Unfolding Pictures: The English Garden Fan, 1760-1770

Click image to see startlingly large grapes.
Hand Fan
England, 1760-1770
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Scenes of lush, elegant English gardens were considered suitable and fashionable adornment for hand fans in the late Eighteenth Century. Take, for example, this one, made between 1760 and 1770, which offers a lovely vignette of such a garden populated by a ruined classical colonnade as well as a folly in the shape of a pyramid. It’s quite possible that his folly is also an icehouse.

What’s curious about this fan, making it unlike other British fans of the era, is the fact that the central vignette of the landscape is surrounded by a strangely disproportionate still-life of grapes, peacocks and a spaniel. Still, it’s an attractive fan and in remarkable condition when one considers its age. The leaf is made of vellum and the guards and sticks of carved, painted and gilt ivory.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 138

Chapter 138: 

Kasperl 



While Robert worked to save Gerard—assisted by Gamilla—Charles sat patiently watching the unconscious body of the Duke of Fallbridge and the Duke’s slumbering son. Time seemed to stand still, but, then, there was a quick and unexpected movement.

Charles, upon seeing the Duke’s eyes flutter, gently rose from his chair and placed Colin in his cradle.

Hurrying to the Duke’s side, Charles knelt down by the sofa upon which he’d placed his employer and whispered. “Your Grace? Can you hear me?”

Suddenly, the Duke’s eyes sprung open like those of an over-wound automaton. He bolted upright into a stiff sitting position.

Immediately, Charles knew that Mr. Punch had not returned. Looking into the familiar face, Charles rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly. “To whom am I speaking?” Charles asked.

“I am called Kasperl.” The words slipped unctuously out, coated with a slight German (or perhaps Austrian—Charles couldn’t decide which) accent.

“Kasperl?” Charles nodded. “Where is Mr. Punch?”

“Gone.” Kasperl replied curtly.

“And His Grace, the Duke?”

“The same.”

“Ah.” Charles answered.

“Before you begin with your ridiculous sycophancy,” Kasperl cringed—his voice slithering from the Duke’s lips, “Let me inform you that I have no interest in Punch’s little pantomime.”

“Oh?” Charles tilted his head to the left.

“This charade with which you humor him. I will not be called ‘Your Grace.’ I have no desire to be burdened with such pretense. Nor, young man, do I have a desire to mislead those around me. I am not the Duke of Fallbridge. Don’t refer to me as such.”

“Who are you, then?”

“I’ve told you, boy, that I am called Kasperl.” He sniffed.

“What does that mean exactly?” Charles asked.

“I have no time for such things.” Kasperl frowned. He pointed to Colin’s cradle. “What is that?”

“That is your son.”

“Not my son.” Kasperl shook his head. “I’ve nothing to do with it. Nor do I wish to. Where’s the doctor? He should be informed of my arrival.”

“The doctor is engaged presently.”

“Fetch him.”

“I cannot.” Charles shook his head.

“Very well,” Kasperl growled. “I do not need him. You will do.”

“For what exactly, Your Gr…” Charles paused.

“You have caught yourself. Good. You’ll do well.” Kasperl nodded. “Fetch me a change of clothing.”

“What’s wrong with your present clothes?”

“They’re not mine.”

“We have none of your clothes here.” Charles smiled.

“Ahhhh…” Kasperl scowled. “That would be true. I will wait.”

“For what?”

“You border on insolence.” Kasperl snapped. “Where is your famed loyalty?”

Charles shrugged. “If you’re not the Duke, then I do not work for you. If you’re not Mr. Punch, we are not friends. I have no connection to you. I have no reason to be loyal.”

“I command you!” Kasperl barked.

“No.” Charles shook his head. “You do not.”

“You must do as I say. You must take commands from whoever lives in this body.”

“But,” Charles replied cleverly, “you have no interest in what you called Mr. Punch’s ‘pantomime.’”

“No, I do not.” Kasperl sighed. “I do not care about his child nor about his romance with the handsome doctor nor his foolish, misguided attachments. This body is nothing to me but a tool so that I might exact my plan.”

“Which is?”

“To destroy it, of course.” Kasperl replied plainly.

This, rightfully, alarmed Charles. “It is not yours to destroy.”

“It’s as much mine as it is Punch’s.”

“Mr. Punch, as I understand, has earned his ownership of the body—a right he was also granted by His Grace, the true and original owner of those bones and that flesh. The two, I believe, are as tied to one another as Mr. Punch is to the doctor. They have an understanding. You have no right to interfere.”

“And, you have no right to question me.” Kasperl spat. “You are nothing but a servant.”

“In this household, I serve His Grace, yes, but....”

“You serve Mr. Punch,” Kasperl interrupted.

“I’ve learned that they are one in the same.” Charles growled. “You say that there’s some deception at hand. However, there is not. We refer to Mr. Punch as we would the Duke because he is of just such a station himself. There’s no deception. It’s respect for his standing. You, however, are new to me, and I can already decide that you are not worthy of my respect.”

“How dare you…”

“You’d do well to spare yourself the upset.” Charles frowned. “Why don’t you just retreat to from wherever you came? No one wants you here.”

“I shall, before finishing my task, first destroy you.”

“No.” Charles smiled defiantly. “Return Mr. Punch to us.”

“I cannot.”

