Part 3

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.

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.

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe” who was greatly perplexed as to how to accommodate so many children. I can sympathise with her, for having so much pewter and being anxious to show it off I was much worried “and didn’t know what to do.” I hunted about and advertised for an oak cupboard with glass doors but could find nothing suitable so I bought the chest shown. Then I had the cupboard made from oak taken out of a farm built in 1633 near St. Helens which had been pulled down, while the top decoration is some of the original wainscoting from Argoed Hall, Oswestry, which I had by me, and it came in suitably for the frieze. The top of the chest being in two pieces the cupboard just fits on the hind portion while the front half lifts off, and so I am enabled to stow a lot of extra pewter in the chest. (Plate XVII)

Pewter plates and blue and white dishes needing to be displayed, I had shelves fitted in my morning and dining rooms. To provide for the china I purchased the cabinet shown in Plate XXXVIII, and in a short time found four corner cupboards. It might take as many years to find a lot to equal these, which are mahogany made and all nicely inlaid. I bought them from the same broker who astonished me by saying, “I am a collector too--of sovereigns.”

DATED FURNITURE

Dated furniture is hard to find. I only have two specimens, of which photographs are given. The initials on the oak chest will be the initials of the first owner and his wife, but whether this dating may be evidence of a dower chest on their marriage, or whatever happened to them in 1702, there is no question about the chest being Queen Anne period. (Plate VIII)

As regards the salt box, the carved piece of oak which bears the date 1659 has a much older appearance than the rest of the box, although that is ancient timber. Probably the seventeenth century article fell to pieces about a hundred years ago, when the owners would have this one put together. This shows how easy it may be for the amateur to be misled as to the age of a faked article in which an early date has been worked. I found it in a shop on the North Pier at Blackpool, and was informed it was bought at an old farm sale near Preston. (Plate XI)

MAHOGANY CHESTS OF DRAWERS

When I bought the dwarf chest shown on Plate XVI, it was fitted with black wooden knobs which could not have been on many years. On examination, marks were sufficiently clear to enable me to judge to a nicety the design of the brass plates the original handles would drop on to; so I had five cut, and looked up some old handles and fasteners. Then I was able to give the chest its original appearance.

The large chest shown on Plate XV really is a beautiful piece of furniture, complete with its imposing brass ring handles, original and perfect in every way just as I bought it. The workmanship is of high class, and the long secret drawer at the top has made a good hiding place for a large number of amulets. The drawers are in smooth running condition, and the oak linings are a fine example of good work, while the mahogany cannot be beaten. It came from the sign of “Uncle will oblige.”

The chest with bureau fitment on Plate XIII is, I believe, a very rare specimen; it has one small and three large drawers, and is provided with a pull-out drawer, fitted to answer the purpose of a bureau. I was passing along a street in a busy town when I saw this standing on the pavement. Out of curiosity I pulled open the right hand top drawer, and immediately I realised what happened, enquired the price. “Five pounds; Mr. Smith is after it.” I paid the money without hesitation, as the chest was in fine preservation. Mr. Smith came after it about five minutes after it had been fetched away in the cart which I had sent after it about five minutes after I had walked back, it having taken me about five minutes to accomplish this; and so Mr. Smith was left “in the cart.” Moral--Go snap on a bargain.

TEA CADDY

I must apologise for having omitted to introduce a dear old friend earlier but I cannot let you complete this course without making her acquaintance. Her well preserved appearance coated with a rosewood overall, the rings she carries at her sides and her dainty claw feet must claim your notice. She has no hesitation in allowing you at any time to admire her tight fitting combinations which contain her black and green teas. I have lifted her covering to reveal her velvet lining which has stood the wear, without a tear, for more years than you will credit her with. With what tender care she has nurtured her Waterford Glass Sugar bowl now raised with her fittings for your inspection. She has never lost sight of her little Sheffield Plate spoon which has caddied for her on every occasion when her numerous admirers needed the cup which soothes. Taking all her good qualities into consideration we must pardon her desire to have her photo taken too. (Plate XIV)

I appear to have touched on nearly all the Furniture objects I have found it convenient to photograph indoors, and as I am not stocktaking or compiling a catalogue we will pass on to the second course.

_SECOND COURSE_

Old Pewter

The First Pint--Progress--The Total--Congratulation--My Irish Friend--Sacks Full--Mistaken Identity--A Warm Time--Marks--Excise Stamping--First Act, 1826--Candlesticks--Church Pewter--The Basin--Faked Pewter--Plates and Dishes--Irish and Scotch--Tappit Hens--Whisky Stoups--Britannia Metal Enquiry--Cleaning--The Tinsmith--The “Odamifino”--The Pewter Pot--The Mystery Piece.

