She set down the mirror. Oria took away the tray with the water jug and the basin. Lucietta came in with chocolate in a pink ceramic cup.
“Thank you, Lucietta,” murmured Catterina.
“Your servant, madam,” she responded, carrying away the chamber pot.
From The Laws of Time, by Andrea Perego
What were the daily rituals of life for the characters in The Laws of Time? How did Catterina and Cecilia perfume and prepare themselves for 1730s society? And Marcello and Francesco, what went into making them shaved and presentable? What were the objects they handled and used every day? How did they furnish their homes? How did they write each others? How did they close their letters?
Bourdaloue in Italian majolica from Pesaro.
Polychrome decoration known as ‘a tacchiolo’. Eighteenth century.
Private Collection.
The name ‘Bordaloue’, used to indicate a type of chamber pot, derives from the French Jesuit preacher Louis Bourdaloue (1632–1704). He was so highly regarded that he was commissioned to preach sermons to King Louis XIV and his court in the Royal Chapel at Versailles. His sermons were so long, however, that the ladies of the court had to make arrangements to have the necessary vase near to hand, should the occasion call for it, to avoid having to absent themselves during the proceedings.
The bourdaloue was an ever-present feature of an eighteenth century noblewoman’s daily life. Obviously, it was charged to the care of the servants.
“My dear, why don’t you have a shave and have your hair done before you go home? You don’t mind, do you Signor Tomà?” she asked the hairdresser sweetly, inviting him to give her friend a bit of sprucing up.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
Photo: Barber’s basin. The neck rested in the semi-circular recess to make the shaving process easier.
Venetian manufacture (Padua or Treviso), polychrome majolica with floral decorative themes in turquoise, seventeenth century.
Correr Museum, Venice
“My dear, why don’t you have a shave and have your hair done before you go home? You don’t mind, do you Signor Tomà?” she asked the hairdresser sweetly, inviting him to give her friend a bit of sprucing up.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
Photo: Barber’s basin. The neck rested in the semi-circular recess to make the shaving process easier.
Venetian manufacture (Padua or Treviso), polychrome majolica with floral decorative themes in turquoise, seventeenth century.
Correr Museum, Venice
Porcelain barber’s basin with Imari decoration, iron red under glaze and gilded enamel.
The ornamentation depicts two gates and a vase of blooming peonies under a weeping willow.
Japan, around 1700.
Private Collection.
Porcelain barber’s basin with Imari decoration, iron red under glaze and gilded enamel.
The ornamentation depicts two gates and a vase of blooming peonies under a weeping willow.
Japan, around 1700.
Private Collection.
“Have you made the bill, Antonio?” Catterina asked, coming out from behind the séparé.
“Madam, as you please. We’ll do it now,” responded the tailor, getting up quickly and leaving Giulia to play on her own.
He took a piece of paper from his pocket and calculated aloud.
“So… 408 lire for the brocade, 48 for the gold merlons for the bust, 36 for the extra trim we are going to add, 12 lire for the cloth and the bone, 8 for the double gold braid… makes 512 lire all together! Plus an extra 20 lire for labour, 532 in total, madam.”
From The Laws of Time , a novel by Andrea Perego
How did the protagonists in The Laws of Time pay their bills? What currency ran through their fingers?
Venetian coinage is not simple, like all ancient currencies, also because it navigates many centuries of history.
The basic currency was the silver ducat, which was worth eight lire.
At the rate calculated then, the lira was equal to 12 soldi (plural of soldo). One soldo was worth 12 denari (plural of denaro), therefore one lira was equal to 240 denari.
Then there were bezzi, equal to half a soldo, which figured in everyday accounting.
To put this in perspective:
In the seventeenth century ten thousand ducats a year was the income of the those who would have considered themselves actually rich. The annual salary of a university professor in Padua was 150 ducats, perhaps sometimes even a good deal more; a secretary in the Ducal Chancery received between 100 and 200 ducats a year; while a manual worker’s wage ranged from 60–120 ducats a year.
