Object of the Day: A Scrap of Mr. Punch Riding a Cat

Click image to enlarge.

I live in a house full of Punchinellos, so, you can consider me the Jane Goodall of the slapstick set. It's a whole "Puppets in the Mist" scenario.

Aside from their penchant for sausages and for general mischief-making, your average Mr. Punch is prone to chattering, bouts of glee, and, a peculiar desire to see which animals are ridable.

Here, we see a Victorian scrap--technically once cut from a magazine. It depicts our Mr. Punch dressed as a jockey and, riding a cat, as one does.

I bought a huge lot of ephemera just to get this scrap.

Whoever cut this out had a steady hand and a lot of patience. Mr. Punch looks quite content with himself, yes? Frankly, knowing Punchinellos as I do, I can say with considerable certainty that Mr. Punch would very much enjoy riding a giant cat. But, wouldn't we all?

Click image to enlarge.

Object of the Day: Mr. Punch and Pretty Polly Scraps

Click on image to climb inside those comfy wooden shoes, too.
Not really.  But, you'll get a bigger image.  

I found these two tucked into a pile of trade cards. They, I think, were once a part of a trade card themselves, but, now, they’re best called scraps. So, who have we here? Well, certainly the chap is Mr. Punch or, more accurately a child dressed as Mr. Punch. Who’s his companion? A girl, rather uncomfortably dressed in a Commedia dell’Arte-inspired costume. Sure, they could be Pulcinella and Columbine, but I prefer to think of them as Punch and Pretty Polly. 

Now, as children dressed in Venetian Carnival costume tend to do, they’re standing in wooden shoes and toasting one another with champagne. Yeah, I don’t know. It’s a sort of multi-cultural mishmash. It’s a little bit Dutch, a little Italian, a little French—and, typically American. 

So, what’s this all about? On the reverse—when you put the two shoes side by side—you seem the remnants of an old ink stamp, torn away by being glued into an album. It seems these two little folks were once part of a trade card advertising for a Newark, new Jersey-based toy shop. 

And, that explains a lot.

Object of the Day: A Scrap of Mr. Punch Riding a Cat

Object of the Day: A Scrap of Mr. Punch Riding a Cat

Click image to enlarge.

I live in a house full of Punchinellos, so, you can consider me the Jane Goodall of the slapstick set. It's a whole "Puppets in the Mist" scenario.

Aside from their penchant for sausages and for general mischief-making, your average Mr. Punch is prone to chattering, bouts of glee, and, a peculiar desire to see which animals are ridable.

Here, we see a Victorian scrap--technically once cut from a magazine. It depicts our Mr. Punch dressed as a jockey and, riding a cat, as one does.

I bought a huge lot of ephemera just to get this scrap.

Whoever cut this out had a steady hand and a lot of patience. Mr. Punch looks quite content with himself, yes? Frankly, knowing Punchinellos as I do, I can say with considerable certainty that Mr. Punch would very much enjoy riding a giant cat. But, wouldn't we all?

Click image to enlarge.

Object of the Day: A Scrap of Joey the Clown

A young man goes to see his doctor to report that he is overcome by a terrible sadness and doesn't think anything will assist him. 

The doctor says, "Why not do something happy, like going to see Grimaldi the clown?". 

The young man answers, with a knowing look, "Ah, but Doctor", he says, "I am Grimaldi." 

                                    --Popular English Joke, circa 1820 

Joseph Grimaldi
John Cawse, pre-1862

Here’s Joey. Readers of this site are familiar with Joey the Clown as a puppet figure who acts as Mr. Punch’s friend, and sometimes, the master of ceremonies of the show. Joey even serves occasionally as Punch’s conscience, but, mostly, he revels in tormenting and egging on Old Red Nose.

But, why is the famed puppet clown so named? Joey, in the Punch and Judy tradition, is an homage to the original Joey the Clown—the pantomime creation of performer Joseph Grimaldi (1778-1837) who is credited as the creator of the “white face” clown which is the archetype for all modern clowning.

Grimaldi entered the theatrical world at the age of three—the son of a performer and his mistress. Within a few years, he was wowing audience with his acrobatic performances and comic antics. Truly, Joseph Grimaldi was the father of clowning as we know it, and, certainly, one of the most important figures in the development of Pantomime.

Joseph Grimaldi was also the first “sad clown.” His life was, in large part tragic. After his father’s passing, he dealt with terrible poverty. Later, the loss of his first wife in childbirth clouded Grimaldi’s life and led him to alcoholism. A popular joke of the 1820s—see above—makes the depression of the man behind Joey quite clear.

And, so, because of this, Red Skelton made a second career scaring generations of people with paintings of sobbing clowns.

