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| The Caroline of Naples Tiara Italy, 1808 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
The suite consists of a matching necklace, earrings and comb in addition to the magnificent tiara.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Gifts of Grandeur: The Caroline of Naples Tiara, 1808
The suite consists of a matching necklace, earrings and comb in addition to the magnificent tiara.
Her Majesty’s Furniture: A Magnificent Jewel Casket, 1750
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| Crown Copyright The Royal Collection Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II Click image for larger size. |
Jewel Casket
Florence
1720
The Royal Collection
Florence
1720
The Royal Collection
Made in 1720 in the Grand Ducal Workshops of Florence by Giovanni Battista Foggini, this amazing jewel casket of Ebony, rosewood, hardstones, and gilt bronze came to the Royal Collection through unknown circumstances, possibly as early as the late Eighteenth Century, but probably via Queen Mary. With its intricate mosaic and ornate ormolu, this casket was the epitome of Florentine style.
Though assigned a practical use (holding jewels), the casket is now as valuable as the objects it once held.
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| Crown Copyright The Royal Collection Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II Click image for larger size. |
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| Crown Copyright The Royal Collection Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II Click image for larger size. |
The carved gilt wood stand with cabriole legs terminating in lions' paw feet is joined near the bottom by an X-shaped stretcher with a pine-cone finial with rocaille motifs. It is original to the piece.
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| Crown Copyright The Royal Collection Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II Click image for larger size. |
Sculpture of the Day: Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici, pre-1475
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| The Victoria & Albert Museum |
This rather imposing gentleman, when studied against painted and medallic portraits, has been identified as Cardinal Giovanni de' Medici (1475-1521) who was elected pope in 1513--taking the name of Leo X.
Since he wears a biretta—a cardinal’s cap—clearly, this bust was made before he was elected to the papacy. The modeling of the bust suggests that it was meant to be seen from below. When viewed face-on, his stance is awkward with his head projected peculiarly onto the chest. Furthermore, it is only painted on the front. So, it’s a safe bet this was made to be placed in a high niche or in a pediment above a door.
The pope’s right shoulder is severely damaged and his nose is quite chipped, but this is not unusual for a terracotta sculpture made in the Fifteenth Century. This sculpture is possibly the work of the Florentine Antonio de'Benintendi and may have been commissioned by Giovanni de' Medici prior to the exile of the Medici family from Florence in 1494, and certainly before the 1475 election to the Papacy. It has been postulated that the bust was molded from a casting taken directly from the cardinal’s face.
Painting of the Day: Portrait of a Lady known as Smeralda Bandinelli, 1470-1480
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| Smeralda Bandinelli Sandro Botticelli, 1470-1480 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
Sandro Botticelli (1444/5-1510), a student of Fra Filippo Lippi, worked in Florence under the patronage of the Medici, and later in Rome for Pope Sixtus IV. There, he joined Ghirlandaio and Rosselli in adorning the walls of the Sistine Chapel around 1481.
By 1490, Botticelli had worn himself out. His style had changed as he had undergone a series of personal crises. His work became unpopular and, by 1510, he was in poor health, dying in poverty—a sad end for one of the period’s most celebrated painters. His early portrait work is particularly notable.
Take this portrait, for example. The sitter was Smeralda Bandinelli, the wife of Viviano Bandinelli and the grandmother of the sculptor Baccio Bandinelli. For all of its implied formality, this is actually a rather casual portrait. Smeralda is depicted in a light summer costume—the sort she’d have worn around the house. Draped and red and white silk, she looks cool and comfortable against a homey backdrop. Painted in Florence, the portrait of tempera on panel dates between 1470 and 1480. Smeralda, by the way, is thought by some to be the face of Botticelli’s famous “Primavera.”
A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 103
Chapter 103
Christian Names
"What do you want me to do with her?" The woman asked Mr. Quick dryly. "I don't think she's...gonna be the sort o' lady that a farmer wants as company at the end of a day in the fields."
"Miss Charlotte," Quick sighed, "You know I am not asking you to take her in permanently, nor even overnight--just until nightfall. I will leave Mr. Jackson and Miss Blessum behind to look after her, as well. I'm simply asking that you give her a room in your establishment wherein we might keep her until the sun goes down."