In September 1703, Antonio Vivaldi was engaged as a violin teacher by the authorities at the Ospedale della Pietà, where he began his work with a salary of 60 ducats per year.
A precious book, like a bible printed in Folio, could cost even 6 or 8 ducats, while a small book could be bought for some lire. A well-made handkerchief might cost 20 soldi, or one lira.
With 18 lire one could buy good cloth for a new shirt. A pair of shoes might be had for 5-6 lire and a pair of silk stockings for 10. In 1699, 12 pairs of normal stockings were worth 27 lire. 12 cloth caps cost 20 lire.
One would only need to spend a few ducats to clothe the regular inhabitants of the city; clothes of quality, however, came at a substantial cost, unimaginable these days if compared to the cost of living. It is true that the labour was cheap, but the fabrics, the finishes, the sartorial excellence, rendered the patricians’ clothes as precious as jewels.
Catterina’s new dress cost a total of 532 lire, i.e., 66 ducats and 5 lire. More or less the annual salary Vivaldi received at the beginning of his career.
At the height of the eighteenth century in Venice, the food and accommodation of a person with a medium standard of living, without luxuries, could cost around two hundred ducats a year.
Photo: Silver Ducat coined under Doge Giovanni II Corner (1709–1722). On the front, the lion of St Mark. On the obverse, the kneeling Doge receives the blessing and the banner of Venice from St Peter; in the exergue, the initials AM represent the massaro i.e., the public official responsible for the work of weighing and minting the coins.
“Have you made the bill, Antonio?” Catterina asked, coming out from behind the séparé.
“Madam, as you please. We’ll do it now,” responded the tailor, getting up quickly and leaving Giulia to play on her own.
He took a piece of paper from his pocket and calculated aloud.
“So… 408 lire for the brocade, 48 for the gold merlons for the bust, 36 for the extra trim we are going to add, 12 lire for the cloth and the bone, 8 for the double gold braid… makes 512 lire all together! Plus an extra 20 lire for labour, 532 in total, madam.”
From The Laws of Time , a novel by Andrea Perego
How did the protagonists in The Laws of Time pay their bills? What currency ran through their fingers?
Venetian coinage is not simple, like all ancient currencies, also because it navigates many centuries of history.
The basic currency was the silver ducat, which was worth eight lire.
At the rate calculated then, the lira was equal to 12 soldi (plural of soldo). One soldo was worth 12 denari (plural of denaro), therefore one lira was equal to 240 denari.
Then there were bezzi, equal to half a soldo, which figured in everyday accounting.
To put this in perspective:
In the seventeenth century ten thousand ducats a year was the income of the those who would have considered themselves actually rich. The annual salary of a university professor in Padua was 150 ducats, perhaps sometimes even a good deal more; a secretary in the Ducal Chancery received between 100 and 200 ducats a year; while a manual worker’s wage ranged from 60–120 ducats a year.
In September 1703, Antonio Vivaldi was engaged as a violin teacher by the authorities at the Ospedale della Pietà, where he began his work with a salary of 60 ducats per year.
A precious book, like a bible printed in Folio, could cost even 6 or 8 ducats, while a small book could be bought for some lire. A well-made handkerchief might cost 20 soldi, or one lira.
With 18 lire one could buy good cloth for a new shirt. A pair of shoes might be had for 5-6 lire and a pair of silk stockings for 10. In 1699, 12 pairs of normal stockings were worth 27 lire. 12 cloth caps cost 20 lire.
One would only need to spend a few ducats to clothe the regular inhabitants of the city; clothes of quality, however, came at a substantial cost, unimaginable these days if compared to the cost of living. It is true that the labour was cheap, but the fabrics, the finishes, the sartorial excellence, rendered the patricians’ clothes as precious as jewels.
Catterina’s new dress cost a total of 532 lire, i.e., 66 ducats and 5 lire. More or less the annual salary Vivaldi received at the beginning of his career.
