Mastery of Design: The Podolsky Necklace, 1947

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This exceptional necklace is constructed of an intricate series of flexible, ribbed tubes of gold. This technique—known as “snakes” or “gas-pipes”--rose in prominence in the 1930s and remained very fashionable for necklaces and bracelets throughout the 1940s.

Two hollow, flexible “snake” chains--one of white gold and the other of yellow gold—are joined into a clip fastening at one end and ending in two gold drops surmounted by two collars, one of sapphires and the other of rubies at the other end.

An open scrolling band at the front encases the chains. This band is set with brilliant-cut diamonds bordered by a thin band of table-cut rubies on one side and of sapphires on the other. This section is removable and can be worn separately as a clip.

The necklace was made in London between 1947 and 1948 by Eyna Wolko Podolsky (1888-1962). Paul Podolsky, the son of the maker, stated that in 1947, 18ct gold was possible only for export and that this necklace was made for their client Abdul Maleek in Alexandria, Egypt.

Painting of the Day: "A Man, Perhaps Sir John Wildman," 1647

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This miniature of watercolor on ivory is still in its original Seventeenth-century blue enameled gold locket. The subject closely resembled an etching of a man from 1653 by the Bohemian Wenceslaus Hollar, which is said to depict Sir John Wildman—known as one of the men involved in trying and condemning to death King Charles I.

The portrait is signed “IH” for John Hoskins, however, this could refer to Hoskins or his son since both men signed their miniatures identically. Some believe that this miniature is the work of Hoskins the Younger because it is like others in a group of miniatures which are apparently by one, steadier hand. Regardless, we know that it came from the Hoskins workshop.

The Home Beautiful: Paneled room from The Grove in Harborne, 1877

This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

I’m always amazed to see whole rooms from houses reassembled in museums. I wonder, first, what happened to the rest of the house, and, second, how a room can be removed from a structure so neatly. Here’s an entire room as seen at the V&A from “The Grove” in Harborne, Birmingham, England. The Grove was designed in 1877–78 by John Henry Chamberlain for William Kenrick, a prominent Birmingham businessman.

This room is the anteroom of the drawing room. It was acquired by the V&A just before the house was demolished. The structure is unusual in that it reflects a mixture of several architectural styles—Classical, Gothic and Aesthetic.

Decorated with inlaid, painted and gilded wood, the room was used to display Kendrick’s important collection of blue and white ceramics. The ancient porcelains must have looked very handsome contrasted against the paneling of sycamore and oak, with inlays of walnut and other exotic woods. The mirror surround above the marble fireplace is gilded as is the background of the curved frieze which was painted with a naturalistic design of apple blossom and birds on a blue ground.

In 1962, The Grove’s house and grounds had been bequeathed to the City Council of Harborne who decided to pull the house down. The Ante-Room was removed by the V&A for display before the house was demolished. The reassembled structure was opened to the public in June 1967.

At the Music Hall: The Blue Room, 1926

We'll have a blue room, A new room,
For two room,
Where ev'ry day's a holiday
Because you're married to me.
Not like a ballroom,
A small room,
A hall room,
Where I can smoke my pipe away
With your head upon my knee.
You sew your trousseau,
And Robinson Crusoe
Is not so far from worldly cares
As our blue room 'way upstairs.


"Blue Room,” a popular standard, is from the 1926 Rodgers and Hart musical “The Girl Friend.” The song quickly became popular both in the music halls which were dying out at the time and the Jazz Clubs which were on the rise.

Here’s a version of the song by Jazz violinist Joe Venuti and vocalist Harold Arlen, recorded in 1928.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 448

Marie Laveau moaned as another passerby pitched a half-eaten apple at her. Tied to a hitching post in front of Iolanthe Evangeline’s Bawdy House, Marie shivered at the sneering faces who mocked her.

“Iolanthe!” she screamed—partly from fear, partly from anger and embarrassment and partly from the burning pain she felt in her abdomen.

Iolanthe, however, didn’t come. Marie’s screams were met by Mala who shuffled out of the house toward Marie.

“Untie me!” Marie pleaded.

“What you think I come for to do?” Mala grumbled.

“How could she do this to me?” Marie gasped as Mala untied her.

“Don’t rightly know.” Mala shrugged. “She wants you back in the house.”

Mala helped Marie to her feet and, in an unusually compassionate move on her part, helped the woman limp into the house.

