Beauty Is in the Eyes of the Beholder

QUESTION: Recently, I purchased a pressed glass plate that seems to be painted red and gold on one side. The paint is in pretty good condition, although some of it has flaked off. Did someone purposely paint this plate. I don’t want to scrape off the remaining paint until I know for sure. What can you tell me about this plate? And was the paint applied at the time of its manufacture?

ANSWER: As the old saying goes, “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” You bought the plate because you liked it, but the paint on it does make it look like someone was doing a bit of their own decorating. Fortunately for you, you asked about it before scraping away the paint. Your plate is what’s known as “Goofus” Glass. Sounds goofy, doesn’t it. In fact, some people call it tacky, some call it ordinary, and, yes, some call it beautiful.

Manufacturers didn’t originally call it "Goofus" glass. They had no designation of Goofus glass in their  salesmen's catalogs. They didn’t even recognize it as a specific classification of glass. Goofus glass, at its inception, was just a variety of pressed glass.

The term "Goofus" refers more to the use of unfired “cold” painted decoration to a piece of pressed glass, rather than to the glass itself. Many people believe the first users of Goofus noticed how easily the painted decoration on this glass wore away and felt that it was "goofy" or that someone had tried to "goof us."

Pressed, or pattern glass was, by the end of the 19th century, a substitute cut glass by the middle class. So the demand for pressed glass rose tremendously. To keep up with the demand, a number of new factories appeared, mostly in Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, and Indiana due to the availability of natural gas to fire their furnaces. The most prominent of these was the Northwood Glass Company, founded in 1887 in Martin's Ferry, Ohio.

One of Northwood’s original owners, Harry Northwood, later founded his own company, H. Northwood and Company in Wheeling, West Virginia in 1901. Within five years, his company had developed a reputation as America's finest glassware manufacturer.

Always innovative, Harry Northwood was probably the first to make what has come to be known as Goofus glass and, a few years later in 1908, Carnival glass.

Other companies, such as The Imperial Glass Co. of Bellaire, Ohio, focused immediately on Goofus glass. Soon others joined them, including the Crescent Glass Co. of Wellsburg, West Virginia, Lancaster Glass Company in Lancaster, Ohio, Westmoreland Glass of Grapeville, Pennsylvania, Dugan Glass Company. of Indiana, Pennsylvania,; McKee Glass Company of Jeannette, Pennsylvania, and Indiana Glass Company of Dunkirk, Indiana, which produced more Goofus glass than any other manufacturer.

Somewhere along the line, the idea to paint pressed glassware with bright colors— usually red, but sometimes green, pink, brown, orange, silver, and always some gold—gained popularity with the buying public, who scooped it up in large quantities. This popularity glass peaked between 1908 and 1918.

Manufacturers marketed Goofus glass with names evoking faraway exotic places and   wealth. Some of these included Egyptian Intaglio, Egyptian Art, Khedive (meaning "viceroys of Egypt"), Golden Oriental, Artistic Decorated, and Intaglio Art.

Because it was mass-produced and relatively cheap, retail shop owners bought it to give as a premium for buying their goods. Goofus glass was given away by every sort of business—furniture stores, car dealers, even at WW1 Bond drives. A person could buy a house and get a complete set of dishes. Or buy a new suit and get an intaglio fruit bowl. Or buy an engagement ring and get a vase or a set of dishes. Fair owners even awarded it as prizes for winning games. It was the first Carnival glass, preceding the iridized glass known as Carnival glass today.

Glass companies produced plates, bowls, vases, oil lamps, dresser sets, salt and pepper shakers and candle holders. Many of the Goofus patterns feature flowers and fruit, especially grapes, among other motifs, raised out of the surrounding glass as seen in vases, powder boxes and lamps. The pattern could also be pressed into the glass from beneath the surface providing an intaglio effect as found in Goofus plates, baskets and candy dishes.

