Mastery of Design: The Owl and Monkey Bonbonniere/Patch-box, c. 1749

The British Museum

Perhaps this was a patch-box (a container meant to held the black paper "beauty marks" which ladies and fops alike glued to their faces to cover blemishes and...syphilis) or perhaps it was made as a bonbonniére (a candy container).   In any event, this lovely work of soft-paste porcelain is molded in the form of an owl's head with yellow and brown enamel for the feathers, and pink, gray and orange for the beak.  The black enamel eyes are set with diamonds.  

Meanwhile, the rim is painted with green leaves and the interior of the box is painted with two pink flower sprays, a leaf and two cherries.  The interior of the cover is mounted in gold and tortoise-shell and the reverse us set with a gold plaque chased with a relief scene of a plum-eating monkey in a landscape.

This was produced at the "Girl-in-a-Swing Factory" between 1749 and 1754.  It was donated to The British Museum by Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks.

The British Museum

Treat of the Week: Panini and Plums, Carrots and Cassis and Leaks and Ladles

This weekend, Bertie and I enjoyed a particularly comforting treat, thanks to my mother's cooking and my father's kindness in driving us to their house.  We began our quiet Sunday with a delicious meal of my mother's homemade potato-leak soup (topped with freshly grated cheddar and jack cheese and sour cream); panini of rosemary ham monterrey jack, cheddar and thinly sliced pear on dark rye bread; and a cooling salad of julienned carrots, raisins and match-sticked cucumbers.  Yum!

For dessert, we feasted on a rustic tart of plums which gleamed like cabochon amethysts.  Isn't it lovely? As good as it looks, it tastes even better. I love these rustic tarts with their delicate, rolled crusts. I adore the uneven way that they cover the filling. Here, my mother has dusted the crust with cinnamon and sugar—giving it a spicy sweetness and a delicious texture which complements the buttery crust and tender plums perfectly.

The plums have been carefully sliced and arranged in alternating rows—leaving the skins on, a technique which makes them all the more gem-like. The flavors of the meat of the fruit and the skin blend perfectly, combined with the other ingredients, to create a beautiful symphony of taste.  Glazed with currant jam, the whole tart shimmers.

My mother served this rustic tart with fresh, stiffly whipped cream into which she infused some creme de cassis—giving it a subtle berry taste. In fact, you could say, it was plum perfect.

Print of the Day: The Owl Quadrille, 1850

The British Museum

From the British Museum, we have the music-cover sheet from "The Owl Quadrille" by Charles Coote.  This handsome chromolithograph features a group of owls nestled into an ivy bush.  One wears a wig, others wear hats and glasses or a crown.  

The sheet music was published in London, circa 1850, by M. Davison and the printmaker was Britain's Thomas Wales Lee.

The music is inscribed:

"Tom Lee lith,"

and above,

"Composed expressly for & played at Mr Alfred Mellon's concerts."

Sculpture of the Day: The Girl-in-a-Swing, 1749

The Victoria & Albert Museum

A lovely young lady on a swing is rendered here in soft-paste porcelain. The figure was meant to be displayed on a mantelpiece or sideboard or in a cabinet as the figure faces forward, and the reverse of the piece is not as well-finished.

This is a part of the so-called “Girl-in-a-Swing” group of porcelain figures, scent bottles and other decorative arts which were named after this figure. The group has been highly collectible since the 1920s. Until 1993, the maker of the group was not clearly identified.

At first, the “Girl-in-a-Swing” series was attributed to the Chelsea factory of Nicholas Sprimont (1716-1771). Collectors of porcelain then suggested that they were probably made at a rival factory which had been founded by the Staffordshire workmen who had left Sprimont's works.

However, recent findings have shown that these figures were made by Charles Gouyn (died 1785), a second-generation jeweler with premises in St James's, London. Gouyn had been a partner in the Chelsea factory until 1749. More than that is unknown. The location of Goyn’s factory and the modeler of these figures remains a mystery.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 369

Chapter 369
Flower Girl


"Fern, why would you think that those roses aren't for you?"  Robert asked.

"Because...I..."  She frowned.  "No one likes me."

"That's not true."  Punch shook his head.   "Coo!  Maybe we don't like some of the things what you done, but we like you.  Otherwise, you'd not be here, you wouldn't."

"But, when Miss Rittenhouse got me, I...I waited so long."

"We didn't know how to get you out of that house, Fern."  Robert explained.  "We didn't want to just rush in and put you in further danger."

"Do ya understand?"  Punch asked.

"I think so."  Fern nodded.  "Well..."  She paused.  "Thank you for the flowers.  When do I leave for school?"

"After you've had a chance to rest and feel stronger."  Robert answered.

"You can stay here for a bit.  We ain't sendin' you to school as punishment, we're doin' it because it's what a girl your age should be doin'.  We're startin' anew, we are.  Provided you don't do anythin'...like what you done before...we can all get on just fine."

