WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Humbug

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Humbug

It’s finally the Christmas season, and I’m finally getting into the Christmas spirit. I’m not one who subscribes to Happy HallowThanksMas, and can’t abide the appearance of Santa next to jack-o-lanterns and horns of plenty. I’m perfectly fine with those who decorate their homes early; I’d just prefer not to be assaulted by skeletons and candy canes on the same end caps at grocery stores in September each year.

It’s also that time of year when I discover words that do not mean exactly what I think they mean. Bah, humbug!


To deceive, or impose on one by some story or device. A jocular imposition, or deception. To hum and haw; to hesitate in speech, also to delay, or be with difficulty brought to consent to any matter or business.

Humbugging, or Raising the Devil by Thomas Rowlandson, 12 March 1800, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

My association with the word humbug of course comes via Ebeneezer Scrooge of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (1843), which has absolutely no relevance to the slang definition above. Mr. Scrooge’s exclamation ‘bah, humbug!’ is itself its own slang expression that conveys “curmudgeonly displeasure,” according to

What I discovered, much to my surprise, is that humbug also refers to a confection. Wikipedia dates the first record of a hard boiled sweet available in the United Kingdom in the 1820s. And as any historian will tell you, by the time something shows up in the printed record, it has likely been in existence for many years; that means many of our Regency friends likely enjoyed a humbug or two.

The sweets are striped in two different colors, and were traditionally flavored with peppermint, although many varieties are available today. They can be shaped as cylinders with rounded ends, or tetrahedrons with rounded ends (rounded ends seem to be the common denominator here). The candy made its way into pop culture, having been featured in the televised version of The Adventure of the Six Napoleons by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. When Dr. Watson offers Inspector Lestrade some of the sweets in the midst of an investigation, Holmes scolds, “Watson, this is no time for humbugs!”

That one time arsenic got into the humbugs

In studying 18th and 19th century England, one finds that arsenic gets into the darnedest things: clothing, beer, and now candy. In 1858, the Bradford Sweets Poisoning involved the accidental poisoning of over 200 people – and death of twenty – when sweets were accidentally made with arsenic. It sounds suspicious, until one realizes that the high price of sugar often lead distributors to cut the amount of sugar in half or thirds, and mix in cheaper substances to sell the product to the working classes. These cheaper substances, such as limestone and plaster of Paris, were known as ‘daft’ and, while not palatable, were perfectly safe for consumption.

An operator of a sweet stall in Bradford, known to locals as “Humbug Billy,” purchased his daft from a local druggist. Due to a mistake in labeling, and the fact that the powdered daft and arsenic powder resembled each, Humbug Billy left his supplier with 12 pounds of arsenic trioxide. Even though the finished confection did look different from the usual product, the mistake still wasn’t caught during manufacturing. Forty pounds of peppermint humbugs were produced; each humbug contained enough arsenic to kill two people.

Humbug Billy began selling his sweets that night. Within a few days, the mistake was known and deaths and illnesses were rampant. All involved in the Bradford poisoning were charged with manslaughter but none were convicted; it truly was an accident in every sense of the word. The Bradford poisoning scandal did lead to new legislation to prevent future tragedies. The 1860 Adulteration of Food and Drink Bill changed the way ingredients could be used, mixed, and combined. The UK Pharmacy Act of 1868 tightened regulations on the handling and selling of poisons and medicines by druggists and pharmacists.



  • Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.
  • Need some humbugs? There are no doubt sweet shops on this side of the pond that make humbugs, but here are two I can personally vouch for across the pond: Jenny’s Homemade Sweets from Scotland (also try Edinburgh Rock and Puff Candy!) and Mrs. Beightons Sweetshop in Haworth, West Yorkshire (also try their yummy Lemon Bon Bons!).
  • Read all about Dying for a Humbug, the Bradford Sweets Poisoning 1858 at Historic UK.
  • If you’re a tweeter, be watching for the date of our #livetweet of A Christmas Carol at the end of this month. @JaneAustenDance and I live tweet various Jane Austen movies throughout the year, but thought Christmas called for this beloved classic. We simply cue up the movie, pop some popcorn, and all watch and tweet our observations together. It’s great fun!
WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Crowdy

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Crowdy

Oatmeal seems to be one of those love it or leave it foods.

