Unusual Artifacts: Queen Charlotte’s Gaming Counters, 1780

A miniature on Ivory set with pearls
showing Queen Charlotte in an ideal
light.  She was widely described as
"Not a great beauty."
1762
The Royal Collection

Queen Charlotte didn’t have what one would call the happiest of lives. As a young bride, her husband, King George III, as well as the rest of the Royal Household was very much under the often irrational control of the Dowager Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, her mother-in-law. The King’s mother insisted that English ladies not speak directly to the German-born princess-turned-consort unless she was accompanied by one of her German handlers. It really was all quite a kerfuffle. So much of a kerfuffle, in fact, that Queen Charlotte—for a spell—had a home of her own, Buckingham House (known as “The Queen’s House”) which, as we know, grew into Buckingham Palace.


And, yet, despite these complications, Charlotte and George got along well enough to have fifteen children together (thirteen of whom survived to adulthood). Charlotte tried to remain cheerful and pursued the things which interested her—botany, music, making sure women were educated, and card games…lots and lots of card games. What else is a Queen to do when she’s stuck in one room for hours at a time while her husband goes increasingly mad? Besides, it seems she was almost constantly pregnant, so cards were a nice way to pass the time.

Gaming Counters with the Cipher of Queen Charlotte
Mother-of-Pearl
Chinese, 1780
The Royal Collection

Queen Charlotte’s favorite games were “Whisk” and “Commerce.” She was known to spend hours at a time at these games. In 1780, she was presented with an elaborate gaming set which included these Chinese, mother-of-pearl gaming counters which were engraved with her cipher. Well-worn, it’s obvious that the Queen used these counters frequently.

After her death, her son sold all of her belongings (except her jewels) at an 1819 auction. Among the items sold, were these mother-of-pearl counters. Now, it’s difficult to say how they’ve come back to the Royal Collection. Some believe that they were purchased in 1819 by the Duke of Sussex who consequently auctioned them off again in 1845. Where they were after that, I’m not sure. However, I would guess that Mary of Teck picked these up sometime in the early Twentieth Century—as one does.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 166

Naasir shuddered slightly as he raised his arms to place his ruined hands on Julian’s chest.


“Are you in terrible pain?” Cecil asked.

“Yes,” Naasir whispered.

“You’re a brave man, Honey.” Marjani smiled. “You’re good to do this.”

“It’s my duty,” Naasir rasped.

Little Fuller squirmed next to Julian’s overheated body, reaching with his tiny hands towards the man with whom he’d played on many occasions.

“No, no, little one,” Adrienne cooed. “Uncle Punch can’t play today. Just be still.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Cecil whispered into his wife’s ear. “Julian’s raging with fever.”

“I trust Marjani.” Adrienne answered.

“Not to worry,” Marjani smiled. “The little fella’s safe. He won’t be here long.”

“Help me,” Naasir croaked to Marjani.

“Anything.” Marjani nodded.

“The bag.” Naasir said.

Marjani took a red pouch from the pocket of her apron.

“Place it beneath His Grace’s pillow.” Naasir said softly.

Marjani did as Naasir told her.

Robert and Cecil glanced at one another.

“My dears,” Adrienne said quickly. “We must believe.”

Robert nodded.

“Now, all of you,” Marjani said. “Join hands, please.” She offered her hand to Robert who took it. Robert and Adrienne joined hands, and Adrienne and Cecil.

With his burned hands still on Julian’s chest, Naasir began moaning.

“Good Lord,” Cecil declared loudly. “The man’s clearly in agony.”

“No.” Marjani shook her head. “Not the kind you’re thinkin’.”

Naasir took a deep breath and suddenly began to speak in a low, strong voice which none of them would have thought possible given his condition.

“All the elements,” Naasir said firmly and loudly, “all the powers of the land—air, fire, water, ice—gather ‘round these souls. Rain and sun, ocean and sand, hear my voice and listen.” He looked to Marjani.

“All the angels and saints,” Marjani began, “The Holy Mother, and God himself, listen to his voice.”

“Before you,” Naasir continued, “lie three souls and two bodies, one fresh and new, one tattered and broken. Look upon this child with his pure heart and happy spirit.”

Cecil looked nervously at his wife, and squeezed her hand anxiously.

“It’ll be all right,” Adrienne said certainly.

“Restore the broken to the whole.” Naasir continued, his voice still strangely powerful. “From the dirt of the grave, draw your power to make the living strong. Make this weak man as strong as this hearty babe.”

Fuller began to giggle in the delightful way that only a baby can.