Iolanthe descended the sparkling mahogany staircase, grinning with each step.

“You sow!” Marie growled weakly.

“I know,” Iolanthe winked. “Mala, leave us.”

Mala nodded and disappeared to the dark corners of the house which served as her habitat.

“Come into the drawing room,” Iolanthe smiled at Marie.

“Why?”

“So you can rest.” Iolanthe replied plainly. “You’ve just lost a child, Marie. I know how exhausting that can be. I’ve lost three.”

“You done this to me.” Marie began to sob. “You killed my baby—with poison--and then you put me out on the street to be mocked!”

“And you ruined my hands.” Iolanthe smiled. “In my business, a woman needs her hands.”

“So, you murder my child and then humiliate me?”

“Yes.” Iolanthe nodded watching as Marie painfully settled onto a richly upholstered chair. “I’m a monster. Didn’t you know?”

Marie wiped her eyes.

“You got to thinkin’ you were high and mighty, Marie. You got to thinkin’ that you were better than me, that you were able to make a fool of ol’ Iolanthe. Ain’t no one can get the better of me, Marie Laveau. No one. And, I don’t want you thinkin’ that they can.”

“Fine, Iolanthe.” Marie whispered. “You win.”

“I know.” Iolanthe chuckled. “So, now that I’ve shown you that I am the better of the two of us, I trust you’ll cooperate with me.”

“What have I got now that you could use?” Marie whimpered. “When you killed the child inside me, you took away my power—my future.”

“Oh, now, you’ve still got plenty of power, Marie Laveau.” Iolanthe clucked her tongue. “I just want you to remember that anything you got is mine and mine alone.”

“I want to go home.” Marie sobbed.

“And, you will.” Iolanthe sighed. “But, not until you pledge your fidelity to me.”

“Why?” Marie screamed.

“This very day, the Duke of Fallbridge is about to board a ship on his way back to England. That man has caused me far too much trouble. Just a few weeks ago, I had made a brilliant arrangement. I was to have a new girl—a fine English lady, a beautiful diamond and money in my purse from giving Edward Cage a child. What have I got now? Burned hands, no diamond, no money, an angry Edward Cage, and no English girl. As I have just shown you, I don’t like when folk try to get the better of me. I want what I’m due, and now that you’re mine, you’re going to help me get it.”

“How?”

“Cooperation, Marie. Cooperation.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-447? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday, January 30, 2012 for Chapter 448 of Punch’s Cousin.

Her Majesty's Furniture: The Robert Adam Candlestand, 1771-4

This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Inspired by then-recent discoveries of antiquities, this carved candlestand is painted blue with the white ornaments. It has been designed in the shape of a Roman sacrificial altar with the uppermost part in the shape of a bowl trimmed with molding in the form of a Vitruvian scroll frieze. Elaborate figural supports terminate in a triangular pedestal decorated with eagles and swags. The edges of the pedestal are adorned with a foliate drop, rams heads and lion's feet, resting on three Etruscan sphinxes.

Made in London between1771-1774, this candlestand is the work of Robert Adam (1728-1792) who was known for his architectural designs and fine woodworking. This piece is an intricate combination of pine (upper section and ornaments) and mahogany (the pedestal) held together with small metal nails.

This is one of a pair (another pair by Adam of simpler design is now in the Melbourne Art Gallery) thought to have been made for the eating room of 20 St. James's Square--the London town house of Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn, a leading patron of arts and music. The house was designed and built by Robert Adam between August 1771 and August 1774 and is one of the few surviving examples of Adam’s architectural designs. 

The pair was purchased by the Crown for display at the Victoria and Albert Museum, sometime in the Nineteenth Century. 

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: The Foundling Vase, 1762

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This elaborate vessel is known as “The Foundling Vase” because it was presented in 1763, a year after it was made, to the Foundling Hospital in London. The Foundling Hospital housed Britain's first public art gallery, and the vase was given for public display by Dr. George Garnier.

The vase was made at the Chelsea porcelain factory in London. A work of soft-paste porcelain, it is painted in enamel colors in reserves on a Mazarine blue ground. Gilt details add further luster.

This was made as one of a pair, however, the two were separated soon after creation. Its mate, now known as the Chesterfield Vase, remained unsold at the Chelsea factory, until 1770 when it was purchased by the Earl of Chesterfield.

