Mastery of Design: A Bee Brooch, c. 1890

Bar Brooch
1890-1900
England
The Victoria & Albert Museum

All of the ideals of late Victorian English jewelry had a party and produced this brooch. The gold bar brooch is mounted with a gold bee. The buzzy little fellow is set with rose-cut diamonds and a pearl. Made between 1890 and 1900, the brooch shows the trend of the era toward diamond jewelry in naturalistic forms. Such a bee was handsome on its own, and, in this case, was designed to be worn as a singular, more informal piece. However, similar bees were often part of opulent diamond floral sprays, sometimes set on coiled wires—tremblers--so they might move as the wearer did.

Treat of the Week: The Soufflé Bowl

We are not football people. There, I said it. But, we’re not. Personally, I’ve never been able to understand the game, so, all of the nuances therein which make it exciting for other people, make it all the more irksome to me. So, while most of America was sitting, and eating, and watching whatever was happening in New Orleans, we were enjoying our own celebration. 

Bertie and I spent the day with my parents and were quite thrilled to be able to share a magnificent—and tall—soufflé of over half a dozen imported cheeses! It was truly grand—creamy and wonderful. I have no idea how my mother manages to make this sumptuous dish, but she does. If I tried, it would have been a dense cheese pancake. We shared this soufflé with pancetta, and beautiful cauliflower and broccoli adorned with lemon juice, lemon zest and just a sprinkle of the grated cheeses from the soufflé. A giant pumpernickel bread completed the meal. 

And, then, the dessert. 

This week’s treat was a gorgeous pear upside down cake. Spongy cake was baked atop a layer of caramel and fresh sliced peaches. Served with whipped cream and fresh berries, it was a perfect touchdown, or homerun or hole-in-one or whatever.

Go Cheese!

Gifts of Grandeur: The Spider Web Necklace, 1970

Necklace
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This close-fitting necklace by Allen Jane proves is just a little bit spooky, but also quite elegant. The ornate collar has been decorated with a dense lattice of stems, flowers, foliage, bees and spider's webs in silver-gilt with enamel and cultured pearls.

A concealed opening at the front and a hinge at the back make wearing it a little easier.

The Home Beautiful: A Honey Pot and Cover, 1810

Honey Pot and Cover
Possibly Chamberlain & Co.
Worcester, England, c. 1810
This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Crafted of molded porcelain, stipple-printed in black and painted in brown enamel, this honey pot and cover boasts wee bees molded in relied. The piece was made around 1810, likely by Chamberlain & Co of Worcester, England. 

Though a practical item, this attractive bit of porcelain shows the ingenuity of early Nineteenth Century porcelain factories and the growing desire to make handsome items available to a wider range of people. 

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 249

Chapter 249
Brothers 



“Now…you go an’ play with the others. There’s a lamb.” Eudora said with surprising pleasantness…or, perhaps pity.

Fern shook her head, reaching up to touch her head where her braid was once thick and full.

“Don’t ya like my boys and girls?” Eudora asked.

Fern spoke up, her voice high and frightened. “Where’s my mama?”

“Your mama will be comin’ for ya soon ‘nough.” Eudora Stover replied. “Now, go on and play.”

“She took my hair and she hurt that lady.” Fern said softly. “And, Miss Hortence.”

“I know, lamb.” Eudora replied. “It weren’t right her doin’ that—‘specially not in front of you.”

“She said she’d do to me what she did to that lady if I wasn’t a good girl. But, I’ve been a good girl and she’s still been so mean to me.”

Eudora nodded.

“Is she your friend, Miss?” Fern asked.

“No.” Eudora whispered. “Orpha Polk is no friend o’ mine.” She shook her head. “I dunno what I was thinkin’. I let Hortence turn my head with talk of riches and…”

“Whose house is this, Miss?” Fern asked.

“Mine.” Eudora answered. “Well, a gentleman friend o’ mine lets us stay here, I should say more rightly.”

“Can’t you make her leave, then, Miss?”

“No, lamb. I can’t. Miss Polk don’t do nothin’ what she don’t wanna do.” Eudora looked around. “Now, you’d best go play with the others lest Miss Polk see ya gettin’ special treatment. You know how she don’t like that.”

“Please, Miss. Please take me to my mama. Please.”

“I would, lamb. Only I don’t think we’d make it outta the house. You saw what she done to Hortence.”

“I saw.” Fern looked away.

“All Hortence done was try to stop ‘er from ‘armin’ that nice girl from the Duke’s place.” Eudora continued.

“Them ladies work for a Duke?”

“One o’ ‘em does, now.” Eudora sighed. “The other’s gone to Heaven.”

Fern nodded. “Which Duke?”

“The Duke of Fallbridge.”

“Grandmama hated him, but mama says he’s a kind man.”

“I see now that he is. Listen to me, young miss, don’t let yourself be greedy. It’s the fastest way to hurt folk what don’t deserve it. You understand?”

Fern shook her head. “No.”

“Well,” Eudora whispered. “I were greedy, young miss. Hortence and me both. We saw a man, the Duke, what we thought weak and thought we could take what we could from ‘im. Only in doin’ it, we was punished by our own greed. Hortence, she saw her friend…hurt. And, sad to say, it were the last thing she’ll ever see.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you worry none ‘bout it.” Eudora hushed the girl.

