Making a Further Spectacle of Yourself

Some time ago I discussed what the nearsighted young ladies of the 19th century did to avoid walking into walls and other people (though walking into a handsome young earl wouldn’t have been such a bad thing!). Since then, I’ve gotten my hands on an example of a few of them, and thought it would fun to take a closer look at quizzing glasses and lorgnettes.

Remember what quizzing glasses are? Those small lenses worn as a piece of jewelry round the neck for when the wearer wished to have a better look at something (say, a handsome young earl coming into the ballroom)? Well, here you go: This one dates to about 1820 and is made of silver, with decorative scrollwork around its rim and a simple twisted loop handle. It measures a little under three inches long. It came with a small leather holder, which suggests it might have resided in someone’s pocket or reticule for occasional use rather than being worn around the neck on a ribbon or chain. Interestingly, the glass is held in with a screw (you can just see where it fits in, between the small loop and the lens frame) so that it could be changed; the one in there works well as a magnifying glass, so maybe the owner used it for reading.

And then there’s the lorgnette, or specs on a stick. These appear to be a nice sturdy brass, about five and a half inches long with the lenses about an inch and a quarter across. But wait! you’re saying. Where’s the other lens? Well, this is pretty slick. See the small rings around the handle near the small loop at the end of the handle? They’re actually a latch: if you slide them down just a little, a catch releases and voila! The second lens is released and swivels out. This certainly makes it less awkward to wear them on a necklace. There’s some pretty ornamentation on the nose bridge as you can see in the second photo, and like the quizzing glass above, the lenses can be changed.

 

And just as a side note, I noticed a gent (the one in the green coat, peering at the horses) wearing specs in this 1820 illustration by Cruikshank from Pierce Egan's well-known Life in London, or The Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq. and his Elegant Friend Corinthian Tom in Their Rambles and Sprees through the Metropolis. Tom and Jerry weren't the only ones making a spectacle of themselves at this time!

Items Deserving Notice, October: The Old Bailey

October was awfully quiet in London. Parliament is most often adjourned. Anyone who was anyone had wrangled an invitation to a house party or a shooting party somewhere in the country. Most of the theatres are closed, as are the amphitheatres like Astley’s. The weather is starting to turn gray and dripping. Ho, hum--what’s a young lady or gentleman to do for entertainment?

Perhaps take in a trial at the Old Bailey.

The Old Bailey was the central criminal court serving London and the county of Middlesex as well as crimes committed at sea. Located next to Newgate Prison, it held sessions several times a year, including October. You could pay to be a spectator and stand in the gallery to watch the trials. Prices ranged from a shilling for a lesser known offender to a guinea or more for big cases. Seats were limited, but if you couldn’t get in, you could have read the published Proceedings to see what had happened.

But it would have been a sight to see. While barristers and judges were present, most often the “prosecutor” was the person who had been wronged—the man whose watch had been stolen, the fellow whose daughter had been kidnapped. The accused stood in a box with a mirror positioned above so that light from the windows was reflected into his or her face. That way, it was believed, the jurors could see expressions better to judge the person’s innocence. Jurors generally sat on either side, with the judges opposite. Witnesses, for accused or accuser, stood directly before the judges to give testimony. Nearby were sets of manacles so those found guilty of certain crimes could be branded for the offense.

And the judges were more free to interpret the law then they would be today. For example, in May 1816, John Mackarel was indicted for river piracy, but the prosecutor didn’t show up on the day of the trial so he got off as not guilty. Wonder what happened to the prosecutor, hm?

In 1830, Sir John Gibbons had to prosecute a particularly vicious gang of poachers who were found with guns and bludgeons on his Stanwell Park estate. One of them had actually shot at him, and witnesses testified he would have been killed if it weren’t for the fact that the gun misfired (flash in the pan). Most of the men either pled guilty or were determined guilty and were sentenced to transportation for 14 years. One, a 17-year-old, asked that Sir John recommend him to mercy, which he did. The judge had him transported for seven years. I’m sure that made such a difference-ahem.

Then there’s the case of John-William Bishop AKA William Willian. Seems he married one lady under the first name and another lady under the second, within six months of each other and while the first was still living. Witnesses and church registers proved he had committed bigamy, yet he was acquitted because the judge thought the second wife’s name on the indictment was spelled wrong based on her father’s testimony! Mr. Bishop/Willian was indicted again for the same charge (no double jeopardy in those days, I guess), but it turned out her father had been wrong and the second wife’s name was originally right, so Mr. Bishop-Willian was acquitted again! At least that time, he was held over until a third indictment could be presented, but then only for an indictment of perjury. You see, wife number 2 was under aged and their marriage wasn’t legal anyway!

