Unusual Artifacts: The Lucknow Throne, 1820

Lucknow Throne
1820
Robert Home
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Here, we see an Indian throne chair of wood, gilt brass and gilt gesso mounts, painted decoration and blue velvet upholstery. The chair dates to about 1820.

Known as the “Lucknow Throne Chair,” this chair is a rare surviving example of palace furniture from Lucknow in northern India. This opulent piece of furniture was a gift from Ghazi-ud-din Haidar, Nawab and King of Oudh (ruled 1814 to 1827), to Lord Amherst, the Governor-General of India which was given during Amherst's visit to Lucknow in 1827.

Though it was built to be used by an Indian ruler, the chair was actually designed by the celebrated Scottish artist Robert Home who was court painter at Lucknow. There, Home designed regalia, royal carriages, howdahs, barges and palace furnishings in the popular European fashions of the day. The typical British design of this piece is further adorned with the twin-fish badge of the rulers of Lucknow.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 321

Chapter 321 

Imprisonment 


“Oy!” George shouted after Fern. “Stop!”

But, Fern would not stop. She raced to the service staircase with George in close pursuit.

“Help me, would ya?” George shouted to Maude and Ethel.

“We can’t go up there!” Maude responded. “Not without permission!”

“Right now, ya can!” George said.

Ethel and Maudie followed Georgie up the stairs. George lunged for Fern, but she made it through the foyer door before he could grab her.

“Wretched thing!” Georgie spat.

George, Ethel and Maudie stumbled into the foyer, but Fern was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe she went upstairs.” Maude suggested.

“She ain’t that quick.” Georgie shook his head. “We’d still see her little wicked feet.”

“Maybe she’s in the morning room.” Maude continued.

“We’d ‘ave ‘eard the door close.” George replied. “She’s in her somewhere.”

The three of them scanned the foyer, looking under the sweep of the dramatic staircase. Suddenly, Ethel grabbed Georgie’s arm and put her finger to her lips.

“Well,” Ethel began. “She’s too smart for us. Or maybe she’s a witch like Mrs. Pepper thinks. Turned ‘erself into air itself.” Hiding her body behind Maudie, Ethel mouthed to George, “Potted palm.” As George turned to look, Ethel shook her head.

“Guess all we can do is call for the beadle.” Ethel continued. “Seems a shame, too. They’ll put her in gaol. That’s far worse than an’thing I can think of. It’s all that sad, it is. ‘Specially since His Grace and Dr. Halifax was willin’ to give ‘er a fine ‘ome where she’d ‘a’ been ever-so comfortable.” She clucked her tongue. “Pity.”

Maudie casually turned and saw a bit of Fern’s tattered dress peeking out from behind the large potted palm which stood to the left of the morning room door. Quickly realizing what Ethel was doing, she chimed in.

“No, Ethel, they won’t send her to gaol.” Maudie smiled.

“Well, she aon’t gonna go to no workhouse.” Ethel answered, playing along. “Not that, no. See, she’s a criminal. She burned ‘er own bed, she hurt our Vi, she poisoned His Grace, she ruined poor Gamilla’s weddin’ dress. Sounds like gaol’s the best place for her.”

“But, they only send girls to gaol when there’s a chance they’ll…what’s it called…?” Maude scratched her head.

“Reform?” Georgie suggested.

“Right.” Maudie nodded.

“Well, what’ll they do with ‘er?” Ethel asked.

“Hmmmm…seein’ as she’s a witch, and seein’ as she tried to kill the Duke of Fallbridge, I s’pose they’d take ‘er to the Tower.”

“Oh.” Ethel nodded. “Right.”

George joined the discussion. “Chop ‘er head off?”

“After.” Ethel replied.

“After what?” George smiled.

“Well, we all seen them awful machines and such they got in the Tower. Sure. They’d put ‘er on that bed of nails first. And, then in that thing shaped like a lady, but all full o’ spikes.”

“And, then the rack!” Maude piped up.

“Right.” Ethel replied. “And, when she could stand no more, then…then they’d chop ‘er head off. Pity, pity. She coulda ‘ad it so fine here.”

“Ain’t our concern.” Maudie shook her head.

“Right.” Ethel repeated. “Georgie, go and fetch the beadle, would ya? We’ll stand here at the stairs to make sure she don’t get up there to hurt no more o’ the fine folk in this ‘ouse.”

“Back in a tick.” Georgie nodded.

“Wait!” Fern screamed, coming out from behind the palm. “Don’t do that! Don’t let them cut off my head!”

“Oh, there’s the little witch now.” George said.

“Please don’t fetch the beadle.” Fern pleaded.