Nevertheless, Grimaldi’s later years were marked by more sorrow as he lost the ability to walk due to the torture he’d inflicted upon himself with his often-dangerous physical comedy. He was forced to retire, and, upon doing so, quickly became impoverished. Benefits were held in his honor, but it didn’t help. As his own son died from alcoholism, Joseph Grimaldi died as well. His last wish was to be decapitated before burial because of a lifelong fear of being buried alive. Well, that would have done the trick.

But, clowns are fun! Yes? 

Click image to enlarge.

This scrap from the 1860s-1890s is teeny tiny. It was stuck in with a bunch of ephemera which I recently bought and, at first, I almost didn’t notice it. If he’s not Joey the Clown, he’s certainly one of the many who were inspired by Grimaldi—complete with Joey’s trademark wig and makeup. I like to think he’s Joey, at least. And, so, we devote today’s Punch-Friday to Mr. Punch’s friend and sometimes tormentor, Joey the Clown, and his creator, Joseph Grimaldi.

Scrap of the Day: An Antique Pantomime Scene, 1890

Scrap
Cut-out, 1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

We’ve looked at several Victorian scraps over the past year. I have a fondness for these carefully cut-out images and am always glad to see them. To me, it’s miraculous that they’ve survived because someone took the time to preserve them—a century ago.


Scraps first appeared in the early Nineteenth Century as black and white engravings which were later colored by hand. By the 1820s, they had begun to be more elaborate, sometimes embossed. By the 1830’s scraps began to be printed in color and coated with a gelatin or gum layer to give them a gloss finish and help keep them sturdy. Scraps were meant to be cut out by adults or children and stuck into albums, on to screens or boxes, or used for decorating greetings cards.

Here, we see a scrap that is in the form of a decorative letter R that is composed of characters that were popular in Nineteenth Century pantomime - the Clown, Harlequin and Pantaloon. The scene depicted here is a version of a trick invented in the 1814 pantomime that Harlequin Whittington described in The Morning Post of December 27, 1814, “Much mirth was effected not by Harlequin, but by the Clown, who forces a mop-stick through a cheese, to make a wheel, and placing this between his hands, he plies several cheeses on his back, and using his legs as the handles of the barrow, fairly wheels the load of the stage.”

Of course, we see the resemblance of the clown to Joseph Grimaldi.  Whether or not he's meant to be the clown who inspired Mr. Punch's white-faced friend, we can't tell, but there's certainly an influence.

Here's a version of the same scene as it would have appeared before being cut out.

Object of the Day: A Victorian Scrap of a Handsome Canine

Click image to enlarge

As we’ve reached another Gratuitous Bertie Dog Picture day, I thought we’d look at dog-related items today. Let’s start with this scrap. I’m always intrigued by scraps which remain untouched. Victorian hands cut out these colorful pieces of paper to use for a variety of purposes. They’d be collected in books, they’d be decoupaged onto a variety of objects, they’d be glued into cards. So, when I find one , or I’m given one , that’s survived for over a century without being glued into or onto something else, I find myself wondering why.

I like to think this sweet-eyed doggy was saved because he was special. Perhaps the cutter-outer set him aside for a particular occasion or person. Perhaps he or she couldn’t stand the thought of giving him away. Or, perhaps, he represented a particular beloved pet.

Of course, we’ll never know. But, he is very handsome, and, now he’s here with his ephemeral brethren where he seems quite content.

Object of the Day: Grimaldi or Joey the Clown or...

Click on image to feed the baby.

Joseph Grimaldi (known as “Joey the Clown”), credited as the original white-faced clown, was mimicked and copied by many of his contemporaries. His then-unsual makeup and wig are no considered standard clowning attire, but, then, he was all new. The image of the white-faced clown quickly became a popular artistic theme during Grimaldi’s day. Unless specifically indicated, it’s difficult to tell if these images are actually of Grimaldi or of his many imitators.

For example, I recently came across this antique scrap amongst a lot of trade cards in my collection. If this isn’t Grimaldi, he’s a pretty close approximation. He even appears to be wearing “Joey’s” specific costume.

My question is this, however—Why the baby? Who gives their baby to a clown to be fed with a giant, comic spoon? It troubles me, especially when you consider that “Joey the Clown” became a character in the Punch and Judy tradition. We know how well it turns out for babies there.

Object of the Day, Caption Contest: Oyster Boy

Click image to get out of your shell.

I suppose this is where Victorian babies came from. No wonder they had a short shelf life overall. Seafood is very perishable.

I wish I had something intelligent to say about the late Nineteenth Century scrap. But, you know as much about it as I do. All we know is what’s visible. Naked baby coming out of an oyster shell. 

And, so, let’s have a caption contest. Answers in the comments section, please.

