Sir Crewe by Ramsay Richard Reinagle.

Fancy affording ourselves a fleeting expedition to the late Georgian period? 

We should pause to fix our gaze on this quite affable gent-perhaps only by his painter's hand, we can't be certain-and his bonny little offspring, John, a boy of 4 years in this painting by Ramsay Richard Reinagle. We're immersing ourselves in the late 1820's here, and the man we're gazing at is nobleman Sir George Crewe, 8th Baronet. He's looking mighty swish in his dark, high-collared coat, waistcoat and, goodness, just check out that sumptuous cravat. The high shirt collar was extremely à la mode in the 1820's, and take a close squiz of Sir Crewe's come-hither side whiskers-aren't they quite a dream? It's clear that our subject, Sir Crewe, fancied himself a fashionable man. Little John Crewe is just as equally trendy for the time period. One day, as an older gent, he would sport sideburns so very long and bushy he nearly tripped over them. 

Belgian studio portrait...

Now then, isn't this Belgian family portrait, taken c. 1912, just utterly charming? Daguerrian Dandy extends gratitude and a gentlemanly tip of the hat to Christophe Van Walleghem for this studio shot of a handsomely-attired father, mother and young master. An utter delight!

British bovine...

Next up on the programme is selection of highly esteemed British bovine. 

The five exceptional specimens at the top are Englishman J. Bailey, 'Studies of Prize-Winning Red Devon Cattle'. Next up is Henry F. Stone and his magnificent beast, a Durham ox by Thomas Flintoff and finally, an early 19th century etching featuring another high-ranking Durham ox by John Boultbee. 

Old sawbones...the Civil War surgeon.

I declare I wouldn't mind that fellow to the far left with the unruly sideburns tending to me-what a delicious profile, young sir.

From 1840's British daguerreotypes and handsome sideburns, we progress now to the terrors of the American Civil War, where in this image, courtesy of The Burns Archive, we witness a group of gents posed in a Civil War amputation scene in a studio setting.  U.S army surgeon, Dr. S Baird Wolf stands to the right of the image; his assistants hold a bottle and a saw. The soldier, slumped feebly in his chair, casts a dramatic gaze heavenward. A surgeon ('sawbones', or 'old quinine', as they rapidly became known during the war) proficient at amputations could generally perform the operation in around 10 minutes (and, according to an article published on the Ohio State University's website on Civil War battlefield medicine, approx 75% of all amputation surgeries were successful, which to seems rather high considering the undesirable conditions many field surgeons worked in, in addition to inadequate numbers of surgeons, medical supplies and resources, appropriate space and such). 

Daguerreian Dandy declares we shall see another image or two relating to the Civil War in an upcoming post.

A Victorian gent and his most admirable sideburns...

Sideburns maketh the man.

Take a moment with me, if you will, to dreamily admire and perhaps even consider replicating, this fine set of 1840's sideburns.

You're looking at a truly splendid British daguerreotype example, of which there are far fewer examples compared to their transatlantic cousins, the reason for this being a complicated licencing issue and subsequent high costs. The owner, 'Photos of the Past' on Flickr, notes that the date the image was taken was recorded on the reverse: September 1, 1849.

Just another example of how marvellously the British did sideburns in the Victorian era.

Georgian humour at it's finest...

A Cruikshank effort? I certainly hope so.

Smutty Georgian literature and toasty buns in the library.

19th century Gents and their Penny-Farthings...

It's a marvellous day for a daring cycling jaunt in the countryside and photographic studio. How's that father and his bonny little son penny-farthing cycling ensemble? Goodness gracious. 

Daguerreian Dandy feels compelled to put this question to long-suffering readers: What's the difference between a well dressed bicyclist and a poorly dressed tricyclist? Attire.

A bibliophile's delight: Madresfield Court, Worcestershire

Cigar smoke and antique pages. 

For the bibliomaniacs lurking among us, cast a dreamy gaze upon this scrumptious view of the library in Madresfield Court, Worcestershire. An ancient seat dating back to late Medieval days, the structure has of course received many facelifts over it's expansive history, with the main refurbishment taking place in the 1860's. For those fancy pants blue-blooded folk that simply MUST have everything and then some, this handsome, elderly Grade 1-listed structure offers inhabitants a moat, an Arts and Crafts decorated chapel and a fantasy garden one really wouldn't mind becoming lost in. Daguerreian Dandy must now beg to be excused for the time being-I hear a Wilkie Collins novel, a pair toasty slippers and a fine cigar hollering my name.... 

