Breakfast Links: Week of April 30, 2012

Served up fresh for your weekend delight: our favorite links of the week to other blogs, web sites, photographs, and articles, collected from around the Twitterverse.
• Shawl dresses & dresses made from shawls 1800-1815.
• Do Newgate Prison cells survive under a nearby pub? Um...probably not.
• Qualifications to lead Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee procession, 1897: height. The dashing Capt. Oswald Ames: 6'8 3/4".
• Stunningly gorgeous: looking at a sumptuous Regency carriage interior.
• From Susan Sontag to Dorothy Parker: what it cost 8 successful female writers to make it in NYC.
• London's smallest statue.
• P.T. Barnum's astounding 19th c museum in NYC was not merely a freak show.
• Lovely embroidered bodice, c 1905.
• Do you doodle during meetings? This doodle from a boring 1850 meeting became the Crystal Palace.
• Fascinating use of technology to highlight collections at Detroit Institute of Art.
• The cast iron Victorian conservatory at the Horniman Museum.
• The criss-cross rewrites are astonishing: a page from Lord Byron's Don Juan manuscript.
• Queen Anne Boleyn was arrested this week, 1536: an account of her fall by Spanish ambassador Eustace Chapuys.
• Photo of handsome young Lionel Logue (remember the speech therapist from The King's Speech?)
• Mr. Punch celebrates 350 years of puppet anarchy.
• A traditional Yankee cake: donuts. An 18th c recipe plus modern interpretation from Colonial Williamsburg's cooks.
• Thoughts on early garages & chauffeurs (how very Downton Abbey.)
• Mini-slideshow for a Sunday: Lincoln Cathedral.
• Thoroughly wonderful 18th c trade cards of old London.

Friday Video: Minnie the Moocher

Loretta reports:

Early animated films can be surprisingly trippy.  This one features two of my 20th C favorites: Betty Boop & Cab Calloway.  He’s the man dancing at the beginning. Not Astaire, but brilliant in his own way, and another great talent from that era.

And he’s so fabulous that you should treat yourself and watch him here, performing the song with his band.  For more, check out this biography.

Readers who receive our blog via email might see only a rectangle or square where the video ought to be.  To watch the video, please click on the title to this post.

The Incomparable Red of Cochineal

Isabella/Susan* reporting:

Lately a valuable historical commodity has been much in the news. It's a commodity discovered in Mexico by Spanish conquistadors in the 16th c, desired by 17th c French kings and Caribbean pirates, worn into 18th c battles at Culloden and Lexington & Concord, and prized by 19th c courtesans. It's not gunpowder, or jewels, or gold or silver, but rather this:

"The coccinella cacti, a native of the warmer parts of America, is the famous cochineal animal, so highly valued in every part of the world for the incomparable beauty of its red colour, which it equally communicates to wool, silk, linen, and cotton."
                        - Encyclopeadia Britannica, 1776

The color red is so prevalent in our modern world that it's hard to realize that it was once a difficult color to duplicate, and a true, lasting red eluded European dyers throughout the middle ages. Spanish explorers discovered a vibrant red color called carmine that was prized by the Aztecs, and Spanish merchants guarded the secret so closely - and so profitably - that it wasn't until the 17th c development of the microscope that the rest of Europe learned the truth. Carmine derived not from a leaf, nut, or bark, but from the dried bodies of the cochineal insect, above, crushed to a powder. (This example comes from our friends at the Margaret Hunter shop in Colonial Williamsburg.) Cochineal-derived red dyes continued to be in demand for over three hundred years, coloring everything from the silk gowns of great ladies to the red uniform coats worn by the British army. The wool used to embroider the petticoat, right, was dyed with cochineal-based red.

Finally the development of synthetic dyes in the end of the 19th c pushed cochineal from the market, and it seemed destined to disappear. But towards the end of the 20th c, the health hazards of many synthetic dyes made cochineal once again commercially popular. As a natural alternative, it was used to color everything from lipstick to Twizzlers – and Starbucks strawberry frappuccinos.

"Bugs in your coffee!" made for great headlines, and apparently to the most rigorous vegans, even that tiny bit of crushed insect is too much for them. Starbucks has agreed to remove the dye from their drinks, bowing to the vegans and the bad publicity regarding bugs. But which, really, is worse: a tried-and-true natural red dye, or one that can cause cancer?