There is an old axiom that “a man is no good unless he has a hobby,” but some of my friends say I have been no use since I took up the collection of old pewter. Many may wonder what induced a busy man to go to the trouble of getting together a collection like that shown in the photographs. It all arose through my rummaging in a broker’s while waiting for a friend who was looking for old books, and finding a mug which was dirty and black with neglect but inscribed, “Canteen, 70th Regiment.” My curiosity was aroused, and I became the owner. On submitting this to a tinsmith it was pronounced to be old pewter, and from the time it was polished, fifteen years ago, I have been on the look out for more. The experience I soon gained taught me that the collectors of old pewter mainly belonged to that class with whom money is little object, and that what they strived to obtain were very old, unique pieces, communion vessels and historical specimens, quite out of the reach of an ordinary householder. This I recognised when visiting an exhibition of Old Pewter at Clifford’s Inn Hall in 1908.

It must be patent to any reader that if those were the only articles of interest that were worth securing for exhibition purposes then the rest of the old stuff occasionally turning up might as well go to the melting pot for solder, the fate of so many tons in years gone by, and even now men in ignorance of the antique value of old pewter are daily melting specimens which would be fit to decorate many a shelf. I have given much attention to British pewter; the old associations appeal to my imagination, and I have never been drawn to foreign specimens.

If you suffer from a good memory you will recall that Wolsey said to Cromwell, “Take an inventory of all I possess.” Now if he had as many pieces in such variety of any one line as I have of old pewter, then Wolsey was giving Cromwell something to do, and as pewter was knocking about in those days he may have had a fair collection. I cannot pretend to describe many of my pieces, but I present the reader with a selection of photographs, and I hope these will, to a certain extent, speak for themselves; anyway they give a good idea of the effect a large collection of pewter has on the home, and on the patience of those who attend to the dusting. Space has not permitted me actually to show in my rooms or have in the house more than 500 pieces, but I have, as opportunity occurred, kept on improving the specimens on view, and I could best do this by letting the stuff come in whenever I heard of any likely lots, out of which I selected what I fancied, getting rid of duplicates, pieces I did not care for, and sending modern and worthless things to be melted.

So far back as 1908--since when my collection has much improved--I had the pleasure of exchanging photographs with a great connoisseur of old pewter, and I was very gratified when he wrote to me as follows:

“There is so much that is worse than valueless in most collections; so much unnecessary repetition, that large collections become irritatingly monotonous. Although your pieces are often repeated, the repetition represents always an interesting variation; and this feature contributes the element of evolution which is always interesting, and without which no collection is complete or satisfactory. I congratulate you, therefore, upon your possessions, and think you have done remarkably well during the short time. Could you let me see the two ‘salts’ marked on the photo?”

I sent the two “salts,” and he remarked, “The little one is particularly interesting as it is a reversible one, the only specimen I have seen.”

That special “salt” is the queer looking little thing in the centre of the salt group, and I am giving it more space than its size or appearance seem to warrant. It was first caught sight of in a shop at Leeds, where a broker had it filled with black varnish into which he was dipping his brush, while he was giving an artistic touch-up to some of his stock. The hunter spotted pewter, and after some little chaff was told he could have it if he would bring something that would do for holding the varnish; this he bought at a shop not far off, and the change was soon effected. It is a curious specimen, for whichever way it stands it will hold the salt, but in its present position it will hold more than twice as much as when it is placed the other way uppermost.

The results of my hunting and advertising not keeping pace with my ambition for more, I secured the assistance of a friend in Ireland, who proved to be a friend indeed. He had a dog which was constantly jumping on the sofa and chairs, so he called him Zacchæus because “he was everlastingly telling him to come down.”

Have you heard of “Phil the Fluter”? I had not until I heard our friend warble of the wonderful effect the execution of that phenomenal flautist produced upon his hearers, but I imagine the charm attained would be as comparable with that of my Irish friend as modern is to antique, while he has a tongue that would “wile a bird off a tree.” Like Father O’Flynn he’d “a wonderful way wid him, the young and ould sinners were wishful to trade wid him.” I am not digressing but adorning the tale to point the moral. With his cheery manner he succeeded all the time to such an extent that I had to wire him “Hold! enough.” Later when other collectors sought my help to get them Irish measures he reported “Too late, the Jews have been round and bought up the lot. Why did you stop me just when I was getting my hand in?” Explanatory of my reason for cancelling my early instructions, let me give the following. I was impatient to make a show, so told him to buy all the pewter plates he came across. A few days after seventy arrived in two filthy dirty sacks, the state of which corresponded fairly well with the appearance of their contents. He apologised later for the condition of the sacks which “he had borrowed from a place where they had just skinned a dead horse.” Some of these plates bore marks and a few others crests, but as the former owners had a strange custom of polishing the backs with sand, the marks were mostly rubbed off, and as they never cleaned the fronts, my getting that consignment into exhibition form required some trouble and expense, but as the Tommy said after getting C.B. for being absent without leave, “It was worth it.”

