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Painting
Marriage A-la-Mode: 2, The Tête à Tête
The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage · Room 2 of 6

Marriage A-la-Mode: 2, The Tête à Tête

c. 1743 · Oil on canvas · National Gallery, London

Marriage A-la-Mode: 2, The Tête à Tête
Listen to this article0:00 / 6:10 · Read by ByMuseum
Year
c. 1743
Medium
Oil on canvas
Dimensions
69.9 x 90.8 cm
Location
National Gallery, London
Movement
Rococo
Series
The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage
In this article

Where we left off

Room 1 ended with a deal and a dark mark on the groom's neck. Room 2 jumps forward a few months. The bargain worked: the young couple have a fine new house. But we have arrived too late. Whatever happened last night has already happened. Hogarth does not show it. He shows what it left behind.

Shortly after noon

Start with the clock on the wall. It says it is a little after twelve. In the afternoon. The candles have burned down, the fire is low, and the people of the house are only now getting up.

An ornate clock decorated with fish, a cat and a seated Buddha among leaves
The clock: fish, a cat, a Buddha and a jungle of leaves. It says just after noon.

Look at the clock itself, because Hogarth clearly wanted you to laugh at it. The National Gallery describes two fish, a cat and a Buddha, all bursting out of a thicket of gilded leaves. It is the most expensive and the silliest object in the room, and that is the point. This house has money, and no taste.

Hand-painted oil on canvas
Own William Hogarth’s Marriage A-la-Mode: 2, The Tête à Tête as a genuine painting
Painted by hand using oil on canvas. The brushwork and texture are real, not simulated by ink.
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Reading the room

The wife sits at the breakfast table, stretching like someone who has not been to bed. She has spent the night at cards, the National Gallery says, and the evidence is everywhere: cards scattered on the floor, a book about card playing dropped near her feet, two music cases stacked on a chair that has been knocked over.

The wife stretching her arms at the breakfast table
The wife, stretching at noon. She has been up all night.
The wife raising her arms with a small mirror in one hand, smiling
Look at her raised hand: a small pocket mirror. The National Gallery wonders who she is signalling to.
A small book about card playing lying open on the carpet
A card-players' handbook on the floor.
Two violin cases stacked on an overturned chair
Two music cases on a fallen chair. There were musicians here last night, and guests.

Notice what Hogarth is doing. Nothing in the room is a confession. Everything is a clue. We are not watching a story. We are reconstructing one, the way a detective reads a room the morning after.

Follow the money

A man in black is leaving the room with an armful of papers and his eyes turned up to heaven. He is the steward, the man who runs the household accounts, and the papers are unpaid bills. A single receipt is still on his spike, and it carries the date of the painting: 1743. He has tried. Nobody here wants to hear about money.

The steward walking out with a bundle of unpaid bills, rolling his eyes
The steward leaves with the bills, and his patience.

Here is the twist. Remember the half-finished building through the window in Room 1? The National Gallery says this is the newly completed home, paid for with the Alderman's money. The bride's dowry built this room. It is already being spent faster than it came in.

Where was he?

Now the husband. He has just come home, still in his hat, and has collapsed into a chair with his hands in his pockets and his legs stuck out. He looks young and worn out at the same time.

The husband slumped in his chair with his hat on and hands in his pockets
He has just come in. He has not taken off his hat.

The little dog has found something in his coat pocket and is pulling it out: a woman's lace cap. It is not his wife's. And down on the floor lies his sword, broken, with another cap wound round the hilt.

A small dog pulling a woman's lace cap from the husband's pocket
The dog finds what the wife has not: a woman's cap in his pocket.
A broken sword on the floor with a cap tied round its hilt
A broken sword, with a second cap wound round the hilt.

Hogarth gives us the evidence and stops there. Two caps and a broken sword point somewhere, and the room lets us draw our own conclusions. What we can say for certain is that husband and wife spent the night in different places, and both of them came home tired.

The taste of the house

Look up at the mantelpiece and you will find Hogarth having fun with his customers. A battered antique bust sits in the middle, surrounded by rows of little china figures, the fashionable oriental knick-knacks that every rich house had to own. The National Gallery calls them bogus.

A battered antique bust among small white china figures on the mantelpiece
A battered antique bust among fashionable china.
A row of small china figures and vases crowding a mantelpiece
The mantelpiece, crowded with fashion.

In the room beyond, a servant is only just getting up, yawning and scratching his head among chairs that have not been put straight. The whole house is out of order, and the people who are supposed to run it are asleep.

A servant in the room beyond yawning and scratching his head
In the next room, a servant yawns his way into the afternoon.

Same roof, two lives

Step back and look at how the couple sit. He sprawls on one side of the fireplace, she stretches on the other. They do not look at each other, any more than they did in Room 1. The National Gallery calls the room a battleground, but nobody is fighting. They have simply stopped meeting. The social arrangement has succeeded. The marriage, as a daily life shared by two people, already looks exhausted.

The mark is still there

Look at the husband's neck again. Under the ear, on the same side as before, there is a black spot, the same dark mark we saw on the groom in Room 1. It has not gone away. It may have grown.

The husband's profile under his hat with a black spot on his neck
The black spot on his neck, still there a few months after the wedding.

Hogarth repeats it on purpose. In a story told in six pictures, anything you see twice is a clue. So ask the question the painting is asking you: what is that black mark on his neck?

Room 2 leaves it unanswered. The next door follows that mark out of the drawing room and into a doctor's consulting room.

The original hangs in the National Gallery in London with the other five rooms. Our hand-painted reproduction of The Tête à Tête is painted in oil on canvas from the National Gallery original, and the six scenes can be ordered singly or as a set to hang in order.

This is Room 2 of The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage. Missed the beginning? Start with Room 1, the deal.

The key to Room 3
Claim the key
What did the little dog find in the husband's pocket?
The doctor from The InspectionContinue the story · Room 3 of 6The Inspection: The DoctorThe black mark leads to a strange room full of pills, skulls and machines.Open Room 3 →

← All six doors

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Sources and further reading

What is visible in the painting, what the National Gallery says, and what ByMuseum reads into it are kept apart. Hogarth left no written key to the series.

ByMuseum Editorial
Art history desk · ByMuseum

Written and fact-checked by the ByMuseum editorial team: art historians and painters who research each work from museum records and catalogues raisonnés, then explain how it is recreated by hand in oil on canvas.

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