COLLECTING AS A PASTIME
[Illustration: =Bronze Statuette for Gas.= _Circa_ =1850=.
PLATE I.]
COLLECTING AS A
PASTIME
BY
CHARLES ROWED
_With 68 Half-tone Illustrations_
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
1920
TO THE MEMORY
OF
C. H. R.
RAISON D’ÊTRE
This book is written, and the illustrations prepared, mainly to
inspire, inform and amuse Amateur Collectors. In this I trust it will
be successful, but I further hope that it may arrest the attention and
stimulate the interest of many other readers.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
PAGE
_RAISON D’ÊTRE_ vii
REFLECTIONS 1
_FIRST COURSE_
GRANDFATHER CLOCKS AND OLD FURNITURE 12
_SECOND COURSE_
OLD PEWTER--THE PEWTER POT AND
THE MYSTERY PIECE 35
_THIRD COURSE_
OLD BRASS AND COPPER 77
_FOURTH COURSE_
OLD MORTARS 82
_FIFTH COURSE_
OLD POTTERY 86
_SIXTH COURSE_
OLD CHINA 122
_SEVENTH COURSE_
OLD HORSE AMULETS 140
_FINAL COURSE_
SHEFFIELD PLATE AND OLD SILVER 144
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. BRONZE STATUETTE FOR GAS (_circa_ 1850) _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
2. “THE TRUSTY SERVANT” PRINT (_circa_ 1830) 14
3. GRANDFATHER CLOCKS: JOHN BURGESS DE WIGAN;
PHILIP SMITH, BARTON; PHILLIPS, LUDLOW 15
4. GRANDFATHER CLOCKS: PENNINGTON, INCE; T. HELM,
ORMSKIRK; BOLD, WARRINGTON 18
5. GRANDFATHER CLOCKS: BROWN, LIVERPOOL; MONKS,
PRESCOTT; NO NAME, ENAMELLED DIAL 19
6. OAK DRESSER, WELSH, 17TH CENTURY, WITH PEWTER 24
7. ELM DRESSER, WELSH, EARLY 17TH CENTURY, WITH
PEWTER 25
8. ECCLESIASTICAL CHEST (_circa_ 1600) 26
OAK DOWER CHEST, DATED 1702 26
9. OAK SPINDLE BACK CHAIRS, EARLY 19TH CENTURY 27
BIRCH CHAIRS, EARLY 19TH CENTURY 27
10. CHINESE CHIPPENDALE CHAIR, LATE 18TH CENTURY 28
OAK LANCASHIRE CHAIRS (FAKED) 28
11. CROMWELLIAN GATE-LEG TABLE (OAK); KNIFE-BOX
WITH SHELL INLAY; SALT-BOX DATED 1659;
BOWL, BY COPELAND 29
GATE-LEG TABLE, MADE OF “FOUDROYANT” OAK 29
12. BUREAU WITH BOOKCASE (MAHOGANY) 30
13. MAHOGANY BUREAU, 18TH CENTURY 31
CHEST OF DRAWERS WITH BUREAU FITMENT 31
14. BIRCH, VENEERED ROSEWOOD, FOLDING TABLE; TEA
CADDY 32
MAHOGANY TABLE, DROP ENDS 32
15. MAHOGANY CHEST OF DRAWERS 33
DISHES--DAVENPORT, LEEDS, COPELAND; BOWLS--BOW,
CHELSEA, PLYMOUTH, BOW 33
16. DWARF CHEST OF DRAWERS WITH HEPPELWHITE
MIRROR 34
17. OAK CHEST WITH OAK CUPBOARD, ENCLOSING PEWTER 35
18. MAHOGANY CORNER-CUPBOARD WITH PEWTER 42
19. OLD PEWTER GROUP 43
20. OLD PEWTER GROUP 46
21. OLD PEWTER GROUP 47
22. PEWTER SNUFF BOXES 64
23. PEWTER POTS--INSCRIBED 65
24. PEWTER POTS AND LIDDED TANKARDS 70
25. PEWTER “ALMS-DISH”--FAKED (_Front_) 71
PEWTER “ALMS-DISH”--FAKED (_Back_) 71
26. THE “ODAMIFINO” 74
THE CONVERTED BEDPAN 74
27. THE MYSTERY PIECE 75
28. OLD BRASS GROUP 78
29. OLD COPPER GROUP 79
30. OLD MORTARS (Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) 84
31. OLD MORTARS (Nos. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10) 85
32. OLD POTTERY GROUP 88
33. OLD POTTERY GROUP 89
34. OLD POTTERY GROUP 92
35. OLD POTTERY GROUP 93
36. PICTORIAL POTTERY 98
37. WILLOW PATTERN 99
38. CHINA CABINET, MAHOGANY, LATE 18TH CENTURY 122
39. OLD CHINA GROUP 123
40. OLD CHINA GROUP 128
41. OLD CHINA GROUP 129
42. OLD CHINA GROUP 136
43. OLD HORSE AMULETS, GROUP 1 137
44. OLD HORSE AMULETS, GROUP 2 142
45. SHEFFIELD PLATE AND OLD SILVER 143
COLLECTING AS A PASTIME
REFLECTIONS
There is a cause for everything. Are antique collectors born or are
they made? Is the craze inherent, or do circumstances or environment
create the craving? How in later life do early associations influence
our peculiar fancies? Possibly my seven years as a choir-boy at
Winchester Cathedral attending services and practices there fifteen
times weekly, being boarded at the Bishop’s Palace, and playing
games under the shadow of the ruins of Wolvesey Castle may have laid
impressions which tended to render me susceptible to the mediæval. My
reflections bring to mind my singing at the enthronement of Bishop
Samuel Wilberforce, and seeing the bones of King Rufus taken out of
his tomb and laid in skeleton form on the floor of the chancel. In
those times a man was not considered too old at forty, as the Dean was
doing his little bit at ninety. To go back still farther, when quite
a small boy I lay for weeks with a broken leg, which had to be broken
a second time owing to poor setting, in a room out of which there was
a secret chamber for hiding those “wanted” in the good old days. This
ancient home with its pointed gables and windows was suitably named
“Gothic Lodge,” and is near Southampton, close to a house in which Lord
Jellicoe’s grandfather resided.