For the fascinating history of cochineal dyes, I heartily recommend A Perfect Red by Amy Butler Greenfield - one of my all-time favorite non-fiction books. 
Update: For even MORE about cochineal, please see this excellent post by our blog-friend Patrick Baty (aka Colourman.)


* Why the double name? Here's the reason.

Fashions for May 1819

English Walking Dress

Loretta reports:

In his/her General Observations on Fashion and Dress, the fashion writer of La Belle Assemblée waxes rhapsodic about the month of May.

~~~

The fashions of the delightful month of May are generally ushered in by Taste accompanied by the Graces: Flora is seen strewing her treasures in their path; Art and Invention guide the hand of Industry, and preside over the loom, while Fancy lends her unremitting aid to perfect those articles of the toilet devoted to female attire.

FASHIONS
FOR
MAY, 1819
EXPLANATION OF THE PRINTS OF FASHION.

 

ENGLISH.
No. I.—Walking Dress.

Pelisse of light fawn-coloured twilled sarsnet, or satin, elegantly ornament ed with trimming of the same en languettes, each languette beautifully ornamented with a rich yet light trimming of pink and black, with ornamental buttons. Large promenade bonnet of light fawn-colour, trimmed to correspond with the pelisse, and worn over a cornette of fine lace. Fawn-coloured satin sandal boots, and Limerick gloves.
 

N. B. We are indebted to Mrs. Bell for this chaste and appropriate spring costume; by whose unrivalled taste also we were favoured with the superb Evening Dress, trimmed at the border à-la-Flora, given in our last Number.

FRENCH.
No. 2.—Parisian Opera Costume.

Parisian Opera Costume

Round dress of pink gossamer satin, ornamented with white plûche de soie. Dress hat of white satin, with full blown Provence rose on one side, and a superb plume of down feathers. Necklace formed of two rows of large pearls. White satin slippers and white kid gloves. Kaleidoscope fan of carved cedar.
—La Belle Assemblée, May 1819

~~~

The magazine regularly boasts of the Duchess of Kent’s patronage of Mrs. Bell's establishment, the Marchande—or Magazin—de Modes, in St. James’s Street (where my own dressmakers have set up shop). If you click on the LBA link and read further on, you’ll find her name dropped in relation to a wedding bonnet.

Entertaining like an Earl, 1738

Isabella/Susan* reporting:

Display was an important part of elegant Georgian dining. Not only did the food have to be properly composed and the conversation scintillating, but every spoon and serving dish was required to show the host's excellent taste. A lavish display of silver and gold plate made a glittering presentation by candlelight, literally reflecting the host's wealth. (Here are some excellent photographs of a splendidly set Regency-era dining table from our friends at Attingham Park.) My favorite fact regarding candlelit dining: a table blazing with candles still only had about as much light as a single 100 watt light bulb. The more gleaming surfaces to reflect that candlelight, the better.

This soup tureen, above, along with other silver, was made c 1737 by London silversmith George Wickes for Thomas Watson-Wentworth (1693-1750), then Earl of Malton, and created 1st Marquess of Rockingham in 1746. A prominent Whig politician, the marquess was enlarging and building his vast Yorkshire country seat, Wentworth Woodhouse, below, and it's likely that this silver was commissioned in anticipation of the level of entertainment planned for the remodeled  house.

It's certainly an impressive piece, and I like imagining all the sumptuous meals this tureen must have served. It's large (my guess is about 20 inches long or so) and must be so heavy that, when filled with soup, it would have required a very strong-armed footman to bear it from the kitchen to the table.

The museum placard describes it well: the tureen's "body has the trappings of this opulent style: cast fruit and floral swags on the cover, banded reeding at the body's neck, and legs with lion mask attachments and ball-and-claw feet, as well as other sculptural elements, which not only proclaim Watson's rank but also lend great visual interest. His arms within the collar of the Order of the Bath are applied to either side. His crest of a griffin passant stands atop the cover and, in variant form, serves as the handles for the body."

I wonder if anyone ever noticed the soup?

Top: Soup Tureen, George Wickes, London, 1737-1738, silver. Collection, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 
Below: View of Wentworth Woodhouse by Thomas Allen, c 1828-1830, illustration from A Complete History of the County of York by Thomas Allen.


*Why the double name? All is explained here.