Mastery of Design: The "Old Mine" Snuffbox, 1750

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Snuffbox
Germany, c. 1750
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Expertly carved agate forms the body of this asymmetrical snuffbox. Made circa 1750, this box was likely produced in Germany since it displays, on the cover, an incised putto and shell motif which was a favorite of South German artists at the time.

The snuffbox is cartouche-shaped with gold-mounted agate and an asymmetrical bombé body. The true beauty of the piece comes from an applied spray of “old mine” cut diamonds and star-cut diamonds mounted in silver.

Now part of the Gilbert Collection at the V&A, the box shows the mark for gold imported from countries without customs conventions with France, September or October 24, 1864-May 30, 1893. So, it’s a safe bet that’s when it came to England. 

Painting of the Day: The Mill: Girls Dancing to Music by a River, 1870

Click to Dance to Music by a River

"The Mill: Girls Dancing to Music by a River"
Edward Burne-Jones, 1870-1882
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Inspired by the art of the Italian Renaissance which looked to Classical subjects, this painting by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898) is entitled “The Mill: Girls Dancing to Music by a River.” The subject, clearly, is actually a depiction of “The Three Graces.” They’re dancing to the music of Apollo.

Burne-Jones used, as models friends, and relatives of the prominent art collection Constantine Alexander Ionides. The woman on the far left, one Mary Zambaco, was for awhile, a lover of Burne-Jones. She was also Mr. Ionides’ granddaughter. It didn’t end well. In fact, in another painting of the same year, “Phyllis and Demophoon,” Burne-Jones inscribed of Zambaco, the epigraph “Dic mihi quod feci? Nisi non sapienter amavi” (Tell me, what have I done? Except that I have not loved wisely).

The composition was started in 1870. But, it appears it wasn’t delivered to Ionides immediately. Burne-Jones took twelve years to finish it. Some feel that the artist developed an attachment to the painting because of his relationship with Zambaco. It was presented to Ionides in 1882 after being displayed at the Royal Academy. The inventory of Ionides’ collection as of 1882 lists that he paid £905 for “The Mill.” 

Antique Image of the Day: "Into the Abyss," 1919

Click on the image to dance with the devil.
Into the Abyss
German, 1919
The Victoria & Albert Museum

After the Great War, Germany became a republic—an idea which was not embraced by some nationalists as well as communists. This poster from 1919 serves to vilify political extremists as well as make a middle-of-the-road democracy seem appealing. The communists are depicted as devils and pied pipers. The rotund clergyman acts as a symbol of those who wished for a return to Imperial Germany.

This is the work of artist Theo Matejko (1893-1946) who produced propaganda posters for the German Democratic Party until 1933. Then he went on to work wholly for the National Socialist [Nazi] Party. Boo! The text “IN DEN ABGRUND” translates to “Into the Abyss.”

At the Music Hall: Three O'Clock in the Morning, a Waltz, 1922

Three o'clock
In the morning
We danced the
Whole night through
And daylight soon
Will be dawning
Just one more
Waltz with you

I said the melody
It's so entrancing
It seems to be
Made for us two
I said that I
I could just keep
Right on dancing
Forever dear
Dancing here with you

It's three o'clock
In the morning
I say that we danced
The whole night through
And daylight soon
Will be dawning, yeah
There's a-one
More dance with you

I say that that melody
It's so, so entrancing, yeah
I could just go on and on
I said that I could
Just keep right on dancing
Forever dear
Dancing here with you

(Melody's so entrancing)
Melody's so entrancing
(Seems to be made for us two)
It seems to be made for us two

I could just keep right on
I could keep on dancing forever
Here, dancing here with you
Three o'clock in the morning 



“Three O’Clock in the Morning,” a popular “good night waltz” (of the sort which would signal the end of a dance, or, the closing of a club), features music written by Julian Robledo and lyrics by Theodora Morse (under the name “Dorothy Terriss”).

The first recording of the beloved song is believed to have been by Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra. In fact, the song is so associated with Whiteman that it became his signature tune.

The song is famously referenced in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s  over-rated, insufferable novel (just my opinion, no arguments please) “The Great Gatsby” and has long been a favorite standard of many recording artists. 

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 356

Chapter 356
Luck


"Ruthy?"  Gerard smiled as he poked his head through the night nursery door.  "Is Gamilla in our new rooms?"

"Yes,"  Ruthy frowned.  "She came up her not half an hour ago."

"So, I take it that the hen-do has finished for the evening?"  Gerard smiled.