“Why shouldn’t I?” George scowled. “Ain’t all them things we said…them things what you done, ain’t they true?”

“They are.” Fern whispered.

“Sure, then. You ain’t welcome in this ‘ouse. No other place for ya than to go with the beadle. ‘Less you wanna go back to Hamish House.” George said firmly. “And, seems ya don’t since ya run ‘way from there. Didn’t ya?”

“You don’t know what went on there.” Fern cried.

“And, I don’t much care. Was your choice, it was. You made all sorts of kerfuffle here even after you was given chance after chance. And, then, to kick the Duke when ‘e was down, you run ‘way from here, screamin’ all the way like we was all out to harm ya.” Georgie shook his head.

“Let me stay.” Fern sobbed.

“Ain’t my place to let no one do nothin’ ‘ere.” George answered. “Lucky, I am. Lucky we all are to be ‘ere with the masters. I sure ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make ‘em upset. Lettin’ you stay ‘ere ain’t my concern.”

“I’ll work. I’ll clean. I’ll…scrub.”

“Ain’t my place to hire no one. That’s Mr. Speaight’s place, and even then, he needs the Duke’s permission.”

“Let me speak to the Duke, then.”

“He ain’t ‘ere.” Ethel snapped.

“Then, the doctor. Or Miss Molliner.”

“They’ve all gone to the palace.” Ethel smirked.

“I’m goin’ to get the beadle.” Georgie frowned. “Try not to set the ‘ouse on fire while I’m gone.”

“Please!” Fern screamed. She rushed to Ethel. “You know what she’s like. That Orpha! She killed your friend!”

“Don’t speak o’ my Jenny.” Ethel answered sharply. “You’re kin to that Orpha, as you call ‘er. You’re ‘er niece. Miss Molliner told me. You’re just as wicked as she.”

“She killed my father!” Fern cried.

“All the sick things what’s passed with that woman. I don’t wanna hear of it.” Ethel said.

“Please, please let me stay. Lock me in the scullery until the Duke gets back.”

“In the scullery? With me? I think not.” Ethel scowled.

“If…if you don’t…I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” George scowled.

“I’ll kill myself. Just like my mother did.”

“Not if the beadle gets ya first.” George headed for the door.

“Please!” Fern shouted again. “I watched them feed my father to that monster…Marduk. Just like they did with the blood of your friend Jenny.”

“Don’t say her name!” Ethel screamed. “You ain’t fit to say ‘er name!”

Fern spun away from Ethel and rushed to the sideboard to the right of the morning room door. She grabbed a Bristol glass vase, smashing it on the side of the piece of furniture. She held a jagged shard to her throat.

“My blood will be on your hands.”

“I’m getting’ the beadle.” George repeated.

“Wait!” Ethel and Maudie said in unison.



Did you miss Chapters 1-320 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 322. 

Her Majesty's Furniture: The Richard Bridgens Chair, 1815

Chair, 1815
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Who doesn’t like a chair with a little fringe on it? While, the upholstery on this chair has been replaced, it has been done so using historical illustrations of the chair and by copying wool fragments of the original cover. Hidden under the upholstery, the chair is stamped with the numerals XXIV, suggesting that it was once a part of a large set which was housed at Battle Abbey.

Battle Abbey was founded by William the Conqueror on the site of the Battle of Hastings in 1066. The abbey was rebuilt by 1500. Between 1812 and 1822, Sir Godfrey Vassal Webster (1789-1836) , who inherited the abbey in 1810, ordered a massive program of restoration which included the reroofing of the medieval Great Hall and work on the former Abbot's house. Webster commissioned appropriate furniture, including this set of chairs which were used throughout the abbey.

The frame of the chair is of stained oak, partly gilded and painted crimson, with an upholstered back and seat and gilt brass adornment. The chair-back boasts rectangular upholstered panel which is flanked by two spirals and set between two cross rails, each of which is ornamented with five gilt-brass rosette studs. In the center of the crest is a large gilt-brass shield bearing the Webster family crest. The chair is upholstered in crimson cloth with a deep, dramatic fringe around the seat.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: An Unusual Throne

Armchair
French, 1870
This and all related images from:
The Victoria & Albert Museum

If you thought that the British Monarchy had a lot of crowns, their number is nothing compared to the amount of thrones rattling around in various palaces. Just as I’ve had to pause to figure out which crown I’m talking about, I’ve had to spend some time this morning acquainting myself with the different thrones so I don’t lead you down the wrong path.  They all look enough alike as to be confusing. 