An American Portrait

Back in the 1950's, there was a popular challenge between young folk of the era to see how many could pack into a phone box in a sardine-like fashion. Jolly good fun, I'm sure. Well, back in the 1850's, a similar challenge emerged-'how many youngsters can we fit in this here daguerreotype portrait?' Personally, I feel there was room for a few more folks here. Nevertheless, this is, of course, a marvellous 1/4 plate daguerreotype of school class-Petersham school in Massachusetts, probably taken around the very early 1850's. Take out your monocle and zoom in on the kiddies and you'll notice for the most part it's a good example of the side parts for boys and middle parts for girls rule. Most of the older girls are wearing collared dresses, while the younger ladies wear off-the-shoulder frocks up the front (plus one young man in a frock and side part).

This impressive group image is courtesy of Skinner Auctions.

When the photographer asks you to bring along your favourite toy for the photo shoot...

A little 19th century sauciness...

19th century calves, oh my!

Perhaps just slipping into the confines of the Gilded Age is this 1860's 'occupational portrait' of a lady of abilities in Vienna, Austria. This could well be a naughty little 19th century stereocard, too. 

The amount of leg she's showing is truly scandalous for its time, though Regency era ancestors wouldn't have been nearly so outraged. Certainly a few blokes would've thought she was a bit of alright.

Everything about this image can be filed under 'marvellous': her casual, uninhibited pose that allows her shapely legs to be exhibited, the very genteel way she grasps her tea cup as they she was born in a manor home, those thoroughly amazing boots and the way she gazes at the photographer with a perfect hint of cockiness and humour.

I bet she loaded that teacup with whiskey or brandy and told her customers the most magnificent dirty jokes.

The God-barber

I had a pun for you, but I'll shave it for later.

Barber: Would you like a hair cut, sir?
Client: No, cut all of them, you fucking cheapskate.

Taken around the turn-of-last-century (boy, that's always a mission to type), we're viewing Ruby Sohn's barber joint in Junction City, Kansas, courtesy of Historic Fine Arts. We'll note, if we take in the finer details, the number of the shaving mugs stored in a shelf on the wall. The fellow in the vest standing on the right appears to be an affable sort of fellow.

He's sexy and he knows it...

Well, SOMEONE needs a good spanking.

OH sir! How you do make my knees tremble and my heart feel weak. Will someone so kindly ring the bell for my maid Eliza to fetch the revival salts on the double. Tell her to make haste, for I am now certain the room is spinning and there are, I see clearly now, stars appearing before my eyes. An impertinent gaze, terrific sideburns and an authoritative, cocky manner toward the camera will do that, you know. Pout away, handsome chap. If I'm not mistaken, and if I should be I will hasten to rectify my claim, this fellow was taken by Charles Dodgson, quite an accomplished photographer, in Daguerreian Dandy's eyes.

19th century transportation-getting from A to B

Due to a draught on the subject of 19th century transportation options (okay, we admired a steam train a while back, perhaps, but I think that's really about it in the way of transport methods-unless we delve in Spring-heeled Jack's rather crafty and prudent methods involving a pair of nifty DIY shoes) we really should delve into some sensible choices to assist one in getting from A to B. Comfort and style varied substantially, but we'll first cast a glance at the phaeton (named so after a god of Greek mythology), a small carriage with limited seating options, born around the late 18th century. They remained in service for a good portion of the following century, and were a vehicle that a gent or lady could be in command of, rather than one having to acquire the services of a coachman. This one's quite a good looker with it's elderly leather top and original seat cushions, wouldn't you agree? I would assume it would be pulled by 1-2 horses, and was desirable due to it's lightweight nature and it's ability to be driven around town with ease.

Daguerrian Dandy will return after tending to his dark, luxuriant sideburns, though perhaps not quite so rapidly as old mate and English terror Spring-heeled Jack after a poor, helpless maiden in a graveyard after midnight.

A young fellow of the 19th century...

Tintype of a little 19th century gent, courtesy of Daguerreian Dandy.

Yes...a wee gent we have here. Marvel at that top curl and direct stare. 1/6 plate tintype, American. 

You really have to hand it to the Victorians...

Oooh, this looks rather handy.

Cordial apologies, first up, for the less-than-astounding quality of the image above. However, we must bare with what we have. And what exactly, then, DO we have? Daguerreian Dandy, sitting here in that spiffy brown checkered day suit we gazed upon not a moment ago, has not settled on a date for this charmer of an object. If I simply had to hazard a guess, if Dandy's stash of fresh tobacco and collection of naughty meerschaum pipes were on the line, I'd say perhaps 1850's, maybe 60's. Nevertheless, Dandy could be way out and it may in fact be a tribute to a bygone era. 