"Don't ask me."  Ruthy snapped.  "And, you shouldn't be so flippant when referring to a gathering which included Her Ladyship."

"I heard Her Ladyship call it just that this afternoon."  Gerard replied.  "Listen, Ruthy, why do you have to be so sour all the time?"

"I don't know what you mean."  Ruthy turned her head away.  "And, I'll thank you to keep your voice down.  I've only just gotten the baby to sleep and it was no easy task with all the noise in the house."

"Well, the noise 'as stopped now."  Gerard raised an eyebrow.  "Everyone's gone to their beds, and I think it's high time you do the same."

"And leave the baby?"

"Ruthy, it ain't like you sleep in here."  Gerard answered.  "Gamilla's right here.  If the baby cries, we'll hear 'im."

"You just want me to leave so you can be alone with Gamilla."

"Right you are."  Gerard nodded.  "And, you'd best get used to it, too.  When we return from our wedding trip, Gamilla and me..."  He pointed to the door to their new suite.  "Will be sleepin' right in there.  Together.  And, we will not want you to be sittin' out here in the night nursery all the time.  You got your own room to yourself in the attics.  So, why don't ya go up there and get some sleep?  You'll be busy tomorrow and the next two weeks.  Rest while you can."

"You are not the person to whom I answer, Mr. Gurney."

"No, you answer to my bride-to-be."

"I answer to the Duke of Fallbridge!"

"Ultimately we all do."  Gerard laughed.  "But, first you got Mr. Speaight, and Gamilla and even Mr. Iantosca and me.  We're valets and the masters' footmen.  So..."

"Very well."  Ruthy said stiffly.  "I shall leave."

"I know you're gonna 'ave it rough here with Gamilla gonna be gone for awhile, havin' to take care o' things all by yourself, but, I heard His Grace say he was gonna see to it you got help and..."

"I manage alone quite well.  God knows I'm mostly alone here anyway."  Ruthy scoffed as she walked out of the room.

"Lord..."  Gerard shook his head.  He straightened his livery and smoothed his hair before knocking on the door to the rooms he'd soon be sharing with Gamilla.

"Yes?"  Gamilla called out.

"It's your groom."  Gerard teased.

"Oh!"  Gamilla exclaimed, rushing to the door.  "Don't come in.  You ain't supposed to see me before the weddin'!"

"The wedding is tomorrow.  I can see ya all I want tonight."

"Oh, no you ain't!"  Gamilla laughed, leaning against the door to prevent Gerard from opening it.  "It's after midnight.  Today IS tomorrow!"

"I see."  Gerard replied.  "Maybe...maybe, it don't count 'til the sun rises."

"No, no."  Gamilla replied playfully.

"Well, at least tell me how your party went."  Gerard laughed.

"Through the door?"  Gamilla asked.

"You're the one what won't let me in, Love."

"All right,"  Gamilla chuckled, opening the door.  "But, if we get bad luck, it's all on your head."

"No bad luck, Love.  Not ever again.  It's gonna be you and me.  How could we 'ave bad luck?"

Gamilla grinned and embraced Gerard.  "I believe it, honey.  For true."  She took him by the hand.  "Come on in.  Tomorrow, this is your home, too."  As she closed the door, she looked over her shoulder.  "Is Ruthy gone?"

"I sent her to bed.  Love, why is she so sour?  She's always been a bit stiff, but, she's gotten all the more unpleasant over these weeks."

"I don't know."  Gamilla shrugged.  "I think maybe she don't feel like she's part of everythin' here.  Like tonight, she didn't get to join us."

"I can see her bein' bitter 'bout tonight,"  Gerard nodded.  "But, it ain't like we don't try to include her."  He shrugged.  "I can think of many times when one of us 'ave offered 'er a place at table next to us and she takes her tray and leaves.  If she wants to be friends, she don't make a good show of it."

"Long as she does her job, I don't care."  Gamilla laughed.  "Right now, all I care 'bout is you? How was the evenin' with the men?"

"No, I asked you first."

"Oh, honey, it was beautiful."  She grinned.  "They were so sweet."

"What'd you do?"

"Oh, we laughed and ate and played silly games, but mostly talked.  And, look."  She pointed. "Look at all them gifts they done gave me."

"That was sweet."  Gerard nodded.

"You didn't look."

"I only wanna look at you." 

"Oh, Gerry."

"It's true, Love!"  Gerard patted her hand.

Gamilla looked away bashfully.  "How was the evening with the men?"

