James Dixon quart tankard which I described under _Marks_. It lay
amongst other scrap pewter in a dark corner, ready for going into the
melting-pot, when I kicked against it and so prolonged its life. It is
now 96.
I am afraid my tinsmith is no respecter of old age, for he is at the
time I write this only eighty, and when I congratulated him upon his
steady hand and wonderful eyesight he smiled and said: “My mother was
ninety-one, and she didn’t know what spectacles meant.”
More power to his elbow.
[Illustration: Pewter Snuff Boxes.
PLATE XXII.]
[Illustration: Pewter Pots (All inscribed except the top row).
PLATE XXIII.]
CONCLUSION
I have little more to say on the subject of old pewter generally, as
the Tavern Measures are given an article on their own. Of course, I
have left the photographs to do most of the talking, and I hope they
have risen equal to the occasion. Next to the fascination of collecting
comes the pleasure of exhibiting to an appreciative audience, and
this brings to mind a delightful evening when a young witty Canadian
went through my show, and at the conclusion, in the naïvest manner
possible, said: “I have asked you a great many questions, sir, but as I
am undecided in my mind I thought before I left I had better enquire,
‘does the pewter go with your daughter?’”
THE PEWTER POT
Half a century ago Winchester Cathedral in the winter was decidedly
cold, and on occasions some of those small choir boys, who found little
warmth and comfort from their white linen surplices, now and then
collapsed during the services. Candles may have answered the purpose of
providing all the illumination required, but they were hardly a flaming
success for heating purposes. In the records of the deliberation of the
Dean and Chapter at that time there would be a resolution to pay Mr.
Edward Sheppard, of the Bishop’s Palace, a certain sum to provide each
of the youthful songsters entrusted to his care with a pot of porter
each day with their dinners. Which denotes there was no Pussyfoot in
that Chapter. Mr. Sheppard, whose name I use with all respect, was
most particular as to his pupils’ cleanliness, and every morning held
a hand and neck inspection in the long hall by the entrance door. To
illustrate that he had a mind for the internal as well as the external
frames which filed past him he once a week, being provided with a bowl
of brimstone and treacle, administered a tablespoonful to each boy.
If Mr. Sheppard had given the same scrutiny to the big can in which
the porter was drawn from the barrel there would have been no heel
taps in our pewter pots, but as the can was rarely washed out, and the
porter left from one day was frothed up when being filled the next, the
result, so far as benefit to the boys was concerned, must have been
flat, stale, and unprofitable.
No writer refers oftener to the pewter pot than does Charles Dickens,
and he might have said of me, as he did of Master Micawber, “He was
brought up to the Church.”
In the book of the chronicles of Pickwick the reader can easily find
the text suitable for my discourse. That great and good man with his
host of friends used the pewter pot with such effect that it would be
a national scandal to allow it to be relegated to the lumber shop. Old
Pickwick and old pewter are synonymous, and so let us keep his memory
alive by preserving the main medium of his hospitable and generous
nature. Time is changing everything so ruthlessly that unless some of
us have a care the passing of the pewter pot will become an absolute
fact. To guard against such a calamity, and to preserve models of a
commodity which played so important a part in the episodes that made
life in England all the brighter for its presence in past centuries, I
have gathered together a representative array of old pewter pots, many
bearing quaint inscriptions, which, if they could speak for themselves,
would enable me to treat you to a chapter replete with true stories of
adventure, love, crime, deeds of chivalry, and scenes of woe which no
imagination could evolve.
What of the “70th Regiment” cup? What stirring episodes has that been
through?--among others, probably the Afghan War of 1840. I do know
that the “Shipwrights’ Arms’, Limehouse Hole,” pint took part in, and
survived, the Indian Mutiny bivouacs and battlefields, as it was given
by the then landlord to a soldier just before leaving home. I specially
prize this; it has written on the front before the address the name,
“D. Saul,” alongside which is the toper’s big initial, “K,” and the
number of his peg or hook on which it hung, “55,” on the bottom. This
number would be seen when looked up at from the floor.
