A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 27

Chapter 27:
The Jar of Heads



"Stay there."  Punch whispered to Lennie and Robert

"Don't, Punch...please."  Lennie croaked.  "Stay."

"We can't jus' stay here indefinitely, dear."  Punch said softly.  "Not with her standin' in the shadows."

"We don't even know what it is."  Lennie said.

"I just wanna approach it."  Punch replied.  

"I'm going with you."  Robert stepped forward.

"No, no."  Punch shook his head.  "Chum, I need ya to stay here with my sister.  Listen, I ain't gonna get too close.  I just wanna see if I can get a look at her...it."  He stepped forward.

"Be careful."  Lennie urged.

"Hullo there."  Punch forced a smile, stepping forward slowly.  "I see you there behind the sofa.  I'm the Duke of Fallbridge, but you can call me 'Mr. Punch.'  I see ya already met me sister.  She's called 'Lennie.'  What are you called?"

The only response was raspy breathing.

"Do you mind if I come closer?"  Punch asked politely.  "I don't mean ya any harm, I don't.  Even though I'm called Mr. Punch by me friends and family, it don't mean I'm gonna hit ya.  I don't do that...anymore."

As Punch drew closer to the...intruder, he could see the features a little better.  The face was most definitely that of his mother, but not exactly the same.  The features lacked the hardness and cruelty which served to make the late Duchess both beautiful and intimidating.  They had been replaced with a cruder look, a primitive countenance which didn't convey malice as much as it did wildness, fear and anger.

He tried not to gasp at the sight of his dead mother's visage.  

However, some look of bewilderment of confusion must have passed briefly across Punch's innocent face because the intruder growled softly.

Punch tried to smile again.  "So, how long 'ave you been here?  I wish I'd known you were here.  I like to make my guests feel welcome.  I'd have made sure that you was given a proper dinner.  See, I only just arrived me-self.  Thought I'd see how the ol' place was fairin' with me in London all the time."

Again, Punch took another step closer, and as he did, he noticed that though the face of the intruder was rather unblemished, the body was quite horribly disfigured.  Her hands were not so much hands as they were claws.  Where there should have been fingers, the bones and flesh had fused together into something like pincers.  Still, something like fingernails had grown long and crooked, curving out at angles from random points.

Her back was stooped and somewhat ridged beneath the plain, dark shift which she wore.  Her feet were unclad, and one foot was notably larger than the other, flat and wide--the termination of a bulbous leg not unlike the trunk of a tree.

"Oh my,"  Punch nodded.  "You can't be comfortable standin' there in the cold and dark.  Maybe you'd like to come and sit here by the fire.  Truly, we mean ya no harm. That gent over there is my companion.  He's called Robert.  He's as sweet a man as he is handsome.  A very fine man, nice and gentle.  He's a doctor, too, he is.  Maybe..."

At the mention of the word, "doctor," the intruder began to growl and gnash her teeth.  She swatted at the air with her claws and ran toward Punch.

Lennie screamed.

Punch guarded his face with his arms as the woman knocked him over.  Before they had time to blink, she had managed to open the door with both of her appendages and escaped into the passages.

"Dear Punch!"  Robert rushed over.  "Did she harm you?"

"No,"  Punch shook his head as Robert helped him up.

"What was it?"  Lennie called out, joining the two men.

"I ain't quite sure.  But, I gotta feelin' someone in this house does.  Chum, ring for Jackson.  Wait with Lennie here and lock the door."

"Where are you going?"  Lennie asked.

"To the nursery to tell Gamilla to lock the door and sit by Colin with Gerard and Dog Toby."  Punch said.

"Not alone,"  Robert shook his head.

"I'll be fast."  Punch said.  "Only I need to know Lennie's got ya here."

Robert sputtered, but relented.  "Very well, dear Punch.  Do hurry."

"I will, Chum.  Now, please, ring for Jackson."

At that very moment, Jackson was awakened by the frantic ringing from the Coral Suite.  He stumbled from his pantry to find Ivy and Gregory in the Servants' Hall.  He gasped at what he saw.

"What is this?  I told you never to bring that out here!"  Jackson snarled.

"We need it."  Ivy answered quickly.

"Why?  The jar of heads is only for emergencies!" Jackson snapped.

"If this ain't an emergency, Mr. Jackson, I don't know what is."  Gregory shook his head.


Did you miss Chapters 1-26 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come  back tomorrow for Chapter 27.

The Home Beautiful: The Queen Victoria Tapestry, 1877

Tapestry
Royal Windsor Tapestry Co., 1877
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Some art historians believe that this portrait of Queen Victoria is the first tapestry which was ever woven at the Royal Windsor Tapestry Company. The portrait is based on a painting by the Austrian artist Baron Heinrich von Angeli (1840-1925).  The original painting was completed at Windsor Castle in 1875.

The Royal Windsor Tapestry Company was very closely associated with the Royal family, so its only fitting that its inaugural work would depict Queen Victoria who was their patron.  The connection, in fact was so close that the Queen’s children were appointed Presidents and Vice Presidents of the concern. The Queen made several visits to the tapestry company and notably recorded in her diaries her pleasure with the business.

