The painting, April 9, 2002
The road to Monreith estate is bordered by a curb-side of exotic foliage in luxuriant single file on one’s approach. It decides to begin a few hundred yards from the gates and impalpably announces the exotica to come.
I would need the knowledge of a botanist to name the huge red tubas which adorn a bush on entering the garden of Monreith House Kew gardens.
Out of nerves, I bided my time by taking a stroll around the grounds. A path lead me to the white loch, the whole place buzzed with birdsong; a veritable symphony of birds happy in their environment of exotic trees.
There were several privately own cottages on the grounds besides the South cottage at the entrance and the north cottage at the extreme end of the Loch . I did not go as far as the boat house, but I saw the ruined keep of Myrton castle.
The lands of myrton (village of the miry place. Old Norse) belonging to the Maxwells of Monreith (Gaelic; Moine riabhach, grey Moor) previously the McCulluchs, Sir Alexander entertained James 4th on more than one journey to and from Whithorn.
In the seventeenth century the Maxwells had a home beside the White Loch . They were descended from the first Lord Maxwell in the fifteenth century and inter-married with the McCulluchs of Mryton and the Agnews of Lochnaw.
The path wound along until I caught a glimpse of Monreith House sideways on.
At first impressive, a modest estate house in disrepair on the outside. It reminded me of a plantation estate. Very tall with long bay windows and a circular bay window at the back. Four columns, cracked and peeling, framed a large black door which concealed an interior glass door through which I could see a hallway on the walls of which hung crossed swords, paintings, a large thermometer/weather clock.
No one was in though the doors were both unlocked and stood ajar.
Above Right door; Harmonia
Left Door; Hilaritas
Drawing room; Concordia
I tried the handle and entered.
William Maxwell of Monreith. 1712-1771.
Sir William sat at a huge chair with a letter in hand proffered to an unseen person. Behind him stands Jolly, a mere boy of around fifteen with a cane with an ornate bulbous handle. In gold is written Sir William Maxwell 1712-1771.
The other portraits in the room bare the gold inscriptions in the same gold lettering. Whether these were inscribed by Sir Henry Raeburn, the name in gold on the other painting, maybe these were added later.
I remember the slave’s large eyes, the eyes of a boy. He is holding the cane with a golden bulbous handle, which was to be his destruction.
Mrs Sykes (caretaker) husband was told by Sir Michael Maxwell himself that after flying into a rage Sir William had struck Jolly on the head causing a brain haemorrhage from which the slave died.
If the painting is a posthumous portrait of Sir William then the artist knows the story, either that or it is indeed a terrible irony that Jolly was made to pose brandishing the cane. Nick, a London mate, who emailed me earlier on, seems to think it would be typical of a sadist to make his victim pose with the weapon of punishment, for Nick believes the beatings would have been regular. Jolly is dressed in red embroidered silk.
I feel sad for Jolly, stuck up at Myrton Castle
Is there any mystery in the letter Sir William holds in his hand? Has he received news which made him angry? Has he called Jolly to fetch the cane? Is that fear in his eyes? Has he discovered that a local girl is pregnant? The letter looks unread….
Did Sir Henry Raeburn paint the picture?
Notes: I have emailed the Raeburn Archives for an expert to assess whether the painting is a Raeburn who was born 1758; Raeburn would only have been 13 years old, so could not maybe have painted the picture unless posthumous to Jolly’s death. Though he did paint Sir William’s daughter Eglantine.
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