#1790s engraving

[digitalfashionmuseum]

Engraving, 1797, French.

By Étienne Claude Voysard.

Portraying a crowd in the boulevard italien, dubbed “petit coblentz”.

Musée Carnavalet.

[detroitlib]

From our stacks: Illustration "The Unicorn Ram [from a loose print to be had at the Show]," from Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair. By Henry Morley. With Facsimile Drawings, Engraved Upon Wood, by the Brothers Dalziel. London: Chapman and Hall, 1859.

"This is the famous Unicorn Ram, shown at Bartholomew Fair, in the year 1790."

[bad-moodboard]

Detail from Robertson's Phantasmagoria, Paris, 1797

[oncanvas]

Gallery of Fashion, vol. I: April 1, 1794-March 1, 1795, Nicolaus Heideloff, 1794-1802

Hand-colored etching and engraving 13 3/8 x 10 7/16 in. (34 x 26.5 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY, USA

[heracliteanfire]

From A Large Book of Designs, by William Blake. Copy A, plate 1: known as 'Glad Day' or 'The Dance of Albion’. Colour engraving and etching, 1794-1796.

via British Museum

[kafkasapartment]

Gold Double Dialed Astronomical Calendar Watch with Geocentric (having or representing the earth as the center of the universe) Planetarium, C. 1790.

Movement: gilded full plate with going barrel, cylinder escapement, plain three-arm balance• Dials: first: white enamel, the edge with Arabic numerals for hours running twice from 1-12 in black and 1-12 in pink, four subsidiary dials for minutes, date combined with month, regulation, seconds combined with days of the week, aperture for winding, gold hands, the hour hand with an additional steel support carrying a square for rapid resetting of the calendar • second: light blue enamel geocentric planetarium dial decorated with gold stars and an outer month ring, various lines of the ecliptic zodiac marked in black, with three concentric hands of steel mounted with the earth, a gold sun and moon, the entire dial revolving once per year, the ecliptic line shown by a polished steel band attached to the engraved silver dust ring• Case: plain gold moulded bezels.

[ltwilliammowett]

A pair of engraved decanters of nautical interest (possibly used aboard in the great cabin or the wardroom by the officers), each engraved with a ship with reefed sails set and inscribed SUCCESS TO THE SHIP CATHERINE., c. 1790

[nokaslitz]

gingerbread houses and tummy aches - tom kaulitz x reader

no smut!

1790 words

tw: mentions of vomit.

bill had invited you over to his house because he bought three gingerbread houses for you, him and his twin to decorate. you immediately said yes, no questions asked.

now, you're stood at the table of the twins kitchen, the three of you already stressing as you try to keep your gingerbread houses together. the roof of toms house already has a bite out of it.

a gasp escapes your throat as your cookie house stands still, the walls glued together with white icing. "oh, it worked!" you say proudly.

"how did you do that?" complains bill, the roof of his gingerbread home slowly sliding off. "just put more icing." you say. your head turns to your left side when the piping bag is yanked out of your hand. with no shame, tom steals your icing, using it to hold his house together.

"tom, i think you used too much." you giggle, both you and bill staring wearily at his mess of a house. the icing is messily globbed along the edges of the square cookies. the walls are fighting to stay up, ever so slightly sliding under the harsh amount of icing.

"no, it's fine." tom says, shooing you two away. you mentally cringe as tom uses his fingers to spread the icing. "do you need help?" you offer the poor boy.

"nein, nein, it looks good." he pushes, bringing his hand up to his mouth and sucking the icing off of his finger.

"mhm.." you hum, turning back to your own creation. bill is already decorating, not wasting any time. you pick up the black colored icing, twisting open the cap before you begin carefully lining the small, indented window sills.

you and bills heads turn when tom huffs, his gingerbread house falling over for about the 100th time. "okay, just- here." you say, taking a step closer to him. you nudge him back a few steps, standing in front of him.

your light nudge was enough for toms cheeks to flush a faint pink. you try your hardest to clean up the messy cookies, wanting it to be pretty. you're completely unaware of the look the twins share.

tom gives bill a 'omgomgwhatdoido' look and bill gives tom a small smirk.

