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| " You know--this stuff comes in bottles now." |
Image: Waterfall at St Nighton's Kieve, near Tintagel, 1842, Daniel Maclise, born 1806 - died 1870, The Victoria & Albert Museum.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Gratuitous Bertie Dog Picture: Bertie at St. Nighton's Kieve
Image: Waterfall at St Nighton's Kieve, near Tintagel, 1842, Daniel Maclise, born 1806 - died 1870, The Victoria & Albert Museum.
Painting of the Day: Study of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in Costumes of the Time of Charles II, 1851
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| Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in Fancy Dress Franz Zaver Winterhalter, 1851 Crown Copyright The Royal Collection Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II |
From the Royal Collection, this 1853 oil sketch by Queen Victoria’s preferred portraitist Franz Xaver Winterhalter (1805-73) depicts Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in fancy dress. Their Majesties attended a costume ball with the theme of “The Time of Charles II.”
Prince Albert insisted that his costume be made entirely of British materials to show his support of textile trade. The Queen’s costume was designed by the celebrated French artist Eugène Lami. In her journal, after the ball, on July 13, 1851, Queen Victoria wrote:
... My costume was of grey moiré antique, ornamented with gold lace, - a very long waist & sleeves trimmed with old lace. The petticoat showing under the dress which was all open in front, was of rich gold and silver brocade (Indian manufacture) richly trimmed with silver lace... In my hair I wore an arrangement of pearls. The shoes and gloves were embroidered to match the dress.
Figure of the Day: Robert Loraine, 1921
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| Wax and Plaster Figure of Robert Loraine Agatha Walker, 1921 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
Made in 1921 by Agatha Walker, this plaster figure is covered in wax and is one of several which the artist made of London stage actors and actresses in character. This piece depicts Robert Loraine (1876-1935)—a successful stage actor with 30 years experience as well as a renowned aviator who made famously executed the first flight across the Irish Sea in 1910. This wax figure shows Loraine as “Mirabell” in the drama, “The Way of the World.”
Sculptor Agatha Walker sought to revive the very-English Nineteenth Century tradition of creating ceramic and porcelain figurines of celebrities. Walker always modeled from life in plaster and, then, coated the figure with a fine layer of wax which was then colored. In 1931 Agatha Walker's wax figures were exhibited at the Fine Art Society.
Gifts of Grandeur: The Dame Joan Evans Shoe Buckles, 1770
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| Silver Shoe Buckles Set with Pastes Circa 1770 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
Dame Joan Evans didn’t just collect necklaces, earrings, tiaras and bracelets. Oh, no… She collected some shoe buckles as well. From Dam Joan’s collection, we have these shoe buckles of blue and white pastes set in silver. The rounded buckles are decorated with a ribbon of white pastes which is interrupted by larger pastes.
Gold or silver shoe buckles were in fashion during the bulk of the Eighteenth Century (falling out of vogue by the 1790s), adding a bit of an elegant touch to the bottommost part of an outfit. These glittering buckles were worn by men and women alike. Pastes were usually use in place of real gems on shoe buckles for the obvious reasons.
Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 79
Chapter 79:
Homesick
Gerard looked up from polishing a pair of Dr. Halifax’s boots. A low hum of conversation filled the servants’ hall at Grange Molliner. Licking his lips, Gerard squinted into the dimly-lit room. The Grange’s maids were seated around the dining table, working on mending and gossiping about their friends from the nearby estates. Mrs. North sat in the corner of the room, a book clasped on her lap, her head tilted back as she snored softly.
He sighed, missing the intimate evenings at No. 65 Belgrave Square when Mr. Speaight would read to the staff from Mr. Dickens’ works as Mrs. Pepper brought the tray of butter biscuits and hot chocolate. Those were comfortable evenings. Sure, Ethel and Jenny would giggle and tease one another until Mr. Speaight scolded them. Vi would frown judgmentally from her sewing. Hutchinson would wander in and grumble about the chill in the air. But, they felt like a family—Gerry seated, shoulder-to-shoulder with Charles, listening to Mr. Speaight’s impressive reading voice and stealing glances at Gamilla who would be embroidering some little thing for Colin.