Anyone knowing Winchester will be familiar with the picture of “The
Trusty Servant,” and illustrative of the extraordinary things a
collector may come across in his rambles, I found a good print of this
in a nice old maple frame hanging in a dark shop of a dingy street in
a drab town in the North of England, and, of course, I purchased it
(Plate II, facing p. 14).
* * * * *
The rostrum shook under the thud of the fist of the reformed
prizefighter, and the hall reverberated with his stentorian
exclamation. “Ah-h-h-h, my friends, what will the drunkard do for
drink?” Allow me just to whisper, “What won’t the collector do for
curios?” It is generally understood that there is honesty among
thieves. This may be so--not being a member of that fraternity I cannot
vouch for its accuracy. That this desirable attribute prevails amongst
the majority of antique dealers and collectors is to my mind open to
question. You know you cannot do yourself justice unless you know more
than the other fellow, while he in his turn, if you are a stranger,
treats you with suspicion, and so you both play Brer Rabbit.
I was once going through a collection acquired by a professional
gentleman, and he called my special attention to a very good figure
of Nelson, which he informed me he had obtained at a bargain price.
The figure was in a shop run by an alien, probably now a naturalised
Englishman, who asked fifteen shillings for it. On its being pointed
out that the figure only possessed one arm the alien said he had
not noticed that and dropped the price to eighteenpence. I suppose,
after all, this question of honesty resolves itself into a matter of
conscience, and we must realise that this is a commodity liable to
degrees of elasticity which can be regulated without a great deal of
effort to suit the demand requisite for the occasion.
* * * * *
Did you ever know a collector give away anything from his special line?
I once had a little Leeds Pottery cottage (impressed mark) pressingly
offered me out of pure good will by a dealer, who although he was only
half a collector was a whole-hearted Christian, and I wish he were
still in the flesh to read this fond reference to his genial urbanity,
but he has gone aloft.
Open confession is good for the soul, and I feel at this point I must
unburden my conscience after alluding to others whose feelings may have
been disturbed by my theories. On one occasion a very old and valued
friend was giving a charity bazaar at his residence, so he asked me to
contribute some of my old pewter. My friend and I had much in common,
but he little knew what he was asking of me then or with what pangs of
heart-burning those twenty pieces were selected, packed, and forwarded,
with a lying letter expressing the pleasure I felt.
* * * * *
One other outstanding instance of generosity comes vividly to my mind.
Early on, when I could talk of nothing but old pewter, I spent an
afternoon with a friend who still resides in a hamlet, the name of
which I Aughton’t to disclose. He specialises in old porcelain and
young pullets, together with rare bits and roses. At the time I was
almost in despair because I could drop on no pewter dishes. Imagine
my delight when I received anonymously three good marked specimens
from the residential district aforesaid. On meeting the donor and
overwhelming him with my profusion of gratitude, he remarked, “Look
here, old man, you needn’t make such a fuss about it. The fact is my
wife came across these dishes when spring cleaning, and she asked me to
get them out of the way, so I sent the bally things off to you.”
* * * * *
I have alluded to the influence the collecting craze may have on
the conscience, and on the gift of charity. The bump denoting the
latter varies very considerably in individuals, as in some cases it
is reported to be undiscernible by the most gifted phrenologist, yet
we each think our own so abnormally developed that we wonder how we
keep our hats on. As an instance of the way in which the mania may
take hold of the common sense contained in a brain occupied with
big undertakings, and large financial questions, let me give you an
instance.
At a shop on Blackpool Pier I noticed an oak pulley-block partly
gilded, and learnt it had belonged to the rigging of the _Foudroyant_,
which was wrecked there in 1897. Although I did not want this myself
I knew a friend who would like to have it. He was very keen on Nelson
relics, and had shown me with pride the room he devoted specially to
the display of these, which he had accumulated regardless of cost. I
purchased the block for a guinea, packed it up, sent it off to the
South of England by passenger train, and wrote saying what I had done.
What gigantic schemes matured or what h.p. pressure was required to
keep his powerful brain under control, I do not know, but in the
evening of the following day I received an urgent telegram saying the
pulley-block had not yet arrived, and would I trace it forward? Now why
could not a man of his experience and resource have waited more than
twelve hours after getting my letter for a thing like that to come 250
miles by train, without giving me extra trouble, when I had already put
myself out of the way to give him a little pleasure? I forgave him when
I received his note of thanks, and he never met me afterwards without
referring to my thoughtfulness on his behalf.
* * * * *
Soon after I started I had the advantage of comparing notes with
a medical friend, who had a decided penchant for antiques, and he
diagnosed collecting as a disease on which he considered himself an
authority, if not a specialist, as his knowledge had been acquired by
constant practice. His faculties were so acute that on one occasion
while feeling the pulse of a patient he lost count of the beats through
catching sight of a Bartolozzi print hanging near the bed. He was
pleased to say the patient recovered her health, and he obtained the
Bartolozzi.