Referring to this consignment and to the sacks in conversation later he expressed no wonder at my people complaining when they and their contents were dumped in the washhouse, as he thought they were a trifle high after he found the boots of the hotel, where he had to spend a night, had put them in his bedroom! Worse than that, however, happened the following day. He had left them at one end of the station platform with a porter, that they might go in the guard’s van, while he went to another part of the train and joined some friends. He had just got seated when the porter who must have followed him with the sacks on a truck, opened the door and enquired, “Will your honour have these suit cases in the carriage wid yer?”

The miscellaneous articles which arrived at frequent intervals were wellnigh confusing, and it kept me busy finding out what many of them were really for, but when I found a pewter harp with a screw attached I was so bewildered I wrote and asked him what on earth this harp was out of, and he settled my mind by replying, “I thought it had come down from heaven.”

On one occasion I saw quite a number of pieces in a shop where I had now and then found an odd one, and after making a few purchases enquired the reason for this amazing influx, when I was informed, “You see it’s this way; there’s a lady who’s got a husband who’s been collecting pewter until she’s got fed up, so as he’s gone off for a few days she asked me to call and take the lot away, as she is not going to have any more of the dirty stuff about.” Sequel--they lived happily ever after.

For a time I adopted the practice of getting men I knew to save pewter for me, and, as my rambles permitted, calling on them periodically. On one occasion I was looking through the window of a marine store at ---- when I noticed something I was on the look-out for. I entered, and enquired, “How about the pewter?” The old fellow replied:

“Hello, you’ve come at last? It must be six months since you asked me to save any bits that came in.”

“Oh, well,” I said, “it’s better late than never,” and paid him what he asked.

I had never visited the place before. Reader, I hope you have never been the victim of mistaken identity.

You will recollect the story I told of my friend who brought me my first eight-day clock. In talking over reminiscences lately, I asked if he remembered assisting me to get pewter. Instantly he replied, “Remember! I shall remember it to my dying day. I was at Sneinton (Nottingham), and I asked a marine store man had he any pewter. He said, ‘Not here, but I have any amount at my Radford place.’ Now Radford was out of my way, but I thought I would do you a good turn, so I padded there, about twenty minutes’ walk--it was warm. When I got there, I was offered about half a hundredweight of zinc that I should think had for a few years previously been fastened on a pub counter. Of course I had to walk back, and I never felt so hot in my life.”

MARKS

This is an all important subject to some collectors and I feel I ought to treat it with a consideration bordering on veneration, but anyone who has had to put up with the queries I have been compelled to answer, which has necessitated my fetching the step-ladder to bring down plates from shelves in order that the marks may be examined, would have the reverential esteem knocked out of him. On one occasion a lady who had taken a superficial look at my display remarked “What a number of pieces you have. Do they all bear the London mark?”

I was taken aback as I was unaware she was so well up in the subject, but when she informed me she had begun to collect and had already bought a 5s. half-pint tankard with a cross and crown stamped on the bottom, which the seller had assured her was the London mark, then I understood.

When another visitor asked, “Is it all marked?” I replied that I collected makes, not marks, and that was why I had such a variety of pieces, and that many of my most interesting specimens never bore any.

Those readers who want solid books of reference on this point will find them among the works issued by authors whose names are well known and to whose remarkable patience in probing into the past I am under a debt of gratitude. I must add that from information received a work is coming out which will be quite the last word on old pewter, its makers, and marks. I will here repeat a statement which has been printed in almost every book on old pewter since the flood of 1667--viz.: that the early touch plates of makers’ marks were destroyed in the Great Fire of London.

With the aid of my old watchmaker’s magnifying glass, 2¼ inches diameter, cased in horn and hinged on an iron rivet to shut up and carry in the pocket, I have just examined the fine quart tankard stamped “Js Dixon” in three small panels. This was no doubt James Dixon’s mark just after he lost his partner Smith, who had been with him since 1809, and as he took his son into the business in 1824, this mark I think, would only have been used for about twelve months, and must be very scarce. Underneath the maker’s name I see the first Excise mark, “WR” surmounted with a small crown. Next I find an imperfect impression which looks like “NOXO,” but I can make no sense out of that; then I discover a stamp “Crown V.R. 106,” and another with a Crown between the letters “V.R.” also the figures “50,” these all denoting that at least three inspectors have passed this tankard as up to the standard at different periods of its useful career.

Now I came to the most interesting part to my mind, of the outward signs visible to the naked eye; under the word “QUART,” which is boldly stamped, there are the initials “T.B.” and a fine large crown with the date “1823” all neatly engraved with some embellishment. The initial letters will no doubt be those of the landlord of a licensed house known as “The Crown,” and the year that in which the tankard was made for him.

PLATE XIX

DESCRIBING THE PEWTER