"there." you say, stepping to the side to admire your work. toms house is still smeared with icing, but it looks better and it's standing up.

"danke." tom mutters, snapping out of his flustered trance. "of course." you say, going back to decorating your own house.

after a moment of silence, you break it with a suggestion. "we should watch a movie after this." you say as you line the cookie shingles.

though bill would love to watch a movie, an idea comes to his mind. "hm. i think i'll sleep after this, but you two can still watch one. we have many on dvd." he offers, staring at his brother as he says this.

tom glances over at bill, silently pleading you agree. bill knows everything that goes on in his twins mind, so he's very aware of his brothers crush on you.

"oh, yeah. okay. that's fine." you say with a small smile, completely oblivious to the ongoing plan. tom mentally fist pumps, eager to spend more time with you.

you do notice the smirk on toms lips but you don't second guess it since he's always wearing that dumb little grin.

you stick a peppermint right above the small engraved door, making it act as a window. you three continue making up your masterpieces, tom stealing and eating the little candies almost every second.

your eyes scan the messy table, trying to find a certain color of icing. "bill, where'd you put the green?" you ask. "i gave it to tom." the raven haired boy responds.

you nod, turning to tom who is holding the little bottle of green icing over his face, squeezing the sugar into his mouth. you just stare at him, your face turning into one of concern and slight disgust.

tom, feeling eyes on him, puts the bottle down and looks at you. swallowing the large amount of icing, he nods at you, handing you the small bottle - which is mostly empty now. you mouth a "thanks," turning back to your gingerbread house.

the bottle has a few different colors of icing on it from toms messy hands. you use the green to make a small wreath around the peppermint.

the three houses each came with a little gingerbread man, so you decorate those as well. except tom, he ate his already. well, not before giving it a dick using a sprinkle.

finally after around an hour and a half of light banter, decorating and random little munching, the three houses are finished.

yours and bills look cute, the icing and sprinkles neatly placed, the gingerbread men looking rather ravishing. toms looks...well...it's definitely a few cookies held together with icing..

he has icing all over his fingers, some on his chin, somehow even on his elbow. his house is caked in icing and little candies, random chunks are missing from the cookie and now lay in his stomach.

"i think i won." says tom, stepping back and admiring his so-called masterpiece. "it's not a competition, tom. and no you did not." says bill, sassily resting his hands on his hips.

tom gives his brother a mocking look. "whatever. i'm going to wash my hands." he announces, beginning to walk away. as the dread headed boy walks past his brothers cookie house, he grabs the gingerbread man and stuffs his mouth.

you laugh as bill gasps loudly. tom casually continues his walk over to the sink. "tom!" bill scolds, looking down at where his cookie man used to lay.

tom says something back but his words are muffled by the mouth-full of cookie.

later, everything is cleaned up, including tom. the gingerbread houses are sat on the table, looking great. you decided on showering quickly before watching the movie since tom might've accidentally gotten a bit of icing in your hair.

stepping out of the shower, you wrap a towel around your body and begin drying off. you brush your teeth then get dressed in comfy, clean clothes. you exit the bathroom, making your way to toms room. right as you're about to open the door, bill beats you to it, stepping out of toms room.

he looks as if he's trying not to laugh. "what?" you ask, your eyebrows furrowing. "i think he ate too much. he's got a tummy ache now." bill says with a quiet giggle, his eyes shining suddenly. "maybe you should see if he's okay." bill says, his eyebrow cocked.

"oh. okay." you agree with a faint snicker. "i'm going to sleep. make sure he's okay." adds bill

"okay. goodnight, bill. love you." you say. "night night. love you, too." bill responds, already making his way to his own room.

you give toms door a couple knocks, getting a groan in return. you take that as an invitation, opening his door and stepping inside. closing the door behind you, you almost cackle at the sight.

tom lays dramatically sprawled out on his stomach, limbs spread, giving him the look of a starfish. his face is buried in his pillow.

"i told you to slow down on the icing." you chuckle as you take a seat on the edge of his bed, your hand lands on his back, soothingly rubbing it.