Further evidence in support of this theory is the case of a minister
who, after seeing my collection for the first time, could not sleep,
but lay awake wondering in which of the houses in his parish he had
seen any pewter. May I not carry this a step further without giving
offence, by suggesting that when thoughts require to be concentrated on
less worldly things, while paying his consoling visits he should spend
much of the time with both eyelids closed? Be this as it may, he has
secured a number of bargains.
Another instance came under my notice through seeing a letter from a
wealthy merchant, the ramifications of whose business are world-wide,
in which he stated he had been poking about slums, and had picked
up two pepper-pots for a few coppers. Consequently he could not see
his way to offer more than three shillings for two which had been
advertised for four shillings.
* * * * *
I have discovered among my press cuttings an article which appeared
in the _Times_, August 12, 1910, and I should like you to read the
following extract:--
ON COLLECTORS
“The collector’s instinct seems to be a curious by-product of the
human mind; and not only of the human mind, for magpies, monkeys, and
even dogs, sometimes have it. When a dog makes a store of bones, old
and entirely fleshless, he is like the collector who keeps obsolete
things just because they are obsolete. A used postage stamp is to
a man what a bone without flesh is to a dog; but the collector of
postage stamps goes further than the dog, in that he prefers an old
postage stamp to a new one, while no dog, however ardent a collector
of bones without flesh, would not rather have a bone with flesh on
it. Yet there is more method in the human collector, since he always
has before him the ideal of a complete collection, whereas no dog,
probably, ever dreamed of acquiring specimens of all the different
kinds of bones there are in the world. This ideal of a complete
collection is the usual spur of the human collector; and often he
will collect the most out-of-the-way things in the hope of attaining
it. But there is also the spur of rivalry, and because of that there
are not many collectors of things that no one else collects. Every
collector likes to have at least one rival whom he may out-do, and
from whom perhaps he may steal; for the collector’s instinct is
sometimes too strong for the most honest of men, so that they come to
regard stealing as only a bold and skilful kind of collecting. They
would never steal anything except what they collect; but in stealing
a fine specimen they are only rectifying the iniquity of chance which
has given that specimen to an ignoramus who does not deserve it. For
them collecting is a game, and stealing is not a breach of the rules.
Indeed, there is only one breach of the rules, viz.:--forging. But even
forgeries make collecting more exciting; and perhaps they are not
really a breach of the rules, but only an added complication in the
game, a new kind of bunker, so to speak, which tests the skill of the
player.”
Great minds think alike! Oh, thank you!
* * * * *
In my numerous calls I have only once been openly treated with
suspicion, and that happened in a county town which boasts of an
imposing jail. Possibly the existence of that massive pile with its
undesirable inmates had given cause to the local antique dealer to be
ever doubtful of his visitors. My friend and I had left the motor at
the hotel, found a small shop crowded with antiques, opened the door,
which was of the stable pattern in two sections, and walked in. After a
few minutes, during which we were examining curios, and making audible
comments, the proprietor came out of the back, and demanded to know how
we got in.
“Through the door.”
“Yes, but why didn’t you ring the bell?”
“Perhaps the bell is out of order.”
“No, that won’t wash, I know your sort.”
He was irate, so we left him in possession. My friend was very
indignant, and was not appeased when I hinted that the unpleasant
incident would not have occurred if I had been by myself.
* * * * *
I do not envy those who go to auction rooms or large antique premises,
buy a cart-load in one afternoon, write out a cheque, and have the
goods kecked at the door like a load of coal. I have always been
pleased that I started and have kept on buying my finds in penny
numbers, and now I am able to put them in volume form I am well
rewarded for my persistence.
Like the lady who never made her tea the right strength, because she
had a poor eye for measuring distances, I attempt no estimate of the
miles I have travelled in pursuit of the game. I have motored as
far north as Dunbar with success, made discoveries in Dover, found
dishes in Devonshire, turned up treasures when touring the Lakes, and
been over to Ireland for pewter. Reflections on these journeys are
constantly arising as my eye lights on one or other of the numerous
specimens which adorn my home, and I am truly thankful that I turned my
attention to the collecting of antiques in the way I have done, thereby
providing myself with a pastime which has been beneficial to the body
and mind of a busy man.
In my narration I hope I may not cause the reader to conclude that I am
egotistical, desirous of creating the impression that I know it all,
make no mistakes, and pick up nothing but bargains. I must plead guilty
of having on more than one occasion when homeward bound thrown rotten
purchases out of the train, taking care, of course, not to hit any
resting man working on the line. There have been times when on closer
scrutiny I have discovered an “antique” purchase to be modern, and I
have turned it over to the hazards of everyday use, feeling sure that
its existence among the household effects would not remain in evidence
for a lengthy period to remind me of my lack of acumen.
By giving some of my experiences the amateur who, like myself, has
essayed to go cautiously will, I feel, enter into the spirit which has
pervaded my search after antiques to get what enjoyment there was to
be obtained in pursuit of the elusive bargain. An ounce of practice is
worth a ton of theory, and a few mistakes are the best school for the
student.
I hope in the contents evidence of originality may occur, and that
the touches of humour may not be considered misplaced, even by those
who take their collecting very seriously. I have the good fortune to
number among my friends one who for half an ordinary lifetime has been
so keen a collector of antiques that he has gathered together a host
of treasures which have not only filled his house from ground floor
to garret, but have partly stocked the local museum as well. He must
have read nearly everything published on his beloved subjects, and when
he heard I had decided to write this book, in an encouraging letter
he said, “I shall, I know, be very much interested. I love to read a
‘spicy’ article. I always think it sinks deeper than the heavy and
often cumbersome accounts we sometimes get.”