So, let’s start with a throne of sorts—not English and not, technically a throne. Nevertheless, it’s an attractive chair and fits with the day’s theme.

Here, we see an armchair of mahogany with gilt-bronze mounts. The arm supports are designed as winged sphinxes. This chair is the work of the French furniture makers at Jacob Fréres and is stamped as such. It is stenciled underneath with the inventory marks of the Palais de Tuileries and the number 27463. The number refers to its removal to the Garde-Meuble in 1826 from the Chateau de St. Cloud.

What’s curious is that though the inventory marks are genuine, the chair itself is a fake. It is not the chair that was removed from the Chateau de St. Cloud. It is, in fact, a newer chair from 1870 which was built on the frame of a much simpler chair. The original chair was the one which was supplied by Jacob Fréres between 1802 and 1803. Let’s look at the front legs. Aren’t they a bit out of proportion? The legs are, in reality, additions which were stripped from a table which had been built by Jacob Fréres.

In effect, we have a chair built in 1870 which someone has tried to give importance to by using the inventory numbers of an earlier chair built for Napoleon I. So, this is a con job along the lines of something Matt Bomer’s Neal Caffrey would have executed had White Collar been set in Nineteenth Century France. The forgery is quite clever and whoever did it took a great deal of time and effort to make it look convincing. Why? At this point, no one knows. It remains an attractive, if not poorly proportioned, mystery.

Mastery of Design: The Thistle Badge of the Prince of Wales

Thistle Badge
Blue-Grey and White Onyx,
Diamonds, Gold, Silver, Enamel
Miniature on Ivory
1703-1807
Originally made for King James II
The Royal Collection

The onyx cameo of St. Andrew set into this badge dates to the early Eighteenth Century and was originally carved as a garter badge for King James II. Over the centuries, the badge was altered considerably. Its present condition owes to a redesign from around 1764 when the reverse of the cameo was layered with an enamel design of a thistle. In 1772, a locket was embedded into the enamel. The locket housed a portrait miniature of Princess Louise.


There’s some debate about the origin of the opulent diamond mounting. Some records indicate that this garter jewel was set in a frame of large diamonds as early as 1703 with its presentation to King James II. However, other records show that the diamond mounting was added with the enamel backing in the mid-Eighteenth Century. It could be that the badge has had several settings though the cut and quality of the diamonds suggests creation in the Eighteenth Century.

In 1807, the Cardinal of York, bequeathed the Thistle Badge to the Prince of Wales. Later, the Thistle Badge (having become symbolic of Scotland) was displayed by King William IV as part of the “Honours of Scotland.”

Her Majesty's Furniture: The Tatham Stool, 1800

This majestic footstool from the Victoria & Albert Museum has a design similar to that of a marble seat that been discovered in Rome. Though it appears to be made of marble, the stool is made from beech wood, painted in white and grey to simulate the appearance of stone. The use of beech wood allowed for easier carving and much less costly (and less weighty) medium to marble. 

The stoolmwas designed by Charles Heathcote Tatham (1772-1842) who studied ancient architecture in Rome in July 1794 under the patronage of his employer and mentor, Henry Holland (1745-1806)--architect to the Prince of Wales.

This stool is one of a pair from the Neave Collection.  Its twin is at Temple Newsam House, Leeds. 

Sculpture of the Day: “Pandora,” by John Gibson, 1856

I have represented Pandora as described by Hesiod, and with the fatal box in her hand, drooping her head in deep thought; her eyes are turned a little from the box, whilst her hand is ready to raise the lid. The figure is still and motionless, but the mind is in full activity, labouring under the harassing feelings of intense curiosity, fear and perplexity. Her thoughts have dwelled too long upon the box. Pandora is already lost – we are sufferers, but Hope did not escape with the veil brood, she was shut in, and remains to the last with us.  --John Gibson



Pandora
John Gibson, 1856
The Lady Lever Art Gallery, Liverpool





In 1856, the Duke of Wellington approached sculptor John Gibson—upon being heartily impressed by an exhibit of the artist’s work—about purchasing a painted or “tinted” figure of Venus which had been part of the exhibition. Venus had already been promised to another patron, so the Duke of Wellington suggested that Gibson create a figure of Pandora that was also “tinted.”

Gibson slaved over the large white marble statue, depicting the exact moment when Pandora decides to open her fabled box. The Duke, however, wasn’t terribly thrilled with the drama of Gibson’s approach and declined on purchasing the marble which had already been painted with wax colors. Luckily for Gibson, the figure appealed to Lady Marian Alford who quickly purchased the piece.

Today, most of the color has been lost to time and wear. However, the mastery of Gibson’s sculpture shines through.