The Foundling Vase remained on display at the Foundling Hospital until 1869, when it was sold for £1,500 to the Earl of Dudley who had already bought its companion for “upwards of £2,000” from the Earl of Chesterfield. Both are now in the collection of the V&A.

The pair was inspired by Sévres porcelain vases of the era. The Chelsea Factory adapted visual themes from Sévres in this piece, including the elaboration of the Rococo scrollwork handles, the tooled gilding, the “mazarine” blue ground and the richly-enameled panels.

Mastery of Design: "The Virtue Outlives Death" Snuffbox, 1750

This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Germany’s Meissen Porcelain Factory produced a host of lavish snuffboxes of porcelain mounted in gold from about 1735-65. This example from 1750 is adorned with a coat of arms painted on the cover.  It is the arms of the Raupenstrach von Lowensburg family of Transylvania. Their Latin motto, “Virtus post funera crescit,” translates to “Virtue outlives death.”  This motto is underscored by scenes of lovers and musicians painted in the French style.

The walls and oval base are enameled with Harlequin and various gallants and their ladies while the interior of the lid shows a dancing master with a violin giving a lesson to a young girl on a terrace. The gold mount is chased with scrolls.

Unusual Artifacts: Punch and Jack Ketch, the Hangman, 19th C.

The Victoria & Albert Museum

Here’s another hand-colored “magic lantern” glass slide from the set of twelve by Theobald & Co.  This one depicts Mr. Punch in jail, being confronted by the hangman, Jack Ketch.  It is number eleven in the set. 

The following text accompanies the slide during a magic lantern show:

Punch: Oh dear, Mr. Hangman, I didn’t mean to do it, you wouldn’t hurt a poor old man like me. Take that nasty looking thing away, it makes me feel sick. I shan’t enjoy my dinner.

Hangman: Well, Mr. Punch, you deserve to be hanged, but I did hear this morning that the baby is getting better, and you may get off after all, but don’t you never go and do such a thing again. Now off you go quick, here comes the Bogie man.

Figure of the Day: The Meissen Harlequin, 1740

The Victoria & Albert Museum

One of a grouping of Meissen figures based on the Italian Commedia dell’Arte, this figure of Harlequin in hard-paste porcelain is painted in enamels and gilded. The crouching comedic figure wears a green hat with a blue rosette.  He seems to be recoiling in fear or disgust against a stump. His moustachio'd face, dotted with black patches, registers revulsion.   

The figure was made circa 1740 for Meissen by Johann Joachim Kändler (1706-1775). It is marked, “DOUANES PARIS EXPOSITION.”  Kändler produced a wide range of figures for Meissen which were intended as table decorations to accompany the dessert course of a lavish meal.  Many of these figural groups were based on characters from the Italian Opera and Commedia dell-Arte, many of whom would later become the stock characters of Britain’s Punch and Judy shows.  

Friday Fun: "And this is Rachel, our head girl." 1951

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This macabre cartoon puts one immediately in mind of the American cartoonist and author, Charles Addams, however, this work from 1951 comes from a similarly-skewed British artist—Ronald Searle.  Captioned, “And this is Rachel, our head girl,” the cartoon depicts a headmistress showing another lady into a room where the “head-girl,” Rachel is sharpening her knife on a lathe. On a shelf above her are the heads of other school-girls.  This wicked play on words is both gruesome and delightful. 

This work of  pen and ink and wash on card bears the following inscriptions:

Ronald Searle 1951
And this is Rachel - our head girl.
Lilliput (crossed out)
LILLIPUT
5 APR 1951
RONALD SEARLE / STUDIO TWO / 77 BEDFORD GARDENS / W.8. / (Tel: Park 4519)
(among various other markings)

The drawing was intended as an illustration for “Lilliput” Magazine and, then, for a book entitled “Back to the Slaughterhouse.”  This was part of Searle’s series of drawings set at the fictional St/ Trinians School, a series he began in 1948. His St. Trinians characters later inspired a series of films.

Searle’s biographer Russell Davies said of him: “He was not making the world look funny, but experiencing it as funny; it was less a style than a psychological condition.”  The artist started work at the early age of fifteen as a professional cartoonist for the Cambridge Daily News, later  working for a series  of newspapers and magazines, including ‘Punch,’ well into the 1950s.  His works graced a number of books until 1989.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 447

Mama Routhe wrung her hands nervously as she waited.  Charles seemed to be taking longer than he had promised, and she hoped that this young white man would be true to his word, or, at least, smart enough to remember what he’d said he was going to do.  She comforted herself with the thought that he was the Duke of Fallbridge’s man and that the Duke, while somewhat odd, would not have hired an idiot to attend him.

