An Exhibition-quality, ivory
French model cannon
commemorating the
“Field of the Cloth of Gold”,
c.1845

 
 

Carved entirely from elephant ivory and set upon an ebonised wooden base, a model French field cannon of the early 16th century accompanied by two gunners in contemporary dress. The barrel is carved overall to resemble cast bronze, with decorative rings, cascable and dolphins all finely detailed; the chase bears the Arms of France, modern, (three fleurs-de-lys) ensigned with a monarchical crown and accompanied by supporters in the form of winged putti; above and below the Arms are the inscriptions, above and on two lines, FRANCISCUS.DEI.GRACIA / FRANCORUM.REX (Francis by the Grace of God King of the French) and, below and on two lines, HENRICO.VIII.DEI.GRACIA / ANGLIAE .&. HIBERNIAE.REX (Henry VIII by the Grace of God King of England and Ireland); the first reinforce bears a depiction of a putto, as herald, blowing a trumpet from which hangs a banner charged with a coroneted letter F, flanking the putto are rich coils of foliage .The split-trail carriage is similarly carved and depicts an iron-bound wooden carriage decorated along its outer sides with three opposing pairs of oval panels containing scenes of 16th century battle, the two forward panels having their borders closed at the top with a Turk’s head, the two middle panels having their borders closed at the top with a patriarchal cross and the two rear panels having their borders closed at the top with a coronet. The wheels are similarly carved to depict iron rimmed and bound wooden wheels. Beside the gun lies a pile of cannon balls. The bearded gunners, minutely sculpted, are depicted in puffed breeches, doublet and hose and wearing plumed, broad-brimmed hats; both are armed with cup-hilt rapiers, the cannon-master standing, with a linstock in his hand, and the gunner bending to sight the cannon.

Overall length 23 ½”, overall width 13 ½”.

The remarkably high quality and attention to detail of this extraordinary and exquisite model strongly indicate that it is Dieppois ivory work of the very highest standard, such as would have been commissioned as a Royal or Imperial gift, or for an International Exhibition of the type inaugurated by that at the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park in 1851, or both. The predominance of French heraldry and iconography on the cannon’s barrel indicates that it must be by a French hand and the omission of the claim of sovereignty over France from the Royal Style and Titles of Henry VIII confirms this: no Frenchman would ever accept such a conceit, even on an item that was probably made for an English recipient.

The cannon itself, although not apparently based upon a recorded or extant example, is in its form very like the more extravagantly cast guns known to exist at the time, although by no means typical of either the French or English field ordnance of the day. In The Armouries of the Tower of London: I, Ordnance (London, 1976), Howard Blackmore illustrated a light Flemish cannon barrel, dated 1535 and brought to England from France in 1816; now part of the Royal Armouries collection (Inv. No. XIX.166), it exhibits a remarkably detailed degree of fantastic decoration throughout its whole length. In The Gunfounders of England (Cambridge, 1937), C.J. Ffoulkes illustrated a “ring-tailed saker” by Hans Poppenruyter of 1516 - in the Museum of Artillery, Madrid (Inv. No. 3360) in 1937 - that is likewise cast in intricate decorative detail. The carriage of this cannon, although as much an invention as its barrel, is not dissimilar to the example manufactured in cast iron in the early 19th century for the great Flemish bombard “Mons Meg” (Royal Armouries; now displayed in Edinburgh Castle on a more recent carriage). Although fictitious and owing more to 19th century antiquarianism than to an accurate understanding of the realities of 16th century carriage design, both carriages have split trails ornamented along their outer sides with oval decorative panels. It is clear that whoever designed this model cannon went to some lengths, by the standards of the time, in researching early 16th century ordnance.

