Goal for the Day: Don’t Push for Perfection

When you collect antiques and vintage items, you learn that imperfections are part of their charm. As an item endures and survives, it’s bound to pick up some nicks and scratches. Though it might fade a bit around the edges, it’s no less beautiful. In fact, these small reminders of its long life often make the piece all the more attractive.


The same applies to people. As we age, we collect flaws—both mental and physical. As much as we try to stave these off, sometimes it’s impossible. Nothing is perfect. Nothing is pristine. And, so it is with people. We’ll never be flawless. But, it’s our flaws which make us unique and attractive. While we should always strive to be the finest we can be, we should realize that we’re already as close to perfect as possible.

Object of the Day: A Pair of Antique Tazze

A tazza (Italian for cup, plural “tazze”) is a shallow, saucer-like dish which is usually presented on a stem and foot or a plinth. Tazze often come in pairs and are frequently made of hard stone. Slate (known as marble) mantel clocks of the Eighteenth through Twentieth Centuries frequently came with a pair of tazze as a garniture (a set of decorative, flanking items). Contrary to popular-present day thinking, these objects are not candleholders—they’re not meant to hold pillar candles. They’re not meant to hold anything. They’re meant to be left alone. Though early tazze (from the Second Century B.C., for example) might have been used as drinking vessels or to serve small items of food, the tazze which come as clock garnitures are purely decorative and serve only to look attractive and monumental next to the clock.

When I purchased the enormous slate temple-form mantel clock which sits on the mantel in my dining room, it had long been separated from its garniture. These tazze were found later at another antique store. I purchased them because their style complimented the clock and I thought they’d make a fine marriage. With incised, gilt designs and insets of rust-colored marble, these tazze date to the mid Nineteenth Century and were created around the same time as the clock. They fulfill their destiny by proudly guarding the clock, and nothing more.

Building of the Week: The Royal Pavilion at Brighton

"How you doin'?"
King George IV when Prince of Wales
The Royal Collection

Good ol’ George IV was something of a “bad boy.” Perhaps, even, he was the Charlie Sheen of his day—behaviorally, at least. While King George IV had unquestionably good taste in art and furnishings and assembled an amazing collection of antiquities, he also had a taste for the ladies and for alcohol, good food and other stuff he considered ripping, good fun.


While still the Prince of Wales, George went to Brighton and fell in love with the slightly tawdry (at the time) seaside town. He decided to keep a home there. It seemed like a good place to hide out and also provided a nifty little spot for him to entertain lady friends. He had one particular lady friend who was a frequent visitor to his modest, new farmhouse in Brighton—Mrs. Maria Fitzherbert. Mrs. Fitzherbert was a favorite companion of the Prince of Wales. He wished to marry her, but he didn’t dare ask for permission to wed the twice-widowed Catholic woman. So, instead, he married her in secret—as one does. This didn’t sit too well with George’s elders and betters. The marriage was declared invalid—secretly, of course. Later, George would marry Princess Caroline of Brunswick. The State liked that marriage. George, however, did not. He kept seeing Mrs. Fitzherbert (and many others) throughout. And, where better to meet his “friends” than at Brighton? Besides, he would argue, the salt water was good for his gout.

Prince George’s farmhouse was too small. When George had built tremendous stables that dwarfed the house, he knew it was time for him to enlarge his summer residence. In 1787, he employed Henry Holland as architect. Holland had designed George’s London mansion, Carlton House. The resulting structure of several rooms around a central rotunda was still modest when compared to the site today. The house was called “The Marine Pavilion.” It, too, proved too small and was enlarged again in 1801.

Then, George had some family troubles—namely with his father King George III. It seemed George III wasn’t quite himself. In fact, some would say he’d gone quite mad. In any event, George III was not fit to be the ruler of the Empire. Being as George III was still alive, George IV couldn’t be crowned king just yet. So, he was dubbed Prince Regent, and set about taking over his father’s duties. This proved to be something of a distraction for George IV.

Still, in 1815, he found the time to update his Marine Pavilion. This time, designer John Nash concocted a design for a huge, lavish Indo-Saracenic palace with Chinoiserie décor and furnishings. The tremendous pavilion with its Indian-inspired domes and archways was opulently appointed with imported furniture, porcelain and textiles. This gave George IV the opportunity to buy more things for his collection. Nash saw to it that George would be quite comfortable there. The height of technology was employed in the pipes, heating and sanitation.

The Prince Regent was thrilled with the new pavilion and took great delight in its richly-colored rooms, plush Persian rugs, glittering chandeliers, and gilt woodwork. It remained his favorite home. When his father died and he became King George IV, he preferred the Royal Pavilion at Brighton above all other residences—even his beloved Carlton House.