Because of the extensive use of red, green, and gold paint, Goofus glass became known as “Mexican ware” because the colors reminded buyers of the colors in the Mexican flag.

Workers decorated the glass in one of two ways: They either covered one side or the other of the piece completely with paint, known as “All Over Decoration” or “AOD,” or they painted just the distinguishing pattern on the glass, leaving the remainder of the glass  untouched, known as "Pattern Decorated" or "PD." The more frequently seen surface textures are various "basket weave,” "fish net," and "stippled."  

By the beginning of the Great Depression, Goofus glass production had come to an end.

It’s difficult to find a piece of Goofus glass in perfect condition whether the paint was applied to the outside or the inside of a piece. The worn paint became so unsightly it was washed away by the original or subsequent owners.

Collectors pay more to own pieces made for special occasions or to commemorate a World’s Fair or another event than other nondescript pieces. They also look for complete sets such as a large berry bowl with matching smaller bowls. Goofus collectors seek out rare oil lamps complete with glass shade and matching base. Of course, Goofus glass in all shapes and forms in great condition with very little paint wear will bring a much better price than a piece with considerable paint loss.

Portrait of a Songbird

QUESTION:  I have this bust of a woman and was wondering if you can tell me anything about it. It's approximately ten inches high and appears to be made of marble. The name “Patti” appears under the bust.

ANSWER: Your bust isn’t made of marble but is a fine example of Parian Ware, a bisque-type porcelain invented to simulate marble so that upper middle class 19th-century homeowners could decorate their homes with beautiful things much like the wealthy.  The woman depicted in this late 19th-century bust is the renowned opera singer Adelina Patti.

First, let’s take a look at the bust’s material. Unlike marble, which is a stone, Parian is actually a form of ceramics made of white clay and feldspar. Minton, one of England’s leading ceramics makers, named it in 1845 for the Greek island of Paros, renowned for its fine-textured, white marble of the same name. Copeland, another leading ceramics manufacturer, called their version Statuary Porcelian. Parian’s advantage over marble was that it could be prepared as a liquid and poured into molds, cutting production costs and making it cheaper to buy.

Used mostly for figurines and busts, Parian at first simulated famous classic sculptures from ancient Greece and Rome. But later on, after it caught on, artists sculpted busts of famous persons of the times. This bust of Adelina Patti is one of hundreds produced during the peak of Parian’s popularity.

Although eight primary English manufacturers produced Parian, Minton and Copeland were the largest and produced some of the finest examples.

Born on February 10, 1843 in Madrid, Spain, the last child of Italian tenor Salvatore Patti and soprano Caterina Barilli, Adelina Juana Maria Patti was a famous 19th-century opera singer. She first sang in public as a child in 1851, and gave her last performance before an audience in 1914. Along with two other songbirds, Jenny Lind and Thérèse Tietjens, Patti remains one of the most famous sopranos in history because of the purity of her lyrical voice. The composer Giuseppe Verdi, writing in 1877, described her as being the finest singer who had ever lived.

She made her operatic debut at age 16 on November 24, 1859 in the title role of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor at the Academy of Music in New York. When she was   18, she appeared at London’s Covent Garden Opera House in the role of Amina in Bellini's La sonnambula. She had such success at Covent Garden that she purchased  a house in Clapham and, using London as a base, went on to conquer the famous opera houses of Europe.

In 1862, during an American tour, she sang John Howard Payne's “Home, Sweet Home” at the White House for President Abraham Lincoln and his wife, Mary Lincoln. Moved to tears, the Lincolns requested an encore of the song in honor of their dead son Willie. Patti later performed it many times as a encore at the end of her concerts.

Patti had a tremendously successful career. She sang not only in England and the United States, but also in Europe, Russia, and South America, receiving critical acclaim wherever she went.

Patti was a true diva. She demanded to be paid $5000 a night in gold, before the performance. Her contracts stipulated that she receive top billing and that her name be  printed larger than anyone else in the cast.

