Industrialization's Impact on Social Hierarchy & Fashion in 18th Century Britain, Schemes and Mind Maps of Art

Download Industrialization's Impact on Social Hierarchy & Fashion in 18th Century Britain and more Schemes and Mind Maps Art in PDF only on Docsity! 130 Dress, Class, and Caricature in Late Eighteenth-Century England Bella Ruhl Heyday! the country Matron in surprize,/ Is this my Daughter thus bedizell’d? cries,/ To Town she lately went a Damsel plain:/ But scarcely now is to be known again…1 In a British satirical print from 1773, a peasant woman reacts with shock at the appearance of a young woman in fine fashionable clothes. The caption exclaims “Heyday! Is this my daughter Anne?,” expressing the older woman’s incredulity at her daughter’s appearance. Standing in a pastoral landscape, Anne could not look more out of place in her exaggeratedly over-decorated and extravagant dress and wig, with a pet poodle at her side. In contrast, her mother wears the simpler dress of a rural peasant woman and expresses concern that Anne’s ostentatious aspect will “frighten here our honest People.” Tensions between rural and urban, young and old, honest and deceptive, and poor and rich all play out in a series of similar cartoons created in the late eighteenth century by professional satirists for a diverse London market. In this paper, I will analyze a variety of these satirical prints in an attempt to understand how class was expressed visually through clothing, with an emphasis on bringing to light the social forces underpinning these representations. While other sources may be included for context, the bulk of my analysis will focus on prints produced in London in the 1770s which address issues of class through fashionable dress. Within these images, I will look at clothing as an indicator of economic and social status, and discuss the use of juxtaposition and irony as it relates to their interpretations by a contemporary audience. Captions and accompanying rhymes which are featured in some of the prints communicate essential facts which aid in the construction and interpretation of meaning within the image. These short texts provide additional insight into the discourses surrounding fashion, status, urbanization, and traditional mores within English society, and aid the viewer in discerning meaning from the pictoral componant of the satire. Through careful visual and textual analysis of a sample of captioned satirical prints, I will argue that the publications conveyed a general unease with the rapid pace of modernization and the subsequent 1 Caption to John Bowles’ “Heyday! Is this my Daughter Anne!” 1773. Satirical print, 357mm x 254mm. The British Museum, London. see fig. 1 Dress, Class, and Caricature 131 destabilization of the traditional, Early Modern, world order. These representations graphically blur class distinctions in a way which was meant to be humorous, but reveal an underlying truth: that the visual symbolism of dress which had previously helped to demarcate social and economic status were, with the advent of industrialization, beginning to unravel. Issues of gender, class, and age present themselves within the images, revealing complex cultural attitudes towards women working outside the home, tensions between generations, tensions between “old” and “new” wealth, and tensions between inhabitants of rural and urban regions. There is also an ideological component to the discussion, which demands an analysis of the cultural presuppositions inherent within these images and the means by which they were expressed. All of these disperate componants contribute to the overall implications of these satirical prints and influence the ways in which they were approached by contemporary viewers, the nature of the topical issues which they addressed, and the larger social and cultural significance of the trends satarized. This study combines two strands of scholarly inquiry to offer an academic perspective on the late eighteenth century satirical print: the historiography of early industrialization in England, and the analytical tools of formal art history. Both fields offer a rich and varied source base, but one which has only begun to overlap in the past two decades, through inquiries into the discursive implications of cultural products from this turbulent period. Although development of industrialized systems in Britain, for example, has merited voluminous scholarly research, publications from the 1980s and before tend to focus on quantitative analysis, rather than a qualitative view of the impacts of industrialization on cultural production and social ideologies.2 While this approach has revealed the demographic-level change which industrialization precipitated, it does not speak to the cultural ramifications of these changes, or the ways in which such shifts altered the fundamental assumptions under which English society operated. 