If Pickwick has us in hand, we shun the battle and resort to the
bottle, so let us look in at the “Windmill, Dartford,” and see what
manner of men were there. Surely not smugglers on the banks of the
Thames? Of about the same period, what was the “Wellington, Shepherd’s
Bush,” like? Rather a swagger inn, probably, judging by the beaded
pattern of the mug, which was supplied or made by “W. R. Loftus, 146,
Oxford Street,” who has been, and will be, a long time dead. At the
“Feathers” at Chiswick, and “Hope,” Islington, they must have had
quite high-class callers, or why the lip on the tankards unless it
were to pour the contents into beakers? The customers at all inns were
so diversified in character that I see no reason why the same measure
should not have done for the post-boy on his frequent calls, for the
parish priest on duty bent, or later by the highwayman in a hurry, if
they held it in the left hand and turned the lip of the pot skywards.
From London to the “Blackburn Arms,” Hale, situated on the Mersey, an
old-time village, and home of the Ireland Blackburne family, was a long
journey by road in those days, and the pewter pot would be in great
request. I warrant this particular one was handed back many a time with
a determination to “Have another, and dom the expense.”
When I came across the pint inscribed “Post Office Hotel, Church
Street, Soho,” I wrote to a Fleet Street friend asking him to find out
a likely date for it, and after making enquiries he reported he could
find neither the hotel nor Church Street, and that the oldest man he
had seen in Soho (a sexton, I think) could tell him nothing about
either. The same friend was here one night, and I left him looking at
these pewter pots. I heard a Fleet Street exclamation of surprise,
and when I enquired the reason he held up the “Baker’s Arms’, Waltham
Abbey,” pint, saying, “Why, I was born close to the Baker’s Arms.”
The “Post Office Hotel” brings the post-boy of old to my mind, and I
turn to the oldest book I possess, given to me by my father, in which
he wrote my name in 1861. “The Sporting Scrap Book,” by Henry Alken,
containing fifty plates, designed and engraved by himself, published
by Thomas McLean, 26, Haymarket, 1824. I have always treasured this
book, and the coloured prints are as good to-day as ever. I was
wondering how often the pewter pot appeared in Alken’s drawings, and I
find twice. The first is entitled “The Post-Boy,” who with a pair of
harnessed horses has just called for drinks for himself and his horses,
and no sooner has he got his than he has the pot to his lips. The shape
is similar to the “Post Office Hotel” pint, but probably the “Post-Boy”
needed a quart, for the pewter pot is as tall as his pot hat. In the
second picture Alken shows a pewter pot with almost as much “frill” on
the top as there is round the cap of the woman who holds it, and this
one is also the same shape, which confirms my impression that the “Post
Office Hotel” pint pot is about 100 years old.
I now turn my attention from the handy pints to the capacious
quart pots, just the things to wash down a breakfast with; pause
and conjecture what “lovely” thirsts they must have had! It was
quite the custom to put the landlord’s monogram on the front, and
the name of the tavern on the bottom of the mugs; there again is a
theme for reflection. As a reason, I think we may assume there were
kleptomaniacs, souvenir hunters, and sneak thieves in the far gone
times, just as there are to-day, and by marking in this way it would
limit the loss to the latter class, who would sell the things for old
metal. These big mugs would well set off a table on which were pewter
plates anything from nine to twenty inches in diameter. Although I have
studied all the books written on old pewter, I have failed to find that
it was always a case of “One man, one quart,” and am forced to the
conclusion that there may have been odd occasions when more than one
shared.
To get back to the pots illustrated, does any living man know where
the “Baptist Head,” High Holborn, stood? It is perhaps typical of the
country that the largest and heaviest quart comes from Ireland, and
from the battered condition it was in when I got it, I surmised it had
often been used to add weight to an argument.
My eye now wanders to the fine old loving cup made by John Edwards
about 1750. This has a glass bottom to prove to all users how clear
were its contents, and I wonder to what extent it has been used at
family gatherings for weddings, christenings, and buryings, and the
very important part it has played in making them all enjoyable. Glance
at that copious lidded jug, and mulled ale at once suggests itself;
can you not hear the horn that gives warning of the stage coach, the
bustle at the “Queen’s Hotel” (called after Mary, Elizabeth, or Anne,
probably), or imagine the anxiety of the passengers to test the brew,
and how quickly the jug would be emptied on a cold journey, while
on warmer days the flat-bottomed jug, full to the brim with foaming
beer, would be equally welcome? Some of the pots are fitted with a
strainer at the lip, and this would be most useful in the period of
poor lighting and typical practical joking by keeping hops, flies,
wasps, cockroaches, or perhaps an odd mouse, out of the mouth of the
customer using the mug. It would also be requisite to use the funnel
when filling passengers’ flasks, most travellers were no doubt provided
with the latter of no mean size. The funnel shown is dated 1698,
while a particular flask I illustrate is a fine specimen; probably its
original owner was a man of grit, for roughly engraved on one end is
“PRO DAOS ET REGE,” a fitting toast when the custom was “The Passing of
the Pewter Pot.”