She last sang in public in October 1914, taking part in a Red Cross concert at London's Royal Albert Hall that had been organized to aid victims of World War I. She lived long enough to see the war end, dying on September 27, 1919 of natural causes at Craig-y-Nos Castle, her private residence in Wales. In her will, she requested that she be buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris to be close to her father and favorite composer Rossini.

When she was a child, her parents moved the family to New York City where Patti grew up in the Wakefield section of the Bronx. Patti sang professionally from childhood, and developed into a coloratura soprano with perfectly equalized vocal registers and a surprisingly warm, satiny tone. Patti learned how to sing and gained understanding of voice technique from her brother-in-law Maurice Strakosch, who was a musician and impresario.

For more information on Parian Ware, read my article in The Antiques Almanac.

Biscuit Tins Never Get Stale

QUESTION: I’ve inherited my mother’s collection of English biscuit tins. She had been collecting them since she made a trip to England at the end of the 1960s. Her collection includes over four dozen tins, some are fancier than others. I love these old tins and want to continue collecting them. When my mother began collecting, she had to buy them during several trips to England. But today, I figure I can purchase them online. Can you tell me more about their history? Also, do you think I can add to her collection?

ANSWER: Biscuit tins are a fascinating part of British cultural history. They’re even tied to the monarchy. And while today manufacturers don’t make them as fancy as some of the ones from the early part of the 20th century, they’re still very popular with collectors. The peak of biscuit tin production ran from the late 1890s to the 1930s. Though originally meant to hold biscuits—the British term for “cookies”—they eventually became collectible works of art in themselves.

The history of the biscuit tin began with the passing of the Licensed Grocer’s Act of 1861 which allowed groceries to be individually packaged and sold. This coincided with the removal of the duty on paper for printed labels, so printing directly on to tinplate became common.

The bakery of Huntley & Palmers pioneered the use of metal tins. In 1832, Joseph Huntley’s son, who founded Huntley, Boorne & Stevens in an ironmongers opposite the bakery, began handcrafting large square seven- to ten-pound tins with glass inset tops for retailers. Grocery store clerks would measure out the amount of biscuits from these tins and place them in a paper bag for the customer. However, they didn’t stay fresh for very long once the customer returned home.

So Joseph Huntley began creating smaller tins without the glass insets so that customers could purchase their biscuits in a container to keep them fresh which they could take home. The tins were of such excellent quality that people began to reuse them to hold other things. The tins needed decoration but the only way to do that at the time was to paint them by hand.

In the early 1860s, all that changed with the invention of direct tin printing. This was a complicated and time-consuming technique. Then along came London printer Benjamin George George (That isn’t a typo.), who invented the lithographic transfer method.

In 1868, Huntley & Palmers commissioned the first lithographically decorated tin using George’s method from the London firm of De La Rue. Buckingham Palace granted the bakery permission to supply biscuits to the Royal Family. In order to create an appropriate design befitting the Royal Family, they hired Victorian designer Owen Jones to create a pattern which they could use on the biscuit tins using George’s new method. The result was a richly decorated oblong tin with the Royal Coat of Arms on the lid, now known to collectors as the “Ben George tin.” 

But George’s direct lithographic process, which involved laying an inked stone directly on to a sheet of tin, made it difficult to line up the colors. The breakthrough in decorative tin plate production was the invention of the offset lithographic process in 1877, which consists of bringing a sheet of rubber into contact with the decorated stone, and then setting-off the impression so obtained upon the metal surface. With this method, printers could use any number of colors, position them correctly, and apply the design to an uneven surface if necessary. Thus the elaborately embossed, colorful designs that became a hallmark of late Victorian biscuit tins became technically possible.

It became possible to make tins in almost any shape imaginable. Biscuit lovers bought baskets, windmills, cars, locomotives, globes, tables, and even mailboxes as much for their decorative qualities as their contents. Between 1868 and the outbreak of World War II, Huntley & Palmers issued around 400 tin designs with a lots of variations.