“Miss Polk hurt her eyes?”

“Yes.” Eudora nodded. “We let wickedness and greed make us do things we oughtn’t. Greed is a foul thing, girl. It makes a body hurt its own kind.”

“Did you hurt someone?” Fern frowned. “Miss, did you hurt someone like Miss Polk did when she put the knife in the lady?”

“No.” Eudora replied. “But, just as bad. My own brother. I…made him my fun and I made him do things he oughtn’t. And…”

“Miss Polk hurt him, too. I know she did. I heard her say it to you.”

“If I’d known…” Eudora scowled. “I’d never ‘ave…” She looked at Fern. “But, that’s not for ‘ere, is it?”

Fern shrugged. “Will you take me to my mama now?”

“I can’t, my lamb.” Eudora repeated. “With Hortence like she is now, it’s just me and all you children. I got you and them other two, and all me own. I can’t take ya all out at once, and I can’t leave a one o’ ya behind for should Orpha see I’ve gone, she’d not stop ‘erself from…”

“Doing to us what she did to that lady and Miss Hortence and your brother?”

“That’s right, lamb.”

“Why is she like this, Miss?” Fern asked.

“She’s mad.” Eudora replied. “She’s blinkin’ mad. I’d ‘ave seen it were I not blinded by greed. And, now, Hortence is blind forever and I…” Eudora paused. “’Ere, she’s comin’. Go and join the others, please, now. She’s got a special hate for ya, child. Go with the others so she don’t see ya.”

“Stop!” Orpha growled as she spotted Fern with Eudora. “What is this?” She stepped forward holding a large, heavy, long bundle in her arms.

“Fern was just askin’ if someone was at the door.” Eudora lied. “She’s a good girl, keepin’ watch to see us all safe. ‘Specially you, Orpha.”

“Is that so?” Orpha snarled.

“Was there someone come to visit?” Eudora asked. She gently pushed Fern toward the back of the room where the other children sat quietly trying to hide themselves from the ugly scenes which had unfolded before their innocent eyes—the murder of Jenny, the cruel blinding of Hortence, and a host of other insufferable acts of cruelty.

“Don’t send her off.” Orpha grinned. “Yes, there was someone at the door. A man brought a playmate for you, Fern. A special playmate.”

Fern looked with fear at the bundle, wrapped in some rough cloth or blanket, which Orpha held—a bundle which seemed to be moving slightly.

“Let’s have ‘her join the others.” Eudora spoke up. “No sense in…”

“Quiet!” Orpha bellowed. “I want Fern to meet her brother. It’s important for a girl to have a brother. I know I cherish mine.”

“I don’t have a brother.” Fern said softly.

“You do.” Orpha snapped. “Two of them. One over there…” She pointed toward Lady Lensdown’s son.

Fern shook her head.

“Yes, Fern, he’s your brother. His father is the same as your father. And, this, in my arms, is your other brother. His father and the same as your father two. Do you know how I know? Because his father is also my own brother. And…the father of my son.”

With that, Orpha pulled back the blanket which covered the bundle in her arms.

Fern shrieked with horror and rushed toward Eudora who gasped. “Dear God, Orpha!”

“Look at your brother, Fern.” Orpha laughed, coming quickly toward the child. “Come to him! Look into his eyes!”



Did you miss Chapters 1-248 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 250.

Painting of the Day: Portrait of a Woman: A Romantic Heroine, c 1715

The Romantic Heroine
Britain, c. 1715
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

The subject of this Eighteenth Century painting has been the subject of a fair amount of gossip and buzz for almost three hundred years. A young woman is depicted here, dressed in an Eighteenth-Century reimagining of Tudor-style dress. She’s a woman of some means, as we can see from the ermine edge of her collar. A strand of pearls adorns her hair and she h as donned dramatic earrings.

But, who is she? When the painting hung in the Queen’s Dressing Room at Kensington Palace in 1734, it was described as being “The Fair Rosamond”—a reference to Rosamond Clifford who was the mistress of King Henry II. The Kensington Inventory of 1818 named the subject as being Lady Jane Grey, one of the wives of Henry VIII. That’s quite a difference.

We may never know who she’s intended to be. We can only say for certainty that it was painted by a British artist between 1715 and 1725. Now, wisely, the Royal Collection refers to her simply as “A Romantic Heroine.”

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: Summer, c. 1775

Figure of Summer
Bristol England, 1775
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Made in Bristol, England, this figure of hard-paste porcelain is painted with enamel colors and handsome gilded. A perfect representation of the pastoral style which was popular in the last quarter of the Eighteenth Century, the figure depicts a bare-legged shepherd boy holding a sheaf of wheat and a sickle. He has cast off his coat, throwing it over a bee-hive (which I don’t think is a good idea). Despite his curious choice of coat rack, he is obviously a representation of Summer. 

The Bristol Porcelain Factory, during the 1770s, was trying to rival the French and German porcelains which had become fashionable as table decorations on the continent. Such “farm” images were wildly popular, and the Bristol Factory found much success with their variations.