“You can and will.” Charles stepped closer.

“If you come nearer to me,” Kasperl snarled, “I will kill this body. I will kill it. You will see. More than anything else that I can do while here—that is what most appeals to me.”

“I don’t think so.” Charles shook his head.

“You challenge me?” Kasperl laughed.

“No.” Charles sighed. “You’re no challenge.”

Charles, then, raised his fist. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

With that, he struck the Duke’s gentle face with such a strong and swift blow that the man flailed backward—falling to the floor, unconscious.




Did you miss Chapters 1-137? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 139 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.

Painting of the Day: Tombeau de Lipsius. Pyramide. Chefren. 1880-1890

Click on image to enlarge
"Tombeau de Lipsius"
Pierre Henri Theodore Tetar van Elven
1880-1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Painted in Egypt between 1880 and 1890 by the monumentally-named Pierre Henri Theodore Tetar van Elven (1828-1908), this work of watercolor over pencil is accented with white oil paint.

Titled, “Tombeau de Lipsius,” the image actually depicts a scene from Giza of the Pyramid of Khufu. Such a painting would have satisfied the growing desire for exotic images of Egypt which developed from late Nineteenth Century archaeological finds.

Object of the Day: A Trade Card for Eureka Granulated Soap

Click on the image to see a larger picture.

Eureka! 

Soap, that is. 

This brand of granulated soap published a series of trade cards which featured the “Seven Wonders of the World” in 1881. And, here’s one of them. This one depicts the Egyptian Pyramids in a stylized frame-within-a-frame image punctuated by camels and teeny, tiny campers. Printed in the minty greens, turquoise blues, salmon and pinks which were popular in the 188os, this card is just as crisp and attractive as the day it rolled out of the printing house of J.M. Bufford & Sons of Boston and New York.

As archaeologists were continuing to make new and impressive discoveries in Egypt in the later Nineteenth Century, the Egyptian-style was growing in fashionability—considered quite exotic on the shores of America and Europe. So, I’m sure this card was eagerly collected.

The obverse reads:

THE SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD 

Egyptian Pyramids 

ELEGANT SOAP 

EUREKA GRANULATED SOAP 

MADE BY 

TUCKER & BRYANT 

NEW BEDFOD, MASS.

Mastery of Design: The Child & Child Serpent Brooch, c. 1900

Brooch
Child & Child, c. 1900
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Since Queen Victoria’s serpentine engagement ring revived the ancient theme of snakes in jewelry, the idea of incorporating the little slithery beasties into works of precious metals and gems remained quite popular well into the dawn of the Twentieth Century. In fact, there’s been a recent snaky resurgence of late.

Made around 1900, we can see from this brooch that the snake was alive and well as Victoria was about to close her reign. The brooch was made by the firm of Child and Child (marked with two Cs with a sunflower). Brothers Walter Child (1840-1930) and Harold Child (1848-1915) founded their jewelry concern in Seville Street, London, in 1880 and quickly impressed London Society with their artistic designs. Child and Child was popular with such celebrated luminaries as Queen Victoria herself, King Edward VII, King George V, my pal Queen Mary, the late Empress Frederick of Prussia, and the Tsarina of Russia.

Just looking at this handsome brooch of gold, silver, amethyst, enamel and a pearl tells us why the brothers’ works were so popular with the elite of London. It’s truly a masterpiece, and, best of all, it doesn’t bite. 

Gifts of Grandeur: The Berquin Lilacs, 1900

Lilacs
Berquin, circa 1900
Acquired by Queen Mary in 1924
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

The workmaster Berquin created this exquisite sculpture of glass, hardstone, porcelain and gilt metal in 1900. The lovely object features a hardstone and glass branch of lilacs set into a square vase of porcelain.

The vase is adorned with gilt metal mounts which hint at the coming Art Deco style. This was one of the many glorious objects collected by Queen Mary throughout her lifetime. She happened upon this piece in 1924 and added it to the Royal Collection. The curators of the Royal Collection simply and plainly indicate that the sculpture was “acquired” by Queen Mary in 1924, so, I have a feeling this was one of Her Majesty’s many, “I think that would look lovely at Sandringham” moments wherein she shook down some unsuspecting hostess for her bric-a-brac. God love her. 

Today, the piece is still displayed in its original glass case upon its wooden, stepped base.

Figure of the Day: Phyllis and Strephon from Gilbert & Sullivan's "Iolanthe," 1924

Figure Group from "Iolanthe"
Chelsea, 1924
The Victoria & Albert Museum

These hard-paste porcelain figures, painted in enamel colors, depict “Phyllis and Strephon,” characters from Gilbert and Sullivan's comic opera “Iolanthe,” (a name which refers to the color of lilacs) as they were portrayed in 1924 by Sydney Granville (1880-1959) and Winifred Lawson in the famed D'Oyly Carte Company’s production of the show at London's Prince's Theatre.

The costumes for the production, designed by Norman Wilkinson, were inspired by the painted apparel of 18th Century pastoral-themed porcelain figurines. This fact became part of the advertising campaign for the show which touted Miss Lawson as having the beauty of a piece of china.

That advertisement became, in turn, the inspiration for this 1924 figure group which was made by Ethel Sleigh and Phyllis Simpson of the Potters' Guild in Chelsea, England.