The most exotic designs appeared in the early years of the 20th century, just prior to the First World War. In the 1920s and 1930s, costs had risen substantially and the design of biscuit tins tended to be more conservative, with the exception of those targeted at the Christmas market and intended to appeal to children.

One of the most unique and most popular of biscuit tin designs resembled a stack of books held together with a belt. This 1901 Huntley & Palmers tin, known as “Literature,” was so realistically done that the covers and spines of the books appear to have been deeply tooled and inked and the page edges convincingly marbled and swirled in a rainbow of colors.

Most popular, however, were the tins shaped like vehicles. It was no coincidence that car, train, airplane, and boat tins bore a striking resemblance to similar toys sold at British department and toy stores since toy companies often crafted them from the same molds they used for their products. An example is Carr & Co's double-decker bus tin, made especially for them by Chad Valley and virtually identical to Chad Valley's toy bus except for the internal clockwork mechanism and different advertising.

But Huntley and Palmers were by no means the only company that made unusual biscuit tins. Some of the other famous biscuit tin sellers were Carr & Company., William Crawford & Sons, MacFarlane, Land & Company., and Peek, Frean, and Company. 

During the Second World War, all production on biscuit tins stopped so that factories and materials could be used for the war effort. When the war ended in 1945, production resumed but the tins weren’t as popular as before the war.

Peek, Frean, and Company, McVitie’s, and Jacob’s all became household names but for collectors Huntley & Palmers stands out. Collectors are particularly attracted to the decorative novelty tins. Condition is of prime importance, perhaps even more so with biscuit tins since they rust easily. Many also become worn or dented, giving the novice collector an opportunity to acquire interesting examples relatively cheaply.

Today, biscuit tins range in price from $10 to $200 online. However, the prices of those in British antiques shops are climbing into the stratosphere. This is due mostly to the antiques tourist trade. The most expensive tin sold at auction for over $20,000.

We've Come a Long Way Baby

QUESTION: I discovered an unusual bottle in a box lot I bought at a local house sale.  The bottle is about six or seven inches long, pale green, and oval but doesn’t have a flat bottom, so it must lay on its front or back. Do you have any idea what this little bottle would have contained or been used for?

ANSWER: Believe it or not, your little bottle once held baby’s milk.
           
The development of baby bottles took centuries to transform into the sterile plastic throwaways in use today. As knowledge of germs and hygiene developed, so did the infant feeder. While parents of earlier times sensed that babies who were breast fed had a better chance at surviving, it wasn't until the early 20th century that mothers and bottle makers realized that clean, sterile feeders were necessary to protect a baby's health.

Before then, bottle makers created a variety of feeders—from tiny coffeepot-shaped ones of tin to china submarine-shaped flasks decorated in Flow Blue and transferware patterns. Glass bottles didn’t come on the scene until the mid-19th century.

Nipples, made of wood, ivory, bone, sterling, pewter, leather„ rags, sponge, rubber, and yes, a pickled cow's teat, were nothing like those in use today.

Much like today, bottles were necessary because some mothers couldn’t breast feed, and, unlike today, it wasn’t always fashionable to nurse. When a friend asked Queen Victoria if she intended to breast feed, she reportedly said she had no intention of making  a cow of herself.

One manufacturer immortalized Victoria’s image on a stoneware bottle that’s now prized by collectors. But the queen hated that her likeness appeared on a nursing bottle.

Besides a dislike, of nursing, there were other reasons for women to use baby bottles. Many women thought that nursing would destroy their figures. It also inhibited them socially since they couldn’t travel and leave the baby at home.

Fathers weren’t too keen on breast feeding, either, because doctors and midwives often advised mothers to refrain from sex during nursing.

Wealthier families employed wet nurses, usually young women who had a child and could nurse another. Since parents believed that a milk giver’s personality traits could be transferred to an infant through their milk, choosing the right one was important.

