Gifts of Grandeur: The Grendon/Lane Fob Watch, 1640-1660

Fob Watch
Henry Grendon, 1640-1660
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection 
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

We know what a watch fob is, but what’s a fob watch? A fob watch—popular in the Seventeenth Century—was a jewel wherein the works of the watch and the face were embedded behind a gemstone. The overall look is that of a watch fob, yet, on closer look, you see that the two are one. To be honest, I’ve only heard of fob watches—they’re like the unicorns of the watch world. But, finally, here’s one we can see! Thanks to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II for the use of these photos of the elusive fob watch from the Royal Collection.

This rock crystal and silver gilt fob watch is fitted with a hinged leather, steel-studded and red velvet lined case. The watch peeks out from behind the facetted rock crystal and shows an elaborately floral engraved watch face. The piece is fitted with fixed suspension ring. This unusual jewel was created between 1640 and 1660.

The piece was presented by King Charles II to Jane Lane in 1651—under rather unusual circumstances. According to the Royal Collection:

"Fleeing after his defeat at the Battle of Worcester in 1651, he [Charles II] lodged for short while near Wolverhampton, with a certain Col. Lane. From there he travelled on horseback to Bristol, with the colonel’s sister, Jane Lane, disguised as his servant and riding pillion behind him. The King gave Jane Lane a watch in recognition of her bravery and resourcefulness, which was most carefully preserved in the Lane family until 1928, when Maj-Gen. Sir John Lane returned it to George V. The watch, which is by Henry Grendon, is in a faceted rock-crystal case, with an outer protective case of leather embellished with silver pinwork. Grendon, a well-known maker of his day with premises in the Royal Exchange, was admitted to the Clockmaker’s Company in 1640, only nine years after it received its royal charter" 

Since the watch was given to King George V, we know that it was well-preserved. No doubt, Queen Mary got her regal hands on it and made sure that this odd bit of watch-making and political history would survive forever.

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Sunday Viewing: East of Eden, 1955

Of the three films in which James Dean starred, 1955’s East of Eden was the only one to be released during his lifetime. He wasn’t even meant to star in the film in the first place. The role of “Cal” was originally offered to Montgomery Clift who, as just one of a series of poor career choices, rejected the offer.

The film is based on the novel of the same name by James Steinbeck, but only loosely—dealing more with the second part of the book than the first. The story, in essence, is an adaptation of the “Cain and Abel” story from the Bible and focuses on the relationships between the “good brother,” Aron, and the “wayward brother,” Cal, their overly religious father and their sinful mother.

Set in central California in 1917, during the First World War, it is the tale of the Trask family who must deal with a changing world, encroaching modernity and the dynamics of their modest farm and their dysfunctional family. Adam Trask (Raymond Massey) rules his sons with a tight grip and is constantly disappointed by Cal (Dean) who he often compares to his brother Aron (the largely forgettable Richard Davalos). Adam also shields his sons from the reality of their mother’s identity, Kate (Jo Van Fleet) who runs a brothel.

As Cal struggles to earn his father’s respect, he only manages to drive the man further away and he must deal with the truths of his life on his own, and later, with the help of his brother’s girlfriend, Abra (Julie Harris).

The film also stars Burl Ives and was written by Paul Osborn with uncredited help from John Steinbeck. Directed by Elia Kazan, the film opened to good reviews and remains in the public memory as a “classic.”

Painting of the Day: “A Garden Scene,” Charles Robert Leslie, 1840

A Garden Scene
Charles Robert Leslie, 1840
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Though of American birth, painter Charles Robert Leslie studied in England and made it his home. There, he quickly gained a reputation as being a painter of immense skill and sensitivity. Leslie excelled at historical scenes, but also had a knack for sentimental subjects of daily life.


An excellent example of the latter is this painting of Leslie’s son, George Donlop Leslie, still in baby clothes, at play in the family garden at their home located at 12 Pine Apple Place, Edgware Road, London. Leslie has painted his boy with his favorite companion, a toy horse and cart. George would, one day, follow in his father’s steps and become a celebrated painter and writer as well.

At the Music Hall: Two Little Girls in Blue, 1893

An old man gazed on a photograph in the locket he'd worn for years,
His nephew then asked him the reason why that picture had caused him tears,
Come, listen he said, I will tell you lad, a story that's strange but true,
Your father and I at the school one day, met two little girls in blue.

REFRAIN [sung after each verse]
Two little girls in blue, lad, two little girls in blue,
They were sisters, we were brothers, and learned to love the two,
And one little girl in blue, lad, who won your father's heart,
Became your mother, I married the other but we have drifted apart.

That picture is one of those girls, he said, and to me she was once a wife,
I thought her unfaithful, we quarelled lad, and parted that night for life,
My fancy of jealousy wronged a heart, a heart that was good and true,
For two better girls never lived that they, those two little girls in blue .


This delightful song has enjoyed an enduring popularity.  With words and music by Charles Graham it was sung with immense success by many artists from the time it was written in 1893 to the present day.  Enjoy this recording of the sentimental waltz…

The Plotting of the Schedule

Ah, last week was a busy mess.  

I still owe you two Treats of the Week (one being Bertie-themed) as well as many chapters of A Recipe for Punch.  

My great hope is that this coming week will be more manageable.  It's my intention to pick up with business as usual.

Let's keep our fingers crossed.  

Happy Fathers' Day

Object of the Day: A Smorgasbord of Victorian Ephemera!

As you know, the majority of the trade cards in my collection have been stripped (not by me) from the Victorian albums which served to protect them since the Nineteenth Century. Most of the others lifted out of the album neatly, sometimes leaving behind a bit of the page on the reverse, still stuck to the unbelievable strength of Victorian glue.

This one, however, it seems, didn’t lift out so well. It not only took a chunk of the album page with it, but also two other cards in their entirety and a fragment of one more. And, I’m glad that it did!

On one side, we have a trade card which boasts a portrait roundel of a grim young miss. Maybe she’s chilly. Her little yellow shrug isn’t covering her very well and someone’s shoved a pansy into her décolletage. Perhaps she’s sour because her hat is too heavy, or maybe the rose still has its thorns or the feather is tickling her. Or…maybe she doesn’t know why she’s on a trade card for lawnmowers.

Behind her, a landscape depicts a horse pulling some sort of Nineteenth Century farm machine called the Deering Binder. Against the frame of dogwoods which sets of the two images, we can see that the card is “Compliments of William Deering & Co. Grain and Grass Cutting Machines, Chicago, U.S.A.”

And, then…

On the other side, we have two other cards. 

The first features a sprig of yellow roses around a moonlit landscape. It says simply:

C.C.C. CERTAIN CHILL CURE,
No Cure! No Pay!! – Sold by 
Munger & Gillespie, Hazen, Ark. 

Well, that seems fair.

But, wait! There’s more!

Next to the Certain Chill Cure, we have a card for J.&P. Coats’s Best Six-Cord Thread. It features the usual depiction of a ruddy-cheeked lass which seemed to be favored by the folks at Coats. This time, she’s wearing an early version of one of Bette Davis’ hats from “Dark Victory.”

It’s a veritable extravaganza of Victorian ephemera! In my best Tim Gunn voice, I’ll say, “Thank you, Glue.”