I have not enquired just what my friend’s definition of the word
“spicy” may mean, but as he knows half my pleasure in collecting is
the fun of the thing, and that it is my natural bent to find humour
whenever it chances to come my way, I trust he will not be disappointed
with the result of my efforts to enliven what he might otherwise have
considered another addition to heavy material.
I hope the illustrations will give satisfaction. Long before I started
collecting I was possessed of a good half-plate camera, with a fine
lens, which I used out in the open on any occasion as I felt disposed,
consequently this experience came in most useful when I desired to
photograph specimens of my collection indoors. I have therefore not
only the satisfaction of knowing that all the subjects exhibited have
been gathered together by my initial effort, and are all under my own
roof, but that I have taken most of the photographs myself. The result
of taking all these on half-plates has allowed me to keep uniformity
running through the book, and enabled me to present the pictures the
right way up. The arrangement in so many volumes which compels each
reader to twist the book every time he wishes to study a picture, will
be found practically absent in this. As the smartly set up autocratic
adjutant commands his regulars “Right-turn” and “Left-turn” so does the
short-sighted conservative author compel his readers to “Read-turn” and
“Lift-turn.”
I take no credit for the developing, printing, or toning of the
photographs, for I have a detestation of shutting myself in the dark
room, and a dislike for the tedium of the remaining part of the
process. By arranging a set of shelves for the groups, and fixing
the camera at the most suitable distance I have maintained the same
proportion of size throughout, a point which should be borne in
mind as one which has saved the necessity of giving more than a few
measurements. The times of exposure for the photographs have varied
from two minutes to two hours.
Collecting, therefore, has livened up my photography; and it is fresh
in my mind that photography has livened me up on two occasions while
I have been on this work. The first when, after hanging about for
twenty minutes while a “grandfather” was reflecting his face, I found
I had omitted to take the cap off the camera. Secondly, when another
“grandfather” was supposed to be undergoing the required operation,
I discovered after the lapse of a similar period, which seemed to be
about double the time, that I had forgotten to pull up the slide,
and this happened just when the necessary light for that day had
finished. Such incidents as these are by the way, but the linking
up of photography with the still life that is depicted is a further
justification for the title “Collecting as a Pastime.”
_FIRST COURSE_
Grandfather Clocks and Old Furniture
The First Plunge--The Clock and the Chest--Varsity Blue--The
Statuette--A Weird Arrival--Faked Chairs--_Foudroyant_
Oak--More Clocks--Study the Chart--Making Converts--Lacquer
Clocks--Barometers--The Elusive Mercury--Welsh Dressers--Chinese
Chippendale Chair--Spinning Wheel--Spindle-backed Chairs--More rushed
Seats--Gate-legged Mahogany Table--Buying Worm-holes--Bureau and
Bookcase--A Revelation--Oak Cupboard--Four Corner Cupboards--Dated
Furniture--Mahogany Inlaid Tables--A Surprise--Chests of Drawers:
Small, large, and a Combination--Just in Time--Bureau--How not to
Auction--The Tea-caddy.
“The oak tree was an acorn once,” and so was the case of my first
grandfather clock. Quite by chance in 1902, I noticed in a shop window
a brass dial bearing the inscription “John Burgess de Wigan,” with
well-engraved numerals, and fitted with quaintly cut brass hands. On
enquiry I was told they had a case for it, and this was found propped
up, for its feet were groggy. As 17s. was the price asked for the lot,
I plunged. To my amazement an old clockmaker soon had the works going
and he assured me they would see me out, but I have some anxiety about
the original wrought iron hinges, which I compute will have swung, back
and to, nearly 90,000 times.
The minstrel (Moore and Burgess) sang that “the grandfather clock was
too tall for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor.” My old
gentleman had evidently been in more confined space than this one
they made such a song about, and as the owner could not bend its back
he knocked off the feet. I fitted him out with new understandings made
of very old timber, which suited him down to the ground. When the case
was renovated the venerable timekeeper was placed in my hall, where he
has ticked away regularly except on those days when his rope has not
been wound up, or when a new rope was necessary. I found, by starting
a correspondence in the _Wigan Observer_, that Burgess was one of the
earliest clock-makers in Wigan, and that my clock was made about 1690.
The first long-case pendulum clock was made by Thomas Tompion in 1681
and the prefix “de” to names was dropped about 1700, so it would be
interesting to know how many clocks are still in existence bearing the
“de” in front of the surname. I have had clocks offered to me said to
be 300 or 400 years old, while one man thought his would be at least
500; when I stated that I had read in my clock book that 240 years was
the limit he disdainfully brushed that opinion aside with the remark,
“Oh, books! Do you believe all you read?”
This was the antique seed that has spread from hall to room, and from
room to room, until there is no room for more. Strange to say, within
a week I had found a companion to “old Burgess” in the form of a very
ancient oak Ecclesiastical chest, bearing four locks without wards,
but with each key-hole a different shape; the keys to correspond would
be in the hands of the parson, two wardens and sexton respectively
(_See_ Plate VIII). The clock and the chest have stood _vis-à-vis_
since their introduction, and if the regularity of the former and the
complacency of the latter had been emulated by the occupants of the
house, what a model home they would adorn!
It is believed that on one occasion “old Burgess” forgot to strike,
for which he may be forgiven. On the newel post there is fixed a fine
old bronze female figure, bearing a light, and on the occasion of a
young cleric spending the night with us this statuette was found draped
in a Varsity blue wrap (the owner of which has since served as an
Army Chaplain throughout the War)--truly a sight to set any decorous
time-server off his balance! (Plate I.)