Enough babbling. What is it then, young dandies? Made of wood and whale ivory (no eyebrows raised back in them days) it is in fact a wax seal. I do wonder of it's origin too. A capital choice for the off-centre Victorian, yes. 

Gent's mid-century day ensembles...

It's time to get one's dandy on, I say. Image courtesy of Museum at FIT. 

Two absolutely spiffing day ensembles for dandies of the mid-century. Good heavens, aren't they a delight? Waltz on down the avenue in these babies and you'll do quite alright, I can assure you. The suit to our left is a wool number with a fetching checkered vest for the Victorian wishing to add a little flair and personality. To the right, looking as thought it's been lifted directly from 1970's era Mod Ken is a brown cotton and linen suit for the late 1840's gent.

Emily, Charlotte and Anne Bronte...

A gathering of Bronte's...take a good squiz and you may notice the faint outline of brother Branwell in the centre. He later turned his self-portrait into a pillar behind the sisters.

Portrait of Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronte, the work of second-born sibling Branwell, painted c. 1834. The portrait seen (discovered by Elizabeth Gaskell in the 1850's) here has been partially cropped-the original, with it's wear, tear and age-related creasing, is a 3/4 length piece. Branwell, who fancied himself an artist and would live to be only 31, originally had included himself in the painting, but later altered his work and removed himself, adding a pillar as, so the story goes, he considered the painting too cluttered upon completion.

In the last few days, the original 1830's portrait made it's way back to Haworth Parsonage in West Yorkshire to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Emily's birth. The portrait will reside in the Parsonage until August, where it will then be transported along with it's four ghosts back to the National Gallery.

An extraordinary daguerreotype..

A lady and her prayer. Daguerreotype, 1840's. Courtesy of Christopher Wahren Fine Photographs.

Victorian era leather merchant and tanners

Here we witness a leather merchant casting an eye over the goods, and tanners engaged in their daily business in Bermondsey, London, late 19th century.

C. 1890's Heywood/Wakefield settee. Divine.

Single seat wicker piece with handsome detailing, c. 1890's.

A little short in the lumbar support department, but it IS ever so handsome.

Rather handsome options to plant one's 19th century duff on, I must say. Daguerreian Dandy shall take one sightly piece for each room of the swish three-storey abode in Boston, and the addition of a extra member of staff for the dusting and general upkeep of these most agreeable pieces, thanking thee. Wicker furniture was absolutely, positively de rigueur in the latter segment of the 19th century, and was most certainly seen in modern homes in the early part of last century. An 1890's 'modern' might order a piece similar to these lovelies above from a catalogue to adorn her home with, thereby shunning the ye old Gothic Revival hulky pieces that harboured ghouls, goblins and arachnids aplenty that Grandma so delighted in furnishing her home with, so many moons ago. American companies, The Wakefield Rattan Company and the Heywood Brothers, united at the close of the century with two factories operating in Massachusetts, one in Illinois and another in California, along with a number of warehouses across the U.S and one in Liverpool, England. The unification of these two powerhouse companies offered consumers items of exceptional craftsmanship and incredible variety. Both companies, whether trading separately or after their merging, labelled their pieces unusually under the seat of the chairs; later Heywood/Wakefield examples will have a celluloid label identifying the manufacturer nailed to the item from the 1920's. Fancy feasting your eyes on a few more knockout wicker pieces (do we have time for a stately baby carriage too? I'd imagine so) in the near future? Daguerreian Dandy assures those pursuing this blog that we'll see more in two shakes of a lamb's tail...

19th century folk and their instruments...

Two fellas and an outrageous amount of coolness. Available for weddings, Christmas soirees, pub crawls and eccentric funerals. Daguerreotype, c.1850.

A gent, his violin and his Missus. Daguerreotype, around 1850. Image courtesy of Mirror Image Gallery.

A lady (of some means) and her instrument, courtesy of Dennis Waters Fine Dags. 

What a fellow! Just extraordinary. We thank Cowan's Auctions for this daguerreian gem. 

The age of steam.

Daguerreian Dandy is quite fond of steam trains, and especially keen on images of trains in action, entering tunnels, picking up passengers etc. Freud would have a field day, eh?

Fry's Advert.

Don't blame the little squirt, really. Late Victorian era Fry's advert.

'We were at the beach. Everybody had matching towels...' C. 1860 ambrotype.


