Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Figure of the Day: A Victorian Jack in the Box, 1820-50

German Jack in the Box
1820-1850
This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum



In Britain in the 1820s and 1830s, caricatures were representing people from all walks of life were a popular art-form which crossed into a variety of media. This rough caricature of a peasant woman a bold grin and a full face adorns the box of a jack-in-the-box toy.

Jack-in-the-box figures like this were popular and readily available in the early Victorian era. While vaguely frightening, such toys were considered a fashionable and suitable way to not only entertain tots, but to also provide children with their first awareness of basic scientific and cause-and-effect principles. While this one may seem disturbing compared to more modern and jolly jacks in the box, this one is a good representation of the toys of the era.

The paper covered wooden box holds the aformentioned caricature of a woman made of composition and cloth with a metal spring. Her hands are on the wrong arms and have been since it was made. Printed in black script is:

“What wonder Miss/May be in this? Make me free and You'll see.”
The toy was made in Germany between 1820 and 1850.





Print of the Day: The Dancing Dolls, 1821

The Dancing Dolls
John Burnet, 1821
The Victoria & Albert Museum



This lithograph entitled, “The Dancing Dolls” depicts a lively marionette performance being held in a family home. Published in London in 1821, it comes from Hurst, Robinson & Co.

The hand-colored engraving shows a boy (the puppeteer) playing a drum and a pipe whilst making two marionettes (tied to a cord) dance by using his knee to move the cord back and forth. An old woman, a man with a baby on his lap and a young girl holding a dog watch the performance from within the home while two small children watch from the open window.

The original drawing is by John Burnet (F.R.S., 1784 - 1868). 

Treat of the Week: Birthday and Memorial Day Festivities




Our holiday weekend kicked off with the celebration of my mother’s birthday. As I’ve mentioned before, my father cooks twice a year—once on Mothers’ Day and once on the anniversary of my mother’s birth. This time, he created a lovely Italian feast of grilled chicken ravioli with broccoli, pancetta and a lovely sauce of cream and gorgonzola cheese. 





The real triumph, however, was a gorgeous marble cake—made from scratch, and certainly, the best he’s ever made. My father even decorated the cake with a rose-colored icing that he made himself. The result was a rick, moist, fudgy wonderful cake and a job very well done.






The following day, we celebrated, with the rest of the U.S., Memorial Day. With my mother back in the kitchen, we feasted on pork barbeque, brown rice seasoned with turmeric, sugar snap peas, freshly-baked cornbread, and something new—breaded, baked zucchini. I actually helped with the zucchini. Thin slices of zucchini were dipped in a mixture of egg whites, mustard and other seasonings and then dragged through panko bread crumbs, Romano cheese, parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. These were then baked in a hot oven until crisp. I quite enjoyed them! We finished up this great meal with another wonderful treat. To being with, my mother made one of my favorite cookies—her famous chocolate chip cookies. But, these aren’t just your usual chocolate chip cookies. They’re filled with semi-sweet and bitter-sweet chips and dried cherries. They are, in short, perfection. Then, my mother made ice cream—dark chocolate ice cream to be exact which reminded me a lot of eating a similar cold confection at the Fountain restaurant at Fortnum & Mason in London. Topped with homemade fudge sauce and whipped cream, it was the perfect end to a wonderful meal.









Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 48


Chapter 48:
Mr. Molliner 



“Mr. Fallbridge,” Eudora grinned as Mr. Punch, wearing the dressing gown which Robert had helped him into when Speaight announced their uninvited visitors, descended the stairs followed by his very disheveled companion.

“You are not to address the Duke as anything other than ‘His Grace,’” Speaight said, clearing his throat.

“That’s his name, ain’t it?” Eudora snapped.

“No, mum.” Tom whispered.

Robert and Punch exchanged glances as they both realized that the boy who had been living in their house as a page was, in fact, the nephew of the man whose corpse was left at the front door.

“My surname is Molliner.” Mr. Punch said firmly, in Julian’s voice—using a strength that Julian alone could never have mustered.

“Mr. Molliner, then.” Eudora scowled.

“Call him, ‘Your Grace,’ ma.” Tom hissed.

“What for?” Eudora snapped. “Ain’t nothin’ so graceful ‘bout ‘im.” She looked at Robert. “And, certainly nothin’ so graceful ‘bout the doctor. Remember when I used to call ya ‘Robbie’?”