[Illustration: Pewter Pots. Lidded Tankards with makers’ initials “J.
C.” (1780), “Y. & B.,” “J. M.” (1825), “T. P.” (1710), “H. I.” (1690),
“T. L.,” “T & C.” (1775)
PLATE XXIV.]
[Illustration: Front and Back of Faked “Alms-Dish.”
PLATE XXV.]
You will, I hope, be interested in a study of the variety of shapes
and handles on the photographs, but you need to handle these old
things to realise their fascination; even if they bear no inscription
or maker’s mark, some of the early Excise marks, “G.R.” or “W.R.”
with various town crests, are worth looking at. Could you examine the
bottoms you would find red cut glass, plain glass (Waterford possibly),
wood and pewter, double and single pewter bottoms, some with holes
in their bottoms through age and ill usage, while one has no bottom
at all, so you can’t knock the bottoms out of that. One of the quart
measures bears the initials and touch mark of George Bagshaw, who was
enrolled on the list of the Freemen of the Pewterers Company in 1826;
it is boldly stamped with a crown, and the words “Imperial Standard”
with a small stamp “Crown W.R.” with “W.W.” under. I am not sure what
“W.W.” stands for, but believe it will be the initials of the Excise
Inspector, and that this measure would be the Imperial standard whereby
the quart measures in a certain locality were tested. The list of
inscriptions given should not fail to entertain; some are quaint and
there may be one or two that a reader will recall, but I imagine that
most of the addresses have ceased to exist.
This remark does not apply to the Old Whyte Harte Hotel at Wisbeach
(now spelt Wisbech), for that is the present day Izaac Walton
Association House. My set of measures was made by Grimes, of London,
for J. Hill, the landlord in 1880.
INSCRIPTIONS.
Quart T. B., Crown.
Lidded Jug W. T. S., Queen’s Hotel.
Quart, Lipped G. Bamden. Wenlock Brewery Tap.
Pint ” Sportsman.
Beaker H. Mattock, Malt Shovel, Dartford.
Pint E. H. Bakers’ Arms, Waltham Abbey.
” W. Bullin, Bears Paw Inn.
Quart A. Johnston, Baptist Head, High Holborn.
Pint G. C. Collier, Catherine Wheel, near Brentford.
” D. Saul, Shipwrights Arms, Limehouse Hole.
Lipped Pint Hope, Islington.
Pint Canteen, 70th Regt.
” J. E. B., The Feathers, Chiswick.
Quart, Lipped G. Thompson, Tipperary.
” J. C. D., Montague Arms, Peckham.
Pint C. M.--C. Mannerson, Windmill, Dartford.
” Lipped J. T. R., Duke’s Head, Leman St., Southwark.
Pint Post Office Hotel, Church St., Soho.
” Blackburn Arms.
” G. M. Wellington, Shepherds Bush.
” G. A. Y., King’s Arms, Woolwich.
” John Machin, Bimm. Tavern.
” A. B., Black Lion, Kingston.
” W. E., Flying Scud, Sutton St., Comml. Rd.
” Nichols, Court Sampson, Thomas St.
” Robt. Moor, Cockermouth in Cumberland.
” T. Forman, 35, Brompton Rd.
Quart, Lipped Courtenay Arms, Starcross.
Pint Barclay Perkins & Co. J. Nolan.
Quart J. Hill, White Hart Hotel Wisbeach.
The collection continues to increase, and I have recently acquired a
quart, mark “S.C.” inscribed “Longden White, Ewell, 1820.” Another,
which belonged to W. James, Welney, marked four lions--a lipped
quart by Geradin & Watson, stamped “G.R.” 1826, and lastly a quart
pot-bellied measure by W. Nettleford, early 19th century, being the
only measure of this shape which I have seen fitted with a lip. I must
now end this potty discourse, and on pondering for a fitting quotation
wherewith to conclude, I can think of none more suitable than one which
I trow good King Hal is not likely to have used when ruminating on his
bunch of wives--“Let ’em all come.”