3 In seeking to contribute to the more recent, and controversial, inquiries into the impacts of industrialization on the social and cultural dialogues of eighteenth century Britain, this paper explores the relationship between increased economic mobility and the social symbolism of dress. There is surprisingly little scholarly literature on the late eighteenth-century print industry. Several art historians have discussed the context in which the painter and social critic William Hogarth 2 Robert A. Houston, “British Society in the Eighteenth Century” Journal of British Studies, Vol. 25, No. 4 (Oct. 1986), 460. 3 ibid, 439. Bella Ruhl 134 The industrialization of the textile industry in particular, which began on a large scale in the second half of the eighteenth century, opened accessibility to fashionable dress to the lower levels of society. Before industrialization, clothing was hand-made within the home from wool or linen material and featured very little unnecessary adornment.17 This began to change as new industrial forces overtook the British economy. Innovations in cloth manufactoring and the establishment of first the ‘putting-out system’ and then factory production, decreased the cost of clothing by producing vast quantities of mass-produced articles. As “prices of [textiles] declined steeply, home production was replaced by the purchase of industrial products,” allowing lower class-individuals to become active consumers within the English economy (rather than self- sustaining cottagers) and participate in fashionable display.18 This process directly contributed to the destabilization of traditional systems of social stratification, class, and the visual demarcation thereof by reducing former visible class-based distinctions in dress. High fashions of the late eighteenth century, which could legally be worn by any member of society who could afford them, featured tall, decorated wigs, headdresses, or hairstyles; and elaborate gowns or embellished suits.19 These costumes could be extremely expensive, however, new, increasingly efficient systems of garment manufacturing, along with the influx of raw materials, particularly cotton, from the expanding British Empire made it possible for items of dress which convincingly mimicked upper class fashions to be acquired for prices within the means of individuals who had never before had access to fancy or fashionable dress. 20 Urbanization also contributed to the increased accessibility of fashionable dress among the lower classes. As a result of the changing economic landscape of late eighteenth-century England, service and manufacturing jobs became increasingly available to young people from the rural peasant class and opportunities for social mobility, particularly in urban centres drew large numbers into increasingly densely populated cities. According to historian John Styles, hundreds of thousands of rural peasants, often in their late teens, migrated to the city and took paid positions as domestic servants, manual laborers, or apprentices. 21 These 17 Buck, Dress in Eighteenth-Century England, 188. 18 Jacob Weisdorf, “From Domestic Manufacture to Industrial Revolution: Long-Run Growth and Agricultural Development” (Oxford Economic Papers, Vol. 58, No. 2, Apr., 2006), 272. 19 Buck, Dress in Eighteenth-Century England, 13-17. 20 Berg, Luxury and Pleasure in Eighteenth Century Britian, 62. 21 ibid, 105. Dress, Class, and Caricature 135 “extended sojourn[s] in service,” 22 made it possible for them to earn wages and have a disposable income, which was either saved, sent back home, or spent on increasingly accessible consumer products.23 From an analysis of the consumption patterns of these individuals, it becomes clear that they “devoted the bulk of what they spent out of their wages to the purchase of clothing;” 24 and, in particular, “the young plebeian women’s more expensive purchases reflected, albeit in a muted, limited manner, the broad trends of high fashion.” 25 This economic change wrought huge impacts on the social dynamics of dress, because it became increasingly difficult to determine the social class of an individual simply through a brief visual appraisal of their clothing. One particular style subculture associated with this trend is the “macaroni” style, which was popularized by young, urban men and women of the upper and aspiring middle classes.26 Although many of the social elite did dress in the macaroni style, a macaroni was not necessarily a member of the upper echelons of society, and was therefore seen as an ambiguious and potentially deceitful character. 27 The style, which was based on continental French and Italian dress was controversial because it seemed to “fly in the face of calls to sober, masculine virtue” which characterized the emergent bourgeois sensibility. 