OF THE VIOLENT PEWTER-COLLECTOR AND HIS PATOIS—OF THE PECULIAR
PASTIMES AND PLEASURES OF THE PEWTER-HOUNDS AND OF THE DANGERS
OF FOREIGN PEWTER
The pewter-collector provides a pleasant source of income to European
antique-dealers; for he is one of the most ardent collectors. Pewter,
as is well known, is a base metal made of tin, to which a small amount
of antimony, copper, or lead has been added. It was originally made
for use in the homes of the wealthy before the days of pottery and
china; then it was used in kitchens of great houses; churches which
couldn’t afford gold or silver services had pewter services; taverns
had complete outfits of pewter pots and tankards which could be thrown
promiscuously by intoxicated guests without damage to anything except
the guests.
When properly cleaned, old pewter has a soft, silvery lustre that is
highly esteemed by all collectors; and a true pewter-lover will travel
many miles for the privilege of handling a pewter plate, hearing it cry
and taking rubbings of it.
Pewter-collectors speak a technical language which has little or no
meaning to persons who have never been exposed to the pewter-germ: and
it is in the antique-shops that one hears the pewter-lovers running on
by the hour. The _cri d’étain_, or the “cry of the tin,” is not, as
might be supposed, the noise which the pewter-collector makes when he
finds out the price of a piece of pewter. It is the noise which genuine
pewter always makes when the collector holds it close to his ear and
bends it backward and forward. Pewter always refuses to cry for some
people, but it is certain that there is a cry in it, just as it is
certain that there is a lady in the moon, though few of them are ever
able to see her.
All the pewter made in the old days in London and Paris and the German
cities bore on its back the small private mark of its maker, due to
the fact that a certain standard of metal was required by law.
The chief recreation of the pewter-collector is to search out several
pieces of pewter, place tissue paper or tinfoil over a mark, and
then diligently rub the paper or foil with some blunt instrument
until a copy of the mark has been transferred to it. Two advanced
pewter-collectors will squabble for hours as to whether the best
rubbings can be made with cigarette-paper and a hard pencil, or with
tinfoil and an ivory penholder, and as to whether the best results can
be got by heating the pewter before taking the rubbing or by leaving it
cold.
The most excitable pewter-huntsmen keep little books of pewter-rubbings
on their persons, and think nothing of spending two or three hours
trying to locate a given mark in their books. If interrupted in
this pursuit, they become violent and use hideous language to the
interrupter. They exchange rubbings with each other, and can spend as
much as eight or ten hours in brooding over half a dozen dilapidated
pewter plates. When they have hopelessly disagreed over the proper
method of taking rubbings, they can argue for weeks over the best
method of cleaning pewter, which develops an almost impenetrable crust
when it lies neglected in a barn for half a century, as most of the
genuine appears to have done. Some hold out for ashes and vinegar;
others for boiling with hay; others for oxalic acid mixed with rotten
stone; others for hydrochloric acid; others for oxide of tin; others
for Calais sand and elm leaves; others for soft soap, rotten stone, and
turpentine. One of the most delightful things about collecting this
metal is that you can experiment for years with pewter without making
any progress.
The same thing is true, of course, of all sorts of antiques. Only a
short time ago the official expert of the French Government carefully
examined a portrait owned by a Parisian lady, and pronounced it a
genuine Leonardo da Vinci. The lady was about to sell it to the Kansas
City Art Institute for the modest sum of $500,000, when another
celebrated dealer examined it and declared emphatically that the
painting was a copy, and not a Leonardo da Vinci at all. Both of the
experts had international reputations and should have been qualified
to know exactly what they were talking about. The Kansas City Art
Institute, however, decided not to part with its money just then; and
the lady at once sued the second expert for $500,000. Our Society hopes
that when she gets the money she will endow us; and we have written her
to that effect; but probably she is busy just now.
I myself found a gem of a pewter inkwell in a little Parisian shop one
day, properly marked and battered and time-worn. It had a cylinder
for ink, a cylinder for sand, and a space for pens; and its age was
declared by the dealer to be one hundred and fifty years. By haggling
exhaustively with him, I beat him down from one hundred francs to
fifty francs, and bore off my prize in triumph. When I got it home, I
examined the interior of the ink-cylinder with an electric torch and
discovered that the inside surface was bright and shiny. On a guess,
it was only about eight months old; but what of that? Eight months is
eight months, and what _is_ antiquity, anyhow? If you ask a geologist
you will get one answer; if you ask a debutante you will get another.
As for me, I used a little acid inside my inkwell and hope to dispose
of it to a friend. It is already months and months antiquer than when I
bought it.
[Illustration: PLATE XII
SAMPLER IN THE POSSESSION OF PROFESSOR KILGALLEN’S FAMILY. IT WAS
THE WORK OF THE PUPILS OF THE PROFESSOR’S GREAT-GRANDMOTHER, DAME
MARJORIE KILGALLEN, OF OSSIPPEE FALLS, AND WAS PRESENTED TO HER
BY THEM ON THE CONCLUSION OF HER THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR AS A TEACHER
IN THE SCHOOL
]
Almost every Parisian antique-shop will, if pressed, produce a pair of
pewter plates with the salamander crest of Francis I on the bottom of
each plate in _repoussé_ work—work done by hammering the under side of
the plate until the desired figure is raised on the upper side. These
salamander plates are charming and should be bought by the pewter
collector. If he gets too many he can always use them for sinkers when
fishing—or they may readily be employed as wedding-presents.
Generally speaking—speaking, that is, as our careful advice to the vast
body of travellers who wish to take home a few attractive antiques
as souvenirs—it is best to make purchases as soon as possible after
arriving in Europe. If one remains there long enough the antiques will
be absolutely genuine by the time one gets home.
————
HORSECHESTNUT
————
[Illustration]