But, that night—their first at the Grange, Speaight had gone to bed early and Mrs. Pepper had taken to her room after another quibble with the Grange’s cook—Mrs. Gall. Gamilla was upstairs with Colin since Miss Barrett had taken ill. And, Charles was in the pantry, pressing the Duke’s collars.
Seated there by the fire—alone—Gerard couldn’t help but feel homesick. He grinned slightly for a moment, considering the fact for the first time in his life he had a home to miss. Sighing again, Gerard turned back to the boots, trying to focus on each stroke of polish. He didn’t notice Finlay approaching until the man was right next to him.
“There, lad, I think that’s polished enough.” Finlay smiled.
Gerard looked up. Finlay grinned at him—his face half-lit by the flickering fire, bathing his attractive features in an amber light. He held two beakers. Gerard’s stomach rumbled at the thought of hot chocolate, a comforting thought.
Finlay extended one of the beakers. “I brought this for ya.”
Happily, Gerard took the beaker and smiled, raising it to his lips. But, then, he paused when the aroma of whiskey tickled his nose.
“Oh.” Gerard sniffed.
Finlay sat down next to Gerard.
“What’s the matter, lad?” He winked.
“I…” Gerard shook his head. “Thank you, but I…”
“Come now, man.” Finlay laughed. “It’ll warm ya.”
“Nah.” Gerard smiled politely. “But, thanks.”
“Ah—now, a rugged fella like you. Can’t handle a little nip?”
“That’s just it.” Gerard blushed. “I like a nip, but not just a little one. It’s best if I don’t.”
“Well, then.” Finlay shrugged. “More for me.” He took the beaker and poured the contents of it into his own. “You a rummy, then?”
“Dunno.” Gerard shook his head. “Just best if I don’t.”
“You just looked a little lonely, lad.” Finlay smiled, sinking into his chair. “Missin’ your girl?”
“Maybe.” Gerard smiled slightly.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a girl like her.”
“What do ya mean?” Gerard squinted.
“You know.” Finlay responded. “An African.”
“She’s no different than any of them girls over there.” Gerard replied, nodding at the gathering of maids around the table.
“Didn’t say she was.” Finlay replied.
Gerard nodded.
“So…” Finlay grinned. “Have you two…”
“Come on, Finlay.” Gerard scowled.
“Sorry…sorry.” Finlay chuckled. “Just curious, lad. Ain’t like there’s any love for ol’ Finlay here. I gotta take my joy from others.”
“So you got no one?” Gerard asked.
“Nah.” Finlay shrugged. “Maybe if there’s a valet or somethin’ who comes with some Duke or Baron to one o’ them estates up a ways. But, nothin’ regular.” He paused. “Gotta say, ain’t never talked ‘bout it with another man like you. Folk think I’m sick most of the time—least, ‘round here. Guess it’s different in London. No one seems to bother about the Duke and that handsome doctor.”
“Not as I know.” Gerard replied thoughtfully. “The masters keep to themselves. They’re…” He squinted, trying to find the words. “Dunno. They belong to each other, you know. Don’t think it matters to ‘em what folks think.”
“Not even Her Majesty?”
“Don’t think Her Majesty cares. His Grace and Dr. Halifax—they go to the Palace all the time, they do. Takin’ meals and such with Their Majesties. No one seems to mind.” Gerard grinned, taking great pride in the fact that his masters were friends with the Crown. “Her Majesty even asked special for Dr. Halifax when Prince Leopold was born.”
“Ach, well, then. Good for them.” Finlay nodded, taking another swig of whiskey.
“It is.” Gerard smiled.
“Where’s your mate, then?” Finlay asked.
“Charlie’s in the pantry—doin’ His Grace’s collars.”
“Ah. Mrs. North don’t like to see pressin’ in the servants’ hall. She’ll let the girls do their mendin’, but she don’t think it’s right for a gentleman’s things to be out in the hall. She’s always been like that.”
