Mastery of Design: The Castellani Bird Brooch

Pendant Brooch
Castellani
Rome, 1860-1900
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This enameled gold pendant brooch was made between 1860 and 1900 by the famed Italian Castellani firm who made a splash with their designs based on archeological finds.

This piece features a curved central line of seven rubies mounted in rectangular collets. Two gold rosettes set with sapphires and a ruby mounted in a collet in a heart-shaped frame add more sparkle. Beneath the rubies, a symmetrical design of enameled openwork gold with a central ruby and four sapphires is an interesting counterpoint to the pearls which hang below the symmetrical profile heads of a bird. The Castellani monogram is twice incorporated into the design.

The jewel was inspired by jewelry made in Europe in the Seventeenth Century. This is one of several versions of this design. In fact, three are also in the V&A.

Sunday Morning Special: Popeye the Sailor Meets Sinbad the Sailor

There you are, with gravy!

--Popeye

We’re looking at birds today. There’s a really large bird in this cartoon. That’s the only connection. I just like Popeye. So, enjoy Max Fleischer’s 1936 short feature, “Popeye the Sailor Meets Sinbad the Sailor.” 

There’s singing and everything.  And, a two-headed...something!  Hooray!

Drawing of the Day: A Costume Design by Attilio Comelli, 1903

Hummingbird Costume
Attilio Comelli, 1903
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Attilio Comelli (1858-1925) remains one of the most revered costume designers in the history of British theatre. This design by Comelli was created for the “Hummingbirds” ballet scene in “Humpty Dumpty” at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane’s 1903 production. Signed by Comelli at the bottom, the design for the back of the costume has been drawn on a separate piece of paper which has been attached to the reverse. Comelli’s fabric samples have been pinned to the drawing. 

The Art of Play: German Toy Birds, 1850-1910

German Toy Birds
1850-1910
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Made in Germany, this pair of toy birds could date anywhere between 1850 and 1910. This is one of a group of German traditional toys which is housed in the V&A’s Museum of Childhood. Some of the group were made in the mid Nineteenth Century while others were made in the 1900s based on earlier designs.

At each end of the crosspiece, a hummingbird figure is mounted with a leather bellows. When the upright piece is moved from side to side, the bellows are engaged and produce a whistling sound.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square will Continue on Monday

If you missed any chapters of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square this week, you missed a lot of unexpected twists and turns, a lot of lurking, spying and plotting. Let’s begin with Ellen and Finlay. The week began with Ellen and Finlay lurking in Colin’s nursery. Dog Toby, feeling that something was amiss, began to bark—alerting Punch and Robert who leapt out of bed and went to check on their son. They found Finlay who lied about wanting to look at the baby. The master scolded the footman and sent him to bed. But, Robert and Punch didn’t realize that Ellen was still hiding in Colin’s room. The crazy governess had to wait until the men and their dog fell asleep before she could creep out.

The next morning, Ellen blasted her half-brother for leaving her behind. He argued, quite logically, that he had no choice. Ellen suggested that it was time for another murder at one of the Duke’s residences. Hoping the “mad” Duke would be blamed for it, Ellen told Finlay that it was his job to initiate the murder of someone close to them. She also said that they needed to get Charles and Gerard out of the way. Finlay pushed back, but Ellen, in typical form, threatened him. Finlay is happy to alert Ellen to the fact that her former employer and former lover, Baron Lensdown, is arriving in Aberdeenshire with his wife. Ellen is furious, but calmly tells Finlay that he’ll enjoy the task she has planned for him.

Later that day, Punch and Robert have taken Dog Toby and Colin to the clearing. Robert is happily watching the clouds roll by while Punch works on a drawing. Punch reveals that he’s working on one of three sketches which the Prince had commissioned for the International Exhibition which is to be held in New York as America’s answer to the 1851 London Exhibition. Punch is working on a drawing of a brooch which Julian had envisioned in 1840, but he’s made some changes symbolic of their new life. Punch tells Robert about Julian and Prince Albert’s first meeting just before the Prince’s marriage to Queen Victoria. He also explains that he intends to use fancy-color diamonds instead of just white diamonds. The two men recall their early days together looking for Barbara, Colin and the Molliner Blue. Mr. Punch begins to feel uneasy again and just as he’s about to speak, a stranger appears.

The stranger turns out to be Baron Lensdown who is peculiarly emotionless. He makes some odd comments to our heroes and scoffs at the idea of both of them acting as Colin’s father. Quickly changing the subject, the baron reminds the Duke of their shared childhood. Punch later confesses to Robert that he, oddly enough, doesn’t remember the baron, but somehow knows who he is. Robert masks his concern as Punch thinks he saw the baron go to the hunting cottage.

