Mastery of Design: The Ducrollay Snuffbox, 1755-6

Snuffbox of Varicolored Gold, Diamonds and Rubies
Ducrollay & Co., 1755-1756
This and all related images from the Gilbert Collection
at the Victoria & Albert Museum

From the Gilbert Collection at the V&A, we have this stunning snuffbox which has been expertly decorated with rubies, diamonds and varicolored gold. The box is the work of Jean Ducrollay's workshop. Ducrollay (1710-1787) was one of the most revered gold box makers in Paris in the mid Eighteenth Century. 


What sets this box apart is the use of rubies and diamonds with multicolored gold—a rare practice at a time when rubies were usually set solely in yellow gold. The practice, in fact, may have been unique to Ducrollay’s workshop as so few examples can be found. The box is chased on each side with a spray of slowers set against a sunburst design. The cover of the box features a pattern of flowers of foliage set with rubies and diamonds. 

The Home Beautiful: A Lidded Chinese Urn, 1710-1730

Chinese Urn
Converted into a Chocolate Pot, 1710-1730
France
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This Chinese porcelain pot started out as a lidded jar or urn of an unknown creation date. Between 1710 and 1730, the piece was mounted with gilt bronze fittings and a stand to transform it into a chocolate or coffee pot. The style is classified, rather peculiarly, as “Chinese Imari.” This is sort of a misnomer since the Imari port from where such pieces were shipped is actually in Japan.

The Eighteenth-Century practice of taking Asian antiques and converting them into other objects was quite common in France and Britain. Very often, these porcelain pieces were altered drastically. Luckily, this one, adapted in France, didn’t suffer much change. However, in its present form, it’s quite a nice example of French Rococo taste. 

Sunday Morning Special: Gypped in Egypt, 1930

Today’s Sunday Morning Special comes to us from 1930 and features the, sadly, relatively unremembered “Waffles and Dan.” “Gypped in Egypt” follows the adventures of the mismatched duo as they freak themselves out in Egypt. It’s a Van Beuren Cartoon, so you know it will be odd. 


As with all cartoons of the 30s, expect lots of knee-bending and muttering.  Enjoy! 

Drawing of the Day: A Design for a Brooch by John Brogden, c. 1860

Design for a Ruby Brooch
John Brogden, c. 1860
The Victoria & Albert Museum

I’ve always enjoyed the work of English Victorian jeweler John Brogden. In fact, I’ve often found the drawings he made while designing his jewels to be just as attractive as the finished products.

This design for a brooch is from an album of designs which Brogden created between 1848-1884. The album contains 1,593 designs for jewels and demonstrates the wide range of styles which Brogden produced.

Brogden’s firm was founded by John Brogden the Elder around 1796. For awhile, the firm was called “Brogden & Garland,” and, then, until 1841, it was styled “Garland & Watherston.” Around 1848, J.W. Garland departed the firm, leaving his partner, J.H. Watherston to move the concern to a new location. At this time, the son of Thomas Brogden (who may or may not have been the son, or maybe the nephew, of John Brogden the Elder) was working as an apprentice with the firm. The younger Brogden joined forces with Watherston, and, ultimately took over the firm, returning it to its original name. 


The younger Brogden quickly became the toast of London Society and this design shows why. This drawing of pencil and watercolor on card depicts a design for a gold brooch in the Renaissance style. It features a large red ruby and a hanging pendant with gold tassels. The brooch was produced in the 1860s. 

One Hundred Chapters of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square

Even escaping to Grange Molliner wasn’t enough to bring peace to Mr. Punch and Robert. Of course, it didn’t help that they brought Ellen Barrett with them. Unknown to the Duke and the Doctor, their governess is actually Punch’s illegitimate half-sister and is working with her half-brother, Finlay, to bring the Duke down. But, the joke’s on Ellen. Finlay is also working with her former lover (and his), the Baron Lensdown to defeat Ellen. Oh…and Ellen is also working with the baron to fool Finlay. So, they’ve got their own kerfuffle going on.

Finlay convinced the baron to sneak into the castle in order to do something to frighten the residents. So, as the Duke and Robert were busy greeting the remaining servants from Belgrave Square (those who Punch kindly brought all the way to Scotland for the ball), Lensdown had donned a disguise, pretending to be the legendary ghost of Lucas Molliner. But, afterwards, instead of meeting Finlay—the baron met Ellen and the two plotted together. Furthermore, the baron continues to mention some mysterious secret from his past which he things caused Julian’s “madness.”

It seems, as a boy, Julian was told by his nanny that little boys who kept secrets would be murdered by the ghost of Lucas Molliner. Was this a family legend? Or was it a lie the nanny concocted after a young Lensdown begged for her help upon realizing that Julian knew his secret?

