The eccentric concerns of lost generations were often captured in miniature on buttons. Antique buttons are like tiny talismans of lost ages, each and every single one with a story. Whether it's a tale of cataclysmic social change or a frivolous trend, it's all there to discover. And Victorian age insect buttons carry some of the weirdest and wonderful stories of all.
When Queen Victoria first donned her crown in 1837, Britain was an agrarian nation. Most people lived in rural villages, and the seasons ruled their daily lives. Time was marked by sunrises and sunsets, so clocks often varied from one town to the next by ten minutes.
However, Britain was on the precipice of colossal change because the steam engine, invented by James Watt in 1769, was on the verge of upsetting everything. Steam engines were fast, powerful, and could work independently of natural power sources. Steam was a servant to neither season nor sunshine.
During the early years of Victoria's reign, steam-powered factories popped like mushrooms in cities throughout Britain, and people fled the countryside to pursue the economic opportunities they provided. Clocks were nationally aligned, and the days when work was dictated by season and sunshine faded to obscurity.
Industrialization improved the lives of many and gave rise to a new social designation called the middle class. However, this newly minted social group found themselves living in squalid, polluted, noisy, and poorly planned cities. So it's not surprising that a national obsession with nature and natural history arose alongside rapid urbanization.
Charles Darwin's Origin of the Species was required reading among the Victorian middle class and fueled their infatuation with nature. Idle Victorian middle-class women sought to bring the countryside to their urban parlors by cultivating ferns under crystal domes and raising frogs in glass vivariums.
As is the case with many trends, the Victorian enthusiasm for nature leaked into fashion accessories. Victorian women pinned birds' nests and moss on their hats, adorned their hairdos with live fireflies and hummingbirds and attached living beetles on tiny leashes to their bodies. In this context, it seems less surprising that Victorian women adorned their gowns with fasteners depicting beetles, spiders, and house flies and accented their bustles with buttons showing bees and dragonflies.
In fact, next to flowers, bugs are the most common motif on Victorian buttons in our collection. The most popular bugs on buttons are butterflies and dragonflies, likely because their tremendous capacity for transformation made them apt symbols of salvation and change. Their graceful forms also lent themselves well to popular art styles of the day, including the Aesthetic Movement and Art Nouveau.
Beetles are the third most popular insect depicted on Victorian buttons, but their popularity was linked to a different obsession. In the late nineteenth century, several discoveries by British archaeologists caused Egyptomania to grip the nation, a trend that continued until the discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb in 1923.
Egyptians worshipped the scarab beetle, regarding it as a representation of the Sun God Ra. Egyptomania prompted new interest in this omnipresent creeper and gained consistent popularity in art, jewelry, and buttons that lasted until the 1930s.
Collecting the insect kingdom buttons was a joy! We're thrilled to share this creepy compilation with all of you. We've collected buggy buttons in almost all of our favorite materials, including champleve' enamel, carved ocean pearl, cut steel, stamped brass, and pewter. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do.