“I do not.” Robert grunted. “I think I’ve only met you twice, Miss Stover.  I recall visiting your squalid home--a home filled with children who have no father...”

“Nah, it were more than that, Robbie.” Eudora Stover winked. “You brought my boy into this world.”

Robert looked at Tom.

“No, not Tommy. My littlest.  Remember.  You were ever so gentle.  Better than those other doctors.  'Spose I should thank ya, but really, I was hopin' you'd kill him.  Who needs another mouth?  Guess I had to wait for ya to kill one of my family.” 


"That's 'nough, Ma."  Tom whispered.

“Tom,” Punch glowered. “I had no idea you were related to Mr. Stover.”

“Never asked, Your Grace.” Tom grinned.  "He were me uncle."

"Don't you think..." Punch began.

“All this talk and not one ‘how do ya do’ for me.” Hortence yelped, interrupting.  "What 'bout ol' Hortence?  Don't I rate a welcome home?"

“You have some cheek coming to the front door of this house, Hortence.” Speaight spat.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Hortence laughed. “I’m a lady now. Don’t work here no more—thanks to the doctor. All I got is my friends.”

Robert sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair. “This is beginning to become very clear to me.”

“How’s that, Robbie?” Hortence teased.

“I now know why you spent so much time listening at keyholes.”

“Why’s that?” Hortence smirked.

“So you could report back to your ‘friends,’ the Stovers.”

“Sir,” Speaight interrupted. “I had no idea that Tom and Hortence had any connection to…”

“Shut yer gob, Mr. Speaight.” Hortence growled. “This don’t concern you. Get on back downstairs with the other servants while your betters talk.” 

"That's enough!"  Robert bellowed.

“Please stay, Speaight.” Punch said quickly as he and Robert reached the bottom of the stairs. "No one blames you for any of this."

“So, you want your timid butler to stay?  As you wish, Mr. Molliner.” Eudora shrugged. “Only you may not want the old fool to hear some o’ the things we’re ‘bout to say.”

“We have no secrets in this house.” Mr. Punch replied, still managing to speak as Julian. “Not now that we’ve been rid of these two.” He pointed to Tom and Hortence.

“So, I’m sacked, am I?” Tom laughed.

“You need to ask?” Robert snarled.

“Mr. Molliner,” Eudora began.

“You will address me properly,” Punch demanded. “I am the Duke of Fallbridge.”

“Are ya?” Eudora grinned.

“Most assuredly.”

“I understand it different.” Eudora Stover chuckled. “From what I been told, you’re called ‘Mr. Punch’ in your…intimate moments.”

“What do you want?” Robert snapped.

“Justice, doctor.” Eudora shouted. “My dear brother is dead. Dead at your door. And, dead at your hand.”

“How dare…”

“Dead at your hand.” Eduora taunted. “I was there that day what you threatened my poor William. I know you killed him. I want justice.”

“So you’ve said.” Mr. Punch continued, with a surprising calm. “I don’t know whatever has given you the idea that anyone here had anything to do with it.”

“Maybe you don’t know what your lover’s like when he ain’t caterin’ to ya, Mr. Molliner.” Eudora winked. “But, he’s a real monster, this one. A butcher more than a doctor.  Sure, maybe he looks pretty like an angel with them blue eyes and fine face, but behind that is a man of pure dumb anger and lust.  But, maybe that's what you like 'bout him.  Gentle one minute, a beast the next.  Is that what you like, Mr. Molliner?”

“I’m going to ask you politely to leave now.” Mr. Punch replied.

“Oh, you hear that?” Hortence howled with laughter. “The Duke wants us to leave.  And, he's polite, he is.  The great Duke of Fallbridge.  Friend of the Queen! Or are you the Duke right now? Maybe you ain’t. Maybe you’re someone else. We all know you’re mad!”

“Remove these people.” Robert barked at Speaight. “Ring for Charles and Gerard.”

“Don’t move, Mr. Speaight.” Hortence snarled. "Or you''ll meet the same end that poor William did."

Speaight ignored the woman, walking for the bell.

“There’s a copper jus’ outside.” Hortence snapped. “Jus’ waitin’ for me scream. We brought him with us.”

“I’m surprised you would associate with the constabulary.” Mr. Punch sniffed.

“Why?” Eudora piped up. “I’m not the one what needs to be in an asylum. The two o’ you are!”