I happen to love it, but I grew up with a father who made it so thick it would walk over from the pan to your bowl, and barely boiled it long enough to take the rawness out of the oat. That’s how I “cook” and eat it to this day. Add in some butter, cinnamon, brown sugar, and occasionally chopped fresh fruits such as apples, pears, or grapes, and I’ve made myself a treat for breakfast.

Don’t even get me started on the treasure that is steel cut oats. Yum-o.

I feel sorry for people who think oatmeal should be purchased in a ‘Quick’ version, or come in tearable brown paper packages. Blech.


Oatmeal and water, or milk; a mess much eaten in the north.

If, after that tantalizing definition, you find yourself in need of a recipe for that historical treat, you’re in luck! According to a 1889 June entry in The Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend, Volume 3, “Famous dishes are not always palatable at the first taste.”

Sounds like a warning to me.

Crowdy is further extolled as a “delightful food if the intelligent traveller…brings to it an appetite keen as the east wind–a zest that can be acquired by a twenty mile tramp over the breezy, heather-scented uplands.”

In other words, if you’re tired and hungry enough, you’ll shove anything in your mouth.

June, 1889 entry, The Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend, Volume 3.

I love that one historical reporter called Crowdy a “nourishing winter dish, easily made and arguably a complete breakfast in itself, especially when prepared and eaten according to the approved receipt of my late reverend friend, the Author of Metres, addressed to the Lovers of Truth.” Those italics belong to the author of the quote, by the way. One wonders if the lateness of his friend might be due to poor preparation or improper eating the Crowdy. Which might have something to do with the next reporter’s account.

Another eyewitness to the wonder of Crowdy noted “Oatmeal well-stirred with boiling water was a ‘crowdie,’ [and] I am reported to have told my granny, ‘that’s what we feed our hens’ on the first time I saw it mixed!”

One man’s complete breakfast after a tramp through the heather is just another hen’s morning in the nesting box.


WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Sir Cloudesley

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Sir Cloudesley

Sailors and drinking go together like peas and carrots or fish and chips. This week’s word fits that pattern, but it’s a bit of a sad, in memoriam sort of tale. This week’s post is less about the drink and more about its namesake.

Sir Cloudesley

Small beer, brandy, sugar, and lemon; a drink of sailors in memory of Sir Cloudesley Shovell, who used frequently to regale himself with it. Later to be known as a flip.

So who is exactly is this Sir Cloudesley?

Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, 1650-1707, by Michael Dahl, 1702, National Maritime Museum, Royal Museums Greenwich.

Norwich-born Cloudesley Shovell (1650-1707) rose from the ranks of cabin boy to Admiral of the Fleet before his untimely death at the young age of fifty-six. At seventeen, he was made midshipman on the Duke of York’s (the future James II) Royal Prince. He first saw action during the battles of the Third Anglo-Dutch War as a junior officer; as a captain, he fought at the Battle of Bantry Bay one week before the declaration of the Nine Years’ War in 1689. During the War of Spanish Succession, stories spread throughout the fleet of his swimming between ships, under fire, with dispatches clutched between his teeth to coordinate the fleet in the capture of Gibraltar and the Battle of Málaga.

An Action of the English Succession at the Battle of Bantry Bay, 1689, attributed to Adriaen van Diest.

That’s how you become knighted and an admiral by age forty, by golly.

Working with the Earl of Peterborough, he commanded the forces that took Barcelona in 1705, and was named commander of the Navy thereafter. His final battle was one that failed to capture Toulon, the base of the main French fleet, in the summer of 1707, but caused the French so much damage they scuttled their own ships to prevent the combined English and Austrian forces from taking them.