“You been here a long time, then?” Gerard asked.
“All me life.” Finlay nodded. “Born here. Me pa’s the Grounds-man.”
“Your ma?”
“Dead.” Finlay sighed. “She was the cook before Mrs. Gall. Me whole family worked here. My auntie was the Upper House Maid.”
“She still here?”
“No.” Finlay replied. “She was married…” He wrinkled his nose. “She’s gone now. ‘Cept for Pa, I’m alone. Just like you seemed to be just now.”
“I was just missin’ Belgrave Square.”
“And your girl…” Finlay winked. “And, your mate, Charles. You two seem to be thick.”
“We are.” Gerard nodded. “Wasn’t always that way. We didn’t get on when we first met.”
“Why’s that?”
“Charlie’d been in service a long time. When the Duke took me on as Dr. Halifax’s valet, I hadn’t served a gentleman before.”
“Oh? What’d you do?”
“Different things,” Gerard replied uncomfortably.
“Right.” Finlay smiled. “So, you ain’t been with the masters long?”
“’Bout a year—more or less.”
“What of Charles?”
“Same.”
“Thought you two’d been with them a long while. The masters seem to like you both so much.”
“They’re good gents.”
“The Duke’s a little…” Finlay began.
“Careful, mate.” Gerard warned.
“What?” Finlay laughed. “I’m just sayin’ that the Duke’s a little…peculiar. Saw him earlier talkin’ to a doll.”
“Weren’t a doll.” Gerard snorted. “It were a puppet.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Dunno.” Gerard snapped. “But, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with the Duke. He’s a good man.”
“Guess he can afford to be a little different.” Finlay shrugged. “Who’s gonna tell the Duke of Fallbridge how he can act?”
“He’s a good man.” Gerard repeated.
“Ain’t sayin’ he’s not.” Finlay grinned. “Must be a good man—takin’ in his sister’s bastard and raisin’ him as his own.”
“We don’t think of Colin as anything other than His Grace’s son.”
“Sure, sure.” Finlay nodded. “He’s a good boy. Your girl loves him, I can see that. Too bad the governess took ill or maybe your Gamilla could be down here with you.”
Gerard sighed.
“Seems like a sharp one, that Governess.”
“She is.” Gerard nodded.
“Your Charles don’t like her.”
“No.”
“What’s the story there…” Finlay began.
“Listen, mate.” Gerard interrupted. “I want us to be friends. I think you’re a decent bloke. You got a head on your shoulders. And, you’re quick with a joke. But, I don’t wanna talk ‘bout other folk. I can talk ‘bout me-self and you and I can talk ‘bout our own lives, but let’s not get to gossipin’ ‘bout the others, then.”
“I respect that.” Finlay nodded, taking another swig from the beaker. “It’s just that it gets dull here, lad.”
“I understand.” Gerard yawned.
“Sleepy, then?” Finlay smiled.
“I am.”
“You and Charles got a good room. Right next to mine.” Finlay smiled.
Gerard nodded.
“If you lads wanna talk durin’ the night, just knock on my door.”
“Right.” Gerard replied.
“Well, I’d best be off.” Finlay set his beaker down on the table between them. He stood up. “Early mornin’ tomorrow. Thanks for the chat then.”
“Sure.” Gerard smiled.
“If you get lonely, you know where to find me.” Finlay nodded.
“’Night.” Gerard replied.
With that, Finlay walked off in the direction of the service stairs.
The firelight reflected off of the sides of the beaker on the table, illuminating the picture of Queen Victoria which had been fired into the glaze.
Gerard could smell the remaining whiskey.
He stared at the beaker for a few minutes.
Taking a deep breath, Gerard gathered his brushes and rags into his kit, picked it up in one hand and the doctor’s boots in the other, and, taking one last glance at the beaker, quietly walked through the servants’ hall to retire for the night.