This model of the female form divine deserves an artistic treatment, to
which I do not feel competent to do justice, but I opine the modeller,
L. V. E. Robert, who was doing his level best about sixty years ago,
intended it to be a representation of “Summer,” or “Hygeia,” and
that he was proud to impress his name thereon. It stood for years in
a mansion, and was turned out into the cold when the premises were
altered on changing owners, so I then found it a home.
I was very proud of “old Burgess” (and am still) and, of course,
called the attention of all our visitors and the piano-tuner thereto.
This musical fiend struck a discordant note when he piped out, “I see
it’s only a 30-hour. I have one that belonged to my wife’s great-aunt
and it has an eight-day movement, which is so much more convenient.”
There are some people who seldom do, and never say, the right thing.
That set me on looking for an eight-day grandfather, and I looked in
vain, and for fear I might strain my sight I confided my absolute
requirement to a friend who knocked about the country, and he assured
me at once he could soon fix me up, “but what price will you go to?”
As I wished to give him as little trouble as possible I said, “Oh, I’m
not particular, say fifty shillings.” One morning not long after this
the commissionaire announced in my office that two gentlemen wanted
to see me in the hall--a marble hall, mark you!--and here I found my
friend looking very worried, with a man who touched his forelock,
but to whom I was not introduced. They had with them something that
bore resemblance to a coffin with a dirty shroud, the latter having
apparently twisted itself round the former, a state of packing that no
estimable undertaker would undertake. They then proceeded to unshroud
and prop up the outer shell, which had three sides and a bit.
[Illustration: “The Trusty Servant” (Print, _circa_ 1830).
PLATE II.]
[Illustration:
John Burgess, Philip Smith, Phillips,
de Wigan. Barton, Ludlow,
1690. 1700. 1710.
PLATE III.]
“The case is the nearest match I could get to your thirty-hour; and the
dial and works are in the box there.”
“But where is the back?”
“I can’t exactly say; some is on the Birmingham platform, some at
Stafford where I changed, there is quite a lot on the platform here,
and I noticed pieces kept falling off as I followed this man wheeling
it from the station; but whoever looks at the back of a clock? You can
easily fit in another without anybody being the wiser.”
I then saw the dial and works, and found I was face to face with
Grandfather Philip Smith of Barton, which Barton I cannot say, but
probably near Nottingham. I did my best for him, and he has done his
best for me, so I am recompensed for the expense I was put to in
renewing his youth.
* * * * *
“Sergeant, just sweep up that dust in the hall.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * * *
I now received a welcome gift of two high-backed Lancashire Cromwellian
black oak chairs from a revered friend, who was wishful to encourage
my new craze, and very useful and instructive these have been. I say
instructive, for they had not been in the shadow of “old Burgess” long
before I compared the grain of their oak and his, with the result that
while the panel in the back and front leg spindle of one was finely
carved, and the oak undoubtedly 17th century, in the other they were as
modern as the frames. I may here mention for the benefit of any reader
who does not know that old oak furniture is seldom black with age, and
that the polisher can stain it any shade preferred, that when Nelson’s
flagship, the _Foudroyant_, built in 1797, was wrecked at Blackpool in
1897, much of her oak was made into furniture, and some fine chairs
quite light in colour may be seen at the Hotel Metropole there. I have
a black gate-legged table made from _Foudroyant_ oak which is an exact
replica of a good Cromwellian design with twisted legs, and which was
quite light in colour until it was stained (Plates X and XI).
I now had another oak grandfather clock with a brass dial offered me,
and although it had a thirty-hour movement I did not hesitate to pay
the price asked. It had come from Ormskirk, where it was made by T.
Helm about 1770, as in the Constable’s book of accounts for that year
there is an entry “paid Thos. Helm for taking care of clock.” It stood
for a hundred years in a farm opposite my house, and I got it from
descendants of its original owners, so for sentimental reasons I would
not part with it, even at an advance on the first cost. This clock
originally was worked by a rope, but a chain was substituted before I
became its possessor. I have other things to talk of than grandfather
clocks, but three were not enough for me. I have from time to time
provided room for others, and for the last few years have found nine
none too many, as seven of them need winding only once a week. They do
not all strike at once, for a few have been deprived of their capacity
for music-making, by having the striking weight taken off.
By the aid of the photographs and with the following particulars the
reader has a fair illustration of the evolution of the external part
of grandfather clocks extending over one hundred years. I believe the
dates I estimate are not far off the mark, and I hope some readers may
be enabled to set their minds at rest if they have been in doubt as to
the age of their own grandfather.
Maker Height Width of Dial Special Features
Body
John Burgess 6′ 11″ 12½″ 11½″ Oak; square edged body,
de Wigan hand cut heavy brass
hands, quaint fret,
iron strap hinges.--Circa
1690.
Philip Smith 6′ 8½″ 12½″ 12″ Oak; square edged body;
Barton artistic fret, early
brass hinges.--Circa
1700.
Phillips 6′ 9″ 12½″ 12″ Oak; square edged body;
Ludlow carved “fret.”--Circa
1710.
Pennington 6′ 11″ 13″ 12″ Oak; square edged body,
Ince fluted oak pillars to
head which is fitted
with side lights; pollard
oak bands to doors
and panel; carved
“fret.”--Circa 1720.
T. Helm 6′ 11″ 13½″ 12″ Oak; door and panel
Ormskirk banded with mahogany,
rounded ask pilasters;
painted “fret”
design.--Circa 1760.