So lost the battle but won the war, in this case.

Sir Cloudesley and the fleet sailed for home after the campaign at Toulon. Nearing Plymouth on 22 October 1707, the fleet were hit with westerly winds and a northern current that ultimately dashed several of them on the reefs and rocks of the Scilly Isles. Sir Cloudesley’s ship, HMS Association, struck Outer Gilstone Rock and was reported to have sunk in three to four minutes, with the loss of all 800 hands. Three other ships also sank: HMS Eagle, HMS Romney, and HMS Firebrand. With the deaths of nearly 2000 sailors, the Scilly Naval Disaster of 1707 is recorded as one of the worst maritime disasters in British history.

18th century engraving depicting the sinking of the HMS Association, during the Naval Disaster of Scilly (1707), artist unknown, National Maritime Museum, Royal Museums Greenwich.

Sir Cloudesley’s body was temporarily buried on the beach at Porthellick Cove but was later exhumed by order of Queen Anne. The body was embalmed in Plymouth then carried in state to London, inspiring much mourning along the journey. Sir Cloudesley was interred in Westminster Abbey on 22 December 1707.

Sir Cloudesley Shovell’s Grave, Westminster Abbey. (I know I shouldn’t, but does anyone else hear, “Draw me like one of your French girls…” or is it just me?)

The epitaph above Sir Cloudesley reads:

Sr CLOUDESLY SHOVELL Knt Rear Admirall of Great Britain and Admirall and Commander in Chief of the Fleet: the just rewards of his long and faithfull services. He was deservedly beloved of his Country and esteem’d, tho’ dreaded, by the enemy who had often experienced his conduct and courage. Being shipwreckt on the rocks of Scylly in his voyage from Thoulon the 22d of October 1707, at night, in the 57th year of his age his fate was lamented by all but especially the sea faring part of the Nation to whom he was a generous patron and a worthy example. His body was flung on the shoar and buried with others in the sands; but being soon taken up was plac’d under this monument which his Royall Mistress has caus’d to be erected to commemorate his steady loyalty and extraordinary vertues.

There is an apocryphal story associated with the death of Sir Cloudesley that states he actually made it to shore alive at Porthellick Cove on St. Mary’s Island, only to be killed by a local woman (the Isles were a but untamed at this time) when she saw the emerald ring he wore. Supposedly, some twenty (or thirty, by some accounts) years later and on her deathbed, she made this confession to her priest, who then sent the ring to either one of Sir Cloudesley’s friends, the Earl of Berkeley, or the original gifter of the ring, Captain James Lord Dursley. No trace of the ring has been found in either of these gentlemen’s histories, however.

Memorial to Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Porthellick Cove, St. Mary’s Island, Scilly Isles.

Gilstone Rocks location at Porthellick Cove, Scilly Isles.


  • Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.
  • For informational purposes, you will see Sir Cloudesley’s name spelled in myriad ways. I chose the spelling from his marriage lines and will. But it’s different on his epitaph, some of his citations, the occasional newspaper write-up. You name it.
  • The recipe for Sir Cloudesley can be found in Beverton’s Nautical Curiosities. Glance up at the Salty Dog recipe for a chuckle shiver on how to moisten the rim of the glass.
  • Sir Cloudesley Shovell was no doubt a man we’d have liked to sip some of his namesake drink with. Read more about him at History Today and Wikipedia.
  • There are surprisingly numerous letters about The Shipwreck of Sir Cloudesley Shovell on the Scilly Islands in 1707.
  • I had no idea there is a Find a Grave website. But there is and of course I think it’s cool. They had Sir Cloudesley’s temporary grave from Porthellick Cove.
  • Words from the grave inscription courtesy Westminster Abbey.
  • Last but certainly not least, not just a drink but a rock band, too. The Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell are “the last of a dying breed of Grease Rock Bastard musicians who somehow, despite and in spite of the last 3 decades trying their best to kill off balls out, non-bulls— rock’n’roll music, somehow, against all the f—–g odds, still exist.”
WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Twist

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Twist

This week’s word is exactly what it sounds like – a combination of two other drinks. Much to my disappointment, I could not find a specific recipe for this specific drink. I admit to hoping for a discovery of coffee + tea + some random addition like reduction of parsnip or “stir with the branch of an elderberry.”


