From My Collection, Part 2

I’ve been an inveterate haunter of antique stores and junk shops since my teens, because...well...old stuff! I love antique china and glassware and jewelry as well as fashion prints and dance cards, and make time at least once a month to check out my local consignment shops.

Last month, I hit the jackpot.

This delightful miniature of a young man (what do you think? I put him at about age 18 or 20) measures 2 ½ inches inches long by 2 inches wide. It looks to be painted on ivory; there’s a bit of damaged paint around the edges and on on his shirtfront. The craftsmanship is good but the style to me feels perhaps a little naive; it’s possible to see in he close-up at right where the lower contours of the face were corrected, evidently having initially been painted in too full. Notice the delicate points of his shirt just peeping above his stock; no dandy, this lad!

The case appears to be brass, well made with a fine rope detail around the face. What is interesting is the back of the case: there’s another smaller framed opening, in which there’s a scrap of black cloth; of course, I immediately started speculating on why it’s there (was it from the young man’s coat, maybe? Snipped off by a sweetheart, or saved by a doting mother or sister?)

Alas, there is no identification accompanying the piece. Based on the clothing (the high lapels and sloping shoulders of his coat, the black stock rather than a cravat) and hairstyle, my guess is that this miniature is from some time later in the 1820s to perhaps a year or two into the 1830s. Again, stories begin to well up as I look at it: was this perhaps a young man about to leave for university to study for the church (those modest shirt points again) painted for a doting parent? Was it (sorry to be a downer) painted after his untimely death, as his image has a certain air of fragility about it (plus that scrap of cloth...was that white stain left by tears?)

What do you think?

That's Ruff

I was searching for inspiration for this week’s post and ran across something interesting. Marissa’s wonderful fashion prints have given us insight into various styles and accessories during the early nineteenth century. But a quick perusal of portraits during the same time showed me one particular style that endured across territorial boundaries and fashion.

The ruff.

Now, I will admit that I often think of ruffs—that gathered material around the neck of the gown which frames the face—as something dating from the 1600s instead of the 1800s. I had seen ruffs in nineteenth century fashion plates, of course, but once I started looking, they were everywhere!

Some had large pleats and took up all of the neckline of the gown, like the one above. Others were more like a lace collar, soft and fluttery, like the one below.

Some appeared to be made of lace.

Others more like eyelet fabric.

And still others almost looked like feathers.

Some were quite sheer.

 Others more solid.

A few were austere.

And some were rather fanciful.

What about you? Would you wear one of these creations? I’m interested in trying!

Cool 19th Century Places to Visit: Second Bank of the United States, Philadelphia

People who love history throng to Philadelphia to ogle the Liberty Bell and tour Independence Hall. But there’s a little-known gem just a block or so away for those whose hearts belong to the nineteenth century. The Second Bank of the United States houses a portrait gallery with wonderful paintings from the late 1700s and early 1800s. And the building itself harkens to the pillared halls of the Regency.

The Second Bank was built in the Greek Revival style, beginning in 1819. It was completed in 1824. When I visited 18 months ago, I saw a number of style choices that reminded me of early nineteenth century England. For example, this window still uses the interior shutters visible in such notable mansions as Apsley House in London.

And doesn’t the pink passage near the main portrait display look just like the entryway to an aristocrat’s town house?

The portraits themselves are marvelous, depicting dress and accessories of the time. The hat!

Many of the portaits are by local artist Charles Willson Peale, who painted people he felt exemplified a self-sacrificing nature and were strong civic supporters. Some of the individuals are government or business leaders, but there is more than one lady in the bunch. Other portraits are by his son Rembrandt (Charles took his painting seriously, apparently), brother James, and British artists James and Ellen Sharples.

There’s another set of Regency paintings at the Second Bank, but I doubt many find it. The stone steps in front prohibit accessibility, so second entrance was created on the west side for those mobility impaired. It brings you in to a basement area, past brickwork I suspect is original and along some delightful life-sized drawings of early nineteenth-century ladies and gentlemen. Of course, I had to stop and visit.

The Second Bank is open Wednesday through Sunday from 11am to 5pm. Learn more about it at the National Park Service website.

I’m sure you can picture yourself here

Inspiration is Where You Find It

Much to my surprise, I find that I’m working on another Regency-set story. It’s made for a somewhat confusing existence—I’m still working on my WWI story as well, and working on two very different stories set in two very different eras means my writing room is even more ridiculously cluttered with piles of open reference books and scraps of paper scrawled with notes than usual. I also got attacked by a science fiction romance story idea earlier this summer, but we’re not even going to go there just now...

Part of the reason I think this new story grabbed me so hard—I’d actually been toying with it in a desultory fashion for a couple of years—is a couple of purchases I made on-line. Just for fun, I periodically do an eBay search on portrait miniatures—those exquisite little portraits so popular in the early nineteenth century before the invention of photography. Now, to be honest, a lot of the ones I’ve seen are just...well, homely—not to mention completely out of my price range.

But on that day, I found one that set me reeling, because I knew that face—it was the hero of my Regency story. Moreover, it was ridiculously affordable...so you’d better believe I snapped it up! The ruler is there for scale; isn’t it exquisite?