Bold 7′ 4½″ 14″ 12″ Oak; heavy case with
Warrington oak back, mahogany
band to doors with
rounded mahogany
pilasters, deeply cut
well engraved dial;
no “fret.”--Circa 1760.
Brown 7′ 10″ 15″ 13″ Mahogany; “Chippendale,”
Liverpool fitted with side
lights to hood, rounded
pilasters.--Circa 1770.
Monks 7′ 10″ 16″ 14″ Mahogany; “Chippendale,”
Prescott fluted pillars and
pilasters.--Circa 1780.
Dial bears the legend:
“As the time goes swift
away,
So does human life
decay.”
No name 7′ 11″ 18″ 14″ Mahogany; “Sheraton,”
Enamelled fluted pillars and
dial pilasters, satinwood
inlay.--Circa 1790.
[Illustration:
Pennington, T. Helm, Bold,
Ince, Ormskirk, Warrington,
1720. 1760. 1760.
PLATE IV.]
[Illustration:
Brown, Monks, No name. (Enamelled Dial)
Liverpool, Prescott, 1790.
1770. 1780.
PLATE V.]
So far as I know the nine clocks are genuine. I could find no trace of
any material repair before I got them, and I have been most careful
in the renovating which was necessary with some of them. I ought to
explain in regard to “Phillips” that I fell in love with him in an
auctioneer’s stock-room because his style seemed just to agree with my
oak dresser and I bought him, although he was fitted with a 30-hour
movement which was quite worn out. Having obtained the works of an old
eight-days by buying a white dial in a case I cared nothing about, I
had two holes drilled in “Phillips’” face and so converted him. It
was a simple thing to do, as the centre of the dial is matted without
engraving and the centres could be made anywhere to correspond with
the requirements of the winding arrangements. This is an example of
what may happen to old clocks when in the dealer’s hands. I have been
in places where a number of old grandfathers have been in stock, and
changing a good dial which would suit a better case was considered
quite the proper thing to do, but consequently the grandfather would
in future bear a wrong cognomen, while the case might be quite of a
different date from that indicated by the maker’s name.
“Former Clock and Watch Makers,” by Britten, was my text-book for this
department, and I must have given my friends the impression that I
was an authority on horology, for on reflecting I find I purchased,
selected, or had a hand in the choosing of about thirty grandfather
clocks. Narrow cases and brass dials were my usual stipulations.
LACQUER CLOCKS
Lacquer clocks have increased greatly in value recently on account of
their scarcity. About twelve years ago I had one offered me for £4
10s., but as I did not admire it, and had no idea where I could get the
needed repairs executed, I left it alone. I have just seen one sold by
a dealer to a dealer for £37. On my last visit to see a collector and
dealer, whom I respect for his straightforward dealing, I found he had
parted with his lacquer clock, which I had seen in his room for many
years, and was told a dealer had tempted him to sell it for £50, and
that he now realised he had practically given it away at this price.
BAROMETERS
Having provided for reliable time-keeping, my next requirement seemed
to be something experienced in ruling the weather. I found my first
antique barometer hanging outside a tall warehouse, when out cycling
with a friend. This emporium was a three-storeyed building, filled with
all kinds of “rubbish,” valuable and otherwise. While my friend studied
the old books I poked about and made my first purchase of old china and
old pewter, but these will be dealt with on other pages. I made further
visits to this building, which now forms a portion of the offices of
a very large soap works, and think if I had known anything about old
engravings I might have found something worth while. I feel sure there
were many fine works hanging promiscuously on the walls, for they
comprised some of the ugliest and most weird things in pictures I have
come across.
That barometer has been a tried and trusted indicator, and I was so
pleased with its usefulness that I thought it would be a good idea to
get another, and fix it in the precincts of the kitchen, so that the
laundress might know the right time to hang out the clothes. Having
bought another of the good old type, and having found just the place
for it, I next gave careful instructions to the female mind which had
to cope with the laundry department as to the reading and the adjusting
of the indicator, so that the fine drying days could be intelligently
anticipated, and I figured out the saving of coal effected would soon
pay the modest cost of the barometer many times over, but the affairs
of men and mice and charladies aft gang agley. I was not long in
noticing that barometer No. 2 did not work in accord with No. 1, and I
worried about it, in fact at the time of writing I am still worrying
about it. There is a cause for everything, and when things go wrong
it is necessary to find out the reason before they can be put right,
and when the discovery is made you can fix the blame where any may
exist. Imagine the shock I experienced one day when I found that the
maid had been in the habit of taking the instrument down, and laying
it flat on the table to give it a good polishing. Where the mercury
slipped to is a mystery, but I must admit that I never gave her warning
that an antique barometer when charged must be kept perpendicular. The
instrument went to be refilled with mercury soon after the War started,
and has not been returned to me yet!
DRESSERS, CHAIRS, ETC.
The next antique furniture I desired was an oak dresser to show off the
pewter which had been accumulating, and I was fortunate in obtaining
one, which originally had come from Wales, without delay. The oak
proved to be elm, but I bought it without first seeing it, and I have
been pleased that it turned out as it did. The inverted pediments are
of holly and the doors work on pins. To get the dresser out of the farm
where it had played its part for generations, the farm door jambs had
to be removed, so I was informed, but it just fitted my hall, which was
all that really mattered.
Another dresser was reported to me as having come from Wales, and I
bought it from a Mr. Jones, and although I had not seen this until it
came to me, it was good old oak sure enough. I believe the elm-made
dates from early in the seventeenth century, and the oak one about
fifty years after.