So I’m left to an examination of the individual parts of the whole. And we’re on our own to mixing the following recipes.

Do let me know if you add parsnips.


A mixture of half tea and half coffee.


According to the Jane Austen Centre, by the time you take that first sip of tea, you should know it’s going to be perfect because you’ve planned it be so every step of the way. The instructions are extremely specific:

  1. Start with a preheated pot. This prevents the tea cooling too quickly. To warm, pour boiling water into the pot.
  2. Use freshly drawn, not reboiled water, for the tea. Bring this freshly drawn water to a rolling boil for approximately ten seconds. Remove kettle from heat. Don’t boil the water for too long as this will boil away the flavour-releasing oxygen.
  3. Pour out the water used to preheat the pot and add the freshly drawn, freshly boiled water. [emphasis mine]
  4. Wait until the water is just off the boil before pouring it onto the tea. This brings out the rich aroma and avoids scorching the tea.
  5. Start with three-fourths of a level teaspoon of loose tea for every six ounces of water.
  6. Steep for 3-5 minutes, according to taste. If possible, cover the teapot with a towel or tea cosy while steeping to retain heat.
  7. Place a strainer over each teacup before pouring tea. If you would like to add milk (milk, not cream) pour it in the cup before adding the hot tea as this will allow the milk to better blend with the tea without curdling.
  8. Sweeten as preferred or serve with a slice of lemon.

Still Life Tea Set by Jean-Étienne Liotard, circa 1781-1783, Getty Museum.


Coffee has a colorful history and has aroused passions in its consumers since it first passed lips and delighted palates. The first coffee beans reached Venice in 1615; the first coffee house opened there nearly 70 years later in 1683. A European obsession was born. When coffee and its houses began booming in London about thirty years later, they attracted intellectuals, artists, politicians, bankers, and merchants. They were known as “Penny Universities:” for a penny, you could pick up coffee as well as useful information on a variety of topics.

I have a fever…and the prescription is more coffee…

Telling Fortune in Coffee Grounds, 1790, Lewis Walpole Library.

Remember when Elizabeth was assigned coffee pot duty at Longbourn when the gentlemen returned (and Jane was in danger of making Bingley fall more in love with her than ever?), and Elizabeth longed to speak to Mr. Darcy and thank him for his service to her sister?

Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for being so silly!
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

She needed to be serving some of this bewitching brew:

Regency era coffee recipe courtesy Jane Austen Centre.

And just when I thought all was lost, and that potions and syrups thrown into coffee were a modern-day invention, archaeological scholars at the University of Cambridge made a historical coffeehouse find: Calf’s foot jelly and a tankard of ale.

Researchers have published details of the largest collection of artefacts from an early English coffeehouse ever discovered. Described as an 18th century equivalent of Starbucks, the finds nonetheless suggest that it may have been less like a café, and more like an inn.

Customers today may settle for a flat white and a cinnamon swirl, but at coffee shops 250 years ago, many also expected ale, wine, and possibly a spot of calf’s foot jelly, a new study has shown. (Read the rest of the article here)

So the next time you’re shouting out your order at the coffee counter, make sure to enunciate clearly between ‘half caff’ and ‘half calf,’ or you may get something completely different.

Some of the 500 objects, many in a very good state of preservation, including drinking vessels for tea, coffee and chocolate, serving dishes, and 38 teapots from the Cambridge Archaeological Unit find.


  • Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.
  • For recipes at the Jane Austen Centre, head here for Tea and here for Coffee.
  • There is a great post over at Spitalfields Life featuring The Map Of The Coffee Houses. Definitely take some time to go over and check it out. In fact, Adam Dant has compiled an entire book of Maps of London and Beyond for your wish list. I know. I have a book addiction. But at least it’s an addiction for excellent books. Check out this map!

The Character of a Coffee House, map compiled by Adam Dant from Maps of London and Beyond by Adam Dant.

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Huckle My Buff

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Huckle My Buff

Why this slang term ever went out of style, I’ll never know, when it’s so much fun to say. I don’t care if people quit drinking the concoction. I really think I need to appropriate this term for my own purposes.

Bless Jamie Oliver and Jimmy Doherty for heading down to Harveys Brewery and leading the charge to bring this drink back for the recognition and regular usage the name alone deserves. While we’re in the midst of the dog days of summer and it’s hard to summon the desire to drink a steaming hot beverage, just file this one away for the wintery months around the corner.

Well, around several corners for a few of us.

Harveys Brewery Lewes East Sussex.

Huckle My Buff

Beer, egg, and brandy, made hot.

This early 18th century drink combined the three ingredients above, but also sugar and nutmeg, if one had it to hand. A pint of beer was combined with an egg, then heated with a hot poker so that it wouldn’t boil but would come nearly to the scald. Another pint of beer was mixed in, plus sugar, nutmeg, and brandy to taste. And you definitely served it hot.

In true modern, chef de cuisine fashion, Oliver and Doherty have updated this old chestnut of a recipe with the addition of ginger juice and cognac, and by using nitrous oxide and a sous vide rather than the red-hot fireplace poker. To each his own, I suppose.

The 21st Century Huckle My Buff

Fresh Egg Yolk
150ml Harveys Porter
35ml Cognac
20g Muscovado sugar
30ml ginger juice/Liqueur

Gently blend all ingredients on a slow speed, then warm in a saucepan, gently stirring with a whisk. Pour into a warmed glass and finish with freshly grated nutmeg.

To make it like Jamie and Jimmy, whisk one fresh egg yolk then slowly whisk in 20 grams of muscovado sugar, 35ml of cognac, 150ml of Harvey’s Stout Beer, and 0.8ml of ginger juice. Pour the mixture into a soda syphon; close and charge with nitrous oxide. Gently warm the soda syphon to 60°C in a sous vide bath. Discharge the warmed syhpon into a glass and finish with freshly grated nutmeg.

Jamie Oliver and his Huckle My Buff at Harveys Brewery in Lewes, East Sussex. Courtesy Harveys.


WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Bub

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Bub

It’s drinking month! With recipes!

“I had once determined to go with Frank to-morrow and take my chance, &c., but they dissuaded me from so rash a step, as I really think on consideration it would have been; for if the Pearsons were not at home, I should inevitably fall a sacrifice to the arts of some fat woman who would make me drunk with small beer.”
~Jane Austen to Cassandra, 1796


Strong beer.

The Ale-House Door by Henry Singleton, circa 1790, Yale University Press.

This week’s recipe comes courtesy 19th century Yorkshire handyman Thomas Denton, who was through paying outrageous pub prices for his pints and came up with his own less expensive home brew. This recipe produces 72 pints, so clean out your cupboards or make this around the holidays to share as gifts. But Mr. Denton was correct about his savings; his total cost was three shillings three pence (about £8.05 total/11p a pint today). Not too shabby.

Recipe for Cheap Beer

Put one peck of barley or of oats into an oven just after baking, or into a frying pan first to steam off the moisture, and dry it well, but on no account to burn the grain then grind or bruise it roughly.

Boil two gallons of water and pour it into a tub and when it has stood 10 minutes (say a heat of 175 degrees, or so hot as to pain the finger sharply) put in the grain; mash it well, and let it stand three hours: then drain it off.