28 One of the first styles to cut across social divisions, and because it was worn by both the authentically wealthy and the less wealthy aspiring middle class, it became representational of instability within the existing social order, particularly in the urban melting-pot of London where such redesign of the self through clothes was not only possible, but increasingly common. As well as being the focal point of fashion and social mobility in England, London was also the center of the print industry, which was thriving in the capital city uninhibited by censorship laws.29 During the late eighteenth century, satirical visual prints were mass produced by and cheaply disseminated from London print shops such as that of the Bowles family, which published “Heyday, is this My Daughter Anne?.”30 Intended to be humorous visual depictions which could be consumed by a mass audience, these prints addressed widely recognisable cultural, 22 ibid, 105. 23 Styles, “Plebeian Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England,” 104. 24 John Styles, “Plebeian Fashion in Eighteenth-Century England,” in Luxury in the Eighteenth Century, ed. Maxine Berg and Elizabeth Edgar, (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 110. 25 ibid, 111. 26 Rouser, “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni,” 101. 27 Rouser, “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni,” 104. 28 ibid, 102. 29 Donald, The Age of Satire, 19. 30 ibid, 15. Bella Ruhl 136 social, and political topics through a highly legible visual medium. Expressing clear viewpoints, often popular, they “worked to disseminate the values of personal civility, benevolence, moderation, and aesthetic discrimination”31 which were becoming increasingly associated with the new bourgeois, mercantile, and middle classes of the urban sphere. In fact, art historian Mark Hallett argues that, “the satiric format stigmatized the abhorrent bodies and spaces that were to be denied access to the polite public sphere, and reinforced the values of gentility through its deployment of the pictorial negative.”32 This implies that satirical prints expressed, more than anything else, the attitudes and perspective of the rising middle class and the bourgeoisie, who admired social mobility but advocated for austerity and moderation in dress. Visual satire was initially a product of the protestant reformation, when it was used to criticize and ridicule the Catholic church and its adherents.33 In England, the engraving and printing trade flourished and reproductions of artworks, satires, and other graphic prints found an eager market in the early 18th century.34 Not typically included in newspapers, satirical prints were manufactured in single sheets of paper and sold individually by publishing houses.35 These images were then purchased and displayed, collected, and shared in stores, coffee shops, and other public and semi-public venues.36 According to historian Diana Donald, “[t]he satiric print was a dynamic and mobile component of english graphic art, and an ubiquitous feature of contemporary urban life”37 and played a central role in civic and community discourse in the British capital in the eighteenth century. Furthermore, satirical prints “reached all echelons of society,”38 making them a pervasive and egalitarian medium. London was the central hub of print production and dissemination, with a complex social fabric and a dynamic population, giving rise to an extensive network of trade and a broad viewership.39 Just as the adoption of fashionable dress by a broader swath of society weakened fashion symbolism as a means of interpreting class, so too did the dialogues and commentaries communicated through satirical print transgress established social boundaries. 31 Hallett, The Spectacle of Difference, 9. 32 Hallett, The Spectacle of Difference, 10. 33 Rauser, Characature Unmasked, 17. 34 Donald, The Age of Satire, 19. 35 ibid. 36 Hallett, The Spectacle of Difference, 1. 37 Donald, The Age of Satire, 2. 38 Bills, Satire, Print Shops, and Comic Illustration in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries, 16:44. 