"hmmm.." is all you get. a moan of annoyance and pain. you do begin to feel a little concerned, even though tom is the most dramatic boy ever. "aw. you okay?" you ask.

tom shakes his head. "you still wanna watch that movie?" your question makes him perk up a bit, turning to lay on his back instead, your hand now rested on his achy stomach. he nods.

"yes, but can we watch it up here? i can't move or i'll throw up." he mumbles, giving you sad, pleading eyes.

your eyebrows raise a bit, your head nodding. "sure." you agree. you go through a few movies, deciding on 'the nightmare before christmas'. if toms being honest, he doesn't really like the movie, but he agreed to watch it just for you.

as the movie begins, you turn the light off before taking a seat on his bed. your back is rested against the headboard.

a few minutes into the movie, your body tenses up when you feel tom lay his head in your lap, his arm resting across your thighs.

your stomach twists lightly, and not because of the sweets you had eaten. your body calms as you place your hand on his head.

the sweet, quiet moment is cut off by his stomach making a harsh growling noise. he squirms, the arm on your thighs moving to clutch his tummy.

you try caressing his dreads, hoping that'll ease something, or distract him. his body squirms uncomfortably. he slowly sits up, hoping it'll help the pain. he lazily leans against you, his head on your shoulder.

"you need anything?" you ask quietly, looking over at him with a concerned look. he lifts his head from your shoulder, shaking it faintly.

"just hold me." is all he says. he's suddenly glad for the dim lighting as his cheeks tint red at his own words. a small smile curves upon your lips, your arms wrapping around his body.

your faces are close, your noses just barley touching. even in the black of his room you can still see the way his dark eyes glow, filling with an unfamiliar feeling.

time stands still as his mouth ever so slightly falls agape, his breath brushing your lips. his finger comes up, softly trailing along your jaw. a shiver runs up your spine.

your faces absentmindedly inch closer like a scene in some cheesy movie. both of your eyes close as your lips connect in a soft lock.

your hand makes its way to his cheek, your thumb swaying over his smooth skin. faint noises sound from your lips as they move in sync, the feeling like no other.

neither of your brains can process the fact that you're kissing, a million and zero thoughts running at the same time. eventually you pull apart from each other.

there's a small smirk on toms lips, his lip piercing glinting softly from the tv. "i've wanted to do that for-" his words are cut short as his hand flings over his mouth. his eyes widen as the sudden urge of throwing up hits his stomach.

you watch with raised brows as he quickly scurries to the bathroom to vomit.

this will for sure be a memorable christmas.

[heaveninawildflower]

Buttons manufactured in Birmingham, England.

Pearl button, 1790-1820

Pearl Button, 1790-1800

Pearl and Glass Button, 1790-1800

Pearl button engraved with 8-pointed star, 1770-1800

Gilt and Glass Button, 1800-1820

Images and text information courtesy Birmingham Museums.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

The Pétion playing with the dog anecdote is so sweet. Could you do a pet compilation? I know there’s Brount and that Couthon had a dog (and a bunny?), but that’s all I’m aware of.

That’s a great idea!

Is the puppy (petit chien) you are raising for my sister as pretty as the model you showed me when I passed through Bélhune? Whatever it is, we will always welcome it with distinction and pleasure. We can even say that, however ugly it may be, it will always be lovely. Robespierre to ”a young girl” in a letter dated June 6 1788

[Robespierre] had a dog, named Brount, that he loved a lot; the poor animal was very attached to him. Le Conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 107

At Madame de Kéralio’s I have seen [Robespierre] hold himself apart for an hour, playing with a big dog. Anecdote reported in 1791 by Charles-Engelbert Oelsner, cited in Robespierre: a revolutionary life (2010) by Peter McPhee, page 94.

On these occasions [Robespierre] was always accompanied by a large dog , of the Pyrenean breed, of which he was very fond. Strange to say, several of these monstrous anomalies of the Reign of Terror, were most partial to animals; and the ferocious Couthon would shed tears when his favourite spaniel was ill. Robespierre's dog always kept watch at the door of his master's bed-chamber. […] [Robespierre] appeared to me like a bird of prey — a vulture; his forehead and temples were low, and flattened; his eyes were of a fawn colour, and most disagreeable to look at; his dress was careful, and I recollect that he wore a frill and ruffles, that seemed to me of valuable lace. There were flowers in various parts of the room, and several cages, with singing birds, were hanging on the walls and near the window, opening on a small garden.  Recollections of Republican France 1790 to 1801 by John Gideon Millingen, page 283-284 and 288.