“I’ll ask you again,” Robert shouted, hoping his loud voice would signal Charles or Gerard or both. “What is it that you want?”

“We want my brother’s killer to pay for what he done.” Eudora said. “My poor babies. Oh! My poor babies! Their uncle is dead. I got no one to help me now.”

“Because your father is in prison?” Robert sneered.

“Yes, Butcher, he is. Just like yours was. Just like when your mum was in Bedlam!  Or were it Newgate?” Eudora laughed. “Or didn’t you think I knew that? Willy tol’ me lots ‘bout you, Robbie.”

Robert winced.

“So, you want someone to pay for your brother’s death?” Mr. Punch began, somehow managing to remain calm and steady. “Miss Stover, we are terribly sorry that your brother has been killed, but I don’t see what we can do to help you.”

“Don’t ya?” Eudora smiled. “Either we’re paid for our loss or someone is goin’ to jail. Mr. Molliner, as much of a loon as you are, we don’t want you to suffer. It’s the man what threatened our poor innocent William what ought to be punished. We heard every word you said that day, Robbie.  We heard you threaten poor Willy.  Oh, it were awful.  You killed him sure as I'm standin' here.”

“You…” Robert began.

“Robert.” Punch shook his head. 

"Someone has got to pay!"  Hortence screamed.  "My friend is suffering!  We're all suffering!"

Mr. Punch paused and steadied his eyes at Eudora and Hortence. “I don’t think you ask too much. Someone should pay for the murder of Mr. Stover.”

Charles and Gerard—who had heard the raised voices—came clattering down the stairs.

“What the bloody hell?” Gerard barked, rubbing his bandaged head. “What’s Hortence doing here?  Who  is this bitch with her?”

“Look, if it ain’t Gerard and Charles?” Hortence cooed. “What happened to ya, Gerry? Did the doctor take his anger out on you, too.” 

"Your Grace," Charles began.  "What shall we do?"  Charles looked helplessly to Mr. Speaight.

“Help me, men.” Speaight ordered.

“Take another step forward and I’ll shout for the beadle!” Hortence warned.

Mr. Punch smiled. “Stay where you are, men.” With that he walked to the front door, opening it. “Officer!” Punch shouted out of the door. “Come here at once, please.”

“What’s he doin’, ma?” Tom whispered.

“Quiet yourself, boy.” Eudora hissed.  She stepped toward Mr. Punch and shouted to him.  "We don't really got to get the beadle, Mr. Molliner.  We can settle this on our own.  What we want won't hurt ya none.  You won't miss it."

"He's coming, Miss Stover." Mr. Punch grinned over his shoulder.  "You shall have your justice."

"Ain't what I meant, Sir."  Eudora began to shake.  "Your Grace..." She said helplessly.

Mr. Punch opened the door wider as the policeman climbed the stairs.

“Your Grace,” The beadle bowed his head as he entered the house. “What’s this all about, then? These women asked me to wait outside.”

“They’ve come for justice, Sir.” Mr. Punch smiled. “This woman.” He pointed to Eudora. “She is the sister of the man who was found dead just out here.”

“Murdered by the…” Eudora began.

“Silence!” Punch shouted.

Eudora quickly shut her mouth.

“Murdered by me.” Punch smiled. “I killed William Stover.”

“Stop…” Robert began.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Halifax,” Mr. Punch shook his head. “We’ve nothing to fear. Officer, I murdered William Stover. I beat him to death.”

“And, I helped him.” Charles said bravely, joining Mr. Punch’s side.

“Stop this at once!” Robert howled.

“And, I moved the body.” Gerard nodded, also standing at Punch’s side.

“Now,” Mr. Punch grinned at the beadle. “Are you going to arrest me? Will you be the man who brings the Duke of Fallbridge to justice?”



Did you miss Chapters 1-47? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for another Chapter of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.

The Art of Play: The Thomas Risley Doll's House, 1889

Doll's House
Assembled in 1889 by one Thomas Risley
Possibly from a kit by an unknown model co.
Click to enlarge the image
The Victoria & Albert Museum



Made by Thomas Risley in 1889 possibly from a kit, this villa puts me in mind of Queen Victoria’s Osborne House, though it is a doll’s house. This beauty is rendered in the style of a brick house which would have been quite the fashion about 1860—with a glass conservatory and coach house on each side.