39 Dabhoiwala, “The Appropriation of Hogarth's Progresses,” 583. Dress, Class, and Caricature 139 series, “The Contract,” deals with the issue of social mobility, however, one crucial difference must be noted between “The Contract” panel and later prints that deal with similar issues. In “The Contract,” there is no deception or duplicity inherent in the relationships between the character and their dress. In fact, the truth of their character is explicitly written on the body and clothing of the figures. Adhering to a long art-historical tradition, the clothes serve an iconographical function– that is, they act as symbols and convey specific meaning to the viewer which can be “read” by those literate in the symbolic language. For example, the miserly merchant and the gouty aristocrat are both identifiable, in large part, by their clothing and associated props. The aristocrat is dressed in the ostentatious high fashions of the court with expensive velvets and gold brocade, while the merchant wears a more austere suit and coat, indicative of his middle class status but also of his wealth. The role of costume in this image is not to subvert the viewer’s expectations, but to communicate specific information about the characters, which the viewer is expected to take at face value. The only character in whose costume any amount of deception could be interpreted is the merchant’s daughter, who wears the fashionable dress of the wealthy. Although it is arguable that the same phenomenon is taking place here, as the daughter dresses within her economic means but not within the bounds of social expectation, the context and execution of the piece still separates it from the overly caricatured images of the 1770s. While those images point out the undermining of dress literacy through radical and exaggerated juxtapositions (for example between the farmer’s daughter’s dress and her actual social position, as I will discuss later), this use of dress is more ambiguous and therefore cannot be read as having the same intent. The important thing to notice is that in “The Contract” panel, dress is used to communicate the actual social class of the individual characters to the viewer, and draws on, rather than subverts, the symbolism of dress to convey meaning. This is significant because it indicates that although there were trends towards social mobility and middle class aspiration, these trends were not yet destabilizing the classifications of dress in the ways that would become apparent later in the century. In her 1979 survey of eighteenth-century fashionable dress, dress historian Anne Buck begins the very first chapter by arguing that “[t]he view that dress expressed status in society was an unchallenged commonplace of the eighteenth century.”53 This is a critical insight, and one that must serve as a basis for any analysis of visual representations of dress from that period. I would argue, however, that a 53 Buck, Dress in Eighteenth-Century England, 13. Bella Ruhl 140 challenge to that view was in fact beginning to arise in the third quarter of the century, as increasing social mobility, facilitated by the forces of industrialization, began to destabilize that formerly unchallenged commonplace. Knowing, however, that the eighteenth-century viewer expected to be able to read social, and by extension economic, status from a person’s garments is essential to understanding the mechanics of these prints, and how humor and the subversion of expectations engage with the viewer through dress. The image with which I opened this analysis, “Heyday, is this My Daughter Anne?” is a clear example of this approach, as it latches on to real and recognisable trends and extends them into the realm of comic implausibility, relying on the viewer’s ability to “read” meaning through the application of contextual information and socially-derived preconceptions. Another example is a cartoon from the same series which depicts Anne’s male counterpart, Tom, and brings to light further issues in the destabilization of traditional sartorial modes of class representation. “What is this my son Tom?” juxtaposes the image of the newly refined, cosmopolitan Tom, just returned from the city, with the honest simplicity of his provincial father. Like in the previous image, the tension and humor of the image comes from the understanding that Tom’s elegant facade is in fact just that: a pretension made possible by the ephemeral success of the city, and that ultimately he is as rustic as his father. The uncomfortable tension between the father and the son in the print reveals broader anxieties over national identity and questions of bourgeois and peasant morality. This is most clearly expressed in the caption, which reads, “Our wise Forefathers would express/Ev'n Sensibility in Dress;/The modern Race delight to Shew/What Folly in Excess can do.” This clearly contrasts the traditional “even sensibility in dress” which adhered to class-defined expectations and paracticality, with the “folly in excess” which the younger generation embraced. In both the visual structure of the image and within the text there is a clearly intended contrast being drawn between the conventional and the modern, the old and the new, and the moderate and the ostentatious. This contrast speaks directly to the awareness by contemporary viewers that the stable delineations and visual conventions which had for so long maintained class order and stability