At the height of the eighteenth century in Venice, the food and accommodation of a person with a medium standard of living, without luxuries, could cost around two hundred ducats a year.
Photo: Silver Ducat coined under Doge Giovanni II Corner (1709–1722). On the front, the lion of St Mark. On the obverse, the kneeling Doge receives the blessing and the banner of Venice from St Peter; in the exergue, the initials AM represent the massaro i.e., the public official responsible for the work of weighing and minting the coins.
Next to these were scissors, nail files, soaps, irons to curl the hair and implements to straighten it.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
Flaconnier-nécessaire – a kit of accoutrements essential to aspects of a lady’s (or gentleman’s) toilette.
Provenance: Europe, 18th century
Materials: agate, diamonds, gold, enamel, velvet, iron and steel; crystal, ivory and gold.
Photo © Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris/Jean Tholance
“I actually met a silversmith who is one of the best in all of Paris, Monsieur Germain. And what fine work he does!”
From the novel The Laws of Time by Andrea Perego
The silversmith Rosalba is referring to in conversation with Giustina is Thomas Germain (1673–1748). The son of silversmith Pierre Germain, he was orphaned as a child and ended up learning his trade in Italy, in Rome and Tuscany. Returning to France he worked a great deal for the court of Louis XV and was also an architect. His work was so appreciated that he had an official residence in the Louvre palace. His son François-Thomas also became one of the well-known gold- and silversmiths of his time.
Unfortunately, many of Thomas’s creations in gold and silver have not survived. King Louis XV went through financial crises so severe that he was forced to have his precious gold and silver services melted down.
Photo: Thomas Germain silver candlestick, Paris, 1732
Private collection.
“I actually met a silversmith who is one of the best in all of Paris, Monsieur Germain. And what fine work he does!”
From the novel The Laws of Time by Andrea Perego
The silversmith Rosalba is referring to in conversation with Giustina is Thomas Germain (1673–1748). The son of silversmith Pierre Germain, he was orphaned as a child and ended up learning his trade in Italy, in Rome and Tuscany. Returning to France he worked a great deal for the court of Louis XV and was also an architect. His work was so appreciated that he had an official residence in the Louvre palace. His son François-Thomas also became one of the well-known gold- and silversmiths of his time.
Unfortunately, many of Thomas’s creations in gold and silver have not survived. King Louis XV went through financial crises so severe that he was forced to have his precious gold and silver services melted down.
Photo: Round silver plate, made by Thomas Germain, Paris 1728–29.
Private collection.
“I actually met a silversmith who is one of the best in all of Paris, Monsieur Germain. And what fine work he does!”
From the novel The Laws of Time by Andrea Perego
The silversmith Rosalba is referring to in conversation with Giustina is Thomas Germain (1673–1748). The son of silversmith Pierre Germain, he was orphaned as a child and ended up learning his trade in Italy, in Rome and Tuscany. Returning to France he worked a great deal for the court of Louis XV and was also an architect. His work was so appreciated that he had an official residence in the Louvre palace. His son François-Thomas also became one of the well-known gold- and silversmiths of his time.
Unfortunately, many of Thomas’s creations in gold and silver have not survived. King Louis XV went through financial crises so severe that he was forced to have his precious gold and silver services melted down.
Photo: Soup Tureen, Thomas Germain, Paris.
Private collection.
Around these was arrayed a selection of glass perfume bottles, crystal and ceramic jars, flacons and embossed silver boxes containing essences and pomades created in their laboratories by master perfumers using ointments and extracts imported from Flanders. A sweet smell of jasmine oil hung over this display.
From the novel The Laws of Time by Andrea Perego
Photo: portable perfume bottle
Storp Collection, displayed at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice.
The Storp Collection, begun in 1911 by Bruno and Dora Storp, is one of the most important collections of perfume bottles and numbers more than 3,000 rare pieces. It is held in a private museum at the headquarters of Drom Fragrances in Munich. In 2010, it was opened to the public for the first time.