The ideal wet nurse was a plump rosy-cheeked young woman. Many people believed that red-headed girls gave bitter milk and produced ill-tempered babies. They even suspected animal milk, believing that infants took on the attributes of the cow or goat. French nobles gave the title of “contessa” to a wet nurse so that their infants could be nursed by milk of noble origin. Those who couldn’t afford to hire a wet nurse, turned to a variety of infant feeders, many of them unsafe by modern standards.

Though a china submarine-shaped bottle with blue transferware is beautiful, being completely opaque it was hard to clean. Fermenting milk curds could be lodged in the corners and mothers would never see them.

Charles M. Windship of Roxbury, Massachusetts, developed the first glass baby bottle, a small turtle shell-shaped: feeder, in 1841. Women thought the shape would fool their infants into thinking it was a real breast.

To use the Windship bottle, a woman wore it on a harness on her breast. It was probably difficult to use because girls with tender, post-childbirth breasts wouldn’t want to place any weight on their on top of them. Because of its shape, the Windship bottle became known as a mammary bottle. Today, they’re highly prized by collectors and sell for nearly $500 each.

But the Windship bottle wasn’t safe for the baby. The Windship and some subsequent bottles came with a long rubber tube, topped off with a rubber nipple. The tube allowed for hands-free feeding for mothers. These devices also had their problems. Dried formula would clog the tube which was too small to be cleaned, so bacteria blossomed. This feeder became known by the onerous name of the “murder bottle.” New York State banned them in 1906, and other states rapidly followed suit.

The turtle-shaped bottles, begun with the Windship model, remained in use from around 1860 to 1910. The bottles had vents, sometimes on both ends, so that air bubbles wouldn’t enter the milk. A nipple went on one end and a tiny cork on the other.

Most bottles became cylindrical by the beginning of the 20th century. Sterilization also became routine. And by the 1930s, bottle makers began embossing their glass bottles with puppies and kittens. These continued to be used until the invention of the disposable plastic bottle.

Valentines from Across the Seas

QUESTION: While vacationing in Nantucket last summer, I came across some beautiful souvenirs made of shells. The shop owner said they’re called “Sailor’s Valentines.” While the one I purchased is newly made, I saw others in the Nantucket Whaling Museum a few blocks away. What is the history behind these things of beauty? Who made them and where did they come from?

ANSWER: Most sailor’s valentines date from the early 19th century. Beginning in 1830, whaling ships set sail from Nantucket and later New Bedford, Massachusetts in search of mighty whales, from which they extracted whale oil used to grease the machines of the Industrial Revolution.


While Nantucket was the center of whaling in New England–at its height nearly 400 ships called the island port home—these weren’t the only types of ships that sailed the oceans of the world. Sailing ships, later known as clippers because of their fast speed, sailed to all the major ports of the world. From the early to the latter part of the 19th century when steam-powered ships took over the seas, the sailors aboard them spent years aboard in search of whales and moving cargo from one port of call to the next, often gone from home for several years. When they stopped to exchange cargo or gather provisions, they went ashore, discovering unique souvenirs to take home to their wives and girlfriends. Besides objects decorated with scrimshaw, which they, themselves, made, they found some unusual octagonal wooden boxes filled with seashells in shops on the island of Barbados in the Caribbean.

Between about 1830 and 1880, residents of Barbados made and sold what came to be known as Sailor’s Valentines to the lonely English and American sailors.

From the 1630s to the end of the 19th century, Barbados was an important port of call for sugar, rum, lumber, and fish. Because of this, a number of shops catered to the souvenir trade. The Victorian love for collecting and displaying exotic objects from afar possibly fueled the industry and contributed to the popularity of the valentines.

Historians believe that most of the sailors' valentines came from the New Curiosity Shop on McGregor Street in Bridgetown, Barbados, owned by two English brothers, B.H. and George Belgrave, who hired locals to make the valentines.