Unusual Artifacts: An Antique Collage, 18th-19th C.

Click on image to join the fun.Collage of Scraps
18th-19th C.
Germany?
The Victoria & Albert Museum

While at first glance, this looks like a single chromolithograph, it’s actually a collage which was assembled in the early Nineteenth Century from late Eighteenth Century scraps and hand-colored lithograph pieces. 

The different elements have been put together to create a scene of children watching a Chinese puppet show. We don’t know who created this collage, but it’s a great representation of the sort of artistic activities which people did at home. I wish we did more of this sort of thing today. 

Object of the Day: Mr. Punch and Pretty Polly Scraps

Click on image to climb inside those comfy wooden shoes, too.
Not really.  But, you'll get a bigger image.  

I found these two tucked into a pile of trade cards. They, I think, were once a part of a trade card themselves, but, now, they’re best called scrapped. So, who have we here? Well, certainly the chap is Mr. Punch or, more accurately a child dressed as Mr. Punch. Who’s his companion? A girl, rather uncomfortably dressed in a Commedia dell’Arte-inspired costume. Sure, they could be Pulcinella and Columbine, but I prefer to think of them as Punch and Pretty Polly. 

Now, as children dressed in Venetian Carnival costume tend to do, they’re standing in wooden shoes and toasting one another with champagne. Yeah, I don’t know. It’s a sort of multi-cultural mishmash. It’s a little bit Dutch, a little Italian, a little French—and, typically American. 

So, what’s this all about? On the reverse—when you put the two shoes side by side—you seem the remnants of an old ink stamp, torn away by being glued into an album. It seems these two little folks were once part of a trade card advertising for a Newark, new Jersey-based toy shop. 

And, that explains a lot.

Object of the Day: A Scrap of Joey the Clown

A young man goes to see his doctor to report that he is overcome by a terrible sadness and doesn't think anything will assist him. 

The doctor says, "Why not do something happy, like going to see Grimaldi the clown?". 

The young man answers, with a knowing look, "Ah, but Doctor", he says, "I am Grimaldi." 

                                    --Popular English Joke, circa 1820 

Joseph Grimaldi
John Cawse, pre-1862

Here’s Joey. Readers of this site are familiar with Joey the Clown as a puppet figure who acts as Mr. Punch’s friend, and sometimes, the master of ceremonies of the show. Joey even serves occasionally as Punch’s conscience, but, mostly, he revels in tormenting and egging on Old Red Nose.

But, why is the famed puppet clown so named? Joey, in the Punch and Judy tradition, is an homage to the original Joey the Clown—the pantomime creation of performer Joseph Grimaldi (1778-1837) who is credited as the creator of the “white face” clown which is the archetype for all modern clowning.

Grimaldi entered the theatrical world at the age of three—the son of a performer and his mistress. Within a few years, he was wowing audience with his acrobatic performances and comic antics. Truly, Joseph Grimaldi was the father of clowning as we know it, and, certainly, one of the most important figures in the development of Pantomime.

Joseph Grimaldi was also the first “sad clown.” His life was, in large part tragic. After his father’s passing, he dealt with terrible poverty. Later, the loss of his first wife in childbirth clouded Grimaldi’s life and led him to alcoholism. A popular joke of the 1820s—see above—makes the depression of the man behind Joey quite clear.

And, so, because of this, Red Skelton made a second career scaring generations of people with paintings of sobbing clowns.

Nevertheless, Grimaldi’s later years were marked by more sorrow as he lost the ability to walk due to the torture he’d inflicted upon himself with his often-dangerous physical comedy. He was forced to retire, and, upon doing so, quickly became impoverished. Benefits were held in his honor, but it didn’t help. As his own son died from alcoholism, Joseph Grimaldi died as well. His last wish was to be decapitated before burial because of a lifelong fear of being buried alive. Well, that would have done the trick.

But, clowns are fun! Yes? 

Click image to enlarge.

This scrap from the 1860s-1890s is teeny tiny. It was stuck in with a bunch of ephemera which I recently bought and, at first, I almost didn’t notice it. If he’s not Joey the Clown, he’s certainly one of the many who were inspired by Grimaldi—complete with Joey’s trademark wig and makeup. I like to think he’s Joey, at least. And, so, we devote today’s Punch-Friday to Mr. Punch’s friend and sometimes tormentor, Joey the Clown, and his creator, Joseph Grimaldi.

Object of the Day: A Scrap of Mr. Punch Riding a Cat

Click image to enlarge.

I live in a house full of Punchinellos, so, you can consider me the Jane Goodall of the slapstick set. It's a whole "Puppets in the Mist" scenario.

Aside from their penchant for sausages and for general mischief-making, your average Mr. Punch is prone to chattering, bouts of glee, and, a peculiar desire to see which animals are ridable.