Bet you didn’t see that on CSI recently.

Curious to learn more? Look at the Old Bailey online, where you can search the records and read trial information from the 1600s to the early 1900s as well as details about the court’s history and legal proceedings in general.

Public Spectacles, Amusements, and Objects Deserving Notice, March

March appears to be a somber month in the social calendar. It is generally Lent, after all. Frivolity does not become a young lady or gentleman during Lent. And of course the Season does not start in earnest until after Easter. So if you were about town and inclined to take some enjoyment from the coming spring, what were you to do?

March begins a series of anniversary dinners. These were ticketed events celebrating the inauguration of some charitable or benevolent institution. The dinner was often held the Sunday before the anniversary, or on the anniversary itself. The morning papers would announce the day, location, price, from whom tickets might be purchased, and which eminent preacher would be giving the address before the dinner, which was generally held at one of the taverns with large receiving rooms.

In March and early April, you have your choice of anniversaries for the Welch Charity (for schools in Wales), the Marine Society (recruiting of sailors and training young poor lads of good character for careers at sea), the Benevolent Society of St. Patrick (providing charitable relief to the poor and distressed Irish living in London), the Asylum for Female Orphans, the Society for the Refuge of the Destitute, the Freemasons’ Charity for Educating Female Children, and the Institution for the Education of the Deaf and Dumb.

Dinner not to your taste? Perhaps you’d prefer a rousing military spectacle! Beginning in March, every morning at 10 there is drilling on the Horse Guards Parade as well as a concert of military music. Those stirring trumpet calls, that shiny brass, those handsome officers! Well, I guess you know where to find me. Shall we march?

Making a Spectacle of Yourself

I am, alas, blind as a bat. I’ve worn glasses since fourth grade (and probably needed them in third), and just can’t imagine what I would do without them, aside from bang into things all the time. I’ve often wondered what I would have done if I’d been born in the 19th century instead of the 20th.

The answer? Pretty much the same thing: worn glasses, if not the nice high-tech polycarbonate lensed ones that I have now.

Eyeglasses, or spectacles as they were called, have been around since at least the 13th century and seem to have been invented in Italy; there are frescoes and portraits of saints and churchmen with rather endearing early forms of spectacles perched on their noses dating to the mid-14th century. Their use spread quickly across Europe, and by 1629 a Spectacle Makers Company had been established in London.

Most early specs were as you see in this 1403 painting from Germany--instruments that perched on the nose, which was precarious at best. Spanish spectacle makers (spectacles were quite popular in Spain, by the way, and were thought to make their wearers look dignified) experimented with ribbons attached to the spectacles to hold them onto the head. It wasn't until 1730 that a English spectacle maker, Edward Scarlett, came up with the idea of fixed metal bars that wrapped around the ears and held the spectacles in place...more or less what we know today. The idea spread rapidly, and was improved in 1752 by another English optician, Edward Ayscough, who added hinges to let the earpieces fold, making it much easier to store spectacles.

The earliest spectacles had lenses made of quartz crystal, which must have been terribly heavy on the nose--though spectacles made from smoky quartz can be considered the first sunglasses! Optical glass lenses came in during the 17th century, and by the 18th such variations as bifocals, invented by Ben Franklin, were in use.

Apart from the Spanish, however, spectacle-wearing was not looked upon with favor by most people; this led to the development of methods of vision correction that didn't have to be used all the time but could be easily carried about close to hand. The monocle was first seen in England ca. 1800 and spread to the continent; a variation was the quizzing glass, a single lens with a small handle, worn on a chain or ribbon around the neck and the lorgnette, perhaps best described as spectacles on a stick, also worn on a chain, and also an English invention (that's one at above right).

I took a look through my collection of Ackermann fashion prints, and to my surprise found that about one out of seven of them showed a model with or actually using a quizzing glass (or "sight" as it was referred to in one accompanying text), as in this Evening Dress from October 1825:


And this opera-goer from February 1810 has not only a quizzing glass around her neck (you can just see half of it below her bust), but also a monocular opera glass in her right hand:
The delightful thing is that it seems young ladies with shortness of vision turned necessity into a virtue, and made their quizzing glasses and lorgnettes into fashion accessories. If one must carry a quizzing glass or lorgnette in order to avoid unintentionally ignoring one's friends in the street, one may as well enjoy it and go for one made of gold or silver and adorned with jewels or exquisite enamel work. I know I would have.

Hmm. So maybe designer glasses aren't such a new invention after all.