Retro Blast: Updated: Lover’s Eyes

A version of this post was originally published in May 2011 as the second part of a series called Picture Makes Perfect. But, at the moment, eyes feature large in my life. Supposedly, my retina is detaching, but the surgeon can’t find the tear! So, my writing is severely restricted while we wait to see how things progress.

Eyes were also important in the nineteenth century if you couldn’t afford a formal portrait or wanted something to carry next to your heart to remind you of your one true love. Thus, the creation of Lover’s Eyes. This small portrait showed only a portion of a person’s face. I imagine it didn’t take too many settings with an artist, unlike a full-sized portrait. Much more economical!

But sometimes it wasn’t cost or size that made these attractive. Perhaps you couldn’t marry your love, or your dear husband had died young on the battlefield. With the Lover’s Eye hidden in a locket, no one would know about the painting but you. And even if someone accidentally saw the picture, they would be hard pressed to prove who it portrayed.

Legend has it when the Prince of Wales was in love with Maria Fitzherbert and forbidden from legally marrying her without forfeiting the crown, he commissioned a painting of his eye for her and her eye for him. This he could wear against his heart without anyone being the wiser. He must have shown it about sufficiently, however, for Lover’s Eyes became all the rage. Later people chose these tiny portraits to remember someone who had died. This one is supposedly of Princess Charlotte, who died in 1817, and includes hair bound into the locket.

Finally, here are a couple of eye miniatures of two writers you happen to know.  See if you can tell which is which. 

I guess you could say the eyes have it. :-)

Snippets: The Lady’s Magazine, January 1811

I do enjoy reading periodicals from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—the articles, the stories, the illustrations, and even the ads. They don’t necessarily offer a completely accurate picture of their eras: overall, most general-consumption magazines present an aspirational picture of their worlds —how its readers would like their lives to be. After all, does any magazine you read truly reflect the reality of your everyday life?

Still, they do provide a window into the past that is often useful and informative. To this history geek, they can be at times surprising, eye-opening, and—sometimes—utterly delightful.

I have before me the January 1811 edition of The Lady’s Magazine, or, Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex; Appropri-ated Solely to Their Use and Amusement (gotta love the snappy title.) The “top story” is the beginning of a biography of the then-General Viscount Wellington (on the first step up the ladder leading to his eventual dukedom) who was busily engaged in the Peninsula. Like most of the pieces in this magazine, it is one installment of a longer piece; aside from letters to the editor and a few shorter extracts from essays and books, most of the articles here are continuations from issue to issue. The accompanying portrait engraving, purporting to be “an accurate likeness”, makes him look considerably younger (and plumper) than most of the portraits I’ve seen!

Of universal interest, I’m sure, is a brief but alarming piece titled “Ladies’ Clothes on Fire”, advocating for heavy woolen “fire cloaks” to become an accepted part of the décor of “every parlour and ’drawing-room in the kingdom, and deemed as necessary an article of its furniture, as the hearth-rug, the fire-screen, or the fender.”

Then there’s a touching story of “The Remarkable Docility of a Sow”, detailing the story of pigs who have been raised alongside hunting dogs and trained to point as well as their canine step-siblings.

Of course, there’s a fashion plate, showing “London Morning and Evening Dress” in shades of black and gray as mourning for Princess Amelia was still in effect. The black velvet evening dress, trimmed “with velvet and gold cord twisted together” would pass muster today at an evening event, I think.

But the piece that surprised me the most was a brief item in the Births, Marriages, and Deaths section: on January 9 was listed the death “At Gretna Green, aged 79, the celebrated Joseph Pasley, first (it is said) a tobacconist, afterward a fisherman, and finally, without ordination or commission, a volunteer, self-constituted priest of Hymen, better known by the appellation of the Gretna-Green Parson*” The asterisk indicates a note reading, “On a trial respecting the validity of one of his marriages—on which occasion, he appeared in court as a witness—we recollect the judge characterizing him as a blacksmith.” This is, of course, the famous performer of clandestine marriages for eloping couples from England who fled just over the Scottish border—and out of the reach of English church law...and evidently a news-maker even then!

Fancy Mourning Dishabille, Of Course

Ah, La Belle Assemblée never fails to inform...and delight!

Behold this marvelous “invention” of Mrs. Bell in the January 1818 issue—a Fancy Mourning Dishabille!

The accompanying text reads “Morning slip of grey Merino crape, ornamented with black round the border in ranges of leaves; the slip made low, without sleeves, and worn over a cambric spencer, ornamented with fine muslin, embroidered at the edge with black, and finished at the throat with a triple ruff of muslin, tied in front with black love. Black sarsnet French apron, edged round with a newly invented trimming of black love. Cornette of fine muslin, crowned with a garland of black flowers. Black chamois slippers.”

So... why mourning? A look at the date answers that: official mourning was still in effect for Princess Charlotte of Wales, Prinny’s daughter who died in childbirth the previous November. This dress moves into the half-mourning range, as the dress is of gray crepe rather than black and includes a white cambric undershirt, or spencer, and white muslin headdress.