After what seemed a sticky eternity, Mama finally heard shouting from outside the house.  She knew immediately that the she had been right to put her faith in Charles.

“Open up!”  A gruff man shouted as he pounded on the door.

More time passed and voices were raised, both masculine and feminine.

Finally, after another eternity, the door to the room in which Mama had been held was unlocked and swung open as Young Marie entered.

“Come with me,”  Marie Laveau’s namesake daughter commanded.

“Why?”  Mama asked innocently.  “What’s happening?”

“It’s the authorities.  The city inspector.  He says since the fire the house may not be safe and they got to inspect it to make sure it ain’t gonna fall down around us.  They need all of us out for a spell while they look around.”

“What about your ma?”  Mama Routhe asked.

“Mind your business!”  Young Marie snapped nervously.  “I know Mama wouldn’t want no city people pokin’ around the house, but I also know she’d be  terrible riled up to come home and find a notice on the door.  I figure if we cooperate, they’ll leave us alone.”

Mama Routhe nodded.

“Now, you listen to me.”  Young Marie continued.  “You and I are goin’ out in the alley.  You’re not to talk to them city men.  You’re not to say a word.  Do you understand?”

Mama nodded again.

As she followed Young Marie, she smiled.  Charles had kept his word.  He went and got the fire marshal just as he said he would.  She knew he’d be waiting for her in the alley.  She said a prayer quickly, hoping that the next part of their plan would go as smoothly as the first.

Mama Routhe walked past the men from the city without saying a word.  They didn’t pay her any mind at all.  Why would they?  She dutifully followed Young Marie into the alley.  Marie pointed to a crate, indicating that she wanted Mama to sit.  The young woman leaned against a wall and stared at Mama.

“I don’t know what my mother wants with the likes of you.”  Young Marie sniffed.  “But, she done tol’ me to make sure I don’t let you out of my sight.”

“Good thinking,”  Charles said as he approached, startling Young Marie.

“What you want?” the girl snarled.  “I know who you are!”

“I figured you would.”  Charles smiled.  “Now, back away and let me take this woman with me.”

“No.”  Young Marie laughed.

“You’ll want to do as I say.”  Charles said firmly.

“What and have my mother whup me?  I don’t think so.”

“Your mother isn’t going to ‘whup’ anyone.”  Charles shook his head.

“Oh really?”  Young Marie laughed.  “Why’s that?”

“It would be rather difficult for her to do considering where she is.”  Charles continued.

“What you mean?”  Young Marie asked.

“When I ran to fetch the marshal, I noticed your mother.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, she’s tied up outside of Iolanthe Evangeline’s house.”  Charles shrugged.  She seems to have blood all down the front of her gown.” 

“What?”

“Looked to me as if Iolanthe was inviting people to throw rubbish at her.”

“You’re lyin’!”  Young Marie growled.

“Am I?”  Charles winked.

Did you miss Chapters 1-446?  If so, you can read them here.  

Antique Image of the Day: The Joseph Clayton Clarke Punch

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This late Nineteenth Century color print depicts a caricature of a man holding a Mr. Punch puppet.  The drawing is based on an original painting of a Punch and Judy Man by Joseph Clayton Clarke (known as “Kyd”). Clarke was an interesting character who was known for his illustrations and somewhat eccentric behavior.  He famously worked for "Punch Magazine" for only one day. 

This is part of the important George Speaight Punch and Judy Archive at The Victoria & Albert Museum. 

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: “All Alone in Ramsgate,” 1864

The Victoria & Albert Museum
Click to enlarge

Fridays are typically Punch & Judy days at Stalking the Belle Époque, so, let’s start with this engraving entitled “All Alone in Ramsgate and Broadstar” which dates to 1864.  This depiction of a Punch & Judy performance was drawn by one W. McConnell.  The title is written on the reverse in pencil.

This scene of a performance at the seaside would have been one to which most people in Britain could have related.  By 1864, seaside holidays were becoming increasingly popular, and by the end of the Nineteenth Century, railways made such trips accessible even to the lower classes.  