Here, we see a Victorian scrap--technically once cut from a magazine. It depicts our Mr. Punch dressed as a jockey and, riding a cat, as one does.

I bought a huge lot of ephemera just to get this scrap.

Whoever cut this out had a steady hand and a lot of patience. Mr. Punch looks quite content with himself, yes? Frankly, knowing Punchinellos as I do, I can say with considerable certainty that Mr. Punch would very much enjoy riding a giant cat. But, wouldn't we all?

Click image to enlarge.

Object of the Day, Caption Contest: An Unusual Victorian Chromolithograph

Click image to enlarge.

This is not a trade card. It’s not really a scrap either. Scraps were made specifically as scraps, intended to be used for scrapbooks and other projects. This is an image from a magazine which has been carefully and meticulously cut out. Many, many Victorian women and men cut images from publications and used them as scraps. You can tell the difference—if you can get a look at the reverse of one—is that these cut-out pieces are printed on the back, not with a business’ information, but with the remainder of whatever was on the next page. In this case, it’s various ads for coffee and, oddly enough, chemicals.

I can see why this was cut out as it’s an attractive scene printed on very thick paper. I’d guess it was on the cover of a magazine or a smaller publication printed in Chicago, Illinois. It has all the hallmarks of 1880s commercial art—a charming landscape with an overlay of flowers. The flowers in question are red carnations. In the fashionable “Language of Flowers” which was prevalent at the time, especially in Britain, red carnations symbolized deep affection. They were assigned such phrases as, “Alas my heart!” or “My heart aches for you!”

Since we’re doing daily caption contests this week (except for tomorrow, I admit) to mark our second anniversary, let’s see what you’ve got to say about this image. It’s not an ad, but you can make it an ad if you want. What’s happening in this scene? Why was this particular image saved? Did it mean something to someone? I’ve so enjoyed your comments this week, so let’s keep it going.

Object of the Day: A Fan-Shaped Card, 1891

Click image above to enlarge

Scrapbooking, as we know, is not just the modern pastime of craft-inclined people, it was the hobby of many a Victorian lady. In fact, the very principles of scrapbooking developed during the reign of Queen Victoria. The term arises from the paper scraps which could be purchased for this and other decorative purposes. The trade cards at which we’ve been looking often found their way into scrapbooks as did cartes de visite and cabinet cards as well as souvenirs, ribbons, tickets, programs, notes, etc.

In addition to the scraps which were sold, then—like today—little decorative paper shapes were available to jazz up your scrapbook. This card may, in fact, be one of them. However, I think that this delicate fan-shape owes more to careful hand-cutting with scissors than it does being cut with a die. Often, little scraps—like the one we see mounted on this fan-shaped card—were displayed on these fancy shapes in order to frame them within the scrapbook.

Personally, I think this was the handiwork of someone with better scissor-skills than I possess. It has all of the hallmarks of being handmade. To begin with, the fact that the paper seems to be reclaimed from something else indicates to me that this is the clever work of some long-gone young lady. I’m thinking that she—whoever she was—made this as a mount for the pretty little scrap that we still see on it. She even signed the back. I believe she presented this to a friend—as was the habit of the time—who, then, mounted it into her own scrapbook.

The colorful scrap is just as brilliant as the day this unknown girl glued it to the fan. A robin—against a bed of flowers—holds a card in his beak which reads:

May you be as happy 
As little Robin red 
Your heart aglow
     with sunshine 
E’en when summer’s fled! 

That’s very sweet. Isn’t it? 

Let’s look at the back. It is signed:

Mrs. T.K. Cushman 

     Oct. 15, 1891

Scrap of the Day: Burlesque and Pantomime, 1890

Burlesque and Pantomime
Hildesheimer & Co., 1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This Victorian scrap, dating to about 1890, is a full-color chromolithograph depicting the head of a brunette girl.  She is wearing an Asian-style blue head-dress which is decorated with strings of pearls, rubies and a pink feather.  She is holding a pink, green and white ostrich feather fan up to her face.

The scrap, titled “Burlesque and Pantomime,” was part of a decorative series by the English printer  Siegmund Hildesheimer & Co.  This series showed popular types of fashionable, “society” people.  The scraps were designed to be collected and used on cards or for decorative projects. 

Print of the Day: An Album of Victorian Scraps

Album of Scraps, 1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Collecting scraps was a popular hobby for many a Victorian lady (or gent).  These die-cut chromolithographs (originally hand-colored) were either used for decoupage projects or collected in albums like the one we see here.

This anonymous scrapbook contains miscellaneous scraps depicting popular subjects arranged in sets and series mounted on 60 pages of white card.  It was compiled in England; ca 1890.