Did you miss Chapters 1-78? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 80 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
Gerard looked up from polishing a pair of Dr. Halifax’s boots. A low hum of conversation filled the servants’ hall at Grange Molliner. Licking his lips, Gerard squinted into the dimly-lit room. The Grange’s maids were seated around the dining table, working on mending and gossiping about their friends from the nearby estates. Mrs. North sat in the corner of the room, a book clasped on her lap, her head tilted back as she snored softly.
He sighed, missing the intimate evenings at No. 65 Belgrave Square when Mr. Speaight would read to the staff from Mr. Dickens’ works as Mrs. Pepper brought the tray of butter biscuits and hot chocolate. Those were comfortable evenings. Sure, Ethel and Jenny would giggle and tease one another until Mr. Speaight scolded them. Vi would frown judgmentally from her sewing. Hutchinson would wander in and grumble about the chill in the air. But, they felt like a family—Gerry seated, shoulder-to-shoulder with Charles, listening to Mr. Speaight’s impressive reading voice and stealing glances at Gamilla who would be embroidering some little thing for Colin.
But, that night—their first at the Grange, Speaight had gone to bed early and Mrs. Pepper had taken to her room after another quibble with the Grange’s cook—Mrs. Gall. Gamilla was upstairs with Colin since Miss Barrett had taken ill. And, Charles was in the pantry, pressing the Duke’s collars.
Seated there by the fire—alone—Gerard couldn’t help but feel homesick. He grinned slightly for a moment, considering the fact for the first time in his life he had a home to miss. Sighing again, Gerard turned back to the boots, trying to focus on each stroke of polish. He didn’t notice Finlay approaching until the man was right next to him.
“There, lad, I think that’s polished enough.” Finlay smiled.
Gerard looked up. Finlay grinned at him—his face half-lit by the flickering fire, bathing his attractive features in an amber light. He held two beakers. Gerard’s stomach rumbled at the thought of hot chocolate, a comforting thought.
Finlay extended one of the beakers. “I brought this for ya.”
Happily, Gerard took the beaker and smiled, raising it to his lips. But, then, he paused when the aroma of whiskey tickled his nose.
“Oh.” Gerard sniffed.
Finlay sat down next to Gerard.
“What’s the matter, lad?” He winked.
“I…” Gerard shook his head. “Thank you, but I…”
“Come now, man.” Finlay laughed. “It’ll warm ya.”
“Nah.” Gerard smiled politely. “But, thanks.”
“Ah—now, a rugged fella like you. Can’t handle a little nip?”
“That’s just it.” Gerard blushed. “I like a nip, but not just a little one. It’s best if I don’t.”
“Well, then.” Finlay shrugged. “More for me.” He took the beaker and poured the contents of it into his own. “You a rummy, then?”
“Dunno.” Gerard shook his head. “Just best if I don’t.”
“You just looked a little lonely, lad.” Finlay smiled, sinking into his chair. “Missin’ your girl?”
“Maybe.” Gerard smiled slightly.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a girl like her.”
“What do ya mean?” Gerard squinted.
“You know.” Finlay responded. “An African.”
“She’s no different than any of them girls over there.” Gerard replied, nodding at the gathering of maids around the table.
“Didn’t say she was.” Finlay replied.
Gerard nodded.
“So…” Finlay grinned. “Have you two…”
“Come on, Finlay.” Gerard scowled.
“Sorry…sorry.” Finlay chuckled. “Just curious, lad. Ain’t like there’s any love for ol’ Finlay here. I gotta take my joy from others.”
“So you got no one?” Gerard asked.
“Nah.” Finlay shrugged. “Maybe if there’s a valet or somethin’ who comes with some Duke or Baron to one o’ them estates up a ways. But, nothin’ regular.” He paused. “Gotta say, ain’t never talked ‘bout it with another man like you. Folk think I’m sick most of the time—least, ‘round here. Guess it’s different in London. No one seems to bother about the Duke and that handsome doctor.”
“Not as I know.” Gerard replied thoughtfully. “The masters keep to themselves. They’re…” He squinted, trying to find the words. “Dunno. They belong to each other, you know. Don’t think it matters to ‘em what folks think.”