"Oh, Mr. Quick...it's awful nice o' ya to call me by my right Christian name. So many just call me 'Lottie' these days that I've just about forgotten how good it is to be called 'Charlotte.' You've charmed me right and proper, you have. Sure, I'll keep your monster for ya."
"Thank you, Miss Charlotte. I assure you, she will not afford you any trouble whatsoever."
"See that she doesn't." The madam continued. "My girls are tough as nails when it comes to handlin' men, but, they spook easy when it comes to...things like this." She gestured to Morgana's body.
Morgana winced.
"What's wrong with her anyway?" Charlotte asked.
"No one knows." Ivy spoke up. "She's been like this since birth, presumably."
"Don't she talk?" Charlotte asked.
"When she wishes to." Quick answered. "However, we've taken care of that--for now."
"She won't be doing much talking." Jackson smirked.
"Why is that?" Charlotte asked.
"We've given her an elixir which deadens the throat--numbs it. She can't really make a sound." Quick explained. "She's also been given a tonic to make her calmer."
"Oh, she put up a fight, she did." Ivy nodded. "Look at the scratches on me hands."
"Cor." Charlotte's eyes widened. "She won't be at that again, will she?"
"No, no." Jackson shook his head. "We'll see to it that she remains bound."
"And, no one knows she's here?" Charlotte asked. "I don't want no trouble from the 'All."
"No. As you know, we came through the tunnel." Quick explained. "No one saw us approach. When we return to the parsonage, we'll block the way to the tunnel, so even if anyone investigates the cavern, they won't find that passage. There will be nothing to trace her to you."
"Just see that there isn't." Charlotte smiled. "Her Grace never minded me bein' just outside the estate, but I have a feelin' this Duke isn't gonna be so friendly 'bout it--'im not bein' o' the persuasion what likes a good romp with a lady."
"You won't have to worry about him much longer." Quick shook his head. "Just leave everything to me."
"To us." Jackson corrected Quick.
"That's right." Ivy nodded.
"Right." Charlotte cackled. "Now, let's get this little lobster up to her pot, then. Come along with me, you three. And, off you go back to whence you came, Vicar."
"I leave them in your gentle hands," Quick nodded.
As he walked back toward the tunnel, Quick's eyes narrowed. He knew he had to hurry--aware that within moments George would be hurrying back with any number of people from the Hall. He just hoped that Hargrave and Causer had done a good job hiding William's body and quieting down Fred so he'd not be discovered.
For a moment Quick wished he could simply go and hide himself. He considered disappearing, going to the spot where they'd hidden the Duchess' remains in anticipation of the ceremony later that night. He could lie down next to her and wait as he had done so many nights when she was alive. But, no. He knew he couldn't.
"Faith. I must have faith." He said aloud. "Ah, Pauline. Soon...soon, we shall be reunited!"
Did you miss Chapters 1-102 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 104.
Unusual Artifacts: Pyramus and Thisbe Valance, 1560
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| Pyramus and Thisbe Panel from a Bed Valance, 1560 French, possibly made for Queen Catherine De Medici The Victoria & Albert Museum |
This piece of satin textile is one of a set of panels that once formed part of the decoration of a bed valance—a kind of pelmet round the top of bed curtains. The image is embroidered in colored silk on a red satin ground and depicts the story of Pyramus and Thisbe. Pyramus, thinking that Thisbe was dead, committed suicide by falling on his own sword. This scene is shown within a frame held by men in stylized Roman military dress.
Other decorative motifs pictured include a laughing mask, birds, dolphins, ox skulls, an altar, a vase and draperies and figures of nudes and monsters in the Grotesque style which had been introduced to France between 1550 and 1575, based on Italian artifacts. Given the style, it is possible that this panel may have been part of a set made for Queen Catherine de Medici (1519–89, daughter of the Italian Lorenzo de Medici, later Queen Consort of France), or for another high-ranking member of the French court. Further evidence comes from the fact that in the Nineteenth Century, this fragment was bound in an album inscribed “RICAMI DEI MEDICI.” (‘embroideries of the Medici’). A gold braid was added in the Nineteenth Century.