were being challenged by new, modern forces. While it is conceivable that Tom was understood as having at least earned his clothes through more or less respectable means, there are more morally dubious implications to Anne’s transformation. In a tradition encompassing Hogarth’s Harlot’s Progress among other similar narrative tropes, the rural girl arriving in the city and making her fortune was often Dress, Class, and Caricature 141 interpreted as her having sold herself into prostitution.54 In a way, the Anne cartoon could be understood as an alternative ending to Hogarth’s Harlot’s Progress, another moralizing cycle like Mariage a La Mode, which traces the life of a prostitute named Moll from her arrival in the city to her death.55 Rather than contracting syphilis and dying as Moll does in Harlot’s Progress, Anne returns to her rural origins wearing her ill-gotten attire as an exhibition of her financial success, either from sex work or some other formsof public paid labor. This moral ambiguity was almost universally applied to depictions of women working outside of the home, as middle class values emphasizing women’s placement within the domestic sphere began to take shape. The shock of the mother then takes on a dimension beyond that of Tom’s father, and reflects a moral anxiety which arose during that period among rural peasants, characterizing the city as a center of vice. The theme of the rural young woman returning from the city in fashionable dress was reprised less than a decade later in 1777. The later image, entitled “The Farmer's Daughter Returns from London,” was produced in at least two iterations in England and Ireland. Like in “Heyday, Is This My Daughter Anne,” the caricatured macaroni woman returns to her peasant life after a sojourn in the city. In one humorous detail of the composition, her massive wig catches on a meat hook over the door as she rushes to greet her plebeian father, conveying the incompatibility of the city regalia and the rural setting. Again, the absurdity of the situation is emphasised and mocked, but it is clear that concern over shifts in spending and dressing patterns of young women in particular was a source of concern for the everyday viewer of these images. Once again the implications of her return in finery are unclear, and there is no reference within the image or accompanying text to her occupation, so the viewer is left to imagine that she may have engaged in prostitution in order to achieve her façade of status. These layers of identity: peasant, prostitute, or servant, and, outwardly, woman of fashion, provide the irony and humor of the cartoon. Like “Anne” and “Tom,” “The Farmer’s Daughter” specifically addresses the destabilization wrought by increasing opportunities for young plebeian men and women to earn wages and use those wages to engage in the consumption of fashionable dress, a capacity which was not fiscally possible before industrialization. In doing so, they were upsetting the clearly delineated traditional visual language of dress, which conveyed 54 Hallett, The Spectacle of Difference, 100. 55 Diana Donald, The Age of Satire: Satirical Prints in the Reign of George III, 85. Bella Ruhl 144 reading of the image and text it is humorously indicated that young women appropriated those items which were accessible to them, and used those to emulate fashionable dress of the upper classes, with varying degrees of success. In doing so, they contributed to the process of destabilizing and subverting the visual symbolism of class in dress. While the picture itself is relatively oblique, despite its use of visual symbolism, the poem conveys more clearly the artist’s interpretation. The line “[w]ho knows when Fashion whims are spread” indicates that the possibility for “fashion” to “spread” to the servant classes was a real and recognised threat. This threat is treated lightly, however, within the print: the artists’ imaginative conception of proletarian fashions seems to make as much fun of the original, aristocratic styles as criticise the hapless Betty, seemingly a victim of present taste. Underpinning this representation, however, is the acknowledgement or concern that fashionable display was becoming possible for young servants – many from rural regions of the country, others a permanent part of the city’s lower class – to acquire and wear some of the trappings of fashionable dress. Further moral concerns over this trend is expressed in this image as well through the symbolism of a monkey wearing a jester’s cap and staring into a mirror, which somewhat ridiculously appears on top of a lit stove crowning Betty’s coiffure. The monkey in Western art implies lack of independent thought, vanity, emulation of others, and base pleasures. The jester’s cap indicates foolishness and lack of intellect, and the