Photo ©Andrea Perego
Around these was arrayed a selection of glass perfume bottles, crystal and ceramic jars, flacons and embossed silver boxes containing essences and pomades created in their laboratories by master perfumers using ointments and extracts imported from Flanders. A sweet smell of jasmine oil hung over this display.
From the novel The Laws of Time by Andrea Perego
Photo: small scent bottle with cap. Glass decorated with polychrome enamel.
Venice, 18th century.
Murano Glass Museum Collection, displayed at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
The day would soon be on the decline. The damp cold was already closing in. A few women passed with baskets over their arms, their braided hair neatly pinned on their heads under black kerchiefs tied under their chins. Their dress was humble, skirts either yellow or salmon coloured, and they each wore a little shawl around their shoulders that they held tightly closed in front of their chests. The old woman who sold essences was on her way home with her basket. […] Many, both men and women, carried little gold-trimmed scent bottles, or else handkerchiefs sprayed with lavender.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, a pomander—a container for fragrant musk and other essences—in the form of a sliced apple. Engraved inscriptions on the slices indicate the essence contained within: lemon, rosemary, angelica, etc.
The pomander was worn hanging from one’s neck or from a belt at the waist. This one is in richly engraved perforated silver, with inside panels depicting hunting scenes.
Of southern German origin, end of 16th century.
Storp Collection
Exhibited at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
The day would soon be on the decline. The damp cold was already closing in. A few women passed with baskets over their arms, their braided hair neatly pinned on their heads under black kerchiefs tied under their chins. Their dress was humble, skirts either yellow or salmon coloured, and they each wore a little shawl around their shoulders that they held tightly closed in front of their chests. The old woman who sold essences was on her way home with her basket. […] Many, both men and women, carried little gold-trimmed scent bottles, or else handkerchiefs sprayed with lavender.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, a pomander—a container for fragrant musk and other essences—in the form of a sliced apple. Engraved inscriptions on the slices indicate the essence contained within: lemon, rosemary, angelica, etc.
The pomander was worn hanging from one’s neck or from a belt at the waist. This one is in richly engraved perforated silver, with inside panels depicting hunting scenes.
Of southern German origin, end of 16th century.
Storp Collection
Exhibited at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
The day would soon be on the decline. The damp cold was already closing in. A few women passed with baskets over their arms, their braided hair neatly pinned on their heads under black kerchiefs tied under their chins. Their dress was humble, skirts either yellow or salmon coloured, and they each wore a little shawl around their shoulders that they held tightly closed in front of their chests. The old woman who sold essences was on her way home with her basket. […] Many, both men and women, carried little gold-trimmed scent bottles, or else handkerchiefs sprayed with lavender.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, a pomander—a container for fragrant musk and other essences—in the form of a sliced apple. Engraved inscriptions on the slices indicate the essence contained within: lemon, rosemary, angelica, etc.
The pomander was worn hanging from one’s neck or from a belt at the waist. This one is in richly engraved perforated silver, with inside panels depicting hunting scenes.
Of southern German origin, end of 16th century.
Storp Collection
Exhibited at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
The day would soon be on the decline. The damp cold was already closing in. A few women passed with baskets over their arms, their braided hair neatly pinned on their heads under black kerchiefs tied under their chins. Their dress was humble, skirts either yellow or salmon coloured, and they each wore a little shawl around their shoulders that they held tightly closed in front of their chests. The old woman who sold essences was on her way home with her basket. […] Many, both men and women, carried little gold-trimmed scent bottles, or else handkerchiefs sprayed with lavender.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, a pomander—a container for fragrant musk and other essences—in the form of a sliced apple. Engraved inscriptions on the slices indicate the essence contained within: lemon, rosemary, angelica, etc.
