Mastery of Design: The Meller Brooch, c. 1850

Bodice Ornament
France, 1840-1850
Given by Frederick Meller to
The Victoria & Albert Museum

As mid Nineteenth Century jewelers strove for naturalism in their designs, they created pieces defined by densely-set stones in forms based on the beauty of nature. The next natural step in this fashion was to add movement to jewels which would replicate the motion of a breeze through plants and flowers or the motion of insects.

We’ve talked about tremblers before. These flexible, coiled stalks or springs created a sensation of shimmering nature. As the wearer moved, the jewel would sway and quiver. The overall effect was one of immense glamour and opulence.

While most of these pieces were tremendously expensive diamond creations, jewelers made some with less-costly pastes so that this fashion could be available to a wider range of customers.

This floral spay brooch is a great example of the clever use of pastes. In candlelight or gaslight, these brilliant-cut pastes, set in silver, shimmered almost as much as diamonds, and, with the novelty of motion, these costume pieces were quite convincing. It was made in France around 1840 -1850 and features articulated pendants which would have swayed as the wearer walked. The jewel was to give the impression of flowers bathed in a gentle rain.

Gifts of Grandeur: The Coker Brooch, 1816-1840

Biscuit Porcelain Brooch
George Coker
Derby, 1816-1840
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Made in Derby, this attractive and delicate plaque dates between 1816 and 1840. The floral plaque of biscuit porcelain was made by Derby’s George Coker. Coker has been an apprentice at the Nottingham Road factory in Derby, leaving in 1817 to open his own porcelain business in Friar Gate, Derby. There, he produced porcelain figures and plaques such as this one.

Floral designs of this era were more than just pretty objects, they had meaning and socially-understood symbolism. Lilies of the valley, like the ones here, signified a “return to happiness” while the convolvulus which forms the centerpiece of the plaque represented “the bonds of love.”  Also included in the spray are "Forget-Me-Nots."

The plaque is set in a plain gold slip and, on the reverse, is marked with the symbols of Coker and his wife.

Treat of the Week: Simmering Soup and Sweet Scottish Shortbread

Today begins the annual look at the marvelous cookies my mother makes each Christmas. Having tasted this year’s batch, I can tell you that they’re each a masterpiece. After today, you’ll see a daily “Cookie of the Day” post which will take you on a delicious journey to the holiday.

To visit my mother’s and father’s house this weekend, you’d never have guessed that my mother has been up until midnight every day last week, baking and decorating gorgeous cookies. The house was filled with the enticing aroma of barley soup and we were each treated to a big bowl along with a helping of cool, beautiful salad filled with all manner of delicious things. 

But, after dinner, we saw just how much my mother’s been doing. Dozens of homemade cookies and candy appeared, as if by magic. The amount of work is astounding, and my mother does this every year, much to the appreciation of my father, Bertie and me.

Since we’re going to do a cookie a day, let’s start with the annual shortbread terriers. These delicious Westies and Scotties are one of my favorite parts of every Christmas. Since shortbread is a Scottish creation, it’s only fitting, of course, that these cookies should take the form of Scotland’s most famous dog breeds. Plus, of course, there’s that Bertie connection. 

The Scotties are the finest chocolate shortbread, adorned with white chocolate accents and colorful nonpareils. And, the Westies, as is fitting are buttery shortbread with dark chocolate bows and eyes.

These are dogs that I’m happy to bite. 

Come back tomorrow for another cookie!

Monday Madness: Step into Christmas

I don't think that I need to explain to regular readers why I chose this for today's bit o' fun.  You all know my deep affection for the television shows of the 1950s-1970s, of course, when I'm not watching strange cartoons from the 30s.  

And, look, Shirley Booth's in it!  I applaud the creator of this fun compilation.  Well done!

Enjoy!

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 214

Chapter 214
Authorities 


Mr. Punch cleared his throat and set his face into his “Julian” expression. He didn’t really wish to imitate Julian’s mannerisms and speech at that moment. He was upset to learn that innocent children had been put in harm’s way. Frankly, it’d have been much easier for him to speak in his own voice. Acting like Julian tended to distract Punch because he not only had to think about what he was saying, but how he was saying it. Still, he knew that with Lady Lensdown and Lady Constance both in the room, it was best not to let his Punchinello tendencies come to the surface.

“Lady Constance,” Mr. Punch began, “How are you certain that your daughter has been abducted?”

“I received a letter.”

“Do you have it?” Robert asked.

“No, Dr. Halifax. I did not bring it with me.”

“Why come here instead of going to the authorities?” Mr. Punch asked.

“The letter specifically says that if Scotland Yard is involved, that my Fern will…will not survive.”

Robert and Mr. Punch exchanged glances.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Lady Constance sniffed.

“I do not see how you could,” Mr. Punch shook his head.

“You think I’m cheap and common…”

“It’s not my place to judge anyone.” Mr. Punch replied comfortingly. “I’m sure that Miss Molliner and Dr. Halifax feel the same. We just want to see these children returned safely.”

“How…how…” Lady Lensdown began. She stood at the far corner of the drawing room. She’d not been able to sit since hearing that her children has, as well, been taken. She hadn’t spoken a word, in fact, as if in a trance, as Lennie ushered the two ladies into the drawing room to speak to the Duke and the Doctor. She did not even speak while Lennie explained to the men what she’d just been told. “How do you know that my children…?”