Clearly, the title is meant to be sarcastic as this crowded beach scene is anything but lonely.  Or, perhaps, the title refers to Mr. Punch himself  who, despite the many characters around him, is often alone in his Punch-ness.

Gratuitous Bertie Dog Picture: The Westie Heart

Hey, Shepherd Dog, if you're gonna stand by the fire like that, can you scramble me an egg?"

Image:  The Waefu' Heart, Thomas Duncan, 1841, The Victoria and Albert Museum.

The Home Beautiful: The "National" Wallpaper, 1897

The Victoria & Albert Museum

Here we see a portion of a design by Walker Crane for a wallpaper pattern entitled, “National.”  It features a shield bearing the Royal Coat of Arms of the United Kingdom in red and yellow, and a combination of thistles and other plants in grey.  The design was created for Jeffrey and Co. in 1897 for the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria.  

Unusual Artifacts: Italian Silk Velvet Woven with Metallic Threads, 1450-1500

The Victoria & Albert Museum

In the late Medieval period, silk velvets were considered the most luxurious textiles—the stuff of courtiers and clergymen throughout Europe. By the Fifteenth Century, the most elegant silk velvets were produced in Italy as Italian weavers grew more proficient in producing more complex designs incorporating colored silks and gold threads.

This Italian example, made between 1450 and 1500, is considered a traditional “pomegranate pattern”, but it more closely resembles a thistle than it does a pomegranate. The center motif is outlined in dark emerald green, filled in with gold, and peppered with deep red “seeds.” This is surrounded by gold leaves, and green flowers, within a wine-colored trefoil shape.

History's Runway: A Red Hunt Dress Coat, 1920

The Victoria & Albert Museum

Dating to 1920, this red hunt dress coat (on the left of the photo) with wide lapels and a green wool collar was made by Henry Corlett. The coat is double breasted and has three sets of metal buttons, adorned with an engraved design of foxes and thistles, on either side as well as 2 cufflink-style buttons fastening the fronts. The coat has a waist seam, a back vent and is sharply cut away at the side, forming two long tails. It is lined with grosgrain and the sleeves are lined with cream sateen.

During the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, hunting was not only the most popular sport, but also symbolic of the easy lifestyle of the upper classes. To be seen on the hunting field was the equivalent of the highest social standing.

This coat is part of an important collection previously housed in Castle Howard, Yorkshire. The collection includes seven scarlet hunt coats and one blue hunt coat as well as waistcoats, breeches, stockings and boots.

Hunt membership rules dictated the color and style of the costume. The buttons on this coat, engraved with foxes and a thistle, denote to which hunt the wearer belonged. A coat such as this one was worn for formal occasions and hunt balls--never out on the field.

Punch’s Cousin, Chapter 446

Charles peered around the corner of Marie Laveau’s long, narrow house. He had already been, as per the instructions given him by Dr. Halifax and the Duke of Fallbridge, to Mama Routhe’s apartment above the dress shop. There, he had found Mr. Routhe and the Routhe children glutting on a sumptuous breakfast which Mr. Routhe had explained as being provided to them by an unknown, big-hearted benefactor. He had no idea where his wife was and didn’t seem to care.
The Duke’s (or Mr. Punch’s) instructions had been very clear. If Mama Routhe was not at home, then he was to go to Marie Laveau’s to look for her. He was also to be very careful and to keep an eye out for Edward Cage’s man, Odo.

Panting, Charles nervously glanced down the alley to the right of Marie’s house which was more of a dumping ground than it was a means of getting anywhere. At the end of the filthy stretch, he spotted a window and he hurried toward it.

What would he do, he wondered, if he spotted Mama Routhe inside? Would he be able to retrieve her, return her home and make it back to the dock before the ship departed? Dr. Halifax had assured him that he could, but Charles had his doubts.

Charles frowned and sighed. He had promised that he would do anything to get back into the good graces of the Duke’s party, but he hadn’t imagined that Dr. Halifax would have suggested such a dangerous affair. Charles clenched his hands into fists. Hadn’t he put such things behind him when he walked away from Barbara? Still, he thought, it was a small price to pay for the freedom he would gain with a simple life in service to the mad, but kind, Duke.

Cautiously, Charles approached the window and slowly peered inside. He stifled a loud gulp when he saw Mama Routhe alone in a small, smoke-blackened room. She looked worried and drawn.

Gently, he rapped on the window, catching the woman’s attention. She rushed to the window, opening it.