In fact, the baron did go to the cottage where he met Finlay of all people. It seems Finlay and the baron where once lovers as well. Finlay has been colluding with the baron on some odd plot of his own which appears to be designed to destroy Ellen—also the baron’s one-time lover. Finlay speaks cryptically about their plan and reveals the locations of Colin’s nursery and Ellen’s room, stating that he’ll signal for Lensdown to enter when the Duke and Dr. Halifax are occupied with the arrival of the rest of the staff from Belgrave Square.

One of the more shocking aspects of their conversation is the baron’s recollection of a time from his youth during which a young Julian spied him do something shocking. Fearful that Julian would reveal this unknown secret, Lensdown plotted with Julian’s Nanny, the late Agnes Rittenhouse, to silence to boy. Lensdown confesses to Finlay that he feels he may be responsible for the Duke’s alleged madness.

Later that evening, Ethel, Jenny, Violet and George Pepper arrive at Grange Molliner. Mr. Punch/the Duke had them brought from London to treat them with the Servants’ Ball. All except Vi are excited. Vi seems to be pouting at having to leave Hutchinson behind at No. 65. Charles informs the group that the Duke and Dr. Halifax wish to greet them in the Great Hall. Meanwhile, Finlay is waiting to signal Baron Lensdown.

As you can see, it was a pretty exciting week. This coming week will be filled with even more surprises. So, if you missed a chapter, you can catch up with the summaries and links to each installment in the Chapter Archive.

You will not want to miss a moment. Thanks to everyone who’s been reading!

Unusual Artifacts: The Hummingbird Spray, 1894

Thing
More specifically a floral spray ornament meant for a hat
Made from dead hummingbird feathers, skin and beetles.
English, 1894
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This odd, yet completely Victorian, object is an 1894 creation of millinery wire wound with brown silk thread and adorned with Coppery-headed Emerald Hummingbird feathers and Indian Beetle wings arranged in the form of a floral spray. Gotta love our Victorian forebears and their ability to make something attractive out of anything—even pieces of dead bugs and birds. The feathers have become leaves and seven pieces of iridescent copper hummingbird skin, delightfully cut in the shape of a flower petal form a blossom, with seven pieces of beetle-wing in the center. Fun!

This…thing…was created to be used as an ornament for a hat. The 1880s to about 1921, a lady of fashion enjoyed wearing hats which were decorated with the plumage of exotic birds. This poor birdy was from Costa Rica.

Now, even by Victorian standards, this was a bit extreme since it required the actual killing of the bird. Of course, most of the feathers which made up such ornaments came from birds who were killed, but a case could have been made that the birds were found dead or, perhaps, willing offered up their plumage. You can’t say that about this…thing. It certainly would have required killing the hummingbird since the presence of the creature’s SKIN makes this reality undeniable.

Just before this ornament was made, The Society for the Protection of Birds was formed in 1889 in Britain. The organization passionately protested the killing of Britain's great-crested grebe for use in fashionable dress. By the 1900s, the Society was campaigning against the use of most exotic birds in millinery and other fashions. The V&A tells us that, “the first Anti-Plumage Bill was defeated in the House of Commons in 1908 and finally passed in 1921, preventing any further use of birds as fashionable decoration.” You all know how much I adore all things Victorian. And, I confess, I’m often drawn to the weird bits of aviary taxidermy from time to time because they’re just so darn beautiful. They really are. I would never purchase one, however, since I have a natural aversion to dead things. What appeals to me about such items is the bird itself. That’s what appealed to our Victorian forbears. The birds were attractive--so attractive that they were murdered for it. The Victorians wanted to make beauty permanent, and, in their estimation that was a good way to do it. I don’t fault them for it, but I would certainly not support such a thing. I like birds. I have, truly, about sixteen doves who have made homes for themselves around the protected exterior of my house—quickly making me the Crazy Dove Man of McKinney and turning my porches into a dove factory. I talk to them. I talk to all animals. I’m a little peculiar. But, there must be a middle ground between displaying dead animals in your home and, well, being like me and offering sanctuary to any wildlife which comes my way. Perhaps one day I’ll find a middle ground. The Victorians didn’t. Still, we can enjoy the beauty of these animals which lost their lives so long ago. 

Object of the Day, Caption Contest: A Trade Card with a Hummingbird

Click Image to Enlarge

We conclude our week of celebratory caption contests with this unused trade card. The Victorians had a fascination with nature—so much so that when it died, they’d stuff it and bring it inside where it would languish under glass domes for decades.

This card was made during a period when birds, especially humming birds, were often preserved, carved and mounted on hats, fans and jewelry. It was a good time.

And, so, let’s see what you can some up for this card. For what might this have advertised? What’s happening here? What would the product be? The tagline? Thanks to everyone who participated this week. It’s been a lot of fun! We’ll do this sort of thing more often.