These old dressers were complete, but one had a portion of the back
decayed, probably through standing for years against damp walls, so
an obliging builder let me have some boards sawn from an oak beam he
had taken out of an ancient Quakers’ meeting-house, and I was able to
maintain the true character and charm of these time-worn stagers.
The Chinese Chippendale chair (Plate X) deserves special notice, for
was it not my initial find in mahogany? Its home was in a building the
walls of which were feet thick, and in generations past had formed
part of a monastery, but which to-day is linked up with a more modern
dwelling built of the same Scotch grey stone. It was in this house,
near Dalkeith, while we were having a family holiday in the summer of
1906, and just when my soul was awakening to the mysteries of antiques,
that I came across this relic. It stood in the room we occupied in
the ancient part of the building, and was completely disguised by a
covering of chintz, hiding strong canvas stitched over much padding.
After lifting its skirt, peculiarly shaped legs were revealed, and
my curiosity was aroused. Removing the chintz cover, by ripping off
the canvas, and taking out about a sackful of wool, I was not only
struck by the unique back, but astounded to find the original pig-skin
upholstery in good condition. One mahogany arm was missing, and a
very rough hard wood substitute had been fitted in its place. I was
presented with the chair on the spot. A handy man from the village
fetched “a wee bit o’ auld mahogany bed stock he had just sawed off to
mak anither haundle for the chair.” I got him to make a case to hold
it, and the “wee bit bed stock,” together with a spinning-wheel, and
consigned it for home to await my arrival. I learnt “there was anither
chair like it awa doon at Melville Castle.”
The spinning-wheel just mentioned was noticed by my wife when making a
purchase of wool in a shop on Causewayside at Edinburgh, and she was
told, “my mon had brocht it wi’ him on his last journey from Yell” (the
most northern of the Shetland Isles), and although it was not for sale
she “didna mind parting wi’ it, as she could aye git anither yen when
her mon gaid for mair wool.”
[Illustration: Oak Dresser, Welsh, 17th Century, with Pewter.
PLATE VI.]
PLATE VI
_OAK DRESSER_
DESCRIBING THE PEWTER
_Bottom Shelf._ Pair of Tea Caddies. Cake Stand. Oval Dish with fancy
edge. Wash Bowl.
_First Shelf._ Vinegar Bottle. Handle-less half-pint Measure. Lipped
half-pint Measure. Flour Dredger.
_Second Shelf._ Two lipped quart Measures (one by Watts and Harton,
London, 1800). Strainer.
_Top Shelf._ Set of seven Irish (haystack) Measures, by Austin, Cork,
from 1 gal. to ½ noggin. Set of seven English Measures (Georgian),
from ½ gal. to ½ gill. The gallon Irish haystack Measure is 12 inches
high. The largest plate 18 inches, and the smaller ones are from 9
inches to 10 inches in diameter.
[Illustration: Elm Dresser, Welsh, Early 17th Century, with Pewter.
PLATE VII.]
PLATE VII
_ELM DRESSER_
DESCRIBING THE PEWTER
_Bottom Shelf._ Swiss Bottle. Hot-water Dish by T. Compton. Ladles by
Ashberry and Coleman. Flask, 7½ inches, with screw-in cap.
_First Shelf._ Barber’s Pot. Milk Mug. Quaich. Moustache Mug.
Hot-water Jug.
_Second Shelf._ Early Quart. Hot-water Plates by John Home (1760) and
Henry Little (1755). Milk Jug (sold as a pilgrim’s bottle). Mulled Ale
Jug.
_Third Shelf._ Plates 13½ inches in diameter.
_Top Shelf._ Chinese Tea Caddy. Jug 7 inches high. Blue-and-white
Pottery Tureen by Burton, Hanley. Plates 15 inches, 16½ inches, 18
inches in diameter.
When wanting more chairs I noticed a set of spindle-back rushed seats
with pony feet, and on enquiry was told they had “one arm and six
ordinary.” Ere learning the price I was asked, “How many do you want?”
The idea of splitting a set of chairs over a hundred years old, and
in perfect condition! Yet this is an indication of the value placed
on this type fifteen years ago, while to-day dealers are scouring the
country-side to make up sets. I gleaned that these were made by the
grandfather of our local house furnisher; he (the grandfather) had six
sons, and kept a farm, also a wheelwright’s shop in the country; that
the chairs were made in the dark evenings for a few shillings each, so
I got them at about their original price; that the wood used was oak
from an adjoining park, and after dressing it was stained mahogany in a
bath, that the spindles were driven home with the wheelwright’s hammer,
and that “Uncle Richard was the finest rusher in Lancashire.” This is
undoubtedly true, for there is not a spindle loose or a rush out of
place. (Plate IX)
After buying the spindle-backs, on the same day and in the same street
I visited another broker’s shop, but let me direct you in case you wish
to call there any time. It is situated either higher up or lower down,
according to which end of the street you enter by, but if you come out
of a by-street you must be careful to turn either to the right or left,
and keep straight on, for if you cross over and go ahead you will be up
another street. Should you be walking you will keep to the right, but
in case you drive or motor you must mind and keep to the left. Trams
pass the door, and if you take the one going to Liverpool you will not
get anywhere near it. It is situated on the opposite side facing a
shop that has been “To Let” but is now occupied by a tradesman who
has done well out of the war. By the by, if you happen to come in the
evening, and take the North Star as your guide you will no doubt find
the place--shut up. Readers can take so much more interest in a story
when they have been made familiar with the locality, and especially in
a case like this where the actual house has been pointed out. I entered
the shop--do you follow me? I examined a birch chair with a broken arm,
an artistic back, fluted legs, and a rush seat. While I am ruminating,
the broker comes out of his parlour, leaving the door open, and I see
other chairs of the same pattern, which are evidently in everyday use.
