Augustula Thomas
Note: This work would be incomplete, indeed, without a few suggestions from one-who-understands and has long been the authority on pooning. Pooning is a highly technical term and may perhaps need definition for the benefit of laymen. Its significance is subtle, lying between that of “properly placing” and the sense conveyed by the Italian phrase “Dove il dogagna.” Many true lovers of the quaint-and-rare possess the patience and the means to make collections, but, when it comes to the tasteful pooning of these, lack the connoisseur touch that is distinctive. Madame Thomas’s position as a scholarly decorator is now recognized as impeccable. Her hints will prove lambent to many a collector.—Eds.
A witty Frenchman once said to Madame de Montespan that the feminine touch in decoration was para cœli, but without half measures! Not pausing to debate the aspersion, I may admit that I have usually found it more sympathetic to direct the replacing of beautiful old things in the houses of bachelor and widower collectors than in those of somewhat more matronly people. After which treachery to my sex, let me proceed at once to the practical. Enfin!
RECEPTION HELD BY THE AMERICAN ACADEMY FOR THE POPULARIZATION OF ANTIQUITIES ON THE LAWN BEFORE THE ACADEMY’S BUILDING AT THE SAN FRANCISCO EXPOSITION
This reception was in honor of the election of Mme. Augustula Thomas to membership. Mme. Thomas is seen right of center in conversation with Turrbyl Dewyns (Fellow of the Academy), who wears the blue ribbon awarded by the Exposition as first prize for antiquarians. Just eastward of him Hon. P. D. Smith (Member of Congress from Arkansas) is seen courteously lifting his hat to Dr. Twitchett in recognition of the latter’s talents.
To pronounce my creed, which is synthetic and never subjective, a priori: Why own priceless marvels unless they are where they may be seen? Why lock up Coriobantini enamels, for instance, in a damp closet? The first thing I do, upon being put in charge of a collection, is to throw the vitrines out of the house. I shall never forget the amazement of the late Darrell Hazzard, of Hartford, when I thus ruthlessly began my work upon his treasures. “What!” he exclaimed. “Expose my faïence, my Louis Treize snuff-boxes, my Antoinette miniatures to the careless handling of every chance visitor? This is radicalism with a vengeance, dear lady! I suppose next you will be placing my snuff-boxes and miniatures upon the living-room table!”
“Tush!” I replied serenely. “They are to occupy your front veranda railing.” I had noticed that the railing was flat and within a few feet of the sidewalk, an ideal location for the priceless little objects, and there I had them placed. For that was where they would give the most pleasure—and it will be well for the reader to intrigue himself with the significance of this simple rule: Put your things where they will give the most pleasure. I am often asked the secret of my success, and I always reply with two words: “Simplicity! Pleasure!”