The pomander was worn hanging from one’s neck or from a belt at the waist. This one is in richly engraved perforated silver, with inside panels depicting hunting scenes.
Of southern German origin, end of 16th century.
Storp Collection
Exhibited at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Two shaving brushes and razors.
Augsburg, 1610–1616
These objects were kept in “The Pomeranian Cabinet” at the Berliner Schloss, a cupboard that was burnt during the Second World War. Now part of the collection at the Kunstgewerbemuseum, Berlin.
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Chamber pot (bourdaloue )
Porcelain, Meissen, circa 1728–30
Porzellansammlung, Dresden
The name ‘Bordaloue’, used to indicate a type of chamber pot, derives from the French Jesuit preacher Louis Bourdaloue (1632–1704). He was so highly regarded that he was commissioned to preach sermons to King Louis XIV and his court in the Royal Chapel at Versailles. His sermons were so long, however, that the ladies of the court had to make arrangements to have the necessary vase near to hand, should the occasion call for it, to avoid having to absent themselves during the proceedings.
The bourdaloue was an ever-present feature of an eighteenth century noblewoman’s daily life. Obviously, it was charged to the care of the servants.
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Venetian console table, circa 1730
Gilded wood.
Auctioned by Southeby’s, London, 6 July 2010.
Private Collection
Small bottle in lattimo glass
Venice, 17th century
Murano Glass Museum Collection, displayed at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice.
Photo ©AndreaPerego
[…] Beneath it was a console—its gilded legs a forest of leaves and tendrils through which birds and hedgehogs were emerging—with a polished black marble top, shiny as jasper, showing off a table clock under a glass dome.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, an early 18th century, carved, gilded wooden console table from central Italy, topped with grey breccia marble rich in fossil traces. The carved front supports depict winged harpies. The shaped crosspiece is centred by a tuft of carved acanthus leaves, and the legs end in a stylised bovine hoof.
Private Collection
[…] Beneath it was a console—its gilded legs a forest of leaves and tendrils through which birds and hedgehogs were emerging—with a polished black marble top, shiny as jasper, showing off a table clock under a glass dome.
From The Laws of Time, a novel by Andrea Perego
In the photo, an early 18th century, carved, gilded wooden console table from central Italy, topped with grey breccia marble rich in fossil traces. The carved front supports depict winged harpies. The shaped crosspiece is centred by a tuft of carved acanthus leaves, and the legs end in a stylised bovine hoof.
Private Collection
Bronze candlestick in the shape of a putto.
17th century.
The Metropolitan Museum, New York
Pair of bronze candlesticks from Venice.
Attributable to Niccolò Roccatagliata, born in Genoa and active between 1593 and 1636.
The Metropolitan Museum, New York
Perfume ring
Storp Collection.
Exhibited at Palazzo Mocenigo Museum, Venice.
The Storp Collection, begun un 1911 by Bruno and Dora Storp, is one of the most important collections of perfume bottles and numbers more than 3,000 rare pieces. It is held in a private museum at the headquarters of Drom Fragrances in Munich. In 2010, it was opened to the public for the first time.
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Copper colander with handles
Made in the Veneto, 18th century
Correr Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Copper bed-warmer with protective grill
Made in the Veneto, 17th century
Correr Museum, Venice
Photo ©AndreaPerego
Venice in 1730 was still a city of travellers. The merchants travelled to buy their goods. The nobles travelled to hold government posts on the mainland or in foreign countries, or to administer their estates. Artists, painters and musicians travelled to fulfil commissions in various parts of Europe. They travelled by necessity, to protect their interests, and out of curiosity.
In The Laws of Time, the theme of travel constantly recurs.
The great artist Rosalba Carriera holds the floor at the dinner with her stories about Vienna, from which she had just returned after having spent several months there making portraits of members of the imperial court.