“He’s filled with joy—overflowing with love. Make that love grow. From darkness, make that love grow and rise to the air to form a cloud.”

“From dirt and darkness, let this warmth make a bloom,” Marjani added.

“Now…” Naasir said to Marjani.

Marjani released Robert’s hand and removed a vial of oil from the pocket of her apron. She removed the cork, and wet her thumb with the oil. She swiped an oily streak across Julian’s sweating brow and then across the cool, smooth forehead of the baby.

“Make them equal in strength,” Marjani said softly.

“Make them equal in strength.” Naasir repeated.

“Everyone…” Marjani nodded.

“Make them equal in strength…” Robert, Cecil and Adrienne said in unison.

Far removed from them, yet so nearby, deep within their fevered body, Mr. Punch and Julian listened to the scene which unfolded outside of them.

“Try, Mr. Punch.” Julian said quickly. “Try to speak.”

Mr. Punch shouted. “We’re here!”

Just then, in the room with their loved ones, Julian’s parched lips parted. “We’re here,” their body groaned weakly.

“Thank God,” Robert sighed. “Thank the universe.”

It was then that Robert noticed that Naasir had slumped over in the chair—clearly lifeless.



Did you miss Chapters 1-165? If so, you can read them here.

Goal for the Day: Be Flexible

We all have plans, but sometimes those plans have to change. Very often, circumstances beyond our control (like weather) prevent us from proceeding as scheduled. That can be extremely frustrating. However, there’s no point in letting frustration consume you. Getting upset about things that you can’t control isn’t going to do you any good. So, just take a deep breath and carry on with what you can.


We can all learn to become a little more flexible. Plans and schedules are wonderful guidelines, but sometimes even the most rigid plans have to change. Learning to accept these changes with a cheerful disposition only serves to make life that much more pleasant.

Object of the Day: A Cup Commemorating the Coronation of King Edward VIII

Upon the death of King George V, the next in line for the throne was the man who would style himself as King Edward VIII. Everything was set in motion to crown Edward on May 12, 1937. Oh, yes, there was one little pesky issue to take care of—Edward’s girlfriend, Wallis Simpson. “You can’t marry that woman,” cried everyone—especially Edward’s mother, Mary of Teck. “It won’t do.” Edward moaned and protested. And, then, he abdicated.


Always a thrifty people, the British decided to keep the coronation date of May 12, 1937, but instead crowned a different king—Edward’s stuttering brother, George VI.

And, so, all of the souvenir items that bore the likeness of King Edward VIII were quickly removed from the department store shelves and replaced with George VI and Elizabeth items. Being as Edward VIII never made it to his coronation, many of the commemorative objects were considered “rubbish” and therefore disposed of. But, here’s one!

This rare cup—with a nifty shape—is a surviving souvenir of the coronation that never was. I was so tickled to find it!

Change over...
Same date, different King.

Film of the Week: Mildred Pierce, 1945

Lobby Card
Warner Brothers

With this money I can get away from you. From you and your chickens and your pies and your kitchens and everything that smells of grease. I can get away from this shack with its cheap furniture. And this town and its dollar days, and its women that wear uniforms and its men that wear overalls.

--"Veda Pierce"

By 1945, Joan Crawford had been asked to leave Metro Goldwyn Mayer, (get your hatchet, folks, and scream along with me, “Hollywood royalty! Parted friends... everyone already knows! Box office poison! Box office poison! Class! You're... class... you're... class... box office poison! Eighteen years in the business and we parted friends! Creative differences!” But, that’s a different movie.) So, Joanie “You’re Aces” Crawford had to go off on her own. Of course, being Joan Crawford, she ended up at Warner Brothers where she’d been hired predominantly to ruffle the feathers of their reigning queen—Bette Davis who was also dipping a toenail into the pool of box office poison.

"It's your fault I'm like this, Mother."
Veda pleads with her mama.
Warner Brothers

Warners owned a property based on a novel by James Cain—Mildred Pierce—the story of an out-of-luck homemaker with a cheating husband, a lot of debt, a snooty daughter, and, another daughter who nobody pays much attention to (and then dies). At the center of it all, Mildred has to struggle and find the strength to provide her eldest daughter—Veda—everything that Veda wants, even if it means marrying a nasty playboy and frying a lot of chickens. Mildred was a character that Crawford really could relate to. She wanted that part—so much so that she even (gasp!) agreed to screen test for it.