And the “Fancy Dishabille” part? That title and the decorative apron suggest this was a dress to be worn “at home”...but not when one’s plans included giving the dog a bath and cleaning out the
lingerie drawer! Rather, it was for when one was expecting, say, friends and acquaintances to drop by—maybe to pay “thank you for your hospitality” calls after a dinner or party, as one did. ☺

I’m intrigued by the references to the “ black love” trimming the French apron and the hat: it looks almost like a chenille trimming of some sort, or perhaps a pleated ribbon. The apron itself—I’m not sure what makes it French, but it’s certainly a fetching enough article. And the leaf decoration around the hem definitely presages the heavily decorated dress hems that were soon to be all the rage.

What do you think? Will this be your next lounging-about-at-home costume?

The Universal Advertising Sheet, Part 4

 
Let’s see what interesting shreds of personal and social history we can read about, courtesy this week of the Monthly Compendium of Literary, Fashionable, and Domestic Advertisements from the February and March 1811 editions of La Belle Assemblée...

November 1810 saw the death of George III’s youngest daughter, Princess Amelia, and commercial after-effects were still being felt, as demonstrated by these two items:

COURT AND FAMILY MOURNING

The Nobility, Gentry, and Families, are respectfully informed, that SNUGGS and Co Mercers and Manufacturers to Her Majesty and the Royal Family, have a most extensive Assortment of every fashionable Article for the occasion, warranted f superior make, and at such prices as must ensure general approbation. No. 20, the Corner of Henrietta-street, Covent Garden. (February 1811)

(Hmmm. One wonders if they overstocked back in November...)

THE LATE PRINCESS AMELIA

The extra-ordinary and general respect in which that amiable Princess was and is still held, is strikingly demonstrated by the unusual demand for the beautiful Portrait of her engraved by Agar, after Mrs. Mee. The original plate is already quite worn out; and the public will not be displeased to learn, that the same able artist has another in hand, which will be finished in a few days, and will possess all the advantages that may naturally be expected in a second performance. (February 1811)

(All the advantages of a second performance...does that mean it’s an even more flattering likeness?

However, this advertisement very much looks forward to the relaxing of mourning:

FASHIONABLE BALLS, ASSEMBLIES, MASQUERADES, &c.

Mr. M. MARKS, most respectfully informs the Nobility and Gentry, that he intends to engage Musicians, and personally to attend at Balls, Masquerades, &c. as usual, and solicits their commands for the winter season. Letters or messages addressed to Mr. M. MARKS, Musician at the Surrey Theatre; or at Mr. Wilson’s, Dancing-Master, No. 9, Bedford-row, will receive the strictest attention.

MR. MARK’S Collection of Dances may be had at Kelly’s Saloon, Pall-Mall; Birchall and Golding, Bond-street, and at all the principal Music Shops. (February 1811)

This one was interesting...Regency falsies?!

PATENT SHIELDS

TALMAGE’S fashionable CORSET Warehouse, removed from Orchard-street, Portman-square, to No. 31, Park-street, Grosvenor square, where he continues to Sell his new invented PATENT SHIELDS for the bosom, which are so universally approved of by Ladies in the first circles of fashion, as they display the most graceful form imaginable. Ocular demonstration will convince any Lady of their utility, without even a single trial; also his new invented Corsets, that for ease and elegance stand unrivalled. Ladies elastic steel backs, braces, and monitors, upon an entire new plan, for improving the shape. (March 1811)

And I found this particularly interesting, for many reasons:

FASHIONABLE DANCING

Mr. Wilson, Dancing Master, from the King’s Theatre, Opera-House, Author of the Analysis of Country Dancing, Treasures of Terpsichore, &c., respectfully informs the Public, that his Academy for Dancing is now open every day, where persons of any age may be instructed in every department of Dancing, adapted either to the Stage or Ball-room.

For the sake of privacy, no third person is permitted to be present while the Pupil is receiving a lesson.

Country Dancing, Four private lesson: One Guinea, or completed for Five Guineas; Reels, with the Original Irish and Scottish Steps, Four Guineas. The Terms of every other Dance may be known of Mr. Wilson, at his residence, 9, Bedford-street, Bedford-row, Holborn, where he may be privately spoke with every afternoon from four till six o’clock.

Where may be had, price 7s. 6d. his “Analysis of Country Dancing;” likewise, his “Treasures of Terpsichore.”

N.B. Ladies wishing Private Instructions may receive them from Mrs. Wilson. (March 1811)

So private dancing lessons, with no one else to witness your two left feet in motion, could be had for both men and women...but wow, they were pricy! Interesting, too, that the ad specifies that stage dancing was also taught...in a time when dancing on stage was, shall we say, not very respectable.

