by a local baker in the corner of his family’s orchard. A gnarled mulberry tree, which probably pre-dates the house, still frames the view of the front door.
Hogarth, his wife Jane and assorted relatives divided their time between here and their other home in Leicester Square in central London. Hogarth would stroll to the end of the garden to paint in his studio above the coach-house. The studio was later used as a chicken coop and has not survived.
Dramatic history
After its first full refurbishment for 60 years, funded by the London Borough of Hounslow, the Heritage Lottery Fund and others, the house reopened to the public in November last year.
Its history is one of recurring calamity and rescue. It was threatened with demolition in the late-19th century but was saved by an enthusiast who opened it as a Hogarth museum in 1904.
During the second world war it was badly damaged by bombing and remained boarded up for a decade until enough money was found for repairs. Its current restoration was interrupted by a dramatic fire in 2009 that destroyed the staircase and part of the ground floor.
The fire set the whole project back but provided an unexpected opportunity to make additional improvements, including rewiring and the installation of more appropriate lighting systems.
Two floors of the house are open to visitors. On the ground floor the reception desk and small shop occupy what was once the kitchen.
A larger room off this is used for temporary exhibitions and activity workshops. The dining room provides an introduction to the house and to the multi-faceted Hogarth: artist, philanthropist, animal lover, copyright campaigner, Serjeant Painter to the King, freemason and member of the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks.
Up on the first floor, with its tall oriel window in the central parlour, you get a better impression of the small but elegant home this once was.
Restoration
It is evident that great care has been taken with the three-year restoration. Fireplaces have been opened up and old floorboards uncovered. An analysis of paint samples on walls and woodwork revealed up to 23 different layers, including coatings of dirt dating from the worst periods of neglect.
From this the curators and designers were able to determine the closest match to the 18th-century decoration.
Against the historically correct background of pale walls there are brave splashes of fuschia pink on cushions, and modern striped carpeting. These bridge the gap between “then” and “now”, though they may surprise visitors expecting a full-blown National Trust-style recreation.
On display are many of Hogarth’s best-known prints. They include Gin Lane, and the plates from the series Marriage à la Mode, The Harlot’s Progress and A Rake’s Progress.
Less familiar images include The Distrest Poet in his untidy garret and The Enraged Musician looking out on to a noisy street scene. The prints are all hung at comfortable heights that allow close inspection of the gloriously caustic detail.
Personal belongings of the Hogarth family are also back in the house for the first time in 200 years. The Royal Academy has lent Hogarth’s palette, which latterly belonged to JMW Turner.
His portable wooden painting chest is among the loans from Aberdeen Art Gallery and Museums, part of a collection gathered by a 19th-century quarry owner named Hogarth who mistakenly believed himself to be a descendant.
Household textiles include an item that came with a note of provenance: “One of Mrs Hogarth’s drawing room chair covers. Never Been Washed for Upwards Fifty Years.”
Interpretation-wise, the house now aims to do many things. It acts as a showcase for Hogarth’s work and tries to give a sense of the man himself and what the house was like as a family home.
It also gives a history of the diverse residents who came before and after. This entails lots of well-written captions – all interesting in themselves but they occasionally risk overpowering the rooms and their contents.
A good amount of information is included on two interactive screens, which also provide a virtual tour of the first floor for visitors unable to use the stairs.
While not wishing to impose more technology on an old house, an audioguide might help, although it may not be practical or affordable for such a small property.
I am not the biggest fan of such guides, but I would have welcomed some contextual aural background to supplement or replace some of the text panels: perhaps music of the time, extracts from family letters, contemporary reviews of Hogarth’s work and so on.
Impressively, admission to the house is free. This is made possible with local authority funding, but also through the help of volunteers from the William Hogarth Trust.
One hopes that Londoners and others from further afield will seek out this small characterful gem marooned in our 21st-century world. There is still a great deal that Hogarth’s images can tell us about the fickleness of society and the darker and lighter sides of human nature.
Penny Ritchie Calder is a museum consultant and writer
In 1749 he was in his early 50s and enjoying a successful career when he bought a quiet country retreat in Chiswick, away from the bustle of the city.
Today, Hogarth’s House is about as far from a rural idyll as it is possible to get. The Grade I-listed building is hemmed in by a business park, the congested A4 and a major roundabout.
It seems a cruel fate for the home of the man who first defined the “Line of Beauty”. Hogarth’s line – a pleasing serpentine curve – sadly does not apply to the volume of traffic thundering along just yards from the front door.