“Mrs. Routhe?” Charles said. “I’m the Duke of Fallbridge’s man. I’ve come to help you.”

“I knew someone would come.” Mama replied with considerable relief. “You gotta get me out of here. She’s gonna make me so somethin’ terrible, I jus’ know it.”

Charles nodded. “Are you alone in the house?”

“No.” Mama shook her head. “Young Marie is in the front room. Her mama has gone out. I overheard them say she’s gone to see Iolanthe Evangeline.”

“Is it just the daughter who is here?”

“Two men—big ones. They’re somewhere in the house.”

Charles looked through the small window. There was no way she could get through it. He peered around the room.

“Is that the only way out?” Charles asked softly, pointing to the door.

“Yes.” Mama nodded. “You gotta hurry. There’s no tellin’ when Marie will be back.”

Charles thought for a moment. “Listen, I have an idea. But, we’ve got to be quick about it.”

“I’m listenin’.” Mama said eagerly.

Meanwhile, at Iolanthe’s bawdy house, Marie Laveau grinned as Iolanthe Evangeline poured two steaming cups of tea from a lovely porcelain pot.

“Ain’t this civilized?” Marie winked. “The two of us sittin’ here in your silken boudoir, sippin’ tea like ladies.”

“There’s no reason we can’t be ladies—sometimes.” Iolanthe smiled.

“’Cept that we’d be foolin’ ourselves.” Marie laughed. “Ain’t nothin’ lady-like about neither of us.”

“Who knows?” Iolanthe shrugged. “There’s always a chance to start.”

“Who are you tryin’ to fool, Iolanthe?” Marie frowned, putting down her teacup. “Why’d you bring me out here?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Iolanthe replied. “We’re neither of us getting any younger. Why keep up this feud. It wasn’t but two nights ago that we were getting to a point of peace between us.”

“Then, you betrayed me.” Marie scowled. “Again.”

“I was wrong to do that.” Iolanthe shook her head. “And, you did punish me for it.” She nodded to her gloved hands.

“That I did.” Marie laughed. “So, are you apologizing to me?”

“I am.” Iolanthe smiled. “Can you forgive me? I don’t want us to be bad friends. You were correct when you said that, together, we could be more powerful than if we were feuding. I see that now.”

“I want to believe you.” Marie smirked.

“So, please do.” Iolanthe replied. “Marie, you’re with child. It’s the dawn of a new day. Let’s put our past quarrels behind us.”

Marie squinted, again picking up her teacup. She brought it to her lips, and, then, paused.

“Come, Marie. Let’s drink to our newfound peace.” Iolanthe grinned, picking up her own cup. She took a long sip of the hot tea.

“Fine,” Marie nodded. She, too, sipped her tea. “It’s good. Where’d you get it?”

“It’s my own special brew.” Iolanthe smiled. “Mala blends it for me.”

Marie winced, placing her hand over her abdomen. Gasping, she shouted, “What you done to me, Woman?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Marie stood up, wailing in agony. “What you done to me?”

“I’ve done nothing to you.” Iolanthe laughed. “Your child, on the other hand…”



Did you miss Chapters 1-445? If so, you can read them here.

Obscure Book of the Day: The Sphere: King George VI Memorial Number, 1952

Queen Elizabeth II’s beloved father, King George VI lost his battle with cancer in 1952. As Britain grieved the loss of the man who bravely guided them through the Second World War, newspapers and magazines across the globe worked up special editions of their publications in honor of the “reluctant” King.

This edition from February 16, 1952 chronicles the life of the King and shows images from his majestic funeral. Images of the King with his wife and daughters are a startling contrast to the pictures of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother; Princess Margaret Rose and the new Queen Elizabeth II in black mourning veils, still shocked by the death of their cherished husband/father.

And yet, like the publication I showed you yesterday, the magazine is filled with ads showing that the “show must go on.”

Let’s take a look inside.

Queen Mary was known for her ability to keep her feelings to herself, however, by 1952, she had already lost her son Prince John, her husband King George V, another son--Prince George, the Duke of Kent, and then, finally, "Bertie"--King George VI.  By this point, she was also dying from cancer.  This photo shows a rare glimpse into the enormous grief she must have been feeling.

Young Bertie with his mother, then-Duchess of York (later Queen Mary).

Young Bertie with his brother, David, the Prince of Wales, who would disrupt the line of accession with his great kerfuffle.