Boil two gallons more water, which power [pour] on the grains, rather hotter than before but not boiling, say 196 degrees, and mash them well and let it stand two hours and draw it off. Mash the grains again well with two gallons more water, and in 1 1/2 hours draw it off. The three worts will be about five gallons.

Then mix 7lbs of treacle in five gallons of water, and boil the whole 10 gallons with 4oz of Hopes for 1 1/2 hours, taking care to stir it so long as the Hops float off the top.

Let it cool and when about milk warm take a good teacupful of yeast; and stir it well together beginning with about a gallon of the wort at a time.

Let it ferment for 18 Hours in a tub covered with a sack: put it into a nine gallon cask and keep it well filled: bung it up in three days, and in 14 days it will be good sound fine beer equal to London Porter.

The nine gallons of beer thus brewed will cost as follows –

1 Peck of Barley 1s 3d
7lbs of Treacle 1s 9d
4oz of Hops 3d

Cost 3s 3d

If you cannot get Treacle take 5lbs of the cheapest and darkest sugar you can get; this is better for your purpose than finer

Mix 14lbs of Treacle and 11 gallons of water well together, and boil them for two hours with 6oz of hops.

When quite cool; add a teacupful of yeast and stir it well, by a gallon or two at a time;

Let it ferment for 16 hours in a tub covered with a sack: then put it into a nine gallon cask, and keep it well filled up.

Bung it down in two days – and in seven days it will be fit to drink; and will be stronger beer than London Porter.

This is the simplest as it requires no skill: a washing copper or tea kettle are the only requisites: and nine gallons of beer can be obtained at the following cost –

14lb of Treacle 3s 6d
6oz of Hopes 4d

Cost 3s 10d

Recipe for Cheap Beer by Thomas Denton, circa 1825, courtesy Daily Mail.

Recipe for Cheap Beer Recipe by Thomas Denton, circa 1825, courtesy Daily Mail.

Descriptions of Battles by Sea and Land, attributed to Robert Dighton, circa 1801, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich.


WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Fallalls

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Fallalls

One of my favorite scenes in my not-so-favorite Pride and Prejudice adaptation of 2005, is where Mrs. Bennet admonishes everyone to “behave naturally” as she shoos them about the room in a mad cleaning session before Mr. Bingley (and the pompous one, Mr. Darcy) return to Longbourn.

Almost one minute in, we hear Jane beseech Mary to toss her “the ribbons, the ribbons, the ribbons.” And then we see a giant ball of fabric pieces fly across the room to be hidden behind the sofa.


Ornaments, chiefly women’s, such as ribands, necklaces, etc.

It’s not difficult to find examples of the myriad ribbons ladies used to decorate their dresses and trim their bonnets. My post last week illustrated one year in the life of hats and embellishments. So this week I’d rather look at period jewelry. To wear too much was to be vulgar, but there were still plenty of beautiful pieces to be treasured and admired.

In terms of jewelry classification, it’s all Georgian. The Georgian Era is defined as the time covered during the reigns of all the Georges in England – the First, beginning in 1714 and the Fourth, ending in 1830. Some include the reign of William IV from 1830-1837, as he was the third son of the third George. This period also overlaps with the long eighteenth century (which began with the Glorious Revolution of 1688 and ended with the Battle of Waterloo).

Now that we’re all inundated with somewhat superfluous data for this discussion, let’s talk Georgian jewelry.

Because a lot happened in England (and around the world) during the Georgian Era, and the four Georges were, after all, four distinctly different men, jewelry of this time period enjoys some variety. While the French had their Louis kings and then the Empire style of Napoleon, the Georgian aesthetic traveled the world. After all, the sun never set on the British Empire.

Antique Jewelry University posits that when Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes in 1685 and caused the Huguenots to flee France, they fled to Germany, Holland, and England – the three countries responsible for the bloodlines of the Glorious Revolution(aries) and the Hanoverian Georges. The most interesting fact of this emigration is that a large percentage of the Huguenot emigrés were artisans and designers. Jewelry designers.