The implication of the barrel’s inscription must be the great Royal parley and tournament held on a plain between Guînes and Ardres in the Pas-de-Calais, in northern France, between 5th and 24th June 1520. The magnificent and deeply competitive display by the two Royal protagonists, kings François I of France and Henry VIII of England, and their entourages, and the predominantly golden colour and material of the royal tents, marquees and temporary palaces led to the event becoming called, and remembered as, “The Field of the Cloth of Gold”. The event marked the beginning of one of the few short interludes in Anglo-French conflict and armed rivalry that occurred between the beginning of the Hundred Years’ War in 1344 and the ending of the Napoleonic Wars in 1816. The Field of the Cloth of Gold has been long remembered by Briton and Frenchman alike, not only for its status as an interlude but also for its Royally inspired magnificence: motorists today on Autoroute 26 or Route National 43, as they accelerate south out of Calais, will shortly thereafter see signs directing them to the Camp du Drap d’Or, and - in the current spirit of Franco-British relations - the new rail connection between France and Britain carefully skirts the Field on its southern side as it sweeps across the countryside en route for the Channel Tunnel.

Such speedy modern communications were far in the future in 1816: France was exhausted, and nearly bankrupted, by two decades of world war. As well as having taken on most of the rest of the world since 1793, and often fighting on several land and sea fronts at once, France had also been starved of a commodity now taken for granted as a major source of income: tourists. With the coming of peace, they returned, swarming across the Channel as they have done ever since. Sea-bathing had become popular in Britain in the early 19th century and so the small ports of the French Channel coast found themselves increasingly visited by British tourists intent upon taking to the waters of the English Channel on its southern side and by Parisians anxious not to be left out of this new fashion. As a “resort culture” was born in northern France, so the “souvenir” industry grew alongside - the word “souvenir” [French: “to remember”] replacing the older English word “keepsake” - and so the French resorts became steadily more prosperous.

Among the newly prosperous resorts was Dieppe, in which ancient Norman port the art of carving in ivory had reached its apogee in the 17th century. Dieppe’s destruction by British naval bombardment in July 1694 also destroyed its ivory-carving industry and the 18th century fashion for ceramic sculpture and enamel work did not contribute to its revival. Tourism in the 19th century encouraged a rebirth in ivory carving in Dieppe and by mid-century the port’s ancient craft was well established and thriving. As the Dieppe historian Vitet recorded in 1833, the return of the art of ivory carving to Dieppe was one inspired and encouraged by English tourists and Parisian sea bathers. Growing colonial access to Africa meant increased supplies of elephant ivory and the use of ivory, with its monochromatic surface tone, made it suitable for imitating Carrara marble in miniature and gave it an appeal to the neo-Classical taste. As fashions, styles and tastes came and went - and were shared promiscuously and in print between Britain and France - so 19th century French ivory carving came to reflect the taste-of-the-moment: Romantic, Gothick, Baroque and Rococo revival or French renaissance. Partnering this growth of aesthetic sensibility was an increased interest in the Romantic past, in antiquarianism, in chivalry and in arms and armour. It is probable that our wonderful model cannon is a result of a combination of the inspiration of the past, the availability of the material and the talent to work it and the reality of an Anglo-French rapprochement.

By mid-century, Franco-British relations were better than they had ever been. The restoration of the Bourbon monarchy in 1816 had brought with it peace to Europe and the newly-enthroned kings of France were both unwilling and unable to contemplate the renewal of conflict with a Britain that had not only assisted in their restoration but also was the pre-eminent world naval and military power. Relations between British and French sovereigns were good in these years and particularly so between King Louis Philippe and Queen Victoria. Louis-Philippe, of the House of Orléans, had become king in 1830 as a result of a minor revolution in the July of that year; his was a more constitutional monarchy than the absolutist ones of his Bourbon predecessors. Part of his style of kingship was to describe himself, not as King of France (Roi de France), but as King of the French (Roi des français). This populist style, a new one for French kings, was only current between 1830 and 1848 - in which latter year Louis-Philippe was overthrown by revolution - and may thus be an aid to dating our cannon through its barrel inscription, where Francois I is thus described - in a way that would have been unthinkable in 1520.

