A 'lovers eye' (eye miniature) mounted on a ring, backed with a hyacinth macaw feather. Popular in the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, several variations of such sentimental jewellery exist. The most intimate, as displayed here, included shed fur, feathers, or scales of the subject's daemon, in addition to a miniature or cameo, and were generally exchanged between married couples or close family members.
A dead ‘lovers eye’ (eye miniature) mounted on a ring, once backed with a piece of daemon feather as indicted by discolouration visible on the paper mounting. Popular in the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, several variations of such sentimental jewellery exist. The most intimate, as displayed here, included shed fur, feathers, or scales of the subject’s daemon, in addition to a miniature or cameo, and were generally exchanged between married couples or close family members.
In answer to @mayfriend‘s question as to whether the bit of daemon would survive the death of the subject (no).
Thinking about Certain Arts (I know) and how I’ve never really nailed down the Fitzwilliam naming traditions for their daemons, apart from ‘grandiose and slightly ridiculous’ but it occurs that I like Matilda-called-Maud as a name for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s daemon. It wasn’t in popular use as a human name in the regency but is still exceedingly English, it has militaristic overtones for a second son, and it transitions nicely from slightly pompous as a full name to properly cosy as a nickname, which suits the general feel I have for good old Col Fitz.
do you have any plans to continue with certain arts and allurements? its really v good, the worldbuilding especially is fascinating
Thanks Nonny! I’m glad you like it.
I have a fair bit of it plotted out (and even written! Though sadly not to a coherently publishable degree, more like lots of vignettes) and I do want to keep going because I really love that AU, but, uh...I’m not in the most productive headspace just now. So it’s not abandoned, but the timeline for further updates is a bit ‘???’
Tumblr fam, I’ve got a scene coming up at the end of the next chapter in which Mr Bennet takes a long and unnecessary tangent into the grammatical tangle of how to talk about a single person who occupies two bodies of two different species and sexes (as it were), in languages which have grammatical genders -- namely french and latin. It’s mostly for the comedy value of dragging out Mrs Bennet and Kitty being wrong about something, but I’m tossing it up here in advance to make sure that I haven’t made any really obvious ‘hoo boy the author’s monolingual’ errors, so, if you spot any, please do help me out.
The scene in question concerns, basically, Mr Bennet and Elizabeth bitching about Mr Darcy, and contains spoilers for Darcy’s daemon and for the fact that he’s managed to upset everyone in general and Elizabeth in particular (surprise):
Mr Bennet turned to Elizabeth. ‘Lizzy? Come now, my dear — jubatus?’
‘Oh!’ said Elizabeth. ‘Yes, of course! Though the latin implies rather more of a mane than I noticed in her case, but perhaps that was the fault of the angle of observation. Or, perhaps, since we are speaking of a known individual, it is because we should more properly say she is jubata? Half the descriptions in that book begin with panthera, so it is terribly vexing to come across such a grammatical exception. He appears to be contrary in every possible way.’
‘That, I think, is for the use of jubatus as an adjective rather than a noun; but in any case it depends on whether we are speaking of the daemon alone, or the whole individual. Wild beasts male and female were generally held to belong to a single common gender by the romans, while those which were domesticated and thus bred were given separate grammatical genders — and I believe the Persians did occasionally tame such true animals as we are speaking of, Lydia, do get me that dictionary — so if seperate grammatical terms exist, as they do in this case, and we are speaking of the daemon alone, then we would use the feminine; but if one is speaking of the whole individual then the usual practice is to defer to the sex of the human concerned, both in the singular and the plural. Which is unusual, in that is it one of the few cases in which the latin is more complex than the french, as formally in that language the masculine plural always takes precedence when referring to the individual as a whole, for men and women alike, unless they are one of those cases where the sex of the daemon and human are the same, and feminine. But even then, the french usually prefer to refer only to the sex of the man or woman in question and thus include the daemon by inference, rather than elevating the daemon to the position of being a divisible part of the whole. Descartes’ philosophical insistence on regarding the human and the daemon as necessarily distinct from one another is hardly without detractors; and even he resorts to the use of diminuatives for clarification — ’
‘In that case,’ said Elizabeth, ‘I suppose guépard must do for our speech, considering the way in which he seems so entirely satisfied with his own company — one cannot much imagine from his behaviour that he could ever be so at odds with his own self-regard as to be inclined to give up even a grammatical precedence. But, as I found him most unfair in his dealings, I am inclined to be perfectly unaccomplished on the matter and resort to plainly vulgar english, since our own tongue’s term seems rather more equal to my impression of him.’