The local valentine makers constructed the special octagonal, hinged boxes, ranging in size from 8 to 15
inches across, using mahogany veneer for the sides and native cedar wood called cedrella, for the bottoms. Then they lined the insides of the boxes with colored paper, most often pink, onto which they placed cotton batting. Next they glued hundreds of colorful tiny seashells in intricate symmetrical mosaic designs incorporating hearts and flowers, which often featured a compass rose centerpiece. After gluing down all the shells, the maker placed a piece of glass over the design to protect them. They called these double valentines.

Sometimes the makers incorporated a special sentimental message that a sailor would request into the design, thus the name Sailors’ Valentines. Sentiments typically appeared only on the smaller 9½-inch double valentines, which often displayed a heart motif on the opposite half. Some of the more popular ones were “To My Sweetheart,” “To My Love,” “Home Again,” and “From a Friend.” The larger 13½- to 14-inch valentines rarely had sayings, but instead had more intricate shell-work designs on both sides.

Today, Sailors’ Valentines command high prices at auctions and antique shows. Some of the best, however, are part of the collections of the New Bedford and Nantucket Whaling Museums, and the Peabody Essex Museum, all in Massachusetts. Collectors value antique sailors' valentines for their beauty and unusual qualities. But their high prices make it difficult for most beginning collectors to acquire the originals. A small double valentine that twenty years ago sold for $350 to $600, now sells for $500 to $1,500, and the price for a large double valentine has jumped from $1,000 to between $2,500 and $10,000—that is if either can be found.

Plus, a thriving business making new sailors’ valentines has emerged on Nantucket Many of these have frames that have been faux finished to imitate the original woods and their designs copied to imitate the originals. Beyond the souvenir shops, collectors must be vigilant because many of these imitations have been sold as antiques.

A Box for Gentlemen

QUESTION: I recently attended an upscale antiques show in my area. While there, I came across a beautiful wooden box filled with little jars with silver lids and other containers. The dealer called it a “Gentleman’s Box.” I had never heard the term before. In fact, the box looked like a deluxe traveling toiletry box. Can you tell me where the term Gentleman’s Box originated? Is it the same as an early men’s toiletry box?

ANSWER: Some antiques dealers lump all sorts of men’s traveling boxes into one category—the Gentleman’s Box. However, like the word “vintage” that’s so often misused on eBay and in many middle-market antique shops, it doesn’t apply to every box used by gentlemen in the 18th and 19th century.

A true Gentleman’s Box refers to a wealthy man’s dressing case, which carried toiletries and other small personal items a gentleman might need when traveling. Sometimes, the term can also be applied to fancy wooden boxes containing small bottles of liquor or wine. 

Towards the end of the 18th century, upper class gentlemen carried dressing cases with them when they traveled. These cases were originally utilitarian but they’re fine design and craftsmanship showed off their owners’ wealth and place in society, as at that time, only the very wealthy could afford to travel.

Gentleman’s dressing cases contained bottles and jars for colognes, aftershaves, and creams as well as essential shaving and manicure tools. As these boxes became more popular, makers came up with other items to include in them. By the early Victorian era, when ladies began to travel, the exteriors, veneered with exotic woods, such as  calamander, rosewood, burl walnut, satinwood and mahogany, and often was inlaid with contrasting wood or mother-of-pearl, or abalone. 
           
The Gentleman’s Box had an expensive fitted interior, often set in tiers with pull-out drawers and many compartments. The top, removable tier often contained cut-glass toilet jars and bottles with engraved silver mounts and covers. There were also separate holders and layers to hold the toilet accessories, such as scissors, steel nail-files, buttonhooks and penknives.

The inside of the cover sometimes had a framed mirror, and the base had a secret drawer released by a spring catch or button on the top of the box inside. Few people  could have been deceived by this,  however, since it was really meant to prevent the drawer from opening while the box, itself, was closed. An alternative to the brass button or catch was the use of a chained brass pin which slid into a retaining hole for the secret drawer.