Object of the Day, Museum Edition: Miniature of Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby, c. 1615
Tho', happy Muse, thou know my Digby well,
Yet read him in these lines: He doth excell
In honour, courtesie, and all the parts
Court can call hers, or Man could call his Arts.
Hee's prudent, valiant, just, and temperate;
In him all vertue is beheld in State:
And he is built like some imperiall roome
For that to dwell in, and be still at home.
An Epigram to my Muse, the Lady Digby, on her Husband, Sir Kenelme Digby.
--Ben Jonson, 1635
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| Venetia Stanley Peter Oliver, 1615-1633 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
This miniature of watercolor on vellum, set into a case of ivory and tortoiseshell, is one of a group of early Seventeenth Century portraits, evidently of the same young woman--traditionally identified as Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby.
Now, who is this Venetia Stanley that she should inspire so many artists. Venetia Stanley was the childhood sweetheart of Sir Kenelm Digby (a philosopher, scientist, adventurer and leader of the Catholic Church in Britain who later converted to Anglicanism after becoming associated with the Privy Council of King Charles I). Venetia was considered to be of rare beauty and great intellect. She was also rumored to be a courtesan and the concubine of the Earl of Dorset (as well as the mother of several of his illegitimate children).
Given the latter bit of Venetia’s reputation, Digby's mother opposed her son’s relationship with Venetia, stating that such a woman was not a suitable match for her boy. Sir Kenelm’s mother insisted that her son go abroad in 1620, stating that he should continue his studies, but hoping that he’d meet a more acceptable young woman.
And, then, came to pass a kerfuffle of Shakespearean proportions. While abroad, Sir Kenelm, in 1623, met Maria de Medici who fell madly in love with her. Unable to shake thoughts of the lovely Venetia, Sir Kenelm rebuffed de Medici—never a good idea. And, so, soon news of Sir Kenelm’s early death flooded home—sending Venetia into hysterics and contributing to her ongoing condition of persistent, nagging headaches.
While Venetia medicated herself with “viper-wine” (a concoction of wine and snake venom) to treat her headaches, Sir Kenelm—who was not dead at all—was on his way home. The couple was reunited in 1625 and married in secret.
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| Reverse of the miniature case. |
So, you’d think that after such a soapy trial, the couple would have been happily married. Right? Nope. Digby, who truly did love Venetia, just couldn’t remain faithful. And, it’s thought that Venetia couldn’t change her ways and continues to share her affections with others in court. Nonetheless, they remained married until Venetia’s mysterious death in 1633.
Surely you didn’t think that Venetia would have had a run-0f-the-mill death. No. On April 30, 1633, Venetia went to bed—alone. Digby who was up to other things decided to sleep in a different room. When Venetia’s maid went to awaken her the next morning, she found her mistress dead.
More rumors. Did Digby murder his wife in a fit of jealousy? Did he kill her because she was preventing his relationship with another woman? Did one of her other male friends take her life? The woman was in good health—except for those headaches. Perhaps she had one too many sips of “viper-wine.” Did she kill herself because of Digby’s cruelty or because she was in love with another man?
Curious for 1633, an autopsy was performed before Venetia’s burial. Hoping to find the cause of her death, Venetia’s doctor opened her skull and found her brain atrophied. She had, “little brain at all.” And, so, it was concluded that all those years of headaches had led up to some sort of hemorrhage. But, still, the rumors persisted.
Nonetheless, Digby mourned deeply. Despite his philandering, he did love the woman. His loss met with the sympathy of his peers and was a source of inspiration for countless artists and poets, including Ben Jonson.
A host of paintings and miniatures were produced, adding to the already large number of representations of Venetia. Let’s study this image. The miniature shows Venetia as a young woman. Yet, there is some debate about when it was painted. We know it to be the work of Peter Oliver (1589-1647). The style of the painting matches Oliver’s later work—soft brushstrokes and a lack of adherence to linear planes. Yet, Venetia is clearly young and dressed in the style of about 1615. Could this have been a posthumous. idealized tribute or was it painted from life? We’ll never know. So, we’ll say this was painted between 1615 and 1633.
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