Fancy a parade of 19th century musicians? They're a-coming...

John Everett Millais' 'Vanessa'.

'Vanessa' by Millais.


And who might this sullen-faced, raven-haired lady be, clad in such rich, sumptuous materials and embellishments? John Everett Millais, a British artist Daguerrian Dandy favours very much, produced this work,titled 'Vanessa' in 1868. Millais offers us a glimpse of, or rather his interpretation of, a lady whom Jonathan Swift (known to most modern folk as the author of 'Gulliver's Travels', he also employed himself in the task of political writing, poetry and marvellous wig-wearing. Swift is said to have been a rather witty, cheek old chap, making all sorts of outrageous, eccentric statements designed to ruffle feathers, garner chuckles and ignite social change) was writing back and forth to. Her birth name was Esther, though Swift referred to her as Vanessa. It seems there is no portrait or illustration in existence of Vanessa, therefore Millais can of course only offer his viewers his own idea of her. Vanessa, it seems from surviving records, was a little short in the looks department, though Millais has worked his magic here and awarded her a much more palatable visage. Swift ended up leaving his Vanessa for another lady, also by the name of Esther (this could be some sort of  late 17th/early 18th century soap opera). Suggestions have been made that Vanessa is in possession of Swift's 'Dear Jane' letter, so to speak. Uh oh....

A little Edwardian R & R. 

Daguerreian Dandy has unlocked the lower reaches of the curio cabinet and found, carelessly wedged betwixt a late 18th century taxidermy rodent named Cuthbert and Grandfather Dandy's (1779-1851, may his soul rest peacefully for all eternity, even if he was an irascible, parsimonious old sod that threatened your scribbler with a good lick of the old birch should Dandy ever put a foot out of line) smashing silver snuff box, this chipper little postcard of Edwardian leisure and gaiety. A crowd of mirthful spectators, 3 Grandmother's reaching for their vials of revival salts and one vigilant canine on a mission take stock of a woman and her young offspring, or perhaps charge, should she happen to be a governess or such, as they head down the slope in their little cart. Such fun and jubilation! Oh boy. One does wonder if anyone was afforded a quick peek of Ms. Edwardian's unmentionables on the way down...

Blonde bisque 'parian' head with black alice band. Made in Germany around the 1860's/70's or so. Image courtesy of The Museum of Play.

Isn't she dream? Daguerrian Dandy is quite a fervent collector of 19th century china and bisque head dolls, and this one makes me rather giddy. I'd best find the nearest chaise lounge and take a moment to remember myself.

Beauty of a bygone era...

A turn-of-the-century Brisbane beauty. 

Your good author is, much like this magnificent beast, Queensland born and reared. That is, Queensland, Australia. This architectural style may be unfamiliar with those outside of the country, but to Queensland residents, this is a common sight-although, it must be said, one that is slowly taking a back seat while modern, hideous structures continue to emerge.

You may find this divine old girl somewhere around the riverside area of New Farm, Brisbane-not too far, in the grand scheme of things, from your unpresuming  Daguerreian Dandy, in fact. Difficult to say whether she's had parts tacked on or altered at some point. To me, she looks pure Edwardian era. Federation style, Daguerreian Dandy believes. Ravishing, is she not?

A daguerreian heart-breaker indeed. My, my.

1850's daguerreotype, courtesy of The Library of Congress. This here fellow is why revival salts were invented.

If you wanted to pursue Sir Hot Stuff here, you'd do well to commence your search in 1850's middle class America. To assist you even further, I'd recommend journeying to the New England area and seeing how you fair. If you find this divine young fellow before me, give him a good pinch on the bum for me, will you? 

Ah, those saucy Victorians...

I say! Keep these ones out of the Missus' sight!

These cheeky items seem like something one would expect to see during the 'Naughty Nineties' (that is, the 1890's...and don't forget, all about the place, particularly in England and America, liberated ladies were on the move in their bloomer suits and hooning around on bicycles like nobody's business...oh my). Aren't they quite hilarious? But these spicy little novelty pieces, probably once found in a locked drawer in the library, often the sanctuary of the gent/s of the home following dinner, do actually serve a practical purpose too.

It's quite clear that the shapely striped pins to the left form part of a saucy little gentleman's corkscrew. This piece is German-produced, probably 1890's or so, and the legs are made of celluloid. These can, of course, be purchased new today from novelty/bar gift stores almost anywhere, though they're often rather shoddily made.