[Maximilien] rarely shared the games and pleasures of his comrades; he liked to be alone to think at his ease, and passed entire hours reflecting. He had been given pigeons and sparrows which he took the greatest care of, and close to which he often came to pass the moments which he did not consecrate to his studies. […] We were sent, my sister and I, to go join our two brothers every Sunday. These were days of happiness and joy for us. My brother Maximilien, who collected images and engravings, displayed his riches and was happy with the pleasure of seeing that we felt they should be contemplated. He also gave us the honors of his aviary, and placed his sparrows and pigeons, one after another, into our hands. We strongly desired that he should give us one of his favorite birds; we solicited this with entreaties; he refused for a long time, fearing that we would not take the best possible care of them. Yet one day, he ceded to our insistences, and gave us a pretty pigeon. My sister and I, we were enchanted. He made us promise to never let it lack for anything; we swore thus a thousand times, and kept our word for a few days, and moreover we would have kept our oath forever if the unhappy pigeon, forgotten by us in the garden, had not perished on a stormy night. At the news of this death, Maximilien’s tears flowed, he piled reproaches on us that we had only too well merited, and swore that he would no more confer any of his dear pigeons on us. It was sixty years ago that by a childish flightiness I was the cause of my elder brother’s chagrin and tears: and well! My heart bleeds for it still; it seems to me that I have not aged a day since the tragic end of the poor pigeon was so sensitive to Maximilien, such that I was affected by it myself. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1833) page 47-49

Talking of so important a subject, shall I be pardoned, Mademoiselle, if I speak to you of canaries?  No doubt I shall be if the canaries are interesting; and how could they not, considering they come from you? They are very pretty, and, being bred by you, we expected them to be the most gentle and sociable of canaries. What was our surprise when, upon approaching the cage, they threw themselves against the bars with an impetus which made us fear for their lives! They recommence this performance every time they see the hand that feeds them. What plan of education did you adopt for them, and how have they acquired this savage character? Do the doves that the Graces rear for the chariot of Venus display this wild temperament? Such a face as yours should surely have familiarized without difficulty your canaries with the human face.   Or is it that, after seeing yours, they cannot tolerate any other? I beg of you to explain this phenomenon. Meanwhile, with all their faults, we shall always find them lovable. My sister begs me to express her thanks for your kindness in sending her this present, and to assure you of the affection with which you have inspired her. Robespierre to mademoiselle Duhay in a letter dated June 22 1782

He detests violent entertainments, and when M. Deshorties spoke to him this very evening in front of me of going on a hunt, M. de Robespierre, only responding by a refusal of his head, gently moved away the firearms that were shown to him. This gesture was imbued with a kind of repugnance. I even saw a kind of tear glint and a bitter smile form on his lips when we talked about the prey that we would infallibly bring back. He is seen as the greatest lover of the pigeons with which he coos. […] I have taken detailed notes on all this from one of his friends, with whom he is lodging on rue de Saintonge. This friend, like M. de Robespierre, is a great lover of birds;  they have raised several hundred birds in a fine aviary; these gentlemen are skilled bird-keepers even if they are not deputies of the first rank. Mémoires tirés des archives de la police de Paris: pour servir à l’historie de la morale et la police(1838) by J. Peuchet, volume 5, page 340-342. The historian Hector Fleischmann questioned the authenticity of this report, given the fact he could see few reasons for police to investigate Robespierre back in 1789-1790.

I was able to converse between 1838 and 1839 with a  famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas...whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre... As to her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! (Chapeau bas! chapeau bas!)  It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was - and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is - a parrot sans-culotte, the like of which can no longer to be found. Mme Lebas recounted  with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus  after Thermidor.  It had been seriously compromised.  After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection,  every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning,  grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory. L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259. This anecdote is a bit suspect, because how would Élisabeth be able to go and fetch the parrot ”a few days” after the arrest of Robespierre when she herself was arrested just three days after it?