Little Big(elow) House

I've said it before: my side of the country has less Anglo history than Marissa's. So I'm always tickled when I get to step back in time earlier than 1900. A few months ago, I had the privilege of visiting Bigelow House in our state’s capitol of Olympia. Built in the 1850s, Bigelow House is oldest house in that city, and one of the earliest still in existence in the Puget Sound area. It was the original home of lawyer and legislator Daniel R. Bigelow and his wife Ann Elizabeth White. The Bigelows were dedicated packrats. Nothing that didn’t have to be thrown out was. And that leaves us with a veritable treasure-trove of items dating to the earliest days of the territory.

Our charming docent Kristin shared a number of stories as she led us through the collection. One of my favorites involved Ann Elizabeth. She came to the Northwest with her family via wagon train on the Oregon Trail. Along the way, they spotted many graves of cholera victims. Finally, they came across a woman who’d been abandoned by her party to die of the disease. Ann Elizabeth’s family felt it wasn’t right to leave her alone to die. They left Ann Elizabeth instead, with a horse and a rifle. Ann Elizabeth was a teen at the time. She stayed with the woman until she passed away, buried her, then rode to catch up with her family, crossing miles of territory. Now, that’s a nineteenth century heroine!

Given that kind of gumption, it didn’t surprise me that Ann Elizabeth became a schoolteacher when she was seventeen, walking miles to teach her handful of students each day before returning home to her family. Docent Kristin is holding her school bell. She married Daniel when she was eighteen. He was already an influential member of territory at the time. He joined her in becoming an ardent supporter of women’s rights, hosting Susan B. Anthony for dinner when she came through on crusade (the chair at the top is where she allegedly while at the Bigelows’).  He went so far as to introduce legislation that would have given Washington women the vote decades before the rest of the nation. Sadly, it didn’t pass.

It was at Bigelow House that I saw something unexpected. Marissa and I have talked about mourning jewelry used in the nineteenth century. Often times a piece of the deceased’s hair was woven into a broach or put inside a locket. This is something different. This watch chain is woven entirely of human hair, a gift from Ann Elizabeth to Daniel, while she was still living. Waste not, want not!

Many pictures of Bigelow House are copyrighted, but you can see the exterior and some of the interior in this video:

It’s a little house with a lot of history behind it! And I appreciate that!

Happy New Year!...but not in 1811, 1818, or 1819 (and 1820 was pretty lousy too)

Happy New Year to all our readers! Regina and I hope that 2015 will be an historic year for all of you (pun fully intended)!

For the House of Hanover, though, which held the British throne for much of the 18th and 19th centuries, several new years in the early 1800s were not very happy: Novembers and Januarys in particular saw the deaths of several prominent members of the royal family.

And of course, the death of a member of the royal family meant that polite society went into mourning as well. While early nineteenth mourning had not become the extreme pastime it would under Victoria, the expectation was that black would be worn by those who could afford it for a few months, followed by a period of half-mourning. Rules for immediate family members were of course different—mourning was prescribed for a year and a day for spouses, a year for parents or children, six moths for siblings, and lesser amounts of time for aunts, uncles, and cousins. This meant some scrambling as the “little black dress” had not yet been invented: you didn't necessarily have much in the way of black clothing, for black was very specifically the color of mourning. While mourning dress was not much of a hardship for men, who already possessed black clothing, for women it meant hurried trips to the dressmaker for new dresses and accessories (imagine how busy the high society modistes and milliners must have been when royals died!) or making over and/or dyeing an older garment for women of more modest means (there are several references to this activity among the letter of Jane Austen.)

Additionally, the rise of fashion periodicals helped popularize the wearing of a special mourning wardrobe. Let’s have a look at what was en vogue in mourning wear in Ackermann’s Repository.

Princess Amelia, youngest daughter of George III, died in early November 1810 in her late twenties after a long bout with tuberculosis. It’s thought her death exacerbated her father’s descent into his final illness which led to the Regency. As a daughter of the monarch, she seems to have merited only a month of public mourning as January's prints are back to normal.  Note the decorative urn, often a symbol of mourning, with a coronet and picture of a young woman on it. Interesting to note that our model is wearing white gloves; perhaps full mourning was not prescribed? (Ackermann's, December 1810):

Princess Charlotte of Wales, Prinny’s only daughter, died after a terrible two-day labor in November 1817, probably of childbed fever. National mourning for her was deep and sincere, and public mourning seems to have been decreed for two months, as per the prints from December 1817 and January 1818, all from Ackermann's Repository:

 

In the prints from January 181 below, note the addition of white and gray to the color palette. This denotes half-mourning, when these plus quiet shades of purple and lavender could be properly worn.

Queen Charlotte followed her beloved grand-daughter almost exactly a year later in November 1818. Her death was not unexpected as she had been ill for some time. It's especially interesting to note here that the styles themselves were in the highest fashion--the enormous bonnets and decorative hems that were such a feature of the year--but just rendered in black.

And into half-mourning, for January 1819:

January 1820 was a bad month indeed, as the Duke of Kent, father of the future Queen Victoria, succumbed to pneumonia only to be followed less than a week later by his father, King George III...and the Prince Regent became King George IV.