I remark on them, and am invited to inspect. Having done so I enquire,
“Will you sell them?” and am answered thus--“Will I sell ’um, I’ll sell
you every old thing I’ve got.” I did not buy every old thing he’d got,
but I secured the set of chairs, two arm and six ordinary, and when
re-polished the figuring of the birch looked well. I also relieved him
of a mahogany pedestal circular mirror, which I “could have for seven
bob, as he was tired of seeing the thing about.” (Plate IX)
[Illustration: Ecclesiastical Chest. _Circa_ 1600.
Oak Dower Chest, Dated 1702.
PLATE VIII.]
[Illustration: Oak Spindle Back Chairs, Early 19th Century.
Birch Chairs, Early 19th Century.
PLATE IX.]
MAHOGANY GATE-LEGGED TABLE
My having over-stocked the house that day has kept me off buying higher
class chairs, but one never knows what may happen. Quite recently I
bought a gate-legged Spanish mahogany square ended table. I found it
most unexpectedly the first day we decided we wanted such a thing, and
it happened to be just the size desired. After a brief examination
without going on my knees I told them to deliver it, and when it
arrived legs uppermost I thought, “what a lot of worm holes for the
money.” I said nothing aloud. Having ’phoned for a cabinet-maker, and
after he had laid the table top downwards he dropped on his knees,
and looking up with an expression of mingled pity and contempt for my
credulity enquired:
“Have you bought it?”
“Yes.”
“And paid for it?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask how much?”
“Eight pounds.”
“I’ve bought tables like this for 35s.”
“Yes, some time ago.”
At this stage I fancy he thought he had put my wind up, for he hedged
by consoling me with the remark “I saw a table like this fetch £11 10s.
at a sale, and it had worm holes too.”
Now take warning by this, and be sure you look out for worm holes,
but don’t be over anxious to buy more than you can count, and if you
should, then do not pay much extra for them. Further, if you find
these pests getting busy in any of your furniture procure a solution
of corrosive sublimate of suitable strength and saturate the parts
affected, but as the chemical is a deadly poison it is advisable to use
a long handled brush and not dab it on with the fingers.
I thank you for your sympathy, but am delighted with my bargain, as the
frame only needed the inside soft wood to be replaced, and the table
with its fine Spanish wood top supported by well-fluted legs makes a
handsome, convenient, and useful centrepiece, for dining purposes, and
can be folded and put aside any time.
[Illustration: Chinese Chippendale Chair, Late 18th Century.
Oak Lancashire Chairs (Faked).
PLATE X.]
[Illustration: Cromwellian Gate-leg Table (Oak). Knife-box (Shell
inlay). Salt-box, 1659. Bowl, by Copeland.
Gate-leg Table, made of _Foudroyant_ Oak.
PLATE XI.]
The tables shown on Plate XIV are very good late eighteenth century
examples. The one with drop ends is mahogany, has a striking shell-like
satinwood ornamentation let in the middle, and inverted crocus inlaid
legs. The table with the folding legs was in a very dirty condition
when I purchased it, and was called mahogany, and it was not until it
was scraped that I became aware it was made of birch, thickly veneered
with rosewood, and richly inlaid with satinwood. Oh, what a prize
surprise.
BUREAUX AND CABINETS
When China began to come in, I bought a fine mahogany inlaid bureau
and book-case in Cheshire at about one-third of the cost of such a
piece if you could find it to-day. On examining the secret fittings I
found in pencil in quite old style handwriting on the bottom of one of
the drawers some lines headed, “Over the door of a House of Pleasure
at W/Church.” Unfortunately I cannot give the context, as I fear it
would not pass the Press Censorship. When the bureau was cleaned and
re-polished I protected this precious indication that a previous
possessor was rather a sly old boy, and so I retain this unique
evidence of age. (Plate XII)
When I commenced to write this book I found it quite impossible to
get along with a rather modern light oak desk and I felt sure an old
bureau would be of great assistance in carrying inspirations relating
to antiques; and further that one must be obtained promptly. If you
write a few hundred pages and have them typewritten in triplicate it
is advisable to have somewhere to keep them, for it would be poor
satisfaction to learn some morning that a few score had served the
useful purpose of lighting the kitchen fire. The roomy drawers of a
bureau answer admirably and find accommodation for the photographs as
well. (Plate XIII)
My first enquiry was made of a dealer I will call A, who informed me
that bureaux were very scarce, but as he attended most sales he would
be on the look out and do his best. I then went to another dealer and
told him of my intention, and asked him would he sell my flat-top oak
desk? Certainly he would, there was a mahogany bureau to be sold at a
sale the very next day and he would buy it for me if I would give him a
commission. I said, “Very well I will slip over in the morning, look at
it and let you know.” I disturbed the auctioneer feeding his poultry,
and cajoled him to come to the house, which I had found locked up. The
bureau looked very weary, but I knew it could soon be put right, so I
posted back to B and told him to buy it, using his own judgment about
the price. In the evening B called and said he had bought the bureau,
but the price was more than expected as that chap A had run him up the
last £2. Then it dawned on me that I had been bidding against myself.
I may here mention I have never attended sales and that this is the
only antique illustrated in this volume which has been bought at a sale
on my behalf.
[Illustration: Bureau with Bookcase (Mahogany). _Circa_ 1790.
PLATE XII.]
[Illustration: Mahogany Bureau, 18th Century.
Chest of Drawers with Bureau Fitment.
PLATE XIII.]