My husband had a dog named Schillichem, of a German breed; he only returned three days after the death of his master; he was panting, his tongue hanging out; that poor beast had passed that time on his master's grave.  Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 145

Embrace Henriette for me. Schillickem (sic) caresses me a lot and I hug him back. Letter from Philippe to Élisabeth Lebas, May 16 1794

[Couthon] wore a white dressing-gown, and on his arm was a young bunny which he was feeding with clover. His son, an angelically beautiful boy of three or four, alternately stroked his father's hand and the pretty white animal. These innocent sourroundings and Couthon's great affability charmed me. […] Persuaded that Couthon was sincere I said to him: ”Monsieur Couthon, you who are all-powerful on the Committee of Public Safety, are you aware that the Revolutionary Tribunal daily condemns unfortunate men who are accused of the same crime as these magistrates? This very day, Monsieur Couthon, sixty-three prisoners are to be executed under this pretext.” This reflection produced an indescribable effect on Couthon: his face became distorted and assumed a tiger-like expression... He made a movement. The bunny was overturned and the child, weeping, rushed into his mother's arms. Extract from the memoirs of Maurice André Gaillard, cited in Romances of the French Revolution (1909) by G. Lenotre, volume 1, page 171-172

During the Constituent Assembly, at the time of the revision, I was one day with Buzot's wife, when her husband returned from the Assembly very late, bringing Pétion to dinner. It was the time when the court had them treated as factious, and painted them as intriguers, all occupied in stirring up and agitating. After the meal, Pétion, seated on a large ottoman, began to play with a young hunting dog with the abandonment of a child; they both let go and fell asleep together, snuggled on top of each other: four people conversing did not prevent Pétion from snoring. ”So here we have this rebel,” said Buzot, laughing; ”we were looked askance on leaving the room, and those who accuse us, very agitated for their party, imagine that we are to maneuver!” Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 167

I had crossed the yard and was going to my carriage while finishing a conversation with an old sans-culotte, certainly well paid to indoctrinate the dupes. A cute dog ​​pressed itself against my legs. “Is this poor animal yours? said my coachman to me, with an accent of sensibility very rare in his equals, and which struck me singularly. "No, I don't know it," I replied gravely, as if it were a person, and already thinking of something else entirely: ”Drop me off at the galleries of the Louvre.” I wanted to see a friend there to talk about the means of getting Roland out of Paris. But we had only gone twenty foot when the carriage stopped. "What is it?” I said to the coachman. ”Well! he left me like a fool, while I wanted to keep him for my little boy, who would have fun with it: Petit! Petit! come here!” I remembered the dog; I found it sweet and agreeable to have a good man, a sensible father, as my coachman at this hour. “Try to catch it, I shouted to him, put it in the carriage and I will guard it for you.” The good man, very happy, takes the dog, opens the door and gives me company. This poor animal seemed to feel that she was finding protection and asylum; I was well caressed, and I remembered this tale by Saadi, which depicts an old man, the last of men, repulsed by their passions, retired to a forest where he had made a dwelling. He animated his stay with a few animals which paid for his care with the affectionate testimonies of a gratitude to which he had confined himself, failing to find so much in his fellows. Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 81-82

Fréron often visited madame Duplessis country house at Bourg-la-Reine and every time he played with the bunnies there. Hence the nickname Bunny (Lapin) that was given to him by Lucile. Footnote in Correspondance inédite de Camille Desmoulins (1836) by Marcellin Matton. Matton was a friend of Lucile’s mother and sister, and it’s probably from them he acquired this anecdote.

Monsieur Duplessis, his cabinet, the fireplace, My sister and I know you must go to the countryside one day this week. Do you remember that you for more than fifteen days have promised to bring you with us there? You told me, that if I learned Zaire, you would give me whatever I wanted. I already know it almost by heart, papa, and I’m dying to see the little piglets. My sister joins me to ask of you this same favor, and to present you the respectable attachment with which we are, my dear papa, your very humble servants. Lucile and Adèle. Undated note from child Lucile Desmoulins, probably written sometime in the 1780’s.