“Not even Her Majesty?”
“Don’t think Her Majesty cares. His Grace and Dr. Halifax—they go to the Palace all the time, they do. Takin’ meals and such with Their Majesties. No one seems to mind.” Gerard grinned, taking great pride in the fact that his masters were friends with the Crown. “Her Majesty even asked special for Dr. Halifax when Prince Leopold was born.”
“Ach, well, then. Good for them.” Finlay nodded, taking another swig of whiskey.
“It is.” Gerard smiled.
“Where’s your mate, then?” Finlay asked.
“Charlie’s in the pantry—doin’ His Grace’s collars.”
“Ah. Mrs. North don’t like to see pressin’ in the servants’ hall. She’ll let the girls do their mendin’, but she don’t think it’s right for a gentleman’s things to be out in the hall. She’s always been like that.”
“You been here a long time, then?” Gerard asked.
“All me life.” Finlay nodded. “Born here. Me pa’s the Grounds-man.”
“Your ma?”
“Dead.” Finlay sighed. “She was the cook before Mrs. Gall. Me whole family worked here. My auntie was the Upper House Maid.”
“She still here?”
“No.” Finlay replied. “She was married…” He wrinkled his nose. “She’s gone now. ‘Cept for Pa, I’m alone. Just like you seemed to be just now.”
“I was just missin’ Belgrave Square.”
“And your girl…” Finlay winked. “And, your mate, Charles. You two seem to be thick.”
“We are.” Gerard nodded. “Wasn’t always that way. We didn’t get on when we first met.”
“Why’s that?”
“Charlie’d been in service a long time. When the Duke took me on as Dr. Halifax’s valet, I hadn’t served a gentleman before.”
“Oh? What’d you do?”
“Different things,” Gerard replied uncomfortably.
“Right.” Finlay smiled. “So, you ain’t been with the masters long?”
“’Bout a year—more or less.”
“What of Charles?”
“Same.”
“Thought you two’d been with them a long while. The masters seem to like you both so much.”
“They’re good gents.”
“The Duke’s a little…” Finlay began.
“Careful, mate.” Gerard warned.
“What?” Finlay laughed. “I’m just sayin’ that the Duke’s a little…peculiar. Saw him earlier talkin’ to a doll.”
“Weren’t a doll.” Gerard snorted. “It were a puppet.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Dunno.” Gerard snapped. “But, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with the Duke. He’s a good man.”
“Guess he can afford to be a little different.” Finlay shrugged. “Who’s gonna tell the Duke of Fallbridge how he can act?”
“He’s a good man.” Gerard repeated.
“Ain’t sayin’ he’s not.” Finlay grinned. “Must be a good man—takin’ in his sister’s bastard and raisin’ him as his own.”
“We don’t think of Colin as anything other than His Grace’s son.”
“Sure, sure.” Finlay nodded. “He’s a good boy. Your girl loves him, I can see that. Too bad the governess took ill or maybe your Gamilla could be down here with you.”
Gerard sighed.
“Seems like a sharp one, that Governess.”
“She is.” Gerard nodded.
“Your Charles don’t like her.”
“No.”
“What’s the story there…” Finlay began.
“Listen, mate.” Gerard interrupted. “I want us to be friends. I think you’re a decent bloke. You got a head on your shoulders. And, you’re quick with a joke. But, I don’t wanna talk ‘bout other folk. I can talk ‘bout me-self and you and I can talk ‘bout our own lives, but let’s not get to gossipin’ ‘bout the others, then.”
“I respect that.” Finlay nodded, taking another swig from the beaker. “It’s just that it gets dull here, lad.”
“I understand.” Gerard yawned.
“Sleepy, then?” Finlay smiled.
“I am.”
“You and Charles got a good room. Right next to mine.” Finlay smiled.
Gerard nodded.
“If you lads wanna talk durin’ the night, just knock on my door.”
“Right.” Gerard replied.
“Well, I’d best be off.” Finlay set his beaker down on the table between them. He stood up. “Early mornin’ tomorrow. Thanks for the chat then.”