The house is nonetheless charming. It was built in about 1700 by a local baker in the corner of his family’s orchard. A gnarled mulberry tree, which probably pre-dates the house, still frames the view of the front door.
Hogarth, his wife Jane and assorted relatives divided their time between here and their other home in Leicester Square in central London. Hogarth would stroll to the end of the garden to paint in his studio above the coach-house. The studio was later used as a chicken coop and has not survived.
Dramatic history
After its first full refurbishment for 60 years, funded by the London Borough of Hounslow, the Heritage Lottery Fund and others, the house reopened to the public in November last year.
Its history is one of recurring calamity and rescue. It was threatened with demolition in the late-19th century but was saved by an enthusiast who opened it as a Hogarth museum in 1904.
During the second world war it was badly damaged by bombing and remained boarded up for a decade until enough money was found for repairs. Its current restoration was interrupted by a dramatic fire in 2009 that destroyed the staircase and part of the ground floor.
The fire set the whole project back but provided an unexpected opportunity to make additional improvements, including rewiring and the installation of more appropriate lighting systems.
Two floors of the house are open to visitors. On the ground floor the reception desk and small shop occupy what was once the kitchen.
A larger room off this is used for temporary exhibitions and activity workshops. The dining room provides an introduction to the house and to the multi-faceted Hogarth: artist, philanthropist, animal lover, copyright campaigner, Serjeant Painter to the King, freemason and member of the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks.
Up on the first floor, with its tall oriel window in the central parlour, you get a better impression of the small but elegant home this once was.
Restoration
It is evident that great care has been taken with the three-year restoration. Fireplaces have been opened up and old floorboards uncovered. An analysis of paint samples on walls and woodwork revealed up to 23 different layers, including coatings of dirt dating from the worst periods of neglect.
From this the curators and designers were able to determine the closest match to the 18th-century decoration.
Against the historically correct background of pale walls there are brave splashes of fuschia pink on cushions, and modern striped carpeting. These bridge the gap between “then” and “now”, though they may surprise visitors expecting a full-blown National Trust-style recreation.
On display are many of Hogarth’s best-known prints. They include Gin Lane, and the plates from the series Marriage à la Mode, The Harlot’s Progress and A Rake’s Progress.
Less familiar images include The Distrest Poet in his untidy garret and The Enraged Musician looking out on to a noisy street scene. The prints are all hung at comfortable heights that allow close inspection of the gloriously caustic detail.
Personal belongings of the Hogarth family are also back in the house for the first time in 200 years. The Royal Academy has lent Hogarth’s palette, which latterly belonged to JMW Turner.
His portable wooden painting chest is among the loans from Aberdeen Art Gallery and Museums, part of a collection gathered by a 19th-century quarry owner named Hogarth who mistakenly believed himself to be a descendant.
Household textiles include an item that came with a note of provenance: “One of Mrs Hogarth’s drawing room chair covers. Never Been Washed for Upwards Fifty Years.”
Interpretation-wise, the house now aims to do many things. It acts as a showcase for Hogarth’s work and tries to give a sense of the man himself and what the house was like as a family home.
It also gives a history of the diverse residents who came before and after. This entails lots of well-written captions – all interesting in themselves but they occasionally risk overpowering the rooms and their contents.
A good amount of information is included on two interactive screens, which also provide a virtual tour of the first floor for visitors unable to use the stairs.
While not wishing to impose more technology on an old house, an audioguide might help, although it may not be practical or affordable for such a small property.
I am not the biggest fan of such guides, but I would have welcomed some contextual aural background to supplement or replace some of the text panels: perhaps music of the time, extracts from family letters, contemporary reviews of Hogarth’s work and so on.
Impressively, admission to the house is free. This is made possible with local authority funding, but also through the help of volunteers from the William Hogarth Trust.
One hopes that Londoners and others from further afield will seek out this small characterful gem marooned in our 21st-century world. There is still a great deal that Hogarth’s images can tell us about the fickleness of society and the darker and lighter sides of human nature.
Penny Ritchie Calder is a museum consultant and writer
Project data
- Cost £400,000
- Main funders Heritage Lottery Fund £312,000; London Borough of Hounslow £75,000; William Hogarth Trust £10,000; John Laing Integrated Services; John and Ruth Howard Charitable Trust; Old Chiswick Protection Society
- Project steering group William Hogarth Trust Restoration contractors Stephens & James
- Architect Wyndham Westerdale Paint analysis Richard Ireland Period Restoration
- Design David McCabe Design; Jackie Baines Studio
- Consultant Val Bott