"Just like my weddin' night...so exciting."
Lottie to Mildred amidst the many, many, many pies.
Warner Brothers

And, of course, she got the part—and, was brilliant, giving perhaps the finest performance of her career. The film version of the story—as is often the case—veered away from Cain’s novel quite a bit. A murder plot was introduced to bring in some of the noir elements which were quite the fashion of the day. A lot of the smuttiness of the tawdry semi-incestuous relationship between Veda and Mildred’s new husband, fading socialite Monte Beragon, was toned down. In fact, a whole sub-plot involving Veda’s singing career was abandoned. And several characters were melded into one—Ida, played superbly by Eve Arden.

"It's for you.  Mrs. Biederhof."
Mildred's not too keen on her husband's
choice of card buddies.
Warner Brothers

Joining Miss Crawford in the cast were Ann Blyth as her bitch of a daughter, Veda; Zachary Scott as the icky Monte (or Monty depending on where you look) Beragon; Butterfly McQueen as Mildred’s maid, Lottie; Bruce Bennett as Bert, the first husband; Jack Carson as the equally icky and smarmy Wally Fey; and the always delightful Lee Patrick as Bert’s “poker buddy” (or was it canasta?), the charmingly-named Maggie Biederhof.

Miss Crawford won the Academy Award for her performance. In typical Crawfordian Style, she accepted the award while abed with some mysterious flu which seemed to have had the effect of curling her hair, rouging her lips and pressing her negligee. Still, she won. And, that’s quite nice.

She needed it.

"Don't look now, Junior, but you're
standing under a brick wall."  The wisdom of Ida.
Warner Brothers

Everyone should see Mildred Pierce for the superb acting, beautiful lighting, nifty sets, shoulder pads, fur hats and sharp dialogue. Hollywood royalty, indeed.

Oh, by the way, there's an upcoming remake of Mildred Pierce coming up with Kate Winslet as "Mildred."  It promises to be more like the source novel.  Still, Winslet has some big, strappy-pumps to fill.  Good luck...never let go and all that. 



 

Humanitarian of the Week: Mark Summers

Mark Summers

His name may not spring immediately to mind, but you know his face. We’ve all welcomed Mark Summers into our homes at some point. He’s been a television staple for nearly a quarter of a century. With credits such as Double Dare, Home, Unwrapped, Biggers & Summers, Couch Potatoes, Great Day America and Our Home to his name, Mark Summers has proven to be a daytime and reality television superstar as both a host and producer.


Those of us who grew up in the 1980’s (and our parents) may remember Nickelodeon’s sloppy kid-series, Double Dare, which frequently involved Summers—as the host—being doused in slime, food and general yuckiness. Despite his good-natured smile, Summers was seething internally. You see, Mark Summers had always considered himself a “perfectionist,” an extreme perfectionist, but one nonetheless. His strong need for order and tidiness had dominated his early life and only worsened as he got older. Mark soon realized that he suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Instead of letting this rule his life, Mark did something about it, getting professional help, writing a book about his experiences, and most importantly helping to educate others about this serious disorder by appearances on television programs and by working as a national spokesperson for the Obsessive Compulsive Foundation. His work with this foundation as well as with the group Freedom From Fear, Summers has worked tirelessly to educate the public about anxiety disorders and other related behavior disorders.

For triumphing in his own life, and for helping others to achieve similar success, Mark Summers is our Humanitarian of the Week.

Her Majesty’s Furniture: A Pair of Onyx Marble Pedestals, 1720

One of a Pair
of Pedestals
Onyx Marble Veneer
Over Hardstone
1720
The Royal Collection

The placement of art in a room depends on the piece—its size, scale, lines, subject and color. Members of the Royal Family have always been very particular about how they display their precious art and artifacts. In the case of sculpture (and this, really, should always be true), the choice of plinth or pedestal was just as important as the sculpture itself. These were often considered to be as much a part of the sculpture as they were an extension of the architecture of the room.


This pair of onyx marble pedestals is what remains of what was once a set of four with the other two being pink. Though they’re massive, they’re quite delicate. The onyx veneer—imported from Egypt—was prone to easy chipping. The set of pedestals came into Kensington Palace around 1720 under the direction of King George I who ordered them from an Italian designer as a means of displaying a group of four marbles of The Seasons by Camillo Rusconi. They were installed in the King’s Gallery.

In 1828, the Rusconi groups were taken to Windsor Castle. The pedestals were sent for refurbishment. Around this time, the two pink pedestals seemed to disappear while this set of two was sent to Windsor Castle where they now stand in the Queen’s Guard Chamber, supporting bronzes purchased by King George IV.