Object of the Day, Museum Edition: An Odd Souvenir from the 1937 Coronation that Didn’t Happen

I ask you.  Would you disturb this sleeping baby?

As I write this, it’s 3:30 in the morning and I’ve been awake all night with a fever and general malaise from a stupid cold that I shouldn’t have gotten because I very, very rarely ever leave my house. Nonetheless, I’m up and have been for many, many hours. Bertie, on the other hand—literally, as you’ll see in a moment—has been asleep for at least ten hours, only waking up for a moment to bark at the thunderstorm that blew through my hometown and to glance at me with contempt when I got up to get my laptop. I should also note that I’m typing this with one hand since Bertie is sleeping on the other one. This is a habit he’s gotten into since his surgery. He likes to have his healing leg resting on some part of me while he sleeps. And, being a sucker for a cute dog, I haven’t the heart to move him.

So, what’s a boy to do? I could lie here awake and wish for someone to bring me ice cream. Of course, I know that that won’t happen since the only other occupants of this house are: A. Bertie who has no thumbs and B. Mr. Punch who is a puppet and doesn’t function independently (thank God). I can’t imagine either of them will bring me ice cream. So, I might as well show my readers—many of whom are in the U.K. and are presently awake—some new old stuff. And, since I’ll no doubt be useless for the rest of the day, let’s dive right in.

Mug
1937
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Let’s begin the day—since I’m feverish—with something that both attracts and confuses me.

This mug attracts me for reasons that are obvious to those of you who come here every day. It’s a coronation mug, so it’s no surprise that I like it. That’s evidenced by the fact that there are about fifty of them in my office on the other side of the house. This one’s not here. It’s in England, in the V&A. I like it despite the fact that it was made for Edward VIII who, in my opinion—feverish or otherwise—just messed up a lot and broke his mama’s heart.

It’s a fun design, brightly colored in the way that things were in 1937. I always think it’s quite funny when people say to me how surprised they were that things of previous eras were in color. The world was in color! Color didn’t just start with the advent of color film, and even if it did, color film was being used in 1937. But, I digress.

What confuses me is that the V&A states that this mug was made in Etruria. Come again? Yes, that’s right—Etruria. Now, just to shed some light on why that’s odd, let’s examine where and what Etruria is or was or might have been. In my understanding, Etruria was the name given to the land that once was in Southern Italy (now Tuscany) from whence the Etruscans came. Wacky Napoleon I of France fancifully revived the name “Etruria” for this region from 1801 to 1807, but, as far as I know, that didn’t stick and by the time Edward VIII was making Queen Mary bellow Cockney phrases of disgust when she learned that her son would not give up that pesky Simpson woman, it was not a term that was in use.

But, yet, the V&A says this comes from Etruria, and so it must have. It was painted with a design incorporating “E.R.,” the Royal Arms, the date of 1937, and a representation of fireworks, designed by Eric Ravilious, and made by Josiah Wedgwood and Sons Ltd.

Two Words...
Abdication.  Kerfuffle.

It’s a pretty thing, but kind of a moot point, too.

And, so, let’s conclude this with a quote from Edward VIII, later the Duke of Windsor:

Perhaps one of the only positive pieces of advice that I was ever given was that supplied by an old courtier who observed: Only two rules really count. Never miss an opportunity to relieve yourself; never miss a chance to sit down and rest your feet.

And, yes, I suspect that was the only somewhat useful thing Edward had to offer. Sad, really. Bertie (my terrier friend, not, Eddie's nephew, King George VI, who was also quite intelligent) is capable of more complex thought.


UPDATE:

I have since been told that Etruria was also the name of a large Staffordshire estate that was acquired in 1765 by Josiah Wedgewood as his home and a factory site.  This became the family home known as Etruria Hall.  I was not in a mindset--at 3:30 in the morning--to come up with that conclusion initially.  So, clearly Bertie is also capable of more complex thought than even I am.