We have gotten ducks, I went to see them. […] I ate gooseberries, and then I was alone in the pavilion, I picked a little hornbeam which I brought to Lolotte, then I I was dreaming in the grove. Lucile Desmoulins’ diary, June 28 1788

After dinner I went for a walk in the grove. I had fun breaking dead wood, then I found a snail. I examined it a little, I broke its shell, but having fallen onto my stomach it made me cry out loud, because this ugly beast was crawling on my stomach! I made a big hole and buried it. In two or three days I will go and see what has become of it. Lucile’s diary, June 30 1788

An hour after leaving you yesterday, citoyenne amie, I gave Horace his snake (couleuvre), which he saw again with tenderness, and they played together to fully reconnect. Letter from Panis to Annette Duplessis regarding Horace Desmoulins, dated March 1 1802. If anyone has a more logical translation, alternatively knows if snakes were optional pets in the 19th century, feel free to share! 

Georges Couthon at the Convention with a small dog, sketch by Dominique Vivant Denon from 1793.

Robespierre with a small dog, painting by Louis-Léopold Boilly from 1783.

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

R. P. HALE

Francestown, New Hampshire, named after Frances Deering Wentworth, the wife of colonial governor John Wentworth, was incorporated in 1772, and by the time of the first census in 1790, the town had 928 souls resident there. Today, the town has barely doubled in size with about 1,600 residents. The rural, but entrepreneurial nature of the town is captured in this 2019 wood engraving entitled General Store, Fracestown, N. H. ca. 1858 by New Hampshire artist R. P. Hale. The print was selected by my Wisconsin colleagues Tracy Honn and Jim Moran for inclusion in the Fourth Triennial Exhibition 2020-2022 of the American American wood engravers society, the Wood Engravers’ Network (WEN). This image is from the catalog for that travelling show.

R. P. Hale, who runs his press, La Imprenta Azteca, out of Concord, N.H., just a few miles northeast of Francestown, is many things: an artist, printmaker, scientist, educator, master calligrapher, medical illustrator, paper-marbler, draftsman, photographer, harpsichord maker, concert musician, historical re-enactor, and specialist in Mesoamerican astronomy. But it's his highly-detailed, photorealistic wood engravings that he is perhaps most well known for. Trained in medical illustration, astronomy, and chemistry, Hale is a long-time WEN member and comes from a long line of Mexican printmakers. Hale and his wife Alice, have passed on the family arts, crafts, and science traditions to their daughter Alicia who practices in New York.

The image of the original wood block locked up on the press bed is from R. P. Hale's Facebook page.

View other posts withengravings from the WEN Fourth Triennial Exhibition.

View more engravings by members of the Wood Engraver’s Network.

View more posts with wood engravings!

– MAX, Head, Special Collections and juror for the WEN Fifth Triennial Exhibition.

[digitalfashionmuseum]

Engraving, ca. 1793, French.

Portraying a beggar woman in a blue jacket, red skirt and white fichu.

Musée Carnavalet.

[noelcollection]

The Noel Collection has recently acquired a volume of the Lady’s Magazine containing the issues from Jan. 1790 to Jan. 1791! We hope you enjoy the calligraphic inscription of a previous owner as well as some highlights from the May 1790 issue.

Calligraphic inscription of Elizabeth Brown, a former reader of this book!

An engraving illustration titled “The Escape,” showing Maria and her two children on their way to escape an murder plot devised by Fanny Freeman, her lover’s vindictive wife. The accompanying text reads:

“...it was necessary for her to pass through a wood. The point she had in view employed her mind too much to let her think of interruptions from any monster, in the shape of men, during her progress through it. Yet she could not help stopping, now and then, and looking about her; and sometimes starting, when she heard a rustling noise, occasioned by the brisk blowing of the wind over the trees…” 

A glee in tribute to the owl, in three-part harmony. 

Several poetic riddles (unfortunately without an answer key).

An exhilarating recounting of the great Victualling Office fire on April 10 at Plymouth. A pile of thousands of bundles of brushwood ignited, and it took four engines two hours to put it out. 

Birth notices, including that of Sir Thomas Erskine Napier (son of Captain Charles Napier), who would go on to serve in the British Army’s 52nd  Regiment of Foot during the Napoleonic Wars.