THE MYSTERY PIECE (_See_ Plate XXVII, facing p. 75).
I have given this title to the photograph I recently had taken for
various reasons which I will now particularise. Most books contain a
mystery of some kind and the creation in many instances must cause
the author much anxious thought, but in my case the mystery is real up
to the time of writing; possibly soon after this appears in print the
mystery will be explained by some kind correspondent who possesses a
similar piece. In the first place, I know not its proper name, so must
call it for the time being “the piece.” Where I obtained it will remain
a mystery to the reader, but how I happened to become its possessor I
will readily relate, and in doing so I confirm my previous statement
that you never know your luck when collecting.
In the early part of 1919 business called me to London on several
occasions, and as many readers will have had unpleasant experiences of
the hotel accommodation there at that time they will not be surprised
to hear that I made arrangements with friends who live in a fine old
town umpteen miles from the City to take me in. On a visit in June
I was walking to the station to catch the morning train to take me
to London when I passed a broker’s shop and of course stopped. Among
a lot of furniture and odds and ends I noticed “the piece,” and I
thought at first it was a brass water bottle from India, but on further
consideration I felt sure it was pewter, so I essayed to walk in,
but locks, bolts and bars defied resistance, while no one took heed
of the noise I was making. In the end I had to rush for the train.
Business over I returned and was met at the station by a lady friend.
I am afraid I hurried her along to the shop where I saw “the piece”
still perched. I tried the door again, but it was still fastened, so I
started knocking. My friend then informed me it was no use as it was
the half holiday, but I was determined to get in if I rattled all
night. At length I was admitted, found “the piece” was real old pewter,
was informed they had had it a fortnight, and that it was a ROSE VASE,
but they didn’t know where it came from. There are antique shops in
that town, and this was just the sort of thing they could have done
with, so my picking it up when on a flying visit was most fortunate.
[Illustration: The “Odamifino.”
Bed Pan which has been converted into the Faked “Alms-Dish.”
PLATE XXVI.]
[Illustration: The Mystery Piece.
PLATE XXVII.]
On returning to my real home “the piece” was much admired for its
antique appearance and I was told I should spoil it if I had anything
done to it, so I had it photographed in the state I found it. It bore
no maker’s marks and the shape was quite unknown to me, so I wrote
to three pewter connoisseurs sending them each a photograph giving
dimensions and weight and asking them to give me its name and age.
These are the opinions I received:
No. 1:
“Your VESSEL seems to be a VASE and latish. I
have never seen one like it.” And later he kindly
wrote: “The more I think of your pewter JAR the more
convinced I am that it dates about 1750.”
No. 2 said:
“I thank you for the photograph of the interesting VASE or BOTTLE, for
those are the only possible names one can give to the piece.”
No. 3. wrote:
“I have seen two or three of the pieces your photograph shows but
have never found out their purpose. I have heard them described as
1. LAVERS for the water in Baptism. 2. WATER BOTTLE used in Tavern
parlours, and I think the latter is more probable.”
So you see I had then six names for it, and lately when my Irish
friend was here I asked him his opinion and he said, “It reminds me of
‘Rebecca at the Well.’” This set me longing to see what it looked like
when Rebecca used it, so I got a painter to remove the corrosion with
caustic and lime, as I had no bath mixture on tap, then I took it to my
tinsmith and spent some time quaking--you understand me--for fear he
should hole it or do something awful, but he straightened it, tapped
out the dinges, and soon got it into its original shape. Strange to say
it is the only piece of pewter in my collection which I prefer to see
looking dull, the reason why is another mystery, but I have stopped
having it polished up brightly like the rest. I really believe it is
the oldest specimen in my collection, certainly it is the most antique
in shape. It is nine inches high and its weight (2½ lbs.) denotes it
was made when thick metal was worked with, and that is a sure sign of
old times. It will not go with any pewter I possess, it makes it all
appear comparatively modern, and so we have to allot it a position by
itself on an old oak chest, and here I will leave “The Mystery Piece,”
with this poser--is it early Georgian or ogygian?
_THIRD COURSE_
Old Brass and Copper
Modern Antique--The Turling Pin--The Duck Carver--Scotch
Measures--When Matches were Scarce--Wexford in Wales--Snuff-boxes and
Other Things.