"Is that so?"  Fern asked.

"It is,"  Punch continued.  "It's up to you."

Fern nodded.  

"Miss Fern,"  Ethel spoke up.  "I thought tomorrow, maybe, you might help me in here with gettin' Master Colin's things in order.  I asked His Grace and His Lordship and they said they approved."

"Oh?"  Fern's eyes widened.

"Provided that you remember that Ethel is the authority in Gamilla's absence and that Colin is treated gently and with affection."  Robert responded.

"Oh, yes, Uncle Robert."  Fern answered.  "Could we start today?"

"Not today?"  Gamilla shook her head.  "Ethel will be at my wedding.  So will Colin."

"Oh."  Fern sighed.

"As will you."  Gamilla continued.

"I?"

"Of course, chil'."  Gamilla smiled.

"You want me to come to your wedding?"

"Why do ya think I left those roses for ya?"  Gamilla asked.  "I thought they'd look fine pinned to your lilac dress."

"But...you don't want me.   Not after what I did to you.  Not after I ruined your gown and..."

"That's all done with, Miss Fern.  I got a new gown and it's even made, in part, with the silk my dear friend done give me.  So, ain't too much harm done.  Besides, the whole household's gotta be there.  Ain't good to have any part of the family not present.  Bad enough we gotta leave Mr. Speaight behind to look after the hired folk who're bringing the food and flowers and such for the breakfast and reception.  I'd hate to think you wouldn't be there, too."  Gamilla smiled.

"Does Mr. Gurney know this?"  Fern asked.  "He doesn't like me."

"He does know.  And, he wants ya there.  He said so."  Gamilla replied.  "Now, you better go and get yourself dressed!  Vi said when she finished with my hair and Miss Lennie's she'd come in and help ya put yours up.  We even got a little wreath of blooms for ya to wear in your hair."

"You do?"  Fern's hands began to shake.

"If you want it."  Gamilla answered.

"Oh, I do!"  Fern exclaimed.

"Come with us, Fern."  Robert smiled.  "Uncle Punch and I will tell you what you'll be doing at the wedding."

"Doing?"

"Yes, Gamilla thought you might like to walk ahead of the bridal party and toss rose petals on the aisle."

"I?"  Fern gasped.  "I couldn't."

"I think you could."  Punch nodded.  "Now, come on, let's go get your dress and we can talk 'bout it."

"Yes."  Fern nodded.

She turned and looked at Gamilla.  "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Miss Fern."  Gamilla grinned.

"Gamilla, we must finish dressing you."  Lennie spoke up.  "We don't have the luxury of time which we thought we'd have."

"Yes, Your Ladyship."  Gamilla grinned.

As Fern followed Punch and Robert out of the nursery, Fern smiled.  Punch thought, perhaps, it was the first time he'd seen her do that out of actual happiness.

"Are you glad to be home?"  Punch asked.

"Oh, yes, Sir, I am."  Fern answered honestly.



Did you miss Chapters 1-368 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 370.

Precious Time: The Cartier Owl Clock, c. 1932

Desk Clock
Cartier, c. 1932
Presented to Queen Mary
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Lapis lazuli, nephrite, mother-of-pearl, enamel, gold, diamonds and sapphires comprise this gorgeous desk clock, a gift from Sir Philip Sassoon to Queen Mary, consort of King George V, on the occasion of Her Majesty's birthday on May 26, 1932.  

Made by Cartier, this ball-shaped clock boasts a flattened mother-of-pearl face (with gold hands) set upon a case of lapis lazuli.  The gold frame around the clock face is adorned with groups of two sapphires on either side of diamonds.  The ball-shaped case sits upon a base formed by three geometricized nephrite owls with sapphire eyes and a triangular lapis plinth with a mother-of-pearl star and silver base.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: The Hamilton Palace Screen, 1670-1700

Japanese Eight-Panel Screen, 1670-1700
This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

I call dibs on this in case the V&A ever wants to unload it. This six-paneled screen is adorned with a landscape design featuring buildings, figures, trees, birds and monkeys. The figures depicted are: men fishing at a river; a man walking with a stick; a man carrying a bag on a stick and women in brightly colored clothing sitting by a river. The scene comes alive with gold houses on hills, trees with shining monkeys nestled in the branches, a wise owl in a tree, birds in flight, and flowers with their glistening petals inlaid with gleaming shell. The images all glimmer in gold, silver and red on a dark lacquer ground in the fashionable technique of japanning. Each panel is attached to the next with metal foil and stud hinges.

This decorative screen, used for privacy or to divide a portion of a room (or simply to look pretty) was made in Japan between 1670 and 1700. It is believed that the screen may have come from the collection of Hamilton Palace. This important collection included many pieces previously owned by William Beckford (1760-1844) including the Van Diemen box and the Mazarin Chest.