Last but not least, the notice of the passing of Henry Joseph Dabzac, the Irish academician who taught Mathematics, Greek, History, and Law before concluding his life as a principal librarian at Trinity College Dublin. 

Images from:

The Lady's Magazine. London: Robinson and Roberts, May 1790. Catalog record: https://bit.ly/3nLKrkB

[vinceaddams]

Top five extant waistcoats 👀👀

How dare you make me choose, agh! I have exactly 1302 images on my 18th century waistcoats pinterest board right now, so here are 5 that I especially love, but picking a definitive top 5 is impossible. (I already have a long post with 20 of my favourites, but I kept those confined to just the last 2 decades of the century.)

1. c. 1790's, Cooper Hewitt collection.

This one is super cool, because it's the only one I've ever seen with net overlay. Look at it! Teeny tiny baby 2mm silk ribbon, all hand knotted.

2. c. 1750's, V&A.

This one is printed to shape! Someone made a big engraved plate with this design that's specifically made to fit the front of a waistcoat! It's a bit off looking around the edges, so I think maybe the customer was a bit smaller than the pre-printed fabric shape, but it's still so cool.

There are more examples of this technique, and I have a pinterest board section for them.

3. This one. Wool thread on linen, sold by Christie's. Ugh, I want one!! Wouldn't this look amazing with my dark green wool 1730's coat and breeches?

I would love to do a crewel embroidered waistcoat like this someday. This grainy picture is the only one I've been able to find of this one, and I once tried emailing Christie's to see if there were more pictures, but they have a lot of employees and didn't seem to understand what I wanted, and the listing was from 2009, so I was not successful.

I hate it when auction sites take down the pictures after the sale!! >:( Nowadays when I pin pictures from auction listings I always make sure to back them up on the wayback machine. There are so many old ones that I wish I'd done that for... Crewel waistcoats are pretty rare, so there aren't many closeups out there, but these 1734 pocket flap samples are a great example of something similar. (got a subsection for crewel on my embroidery pinboard)

4. c. 1735-45, Historic Deerfield. There are tons of woven to shape waistcoats out there, but this is one of my favourites. I love huge flowers, I love sleeved waistcoats, and I love green.

It looks amazing at nearly 300 years old, so just imagine it when all those silver threads were new and not tarnished!

Similar to the blue printed one, this would have been woven with the brocade flowers in the shape of the front of a waistcoat, and then sold to a customer who'd then bring it to a tailor to have it made up to fit him. One of those things that was easy to find in the 18th century, but is completely unattainable to modern costumers, alas.

5. c. 1795-1800, The Met.

Heeheehoohoo. bugs.

There are a lot of late 18th century waistcoats with weird little pictures embroidered on them, and I can't choose a favourite, but bugs is way up there on the list. This isn't even the only bug embroidered one, there are others!

This one has been altered. I'd say it was probably originally made in the 1780's, and then cut down to be shorter and given a different collar shape sometime in the early 19th century. Lots of waistcoats were altered like this, and with the embroidered ones it's really obvious. I would have liked this one better in its original state, but oh well.

So! Those are not the very best 5, but they're 5 very good ones!

[oncanvas]

Gallery of Fashion, vol. III: April 1, 1796 - March 1, 1797, Nicolaus Heideloff, 1794-1802

Hand-colored etching and engraving 13.38 x 10.44 in. (34 x 26.5 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY, USA

[thoughtportal]

Biscuit (cookie) flavour: Almond and orange, taken from an eighteenth-century recipe for Ratafia-Cakes

Decoration: Royal icing base. All designs painted onto royal icing by hand using food colouring gels and vodka.

Context: Inspired by trade cards from eighteenth-century London. Moving clockwise from the top left:

James Reynolds – Haberdasher (c. 1750, British Museum)

John Lockington – Engraver, Hair Worker & Toy Manufacturer (c. 1733-69, Lewis Walpole Library)

Elizabeth Bagwell – Linen Draper (c. 1750, British Museum)

Owen & Cox – Cabinet Makers & Upholsterers (c. 1790-6, British Museum)