When we hear the words “doll’s house,” we automatically imagine that this was made to be a child’s plaything. But, not. This was not for a child. It’s far too fragile. This was meant as a collectible pursuit and a hobby for an adult, and quite probably for a male with an interest in architecture and design.

Made of wood, it is painted a deep cream, with a striped yellow and white awning over the front entrance. The coach house has been made to look as if it is a brick structure, and the conservatory is constructed of real glass. A set of railings with two gates run around the front of the house. 



Object of the Day: A Trade Card for Hood's Paper Dolls




This antique die-cut trade card, dated 1894, was once very beautiful, I’m sure. Now, she’s the teensiest bit scary as she’s endured one-hundred-eighteen years of wear. She was once glued into an album. This is not surprising. That’s what these cards were for, after all. They were meant to be collected and saved—to serve as reminders of the advertisers and to bring pleasure to the people who saved them. Glue was her best friend and her enemy.

Glue preserved her, but glue also ate away at her. The glue from the cards above her caught pieces of her face and gown, pulling off the ink and leaving her with a wonky eye—making the once crisply printed text on her gown now unreadable. Glue held her to a page—a page which kept her delicate edges from being torn, a page which gave her over a century of life. The glue that once held her down, somehow, didn’t damage the reverse of the card, too badly. This is quite a bit of luck as we’re able to read a message from a retailer—a message read by the eyes of some young woman in 1894. 



Let’s take a look at her. Her blonde curls are quite bright still. Her dove-gray hose are still crisp and her cheeks and lips still rosy. Once she clearly told people where they could buy paper dolls just like her. Or could they? Was she a sample of a paper doll concern or something else? Was she some sort of promotional give-away? Hmmmmm…

Once she said:
I am one of Hood’s Paper Dolls.

There are five of us:

Pa and Ma, Sister and

Brother and Me. 


A Hood's Pill Card
from my collection.
Click to Enlarge
The remainder, sadly, is too ruined to make out. It once boasted that she and her family came with colorful clothing and accessories. A note at the bottom of her skirt tells us how to learn more by reading the reverse—an advertisement for a Massachusetts-based concern. Hood’s? I know the name Hood’s in terms of Victorian American businesses. This is not a name that I associate with paper dolls. This is a name which I associate with “liver pills.” 







Let’s see if the reverse tells us anything else.

Well, yes, it does:
Hood’s 

Paper Dolls 

Are 

Right Up to Date 

---- 

Largest, Handsomest, 

Most Complete Set 

Ever Issued. 

They are lithographed in 

beautiful colors, strongly made 

of heavy manila paper, and are 

exquisite in every respect. 

They are all cut and are not 

sent in sheets like other dolls which 

have to be cut and pasted together and 

which you are reasonably sure to spoil 

before you get anywhere (illegible) shape. 

Hood’s Dolls are all ready for use 

the minute you get them, and 

the dressing and changing of 

clothes will amuse the chil- 

dren for hours. They 

will also stand alone, and 

thus make neat mantle or 

boudoir ornaments. 

The Doll of which this is a 

sample is one of the smallest 

in the set. Thus they are unusually 

large and are fully equal 

to dolls sold in stores for 50 

cents or more. 

How to Obtain Hood’s Dolls. 

These Dolls are issued complimentary to 

patrons of Hood’s Pills and will be 

sent to any address on receipt of 10 cents 

in stamps and one trade-mark from Hood’s 

Pills. They cannot be secured in any other 

way. Write your address plainly and send 

trade-mark and stamps to C.I. Hood & Co., 

Lowell, Mass., U.S.A. 

In Great Britain, send 5d, and trade-mark to 

C.I. Hood & Co., 34 Snow Hill, London, E.C. 

Hood’s Pills 

easy to buy, easy to take 

easy in effect. 25 cents. 


Ah! She was a promotional aid. Buy liver pills and get a family of paper dolls. We still do this, don’t we? Maybe we’re not so keen on paper dolls anymore, but I can’t think of one person I know who hasn’t clipped the “proof of purchase” on a box to get something in return. The difference—this one has survived.



Monday, May 28, 2012

Happy Memorial Day



Happy Memorial Day--in the U.S.  Bertie, Mr. Punch and I will be taking a day off today, but we''ll be back with new posts tomorrow.  In the meantime, there are a few thousand other posts hanging around here if you want to take a look around.  Have a great day, everyone!