Upon the death of George IV, King William IV also used the pavilion as an occasional home though he didn’t have quite the enthusiasm for it that George did. William IV’s successor, his niece, Queen Victoria loathed the place. She did, however, visit it to show her support for Brighton. After that, she was really rather finished with the place. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert built their own—much friendlier-looking—summer home, Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, and they sold the pavilion to Brighton for about £50,000.

While some toyed with the idea of tearing down the palace, most recognized that the Pavilion at Brighton was too important to the city to lose. The building was stripped of most of its fittings (on order of Queen Victoria) and redecorated in a similar, yet more subdued style, for use as a civic hall. In the 1890’s Queen Victoria permanently loaned much of the original fittings to Brighton so that they could be returned to their original home and put on display for the public.

The pavilion has had many uses over the years—including time as a hospital. Around World War II, restoration efforts increased, and since that time, the palace has been well-maintained and open to the public. Today, efforts continue to not only maintain the pavilion, but also to restore it to John Nash’s and King George’s original vision. The palace is open for tours. For more information, visit the official Web site of the Royal Pavilion at Brighton.

Precious Time: King George III’s Barometrical Clock, 1763-5

Barometrical Clock
1763-1765
Scot Alexander Cumming
For King George III
The Royal Collection

George III’s keen interest in science led him to amass an impressive collection of scientific instruments and clocks in the early part of his reign. The barometrical clock from 1763 to 1765 was made for the King by Scot Alexander Cumming who included an exquisite clock mechanism, a month-long calendar and a barometer in the design.


The gorgeous case is of unknown origin, but features inlaid shell and exceptionally sculpted ormolu mounts of flowers, volutes and a figural group of “Time” assisted by Cupid. King George III kept the clock along with several of his favorite devices in his private suite at Buckingham House (now Buckingham Palace).

Sculpture of the Day: Sappho and Cupid, 1851

Sappho and Cupid
Ivory
Henri de Triqueti
1851
The Royal
Collection

French Sculptor Henri de Triqueti was wildly popular with the French Court and was a favorite of King Louis-Philippe who not only enjoyed the artist’s work, but also his company. Sadly (for Triqueti, at least), Louis-Philippe found himself booted out of power. Without a patron, Triqueti collected his English wife and sought opportunities in Britain.


His work was quickly noticed. Queen Victoria appreciated the artist’s work, and, in 1851 purchased this ivory statue directly from Triqueti as a surprise Christmas gift for Prince Albert. The figure—neatly rendered in ivory—depicts the great poetess Sappho as she attempts to fling herself into the sea upon learning she’s been rejected by Phaon. Tiny little Cupid tries desperately to prevent her suicide.

Victoria, who was equally mad about Prince Albert, thought this would be a sweet gift for her husband. And, it was. However, she made a good artistic choice, too. This sculpture is rare. Triqueti exclusively sculpted historical and biblical scenes. This classically-themed sculpture is a strange departure for him. Victoria would go on to purchase a full-scale marble sculpture of Edward VI from Triqueti. He then offered her a good price on two more ivory figures. She politely declined.

Unusual Artifacts: A Silver-Gilt Caddinet, 1688

Caddinet
Silver-Gilt, 1688-89
Anthony Nelme
Made for King William and Queen Mary
Sold to Rundell, Bridge & Rundell, 1808
Acquired by Queen Elizabeth II, 1975
The Royal Collection

The very first caddinet in England was introduced for the coronation of King Charles II in 1661. Charles II declared the use of a caddinet the sole dominion of the Royal family. A caddinet (deriving its name from “cadenas,” meaning padlock) is an object used on a dining table. The compartments at the top of the caddinet (often with locking mechanisms) were used to hold salt and cutlery. The tray, often engraved, was set with a napkin and slices of bread and placed at the chair of the head of the household.


Only three English caddinets remain in existence. This is one of them. Created in 1688-1689 for the coronation of King William and Queen Mary, this caddinet is engraved with their cipher. Over the next two centuries as caddinets fell from daily use, the keepers of the Royal Collection had a hard time identifying the object and inventoried it as an “old, siver inkstand” before auctioning it off in 1808. The items was purchased by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in 1975 via private sale. I imagine that she knew what it was.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 184

“Where are you taking me?” Ulrika panted.

“I told you to be quiet.” Iolanthe spat. “Look around you, Girl. What don’t you understand about the shipyard?”

“You can’t do this to me.” Ulrika moaned.

Iolanthe dug her fingernails into Ulrika’s arm and yanked on it so fiercely that Ulrika shrieked. “What’s the matter, Girl? Don’t you want to be reunited with your man?”

Before Ulrika could answer, she heard a man’s voice behind her say “Is there some trouble here, Miss?”

Ulrika turned around to see a tall, handsome man with dark hair and shocking blue eyes. She didn’t know him, but she liked the look of him immediately.