What about the two lovely feminine pins to our right? These objects were quite useful to the Victorian gent who revelled in a good puff of an evening, in his smart smoking attire and most agreeable chair. These are carved bone pipe tampers, probably a bit earlier than the highly conspicuous striped pins. A 19th century gent would use these tools to push and pack the tobacco down into the bowl, as it often tended to expand and move around while one was smoking, creating pockets of air which can result in the pipe going out.

The corkscrew image is courtesy of corkscrewsonline. Top right courtesy of kahnfineantiques.

Lady daguerreians of the 1850's...

Truly a gentlewoman of the 1850's. And how's that cheeky sparkle in her eyes?

Princess Leia Organa's Great Great. Just look at those delicate lace mitts...

Oooh-er. She's a bit of alright, this one. Image courtesy of Jack Mord.

A good long moment should be dedicated to admiring these 1850's daguerreian ladies and their scrumptious coiffs with much favour. I think I could gaze upon that outrageous lovely with the forked part and choker for all of eternity...

Victorian era stokers.

I was trying to think up a useless sailor or nautical-themed pun, but nothing came to mind. I'm sure it will schooner or later, though.

Pass the tea, bag. The subject of tea consuming in the 19th century...

Caddyshack.

Originating in China, tea was taken for medicinal and restorative purposes for an age before the British began daintily sipping it. Tea reached the U.K by way of Dutch and Portuguese traders around the 17th century. Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II, was noted as a great lover and advocate of tea drinking, and was at least partially responsible for bringing tea to the British court. 

Tea continued to be advertised as curing a number of ails, as well as generally keeping one in fine fettle and reviving energy levels. Prior to the Victorian era, tea could be purchased in trendy coffee houses, and eventually, tea began, at least for a period, to supersede alcoholic beverages in popularity. This naturally displeased the Government, who wished patrons of such establishments to be guzzling alcohol, the sales of which were the source of quite a lucrative income. So naturally, they imposed a heavy tax upon tea, and so, the tea smuggling industry was born; Scandanavian traders delivered tea to British shores, where it still proved rather costly and lots of dirty business went on-it was often laced with other bits and bobs to bulk it out, and some folk weren't opposed to using the leaves, adding them to fresh batches and selling them on.

Finally, the tax was abolished, and the nighttime business of tea smuggling abated. It's likely that merchants still sold on used, old leaves and bulked out their goods with goodness knows what, and so came the Food and Drug Act of 1875, where severe penalties were handed out to those found tampering with tea.

Are these tea caddies quite divine? Two examples are predate Victoria, but we won't let that bother us, because look how exquisitely made they are. The traditional caddies most know of today were borne out of the 18th century, were available in any number of shapes and designs and served the purpose of keeping one's tea safe from nosy, thieving household help (that's not to condemn all servants of pilfering through their Master or Mistresses goods) and retaining the freshness of the leaves.

Caddies (single, double and triple) were made of wood, tin, silver or wood veneered with tortoiseshell, horn, ivory, horn, papier mache, straw. The list of fancy finishes is ceaseless, as were the decorative techniques. Ladies of the upper crust often whittled away their time painstakingly decorating caddies, because why not? The beauty of these caddies, and the high level of craftsmanship attests to the importance of taking tea in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Mid-century daguerreotype, courtesy of the George Eastman Museum.

A little 19th century fellow in the most marvellous frock. Yes'm, that's a young chap.

The Daguerreian Dandy: The Hexagon House Hotel, Texas.

The Daguerreian Dandy: The Hexagon House Hotel, Texas.: House of 1000 gables. Another grand structure with a less than satisfactory conclusion...prepare thyselves.  In Mineral Wells, Texas, th...

The Hexagon House Hotel, Texas.

House of 1000 gables. Another grand structure with a less than satisfactory conclusion...prepare thyselves. 

In Mineral Wells, Texas, this here building, the Hexagon House Hotel, was completed and opened to the public in 1897. Owned by a Texan rancher with deep pockets who once owned almost 100,000 acres of property in Texas, the hotel boasted 4 stories and was a mighty popular rest stop for travelling folk and well known names. The Hexagon Hotel was designed to encourage maximum air flow throughout the 30 rooms, and was at one point the first hotel in Mineral Wells to have rooms lit by electricity. A 20th century article on the hotel once noted that it offered guests hexagon-shaped plates to eat their Texas cuisine from. Marvellous!

Over 50 years later, the hotel operators were beginning to struggle with the constant upkeep, and the number of patrons was starting to dwindle, though plenty of tourists and local folk came by to admire the impressive exterior. In 1959, the Hexagon House Hotel was demolished. The image below would likely have been taken in the early 1900's.