The cartoon from which this tapestry was created was drawn in 1876 by Phoebus Levin, a German painter who was recorded as working in London between 1855 and 1878. According to the V&A, “the tapestry bears the names of Michel Brignolas, who became the first Manager, and of Henri C. M. Henry, Art Director of Gillows, the Oxford Street decorators who founded the Royal Windsor Tapestry Company.”

The finished product was presented to the Queen in 1877 in honor of her fortieth year on the throne.

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: The Queen's Birthday Table at Osborne, 1859

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

On special occasions such as birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas, gifts to Her Majesty Queen Victoria would be presented for display within whichever of the palaces she happened to be occupying at the time so that the residents (not the public) could enjoy them and so that the Queen herself could take inventory of all that she'd raked in.

While. once photography came into vogue, photographs were often taken of these gift tables, Her Majesty preferred to have these gift tables recorded for posterity in watercolor.  James Roberts was her watercolorist of choice.  

Here, we see Mr. Roberts' rendition of the Queen's Birthday Table as it was presented at Osborne House on her birthday May 24, 1859.

This was Her Majesty's fortieth birthday.

Crown Copyright
The Royal Collection
Via The Royal Collection Trust
Image Courtesy of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Mastery of Design: The Hull Grundy Pansy Brooch, c. 1850

The British Museum

As we've often discussed before, the Victorian Language of Flowers was used to communicate many a message when the spoken word was not appropriate.  In this intimate language, the pansy represented "thoughts"--a clever play on the French word "pensees" which means "thoughts."  The pansy could also signify to the recipient of the flower that the sender was saying, "You occupy my thoughts."  The pansy was developed out of the viola by botanists from the late 1820s and by 1861, the brightly-hued, large variations that we know today were being grown.

When this brooch was made between 1840 and 1850, we can see that the flower was well on its way to becoming the bloom that we know.  At this point in both floral and jewelry history, the pansy was a popular romantic symbol, and this jewel is a perfect example of the place that the bloom held in English culture.  A work of chased two-color gold, the brooch is set with amethysts and citrines with pale green stone, possibly peridot, in the center.  The gems are mounted in the form of a pansy flower with the flower-head set on a trembler spring.

This piece forms part of the Hull Grundy bequest to The British Museum.

Treat of the Week: The Power of Pasta

Mercy.  I can't wait for this year to be over.  It's making sure to throw as much at me as it can, too.  As you know, my neighbors and I, as well, as much of North Texas, were without power for a few days due to an ice storm.  The events of those days are one, big cold blur of blankets and trying to preserve the remaining battery power in the iPhone.  

It wasn't, really, until I was revived by my mother's cooking that I can remember things clearly.  There's nothing quite a revitalizing as a big bowl of pasta.  So, once I was extricated from my icy Victorian prison, I was greeted with a steaming bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce, artichoke hearts, roasted eggplant and plump tuscan beans.  That perked me right up, as did the delicious salad and ciabatta bread.  

For dessert, homemade blueberry muffins were just the right touch to restore some much needed energy.  With a lovely crumb topping, they were well worth the long struggle to get to them.

Print of the Day: The Plum Pudding in Danger, c. 1800

Click to enlarge.
The Plum Pudding in Danger
James Gillray
c. 1800
The Victoria & Albert Museum

Illustrated by James Gillray (1757-1815), this satirical drawing was printed around 1800. We see who I believe to be King George III and Napoleon Bonaparte seated at a dining table, carving up the earth which is portrayed as a plum pudding. The meaning is rather obvious.

The piece is really rather attractive, but, then, I like this sort of thing. It is inscribed: 

The Plumb-pudding [sic.] in danger--or--State Epicures taking un Petit Souper.

"the great Globe itself and all which it inherit" is too small to satisfy such insatiable appetites."

Her Majesty's Furniture: The Plum Pudding Desk, 1800-20

Desk of Plum Pudding Mahogany
The Victoria & Albert Museum

John Jones, a keen collector of French decorative arts from 1700 to 1800, left his collection to the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1882.  While many of his pieces were truly magnificent and authentic, many were later proven to be copies.  Jones, of course, wasn’t aware of this, and had been conned by clever forgers who knew that, at the time, at least, their counterfeits would not be spotted.  Now, of course, with science on our side, we’re able to spot these forgeries.

Here’s a famous piece from Jones’ collection which was originally thought to be something much grander and older than it turned out to be.  The curators of the V&A now feel that this handsome desk actually was made between 1800 and 1820 as a much simpler piece (without the porcelain plaques) of furniture.

The desk was probably veneered all over with the dappled mahogany that is now seen everywhere except the doors. This kind of veneer is colloquially known as “plum pudding” mahogany and was very fashionable at the beginning of the 19th century.

The circular plaques were most likely added between 1860 and 1880, in imitation of the Sèvres porcelain plaques that were used on furniture in the 1780s. These plaques, it seems were created made from old plates, but the original decoration has been removed with acid, and this floral decoration added.

The goal with this deception was to make the desk look as if it had been made in the1780s.  Jones purchased the desk believing this to be true.

Nonetheless, the piece of oak, pine and mahogany, veneered with plain mahogany and 'plum pudding' mahogany, with its gilt-bronze mounts, doors set with circular plaques of painted porcelain, and top set with a slab of Carrara marble, is still attractive even if it wasn’t an important French antique.