“Sure.” Gerard smiled.
“If you get lonely, you know where to find me.” Finlay nodded.
“’Night.” Gerard replied.
With that, Finlay walked off in the direction of the service stairs.
The firelight reflected off of the sides of the beaker on the table, illuminating the picture of Queen Victoria which had been fired into the glaze.
Gerard could smell the remaining whiskey.
He stared at the beaker for a few minutes.
Taking a deep breath, Gerard gathered his brushes and rags into his kit, picked it up in one hand and the doctor’s boots in the other, and, taking one last glance at the beaker, quietly walked through the servants’ hall to retire for the night.
Did you miss Chapters 1-78? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 80 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
History's Runway: A Pair of Red Oxford Shoes, 1925
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| Oxford Shoes Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd., 1925 Shown at the London International Shoe Fair The Victoria & Albert Museum |
In the 1920’s, the footwear fashion for men was to wear “Oxford” lace-up shoes—essentially a “closed tab shoe.” They were so-called because the eyelet tabs (these are the sections of leather with holes for the laces) were stitched under the front section of the shoe (known as the vamp) as opposed to be stitched on top.
Oxfords, typically, were black or brown leather, intended for everyday wear. At the time, especially in Britain, men of taste followed strict rules of “appropriate” dress. Brown shoes worn with a dinner suit were considered inappropriate. And, any display of vivid color footwear was thought to be vulgar.
And, then, there are these shoes of bright red leather adorned with gold swirls. Clearly, these were not made for actual wear. No, these shoes were made to be displayed in order to showcase the maker’s skills. They were displayed at the London International Shoe Fair in 1925. Joining them were a black and gold pair and a thoroughly blinding, marbled blue leather creation.
Made by the Coxton Shoe Co., Ltd. of Rushden (Northamptonshire), England, the shoes were made specifically to catch the eye of American buyers. While a British man would never have dared to wear bright red shoes, American men had more freedom. Though this particular pair would have seemed vulgar, even my American standards, the workmanship demonstrated that the Coxton concern was able to produce more exciting designs than other makers. and may have been aimed at the American market which was open to more exotic designs.
The shoes feature gold leather decoration, a rounded-pointed toe, six eyelets, and gold laces. Red stitching on gold decorative strips gives interest to the backstrap, toe-cap, facing, vamp and quarters. They boast a stacked heel and a brown leather sole with a scrolling pattern along the edges and a green stripe between two red wheeled stripes.
Object of the Day: A Trade Card for Boots and Shoes, 1882
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| Click Image to Enlarge |
Here’s another trade card in the genre of a monochromatic print on a metallic ink background. These Victorian cards—available from a catalog to be printed with customized copy—seem to all feature children, especially boys, engaged in sporting activities, usually in mid-action and, most often, about to injure themselves in some manner.
Here, we have a scene of a lad who is, I guess, playing cricket. I don’t know sports. It’s some game with a big, flat bat. I suspect that’s cricket. Nevertheless, he’s in the process of catching a ball—I think—while trying to avoid being impaled by a series of long sticks. Is that how cricket works? Doesn’t seem fun to me. A crowd watches as the startled boy is about to be struck by the ball which he was attempting to catch. It’s going to hit him in the stomach, likely to cause internal bleeding which would not be reparable by Ayer’s Pills or Scott’s Emulsion. If he doesn’t catch the ball, his innards will be turned to casserole and his liver crushed. If he does, he’ll lose focus and be gored by the number of batons into which he seems to have stumbled. Either way, he’s going to fall into a mud puddle. His life is over. Sports are horrible.
Or, not. I don’t know.
The card is copyrighted. It reads awkwardly, “1882. Copyright 1881 by Geo. M. Hayes.” The title of the scene is inscribed as “Bowled Out.” I bet that means something.
The top of the card, on the silver ink is printed with the following:
Compliments of W. H. DOWNS
--DEALER IN--
BOOTS AND SHOES
214 Genesee Avenue
EAST SAGINAW, - MICH.
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