My Family Silver

In partnership with Burkes Peerage and Gentry

huntroskell1862

a photograph of Hunt & Roskell’s display of silver race cups, candelabra, testimonials, wine coolers, &c,
at the International Exhibition of 1862, South Kensington, London;
a number of the pieces shown are known to have survived
Hunt & Roskell was the commercial successor to (Paul) Storr & Mortimer.
(photo: The London Stereoscopic & Photographic Co Ltd, London, 1862)

Ask any commercial photographer and he will tell you that the most challenging objects he has to capture are those made of silver: they dazzle or vanish into black or white backgrounds. Probably the very first photograph ever taken of silver, a calotype by William Henry Fox Talbot made between 1844 and 1846, shows the problem to perfection: a pair 1750s candlesticks, an Elkington coffee pot, &c, are harsh combinations of darkness and brightness. Although the same disappointing results were achieved of silver by the photographers who recorded some exhibits at the Great Exhibition of 1851, there are plenty of photographs surviving from the second half of the 19th Century which prove just how useful a medium photography became to the silver and jewellery trades.

The archive of Edward Barnard & Sons, the London manufacturing silversmiths, includes an extraordinary photographic record (circa 1850-1940) of the firm’s work. An unknown number of photographs were sent by Victorian manufacturers and retained by the Patent Office in their registration of copyright designs. Photographs were taken at most exhibitions, large and small, many of the most successful being those made by The London Stereoscopic & Photographic Co Ltd at the International Exhibition in 1862. Photography was even harnessed at that early period by manufacturers for illustrated trade catalogues, although such publications must have been expensive to produce.

Photography also became a pleasant way to record a gift of silver, sometimes with the recipient in evidence, for distribution to subscribers or for sale in local shops.

robertsgatter

a page of  die-stamped ‘Sterling Silver Novelties’ from the
CATALOG AND PRICE LIST OF DIAMOND, GOLD AND PLATED JEWELRY AND SILVER THINGS
published by Robert S. Gatter, maker, 19 Maiden Lane, New York City, 1900
(photo: unknown, 1900)

ipswichinkstand

an unidentified gentleman with a silver ‘Grecian’ pattern inkstand, manufactured in three sizes (11, 13 and 16 inches wide) by Edward Barnard & Sons of London (photo: Robert Cade, Ipswich, late 1860s)

Silver inkstands, at least in Britain, were considered fitting gifts for men in all stations from the late 17th Century for nearly 300 years. But surely few recipients of such useful, decorative and expensive objects could have been as graceless as John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) when in 1858 he heard that colleagues in the East India Company were about to present him with one after 35 years’ service. They had commissioned the architect Matthew Digby Wyatt for a special design and the scheme was near to completion by Elkington’s the silversmiths when Mill declared that ‘he hated all such demonstrations [because] they were never altogether genuine or spontaneous.’ This outburst shamed the committee into delivering the inkstand to the great man’s house in secret!

No such ill-mannered sentiments marred the presentation of an inkstand to the eminent architect J.B. Papworth (1775-1847), when in 1847 a group of his professional friends and pupils gathered to express their respect and esteem. They recalled not only his services to architecture but also his influence on the applied arts (he furnished patterns for, among others, the royal goldsmiths, Rundell, Bridge & Rundell) and as the first director of the Government Schools of Design.

Many lesser dignitaries, like the unknown gentleman in our photograph, received gifts of inscribed inkstands. In fact, in Victorian times the big manufacturing silversmiths produced special models appropriate to various professions, such as Elkington’s for churchmen and philanthropists where the ink pots flanked a figure of a shivering beggar.

papworthinkstand

an engraving of the inscribed silver inkstand, manufacturer unknown, presented to the architect John Buonarotti Papworth on Monday, 25 January 1847, at the house in Bolton Gardens, Russell Square, London, of Thomas Leverton Donaldson (1795-1885), a co-founder of the Royal Institute of British Architects (The Illustrated London News, London, 30 January 1847, pp. 75-6)

bandk

workmen from Barkentin & Krall in their Sunday best, enjoying a day trip to Rottingdean in Sussex, mid 1890s (photo: G.W. West, Rottingdean)

The music hall song, ‘A Nice Quiet Day; or, The Postman’s Holiday,’ was first sung in 1901 by the Cockney comedian Gus Elen. It tells how he, with his missus and their half-a-dozen kids, enjoys a  day off. Never mind that they traipse across London via Epping Forest to The Monument, where they lose a beefsteak pudding, and end up in Kent at St. Mary’s Cray, it was still a precious few hours at liberty.

By that last year of Queen Victoria’s reign, the British working man’s break or his ‘works outing’ had been enshrined in law since the Bank Holidays Act of 1871. Owners of factories and workshops large and small increasingly saw the wisdom of allowing their workforce this slice of freedom. In the silver, plated and jewellery industries, for instance, twelve hour days were usual. But the men (and women and children) of the trade were still expected to work extra hours in the busy time before Christmas. Even before 1871, however, annual holidays were allowed; at Elkington’s in 1862, 13 year old Eliza Smith spoke of her trip with other employees at the firm’s expense to Malvern for a ‘gipsy party,’ a kind of picnic with rustic entertainments.

The expanding railway network aided the working man’s mobility. Those in London, like the craftsmen at Barkentin & Krall, ecclesiastical silversmiths and metalworkers, were able to make seaside trips to Margate, Brighton or Rottingdean, the latter a village where Edward Burne-Jones and Rudyard Kipling had homes.

guselen

Gus Elen (1862-1940), the music hall comedian, celebrated for his songs of London life, including ‘If it Wasn’t for the ‘Ouses in Between,’ ‘The Golden Dustman’ and ‘A Nice Quiet Day’. (photo: Hana, London, circa 1900 / John Culme’s Footlight Notes Collection)