Well, that just whet my appetite. And literally just days later, when looking again, I found another one—also affordable, also exquisite...and there was my heroine, Annabel:

And after that, the floodgate opened. Annabel and Quin, now real people (you know what I mean!) would not leave me alone, and the vague wisps of story and character I had began to firm up into real characters and a real plot. I’m not very far—this is going to be a BIG story with a lot of characters and various goings-on. But having these likenesses of people who actually lived in the early 19th century...well, I’m hooked on writing it.

But trying to live in both 1810 AND 1917 is still a pain in the you-know-what.

Picture Makes Perfect, Part 2

Oh, those lips, those eyes, that hair! Pick a feature! In the days before photography, how did one memorialize the beauty of your one true love? If you couldn’t afford a formal portrait or you wanted something to carry next to your heart, you had a couple of options.

One was the miniature. As the name implies, this was a small picture, anywhere from the size of a paperback book to the oval that fit into a jeweled setting. Artists specialized in capturing a loved one’s likeness in tiny lines in watercolor or gouache on ivory or enamel on copper. Children, sweethearts, and even your favorite pet were painted. You might also purchase a miniature to remember visiting some far off sight: sets showing features of Greece, Italy, and Venice were popular. The miniatures might be mounted in larger frames, tucked into lockets, or set in brooches, pendants, or rings.

But sometimes, it wasn’t appropriate for you to be carrying around someone else’s likeness, or carrying that likeness was bitter sweet. Perhaps you couldn’t marry your love, or your dear husband had died young on the battlefield. You could commission a painting of just your lover’s eye. Hidden in a locket, no one would know but you. And even if they 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” as they are now called, became quite the rage. Later people chose them to remember someone who had died.

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

Picture Makes Perfect, Part 1

I admit it: I am not a very good photographer. I never want to interrupt things to take a picture, and when I do, someone’s head, arm, foot, or other body part gets cut off or everything turns out entirely too fuzzy. I understand the value of documenting memories, of chronicling changes in height and weight and hair style and maturity (or lack thereof). I just can’t seem to use a camera for that purpose. But nineteenth century families had another way of capturing memories: portraits.

Let’s say that you had just married, and your husband was determined to memorialize the beauty of his young bride. You might hire a painter to come to your estate and create your likeness on canvas. Families would also have children painted at various ages, much as we take pictures today. And if a gentleman or lady had accomplished something of particular note, well that was cause for a celebratory painting as well.

More-famous artists had people come sit in their studios to be painted. You might sit for four hours or more, at different times, for the artist to capture you to his or her satisfaction. One of the more popular painters at the time was said to require 100 hours of your time! And forget about 1-hour photo: portraits could easily take up to a year to complete.

Most portrait painters in the nineteenth century were men for two main reasons. First, the more celebrated painters had been trained at the Royal Academy, which only admitted men because women were deemed too delicate to withstand the nude anatomy sessions where they learned to sketch and paint the human body. Supposedly when the Royal College of Art admitted women in 1837, the male models in the women’s anatomy sessions wore full suits of armor! Then too, a lady’s reputation was strained if she had to be alone with gentleman for hours at a time, studying them in the depth required for a good portrait.

The art of portraiture perhaps reached its zenith in the nineteenth century in England. Painters like Sir Thomas Lawrence and Sir Joshua Reynolds excelled at capturing not only likenesses reliably, but the person’s favorite pastimes. It was said a true artist captured the essence of the person, giving a view into the soul. I’m not sure what that says for this fellow.

But what if you couldn’t afford a portrait or you wanted something a little more portable than a wall-size masterpiece? I’ll explain about that next Friday.

Today's Characters, Yesterday

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard people say that nineteenth century young men and ladies looked very different from people today. I disagree. Or, sure there are stylized portraits that make them look rather unworldly, and some artists have more skill than others. I’ve heard the arguments that poor dental care made mouths look sunken, or people were afraid to smile because of their teeth. Then there are those who insist that because some ceilings were lower and surviving clothing is smaller that people were a lot shorter than we are. (I shudder to think who lived in the remarkably high-ceilinged rooms of some of the country estates!) Certainly hairstyles and fashions have changed over time.

People had their portraits painted for a number of reasons: to commemorate a major event like a military victory, to announce their success in their careers, or to document their family. Recently I’ve come across a number of portraits that seem to me to be straight out of Hollywood today. See what you think.

This is the French miniaturist Francois Jean Baptist Isabey and his daughter, right around 1800. Compare him to Keanu Reeves. Ancestor, perhaps?


How about this one? Young Mr. Fleetwood is dressed for riding to the hounds, his knee hooked up over his saddle, around 1803. Shia LaBeouf, anyone?


And then there’s Elinor, either the 1810 version in this miniature or Emma Thompson’s version from Sense and Sensibility.


So, what do you think? Have we changed so much in 200 years?

Oh, and just so you know—we will have one post next week, Wednesday or Thursday, so we can spend more time with our families over the holiday. Carpe diem, my dears!