act of staring at one’s own reflection is the symbolic embodiment of vanitas- vanity. These symbols in combination are a critique of the practice of fashion, which depends on copying the dress and actions of others, the emphasis on cultivating the external appearance over internal character, and vices such as vanity, greed, and lust. These attributes were already commonly associated with women, and a preoccupation with fashion was increasingly seen as feminine or feminizing and was contrasted with the masculine restraint and austerity which was becoming increasingly popular during the same period.59 It was not just the peasant and servant classes who became targets for satire. The lower middle class, some of whom were increasingly able to acquire fashionable dress thanks to the decreasing costs of clothing materials through textile mass-production, were also addressed by satirical printmakers. In a 1772 print captioned “The Butcher's Wife Dressing for the Pantheon,” printmaker Phillip Dawe depicts a middle aged, middle class woman at her toilette, dressing herself in the fashionable mode. This image, of the aspiring middling sort in dress 59 Rouser, “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni,” 107. Dress, Class, and Caricature 145 which emulated the upper class and was affordable to them, was common for the time. As Maxine Berg points out in Luxury and Pleasure in Eighteenth Century England,“[a] rapidly growing middle class avid for fashion, modernity, individuality, variety, and choice sought out new products, invented and embellished them, and took delight in the consumer experiences.60 The ostentatious consumerism and self- conscious emulation of the wealthy and fashionable by this highly mobile segment of urban society is emphasised and mocked within Dawe’s image. It is not without significance that the subject of this print is “dressing for the Pantheon.” The Pantheon was a multifunctional public venue in London which hosted cultural dances, masquerades, and other social events in the 1770s, and provided a space for cross-class interactions and sartorial display. 61 Initially, the Pantheon shareholders limited admission to high society only, however when this proved commercially unviable, they opened admittance to any who could afford the ticket price. The result was that the Pantheon became the place to see and be seen, accessible to wealthy and upwardly mobile members of the middle class as well as the true upper crust of society. The architecture of the building itself was said “to show [the company] to advantage.”62 With a range of social and economic classes mixing in a common space, and the urge towards fashionable display encouraging those of the middle classes who could afford to dress with as much ornamentation and style as their titled peers, social and class distinctions blurred and interpreting dress became unreliable as a method of distinction. The fact that the Butcher’s Wife is explicitly dressing to go to the Pantheon places this scenario into a context familiar to contemporary viewers, who would have understood the reference to the Pantheon as a place where many of the social conventions relating to the congruity of social class and dress were disregarded. This effect was compounded by the nature of the masquerade, a popular event which occurred at the Pantheon at least twice per season and was open to all subscribers.63 The masked ball, as Amelia Rauser points out in her 2008 article, “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni,” was a space in which “participants could leave their regular identities behind and masquerade as other classes.” This inter-mixing and illusion further eroded the perceived boundaries of class and allowed a 60 Berg, Luxury and Pleasure in Eighteenth Century Britian, 20. 61 "The Pantheon," in Survey of London: Volumes 31 and 32, St James Westminster, Part 2, ed. F H W Sheppard (London: London County Council, 1963), 268-283. British History Online. 62 ibid. 63 Rouser, “Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni,” 105. Bella Ruhl 146 greater fluidity of self-representation for individuals from conventionally segregated social strata. Rauser goes on to argue that “[t]he masquerade dramatized the thrill and the danger of self-creation, and as a metaphor for modern selfhood caused anxiety over the gap between the perceived surface–the social mask–and the unseen real character beneath.” Critically, this analysis reaches the heart of many of the images here discussed. In a metaphorical sense, the city itself acted as a masquerade, providing opportunities for and means of remaking the self. The anxiety which Rauser points out is clearly present in all of the prints here discussed, and extends to a broader understanding of the changing attitudes towards concepts of selfhood, identity, and