We know that Francesco Michiel travelled a great deal and stayed for years in the Netherlands and in Paris: In the mid–1720s, he had moved to the Low Countries to follow and take care of his father’s business interests. He had remained there for several years, until the beginning of 1730. […] The years spent in Holland had changed Francesco. At forty, he had acquired even more charm and a greater sense of the measure of things than he had had in the easy days spent comfortably with his family in Venice.
Donna Andriana, too, had travelled a lot: She had travelled Europe with her father, had been received at court and attended official receptions. She was familiar with the behind the scenes workings of politics and had rejected all the best potential matches.
In short, travelling was part of their lives, either by boat or in carriages over rough, dry, dusty roads, but travel they did. And they took with them essential travel kits to attend to their needs.
The photos show a partially gilded silver travel table service, made in Rome around the year 1700 by silversmith Bartolomeo Colleoni (1633–1708).
The set is contained in a purpose-made gold embossed Maroccan leather case, and consists of a silver dish, fork and spoon; the bowls of the dish and spoon are gilded. The handles of the cutlery have a pattern of carved leaves that end in a curl on the end.
The service is part of a private collection.
Venice in 1730 was still a city of travellers. The merchants travelled to buy their goods. The nobles travelled to hold government posts on the mainland or in foreign countries, or to administer their estates. Artists, painters and musicians travelled to fulfil commissions in various parts of Europe. They travelled by necessity, to protect their interests, and out of curiosity.
In The Laws of Time, the theme of travel constantly recurs.
The great artist Rosalba Carriera holds the floor at the dinner with her stories about Vienna, from which she had just returned after having spent several months there making portraits of members of the imperial court.
We know that Francesco Michiel travelled a great deal and stayed for years in the Netherlands and in Paris: In the mid–1720s, he had moved to the Low Countries to follow and take care of his father’s business interests. He had remained there for several years, until the beginning of 1730. […] The years spent in Holland had changed Francesco. At forty, he had acquired even more charm and a greater sense of the measure of things than he had had in the easy days spent comfortably with his family in Venice.
Donna Andriana, too, had travelled a lot: She had travelled Europe with her father, had been received at court and attended official receptions. She was familiar with the behind the scenes workings of politics and had rejected all the best potential matches.
In short, travelling was part of their lives, either by boat or in carriages over rough, dry, dusty roads, but travel they did. And they took with them essential travel kits to attend to their needs.
The photos show a partially gilded silver travel table service, made in Rome around the year 1700 by silversmith Bartolomeo Colleoni (1633–1708).
The set is contained in a purpose-made gold embossed Maroccan leather case, and consists of a silver dish, fork and spoon; the bowls of the dish and spoon are gilded. The handles of the cutlery have a pattern of carved leaves that end in a curl on the end.
The service is part of a private collection.
In the 1700s they closed their letters with a seal. They were closed in different ways. In this example we see—especially if you enlarge it—that the sheet was folded twice and then sewn around the edges with red silk. The holes are clearly visible. The two ends of the thread were then fixed with the wax seal.
What was the seal for? Obviously, to make sure the letter was not opened during its journey. It was only possible to open the letter by breaking the seal, and the recipient would have noticed it.The seal also served as a guarantee of the sender, whose insignia was stamped on the wax.
This seal is of red sealing wax, which was a mixture of shellac and resin with the addition of coloured dyes. The seal is adherent i.e., it fixed directly onto the document support, in this case paper.
Photo ©AndreaPerego
In the 1700s they closed their letters with a seal. In this picture, it is very clear how it was done: the sheet was folded in three, and then again in three. The last flap overlapped, but not entirely, leaving space to affix the wax seal that closed the document.
What was the seal for? Obviously, to make sure the letter was not opened during its journey. It was only possible to open the letter by breaking the seal, and the recipient would have noticed it.The seal also served as a guarantee of the sender, whose insignia was stamped on the wax.
This seal is of red sealing wax, which was a mixture of shellac and resin with the addition of coloured dyes. The seal is adherent i.e., it fixed directly onto the document support, in this case paper.
Photo ©AndreaPerego