Queen Victoria and her consort, Prince Albert, visited Louis-Philippe in France at the end of August 1843. He received the Royal couple at Le Tréport, the little Normandy port close to his country château, the Château d’Eu: the château and its local port are barely fifteen miles up the coast from Dieppe. The visit was a great success and presents were exchanged, although no record remains of the Queen receiving any examples of Dieppe ivorywork. Louis-Philippe repaid the visit in 1844 and the Queen and Prince Albert revisited the King of the French at the Château d’Eu in 1845.

The Queen and Prince Albert were also friendly with the Emperor Napoleon III, the nephew of Napoleon who created himself Emperor of the French by coup d’étât in 1851. Similar visits were exchanged, Prince Albert making the first, which was to inspect a French military summer camp near St Omer in September 1854. By the time that the military summer camp had been established, about 12 miles south east of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, Britain and France were at war as allies for the first time since the Crusades and, some thought, in a cause every bit as holy: the war against Russia in the Crimea and the Baltic Sea. It is apparent, from Prince Albert’s letters to Queen Victoria (quoted by Theodore Martin in The Life of His Royal Highness the Prince Consort [London, 1875]), that the camp at St Omer was splendid and that a degree of military spectacle was both expected and presented:
“…Meyer [Master of the Prince’s stable] is in a state of supreme delight, and yet dissatisfied that I will not put on the saddle-cloth [the gold-laced full dress shabracque of a British field marshal], as here everything is so gorgeous…”
It is unlikely that comparisons between the Field of the Cloth of Gold and the visit by the Prince Consort to the French camp at St Omer would have been lost on the more perspicacious and historically minded of contemporaries and so it may be that our cannon, if not made during the earlier reign of Louis-Philippe, was made to commemorate that event.

Following the Prince’s visit to St Omer in September 1854, the Emperor Napoleon and his Empress paid a state visit to England in the Spring of 1855, at which time the major land victories against Russia had been won, the fortress of Sebastopol was besieged and plans were well advanced for the Paris exhibition of 1855, which was intended both as an international exhibition and as one intended to show the world what a splendid, progressive, artistic and industrially developed country France was. Queen Victoria and her consort visited France in August 1855 and both visited the exhibition on several occasions. The quality and reputation of French ivory carving of the period may be judged by the fact that on Prince Albert’s birthday - 26th August - one of his presents, given him by the Empress Eugénie, was a French carved ivory covered-cup. At the end of their visit, while en route to Boulogne, the Queen and Prince visited French military camps nearby and this would, again, have reminded thoughtful contemporaries of the Field of the Cloth of Gold - some 12 miles to the east.

Apart from the French carved ivory cup given to Prince Albert on his birthday in 1855, only one other example of French ivory carving exists that is known to have British Royal associations: its choice of subject may be significant. In the Goya Museum in Castres is a magnificent carved ivory helmet wrongly attributed to the ownership of King George II and to the hand of the 18th century Dieppois ivory carving master David Le Marchand. This helmet is a fabulous and flamboyant version in carved ivory of that instituted in 1821 for the British Household Cavalry regiments of Life Guards and Royal Horse Guards: Roman in style, the design of helmet was the brainchild of King George IV, whose fascination for military uniform was well-known, and its ivory version may well have been a gift to him from his brother sovereign Louis XVIII of France, The intense attention to detail in the carving on both this helmet, from the 1820s, and this model cannon, of probably a few decades later, appears to indicate that there may well be a similarity between their sources and their intended recipients: both are clearly French in origin, both have martial resonances and artistic references and both may well have been made as gifts for a British sovereign from a French one.

There is no proof that this ivory model cannon was made as a Royal or Imperial gift. The catalogues of the numerous British and French exhibitions from 1851 to 1900 do not mention it as having been exhibited at any of them. Given its quality and the variety of events, Royal visits, and state occasions that it could commemorate during the time in which it was certainly made, broadly the period 1820-60, it is hard to escape the conclusion that this exquisite and important item, carved in an exact representation of the French renaissance manner and accurately representing a beautifully carved, if regrettably fictitious, French cannon of the early 16th century was anything other than a piece commissioned as a diplomatic gift of the very highest status.


Image reproduced by courtesy of Peter Finer

 
 

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