I have only small collections of brass and copper to exhibit, and my
reasons for buying these you see were mainly that often I had been
poking about for pewter, and finding none, rather than waste the
shopkeeper’s time for nothing I would purchase a bit of old brass or
copper, if I happened to notice any piece I judged worth having. It is
often difficult to identify old brass, and the quantity of “antique”
that was manufactured in Birmingham alone, some years before the war,
must have been very extensive. I found it nearly everywhere I went, and
still see much of it about.
To instance the worth of my statement I remember, when in Scotland, I
mentioned to a collector friend that I should like to have a turling
pin, which is a combined knocker and latch, for I had seen such a
thing spoken of in a book I had just been reading. Not long afterwards
I received a parcel containing a turling pin, which I found at once
was new brass that had been in an acid bath for discoloration, and to
give it the necessary old appearance. My friend wrote that he had been
fortunate in getting this for 16s. and the antique dealer had assured
him it had come out of an old house at, I think, Inverness. I returned
the find, with thanks, and I do not know my Scotsman if he failed to
get his money back. I am still without a turling pin, though I have one
genuine old knocker from Ripon, which is on a door where it ought to
be, so you will not find it on the photograph.
In the summer of 1911 I had a fine specimen of a corn which I carried
in my boot, and while in an antique shop I knocked it against something
black that had been put on the floor to keep a door open. I looked down
to see what had caused the pain and my regrettable exclamation, and was
informed, “it was a lead ink-stand, and did it hurt?” I knew it was
decidedly hard metal from my experience, so I gave half-a-crown for it,
with the idea of having my revenge by cleaning the clumsy brute, for he
had no right to be carving a duck in the beastly black state he was in.
This class of ink-stand was made in Birmingham about eighty years ago.
Brass and copper as antiques have much to recommend them, as no matter
what state they may be in when found, they can very soon be made
presentable by a good rubbing with metal polish. These metals preserve
themselves remarkably well for centuries, hence it is that occasionally
rare old specimens can be found by anyone with their eyes skinned. The
fine 12 in. brass pot, with lion head ring handles and claw feet, I saw
in a second-hand shop at Buxton, and bought for seven shillings, but
I had to get a hamper to bring it home in. I have other large things,
such as warming-pans, chestnut roaster, churchwarden pipe rack, gong,
etc., but the inclusion of these would have spoiled the effect of the
photograph, and the mortars get a “Course” on their own. You will
notice some Scotch thistle-shaped measures; for these I am indebted
to a young friend who travelled a good deal, and often came back from
Scotland with pewter, brass, or copper. The measures are stamped “Four
gills,” “Pint,” “Gill,” “Half-Gill.”
[Illustration: Old Brass.
PLATE XXVIII.]
[Illustration: Old Copper.
PLATE XXIX.]
Among the brass I hope you will be able to distinguish two uncommon
snuff-boxes. One is called “the Horn of Plenty,” and is very old,
while the other is hexagonal in shape, is made of cherry wood and
brass, and was originally owned and used by Sir Ernest Shackleton’s
grandfather. The brass lamp with two snake handles must have special
mention. Inside, fitted on a thin wooden circle, there are ten small
metal cells, each fitted with a match-head, also a piece of wick and
tallow; by pressing the handles together the disc makes a slight turn,
striking the match against a jagged fitting, and stopping under the
hole, through which the light would (I suppose) burn, until the cell
was empty. This was patented about eighty years ago when matches were
first invented, but I do not anticipate many were sold, as when all the
lights had been burnt a fresh fitment would have to replace the one
exhausted, a rather expensive affair.
Tacking brass and copper on to the many other specialities I have
gone in for may cause the remark that had I confined myself to a more
limited sphere I might have had a finer result in fewer classes, but
that would have curtailed the pleasurable excitement of my rambles.
Then again, when once you get the collecting fever you are not likely
to get the better of it; it is far more likely to get the better of
you, and I am of opinion it is better so, provided you do not let it
obtain an undue hold on your pocket. It is undoubtedly hard at times to
say “No,” but it is more difficult to get rid of a bad bargain. It is
a singular trait of character, not altogether limited to collectors,
which impels the individual to tell everyone when he secures anything
cheap but constrains him to be as close as an oyster when he is done
with a “dud,” yet the best tales usually most enjoyed by the hearers
are those which tell against the teller.