After the servants had been sent to bed, Punch and Robert heard a strange cry from upstairs and hurried to check on Colin. They found Gamilla, clearly upset, after seeing “The Ghost.” Punch and Robert searched the castle, but found nothing. Still nervous, Punch asked Robert to bring Colin to their room to sleep.

The following morning, as Robert worked on his book, Punch helped the staff design their costumes for the ball. He was annoyed by the arrival of Baron Lensdown who informed the Duke that his wife’s friends had come from London, asking if they could also attend the ball. The Duke/Mr. Punch agreed before realizing that the guests were actually the Countess Hamish and her hatchet-faced daughter, Lady Constance, with whom they had argued in London. Punch graciously stuck by his decision, but afterwards was rattled and decided to hide under a table and talk with a porcelain figure.

During his chat with the figure, Punch recalled a startling even from his past—witnessing the murder of a young man. Hitting his head, Punch accidentally broke the figure, becoming even more upset. He went out to find Robert and told his companion about the murder. Robert was concerned and unsure what to do, but Punch insisted they not let it spoil their holiday. As they walked on the estate, a shadowy figure watched from the tower.

This coming week, as we reach 100 chapters, will be filled with even more twists and turns as the Servants’ Ball begins. With a house full of people, will Mr. Punch suffer the recollection of more of his and Julian’s past? What will happen when Ellen appears at the ball? Will the oddly incestuous relationships between Ellen, Finlay and the baron be revealed? Look for some bizarre developments arising from the Countess and Lady Constance as well as the baron’s wife, Gertrude. Charles, Gerard and Gamilla will find themselves in the middle of a growing nightmare. And, someone will die. If you’ve missed a chapter of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, all are accessible in the Chapter Archive with a nifty little summary of each. Thanks for reading!

Painting of the Day: Young Man Playing the Violin, c. 1750

Young Man with Violin
From the "Scaramouche Parlour" at Belvedere House
Andien De Clermont, c. 1750
The Victoria & Albert Museum

If you were a wealthy land owner in Britain in the Eighteenth Century (rather as it is now—anywhere), you wanted the people around you to know just how rich and prosperous you were. Your house, your carriage, your horses, your clothes, your jewels—these were all status symbols. But, the real indicator of wealth was your ability to decorate your house. The more you could spend on your interiors, the better you looked. And, the real icing on the decorating cake was the paintings you displayed in your home. Portraits—sure, they were great. But, the best thing of all was to commission a painting of your family in your home. And, even better—a mural, right there on the wall, forever.

Of course, even mural painting was subject to levels or pretension. If you could get a foreign painter—you were the top dog! Painters from France, Italy and the Netherlands were brought into the stately homes of England to adorn the walls with scenes from mythology, allegorical motifs, fantastic designs and bucolic views—most of which would incorporate the visages of the homeowner and his family.

Here we see one such mural which was carefully removed from its original location. Thankfully, the murals were painted on canvas which had been applied to the walls, conveniently allowing them to be removed two centuries later. This is one of a series of 16 panels which were commissioned by Charles Calvert, 5th Baron Baltimore, in 1742 to decorate the “Scaramouche Parlour” in his house, Belvedere, in Kent. Each of the panels depicted scenes from the Italian Commedia dell'Arte and showcase the knock-about comedy’s most famous characters: Capitano, Arlecchino, Pulcinella (who, as we know, inspired the English Punch), Pedrolino (later Pierrot) and Colombine. 


The mural group is the work of Andien de Clermont (active 1716-1783), a French artist who arrived in Britain in 1716. Clermont was, certainly, the most avant-garde and highly-inventive decorative artist working in Britain during the Rococo period.

This mural sets the scene for the antics of Pulcinella and his friends. An unnamed young man is depicted playing the violin. He stands in profile in the foreground of a landscape with a grand building showing in the background. To his right are two dancing figures. The whole is en-framed by foliage border.

Object of the Day: An Antique Trade Card—The Children of the Grass

Click image to enlarge.

Another from the genre of monochromatic children on a metallic-ink background, this trade card would have been available for selection from a catalog and could have been printed on the reverse with a business’ information.

As I’ve pointed out before, this type of card (usually printed in red on gold or blue on silver) typically featured scenes of children engaged in some sort of sporting activity, and almost always in the process of being fatally wounded in the process.

Here, they’re more so just spooky than in danger. This group of boys has a sort of “Lord of the Flies Meets Children of the Corn” vibe. Wading through tall grass, they’re being swallowed up in the weeds as they rip foliage from the country side to wear, presumably, as hats. Are they about to attack some unsuspecting cow or amorous couple? Are they playing soldier? Are they trying to lose Tiny Tim there in the back? Who knows? What is clear, however, is that they’re all utterly mad. Our Victorian forebears had very interesting senses of humor.