“Move along, Boy.” Iolanthe hissed.

“I will.” Charles smiled, “as soon as I am assured that there’s no trouble here. Miss Rittenhouse, are you well?”

“How do you know my name?” Ulrika said.

“I told him,” Barbara grinned, stepping out from behind Charles.

“Ah, Barbara Allen.” Iolanthe narrowed her eyes. “The traitor.”

“What are you doing, Iolanthe?” Barbara asked.

“She’s taking me…” Ulrika started.

“Quiet!” Iolanthe shouted, releasing her grip on Ulrika’s arm. “My friend and I were just taking a walk.”

“Is this true?” Charles asked.

Ulrika rubbed her arm and glanced at Iolanthe who glowered at her.

“Tell them, Miss Rittenhouse,” Iolanthe cooed. “Tell them your tale.”

“I…” Ulrika grunted. “I was just going for a walk with Miss Evangeline.”

“It seemed to me that she was dragging you,” Charles shook his head.

“It’s a game we play.” Iolanthe smiled. “You know all about games, don’t you, Barbara? Seems you’re playing a game yourself. Games with boys. Naughty girl. This man isn’t your husband.”

“No, he isn’t.” Barbara nodded.

“When was the last time you heard from your husband?” Iolanthe asked.

“That doesn’t concern you, Iolanthe,” Barbara answered stiffly.

“Isn’t it?” Iolanthe laughed. “Well, then. Whose concern is it? Ulrika’s? She has an interest in your husband. Perhaps she can tell you where he is.”

Barbara looked at Ulrika.

“I don’t know.” Ulrika stammered. “I don’t know where he is.”

“How strange,” Iolanthe grimaced. “Barbara’s lost track of her husband, and Ulrika has lost track of her lover. Yet, I know where he is.”

“What are you talking about?” Barbara asked.

“Oh, but it’s ‘none of my concern.’” Iolanthe laughed.

“Charles,” Barbara said softly, “Will you accompany Miss Rittenhouse back to the Cage’s home on Royal Street? It’s on your way back to Miss Heralda’s.”

“I’d be happy to.” Charles nodded. “However, I’d be happier if you came along, too.”

“Thank you, but I shall stay here to speak with Miss Evangeline for awhile.”

“Miss Allen,” Charles began.

“Don’t worry.” Barbara smiled. “I can handle myself quite well with her.”

“It’s not you that worries me.” Charles looked at Iolanthe,

“Aren’t you gallant? Sir, as you can see, I’m quite harmless.” Iolanthe chuckled. “Now, go on Ulrika. I’ll visit you presently. All you have to do is wait. Just wait…”

Ulrika swallowed hard.

“This way, Miss Rittenhouse,” Charles smiled. Ulrika followed him.

Alone on the pier with Iolanthe, Barbara squinted at the Ogress and frowned. “You’ve bothered me long enough, Iolanthe. Now, it’s time that we settle this once and for all.”

Meanwhile, at Dr. Biamenti’s house on Royal Street, Mr. Punch shivered as he entered the private room hidden deep within Julian—that space that only the two of them could see.

Julian was—as he usually was—sitting in a silk and gilt wood chair in the center of the room. He was dressed in a fine suit of clothes and looked rested and strong.

“Welcome back, dear Punch,” Julian smiled.

“Thanks,” Mr. Punch nodded. He pointed upward, “Robert’s up there. Watchin’ over us.”

“I know.” Julian grinned. “He’s quite loyal.”

“Wonder what our body looks like.” Mr. Punch sniffed.

“I’m sure it would simply appear that I’m—we’re—sleeping.” Julian answered gently.

“But, we ain’t sleepin’.” Mr. Punch sighed.

“No.”

“We’re havin’ an adventure. Only it’s an adventure that only we can see.”

“Because it only concerns us.” Julian answered.

“Do you have it?” Punch asked.

Julian raised his hand and opened his fingers, revealing the key which Naasir had left behind.

“’Course you do.” Punch shook his head.

“Shall we begin?” Julian asked, rising.

“Why don’t we just rest awhile?” Mr. Punch said quickly.

“There’ll be plenty of time to rest,” Julian smiled, walking to the front wall of the phantom room. He removed an oil painting from the wall and revealed an escutcheon and keyhole.

“A key in the wall?” Mr. Punch asked.

“It fits wherever I wanted it to fit.” Julian sighed.

He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. With a loud groaning creak, the wall rose and disappeared like a stage curtain, revealing a proscenium draped in red velvet. Two comfortable chair appeared in front of the raised stage.

“Join me.” Julian said, pointing to one of the chairs.

“Why?” Punch asked weakly. “What are we doin’?”

“We’re watching.” Julian smiled.



Did you miss Chapters 1-183? If so, you can read them here.