“The letter said that as long as I cooperated, Fern would be well cared for. It said that she was with friends, the two Lensdown children, and that she’d not even know anything was wrong.” Constance explained.

“Dear God!” Gertrude wailed.

“There, there,” Lennie said softly, walking over to the woman. “We shall sort through this.”

“Did the letter tell you to come here?” Robert asked.

“No, I decided that on my own.” Constance shook her head. “I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t reveal to any of mother’s friends that I…” She stopped. “I thought that if anyone would offer assistance without thinking me a horrid woman, it would be the two of you gentlemen.”

“So, His Grace wasn’t mentioned in the letter?” Robert asked.

“No, nor was Colin.” Lady Constance shook her head. “Though, if I were you, I’d see to it that your boy was well guarded.”

“We are.” Punch replied. “And, you’ve no idea as to the identity of this abductor?”

“No.” Lady Constance answered.

“What demands have been made?” Robert asked.

“Only that the father of the children be delivered to Blackheath Park.”

“Blackheath?” Robert squinted. “Why all the way south?”

“I’m sorry.” Gertrude rasped. “Did you say, Connie, that you were asked to deliver the childrens’ father?”

Lady Constance blushed. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Gertrude.”

“The childrens’ father?” Gertrude repeated.

“Yes.” Constance nodded.

“I see.” Gertrude sighed. “I wonder how many others there are.”

Lady Constance shut her eyes and shook her head. Her mind raced with thoughts of the other child—perhaps one of many, but the one other about which she knew. She tried not to imagine how that child—the offspring of a brother and a sister—looked, a child which was called “a monster” by his own mother, Orpha Polk.

Robert noticed lady Constance’s discomfort and began to feel that the woman had been hiding more than the paternity of her daughter.

“Is there anything else we should know?” Robert asked.

Constance took a deep breath and, for a moment, considered telling the doctor and the Duke the entire truth—that she’d been blackmailed by Orpha, that all she wanted was for her daughter to be legitimate, that she feared for the safety of the Duke’s family despite Orpha’s promise to the contrary.

Yet, she couldn’t do it. Orpha had taken Fern. That much was true. Constance couldn’t be sure what the woman would do next, and, she didn’t care to gamble with her child’s safety. No. She would carry out the scheme exactly as Orpha had wished.

“Just that I hope you can help me.” Constance replied simply. “I know I’ve not been as kind to you as I should, Gentlemen. Much of that was mother’s insistence. I’ve hoped that you’ve both always known how I admire you.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Punch nodded. He bit his lip and, then, stood up, walking behind the settee and placing his hands on Robert’s shoulders.

He began, “Lady Lensdown, I do not wish to offend you, but I think it’s fair to say that we all know what a dangerous man your husband is.”

“Yes.” Gertrude whispered.

“These children have been caught up in some argument between the baron and another party. Baron Lensdown is the key. However, I doubt he’d be cooperative in any of this.”

“Even knowing that his own children are involved?” Robert scowled.

“I’m afraid so.” Punch nodded.

“The Duke is right.” Constance nodded.

“I think I know him better,” Gertrude began. “I…I’d like to think that…” She shook her head. “Would that it were not true.”

“We must do something,” Lennie shook her head.

“Oh, we will.” Punch smiled. “However, it may not be according to the abductor’s plans.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-213 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 215.

Drawing of the Day: A Costume from “The Bell Flower Ballet,” 1890

Costume Design from "Dick Whittington"
Wilhelm, 1890
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Charles William Pitcher (1858-1925), under the name “Wilhelm,” was one of the most prolific English costume designers of the late Nineteenth to early Twentieth Centuries. “Wilhelm” began his career at an early age, designing costumes for pantomimes at the Drury Lane Theatre. His innovative designs quickly caught the eye of Britain’s most notable producers, and “Wilhelm” was soon highly in demand. 

This design by Wilhelm shows his idea for the costumes for the twelve “Lilies of the Valley” featured in the “Bell Flower Ballet,” from the pantomime “Dick Whittington.” The panto was performed at the Crystal Palace on Christmas Eve of 1890.

Object of the Day: A Gloriously Gloomy Greetings Card

Click image for larger size.

This week, since Christmas is just seven days away, I thought I’d sift through my collection of Victorian ephemera to find trade or greetings cards made for Christmas. I managed to find several which you’ve not seen before. 

This one could either be a birthday card or a Christmas card. I find it quite attractive, to be honest. But, then, I like the funereal stiffness of some of the odd designs of the 1870s-1880s. Meant to be dignified and elegant, the card features a black ground adorned with Forget-Me-Nots and lilies of the valley. Combine that with the gothic type face, and the overall effect is more morbid than merry, but that’s part of its appeal. 

The message reads: 

On this day, 

Dear to all who love thee, 

May the gifts we pray 

Rain from heav’n above thee. 

I’ve wondered if this was meant as some sort of memorial or anniversary of some time in the life of a lost loved one. But, the implication that heaven is above “thee,” doesn’t auger well for that. So, I’ve concluded that it’s just a somewhat gloomy message of affection. Slightly dreary though it may be, the chromolithograph is quite handsome and whoever drew the flowers did a very fine job. The best part is the stunning contrast of the colors—still brilliant after all these decades. 

So, whether this was a Christmas wish or a birthday greeting, now, it’s a reminder to all of us that beauty is everlasting.