Merci, Sun King.

Georgian Era gold was 18K or higher and completely handcrafted (however, as noted below in the examples I found, much seemed to also be 9K). Iron and steel were also popular and valued metals, and were heavily utilized during this period. World exploration, as well as English mineral deposits, yielded an abundance of materials for jewelry design. Pieces featured a myriad of stones: garnets, topaz, emeralds, rubies, diamonds, corals, amber, ivory, pearls, turquoise, agates, and carnelian. Items were designed as strands of beads, parures, demi-parures, mourning pieces, cameos, and intaglios. Wedgewood even got into the jewelry-making game with their popular Jasperware.

And because thievery was also a profitable occupation during this period, imitation jewelry likewise enjoyed popularity. You were just as apt to see a lady wearing diamonds or emeralds as you were paste, faux pearls, opaline glass, Vauxhall glass, or tassies.

But enough with the history. Let’s get to the looking. Some of these are men’s pieces, so not technically fallalls, but I simply couldn’t pass them.

Cross pendant, gold with closed back set with central pearl surrounded by garnet, emerald, sapphire, zircon, ruby, chrysoberyl cat’s eye, and amethyst. Circa 1800, British Museum

Georgian Emerald Paste Parure, ca 1810, of 9K gold in rivière setting, seen in portrait of Madame Recamier painted by Jean-Louis David.

Fan comb, ca 1810-1820, private collection of N. Garbett.

Turquoise Cannitille Drop Earrings, ca 1820, with torquoise beads in the cannitille manner, supported by an open work design drop consisting of a lace-like gold, The Three Graces.

Lovers Eye Brooch ca 1840, miniature painting in oval frame of 10k yellow gold with heart motif and ribbon border, with glass covered locket and braided sprig of blonde-brown hair on reverse, The Three Graces.

Gold demi-parure of brooch and earrings set with turquoise and small diamonds set as forget-me-not sprays, ca 1840, British Museum.

Wedgewood Plaque Jasperware with Birmingham Cut Steel Border, ca 1790, British Museum.

Pair of tiny gold studs of pointed oval shape with bright-cut borders, with monogram WA with fronds, all in hair under glass and set onto a short post. Backplates engraved ‘FP 1788’, British Museum.

Mourning Ring, ca 1800, courtesy Dickensian Dandy.

Gold comb of leafy oak twig entwined with wreath of forget-me-nots surmounted by bird with ruby eye and ring in beak, on trembler spring. The branch is set with gemstones whose initials spell ‘dearest’ from diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire and turquoise. There is a hair compartment in the reverse of the bird. Circa 1830, British Museum.

Double cravat pin of gold, enamel, and tourquoise, with first pin featuring Prince of Wales three feathers design, in torquoise and enamel, which is linked by a detachable torquoise-set chain to the companion pin headed in a raspberry design. Such double pins were very fashionable in the first half of the 19th century. Circa 1800-1820. Museum of London

And from the Royal Collection Trust, from Rundell Bridge & Rundell, official jeweler of the Prince Regent, later George IV:

Brooch with an intaglio of George IV. Siberian amethyst, diamonds; gold collet mount, framed by open scroll-shaped mounts in silver set with smaller brilliants, interspersed with eight larger cushion-cut diamonds, silver-gilt open back and brooch pin. Circa 1820-30, Royal Collection Trust.

Brooch with a cameo of the four Georges Cameo: 1820; Brooch: 1820 with later additions, Royal Collection Trust. Sardonyx: white on brown; diamonds, wreath of laurel and palm leaves set with rose-cut diamonds in silver mounts on a matted yellow-gold ground, surmounted by a diamond-set crown. The reverse with later open mount of red gold with brooch pin and slide loops.

Cast of George IV’s crown 1821, Royal Collection Trust. Gilt bronze, velvet, ermine.