"Great fun.  Mr. Punch led us all in some bawdy songs.  I should say, the Duke did.  But, he was all Mr. Punch tonight."

"Even in front of the Queen's groomsman?"

"Sure was."  Gerard laughed.  "All but Dr. Halifax and Mr. Punch smoked cigars and we told jokes and they teased me.  His Grace  gave me a handsome groomin' set and five lovely new suits of clothes to wear on our trip.  Charlie gave me a fob."

"You don't gotta watch."  Gamilla giggled.

Gerard reached into his pocket.  "I do now."  He retrieved a handsome gold pocket watch.  "A gift from Dr. Halifax."

"Oh my goodness."  Gamilla gasped.  "Ain't it handsome?"

"It is."  Gerard returned the watch to his pocket.  "Yet, all I can think of is you.  Ya know, I been thinkin' 'bout Scotland.  Ya know...before it all went bad.  The night of the ball when you and me danced."

"I remember."  Gamilla smiled sweetly.

"Dance with me."  Gerard stood and offered his hand to Gamilla.

"Now?  There ain't no music."

"Don't need it."  Gerard shook his head.

"I will dance with you, Mr. Gurney."  Gamilla stood.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gurney."

"But, then ya gotta go."

"I will."  Gerard nodded.  "I'll be good.  I just can't wait tomorrow for our first dance as husband and wife."

"We ain't married yet."

"Close enough."  Gerard winked.  "It's gonna be the first of many dances."

"It sure is, honey, it sure is."


Did you miss Chapters 1-355 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back on Monday for Chapter 357 and some BIG SURPRISES.

Drawing of the Day: A Ball Scene, c. 1595-1605

A Ball Scene
Jacob Matham, 1595-1605
Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

This work of pen and brown ink is finished with a wash of brown and grey and touches of red and white chalk to add depth. The sketch is attributed to Jacob Matham (1571-1631) and it was acquired by King George III (1738-1820) around 1810, about two hundred years after it was created.

The scene depicts a Renaissance-style room inhabited by an elegant party engaged in an elegant dance. As this is likely a cartoon for a later painting, the sketch is somewhat rough and displays a rather inconsistent perspective.

The drawing has long been the subject of much interest, in large part because of the rather eerie appearance of some of the figures. Their ghostly look, it was discovered, owes to over-painting which changed their position—their original poses bleeding through the white gouache which was used to cover them.

There’s also a problem with the signature. While the piece is signed by Matham, it is also inscribed, “Venice (vinetia), 1605.” This is problematic in that, in 1605, Matham was in Haarlem. He visited Venice in 1595, not 1605. Furthermore, the room in the composition is clearly not Venetian.

Also, the size of the piece is not consistent with Matham’s other works.

For these reasons, some question the veracity of the attribution to Matham. Still, it’s likely that the artist produced the piece ten years after his Venetian trip in an effort to remember what he’d seen as well as to capitalize on the growing popularity of ballroom scenes.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: 'Jeu de l'Echarpe,' 1898-1904

The Victoria & Albert Museum

This delicate figure of white biscuit porcelain is part of a grand table design of fifteen standing female sculptures of the “scarf dance” made famous by Loïe Fuller. The group was made between 1898 and 1904, designed by Agathon Léonard for the Sèvres porcelain factory in Paris.

This fluid, elegant group was intended for display on a table or sideboard and depicts each step in Fuller’s celebrated dance—“Jeu de l'Echarpe.” Agathon Léonard was careful in the design of the group, mastering each motion and expression of Fuller’s dance. He was born Léonard Agathon van Weydeveldt of Belgian parents and trained as a sculptor, specializing in ceramic modeling. The group from which this sculpture comes is considered one of his great triumphs.


The full group, fittingly entitled “Jeu de I'Echarpe,” was first shown in the Paris 1900 Exhibition at which Sèvres won a Grand Prix, and was described in the exhibition report as "elegant figures in a graceful and charming ensemble which were a great and deserved success.” This figure and its porcelain sisters typify the spirit of Art Nouveau style—undulation, movement, and the idealized female form. Léonard couldn’t have picked a better subject than Miss Fuller. The American dancer was a regular fixture at the Folies Bergère, Paris where her free-flowing, silk-clad dance caught the attention of many an artist, including the French artist Henri Toulouse-Lautrec who was also drawn to the elegant theatricality of the spectacle.

The figure is marked number “12” of the group of fifteen and bears the marks “S” and “1904.”