social interaction that marked the transition from the Early Modern to the Modern period. With this context in mind it is easier to interpret the various layers of meaning in “The Butcher’s Wife.” To begin with, it is established by the caption that she is a member of the class of urban craftspeople who had inhabited the lower and middle orders of the urban spheres since the medieval period. Her status then is defined as distinctly incompatible with the fashionable continental fashions which she wears, the decorative and elaborate hairstyle, and the overall style developed among the leisure class, which would have proved impractical for working class individuals. Despite this, she wears fashionable dress because it has come within her– or her husband’s– means to do so, despite the fact that, in social terms, her status has not changed. Although the majority of the prints which speak clearly and directly to the destabilized symbolism of social hierarchy through dress come from the 1770s and ‘80s, there is evidence that these issues continued to be felt and discussed into the 19th century. A 1809 print captioned “Farmer Giles & his wife shewing off their daughter Betty to their neighbours, on her return from school-,” speaks to this tension within the context of aspiration and ostentatious display for the nouveau riche. In the print, the newly wealthy farming family entertain guests in the gaudily decorated parlor, encouraging their boarding school educated daughter to play the piano. All members of the party wear fashionable dress to convey their wealth, yet the humor or amusement of the image comes from the ridicule of the farmer and his family, who demonstrate their lack of good taste through their tasteless disposal of this newly acquired status and financial security. Again the tensions between appearance of wealth and status and the underlying “truth” (in this case that the family comes from farming stock) is evident. In their ostentatious consumption, Farmer Giles and his family do not conform to the ideals of “polite” middle class culture which advocated for such values as austerity and thrift, and which was increasingly taking hold among the middle class. Even so, they were not Dress, Class, and Caricature 149 Appendix fig 1: John Bowles, “Heyday? Is this my Daughter Anne?” 1773. Satirical print, 357mm x 254mm. The British Museum, London. Bella Ruhl 150 fig. 2: William Hogarth, "The Contract," from Marriage a La Mode. 1743. Engraving, The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Dress, Class, and Caricature 151 fig. 3: Bowles, John. “What is this my son Tom,” 1774, in Social Caricature in the Eighteenth Century by George Paston. London: Methuen & Co., 1905. Bella Ruhl 154 fig. 6: Phillip Dawe (pub.). “The Butcher’s Wife dressing for the Pantheon,” 1772. Satirical print, 354mm x 250mm. The British Museum, London. Dress, Class, and Caricature 155 fig 7: Gillray, James. “Farmer Giles and his Wife shewing off their daughter Betty to their Neighbours, on her return from School,” 1809. Print. The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Bella Ruhl 156 Bibliography Primary Sources Bowles, John. “Heyday! Is this my Daughter Anne!,” 1773. Satirical print, 357mm x 254mm. The British Museum, London. —— “What is this my son Tom,” 1774, in Social Caricature in the Eighteenth Century by George Paston. London: Methuen & Co., 1905. Print. The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Dawe, Phillip. “The Butcher’s Wife dressing for the Pantheon,” 1772. Satirical print, 354mm x 250mm. The British Museum, London. Gillray, James. “Farmer Giles and his Wife shewing off their daughter Betty to their Neighbours, on her return from School,” 1809. Print. The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Hogarth, William. “The Contract,” from Marriage a la Mode, 1745. Print, 381mm x 314mm. The Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Humphrey, William. “Betty the cook maid’s head drest,” 1776. Satirical print, 330mm x 232mm. The British Museum, London. —— “The farmer's daughter's return from London,” 1777. Satirical print, 353mm x 250mm. The British Museum, London. Secondary Sources Berg, Maxine. Luxury and Pleasure in Eighteenth-Century England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Bills, Mark. Satire, Print Shops, and Comic Illustration in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries. Lecture. Gresham College, London. October 2010. https://www.gresham.ac.uk/lectures- and-events/satire-print-shops-and-comic-illustration-in-late- eighteenth-and-nineteenth. Accessed 18-Feb-2018. Buck, Anne. Dress in Eighteenth-Century England. London: B. T. Batsford Ltd, 1979. Dabhoiwala, Faramerz. “The Appropriation of Hogarth's Progresses,” Huntington Library Quarterly, Vol. 75, No. 4. Winter 2012. 577-595.