Most of these boxes were around 12 inches wide and 10 inches deep. The height varied, as some had multiple drawers that made them look like miniature chests. The more luxurious ones incorporated a writing box and a sometimes a compartment to hold basic tea-making equipment.

Weight and size were unimportant, for not only did gentlemen travel with their servants on coaches and trains, but there were plenty of porters waiting to help at railway stations.

A mother-of-pearl or brass plaque in the center of the lid was usually engraved with the initials of the owner. Wealthy gentlemen often purchased these boxes as status symbols of their wealth rather than as actual traveling pieces.

Gentlemen’s Boxes are usually pricey, selling for upper four figures. Most have been kept in very good condition or have been professionally restored.

The Most Romantic Accessory Under the Sun

QUESTION: I love fashion accessories. Recently, I purchased a beautiful antique parasol from a vintage clothing booth at a local antique show. It’s covered in lace and has an ivory handle. Other than they’re a cousin of the umbrella, what can you tell me about the history of these romantic fashion accessories?
           
ANSWER: Parasols go back almost 5,000 years to ancient Egypt. Then as in their heyday during the late 18th and 19th centuries, they shielded women from the sun. In fact, the word literally means "for sun" in Spanish.

The umbrella as we know it first gained favor in England as a way for women to shield themselves from English rain. English umbrella makers first constructed them of oiled silk which made them extremely heavy and difficult to open when wet. But it wasn’t until the late 18th century that French umbrella makers transformed this mundane accessory into the parasol, one of romantic beauty. It’s name literally means “for the sun.”

Traditionally ladies had accessorized their outfits with delicate cane walking sticks, but during the 18th century, they replaced them with the more fashionable and useful parasol.

As the popularity of the parasol grew so too did its ornamentation. Until 1800, the fabric used on parasols was mostly green to cast a complementary shadow over the bearer's face so that a woman’s overly flushed complexion might appear fashionably pale. After this period of restraint, parasols became sumptuous with canopies adorned with laces, ruffles and fringes. Parasol makers replaced utilitarian wooden handles with costly ones made from porcelain, ivory, or ebony, enriched with elaborate carvings and inlays of mother of pearl, gems, and precious metals.

By the Victorian era the parasol was an essential accessory for ladies. Many had parasols made to match the fabric of their dresses, while the truly fashionable even had fans made to match their parasols. The length of the handle and shaft, the number of spokes and the diameter of the canopy, at one stage no larger than a handkerchief, were constantly shifting with changes in fashion. But in 1852, Samuel Fox, the founder of the English Steels Company, had a surplus of steel stays used in making corsets. Fox had the idea of using his steel stays in place of wooden or bone ribs, thus reducing the weight of parasols and improving their opening and durability.

To Victorian women, an unblemished complexion was essential to their concept of beauty. Like fans, parasols became part of the Victorian feminine mystique and even developed their own secret language useful for flirting.

Parasols were as a much a part of a well-dressed lady's outfit as were her gloves, hat, shoes and stockings. A fashionable lady carried a different parasol for each outfit. They became popular gifts for men to give their lady.

By the dawning of the 20th century, wide-brimmed hats became fashionable and women no longer needed parasols to protect complexions. Parasols eventually disappeared during the 1920's, when a tanned complexion replaced pale skin as a status symbol.

For U.S.A. Britain and Democracy

QUESTION: I have a teapot that has been passed down from my grandmother to my mother and now to me. It’s not just any old teapot, but a unique one with the words “For U.S.A. Britain and Democracy handpainted on the lid. My mother said that my grandmother bought it in 1940 but no one seems to know why it has this phrase on the lid. The teapot is glossy black with little flowers painted on it. And on its bottom is what looks like a golden pretzel with a lion and the British flag and the words “World War II. Made in England. Escorted to United States by the Allied Fleets.” Can you tell me anything about my teapot?

ANSWER: You’ve got a unique piece of World War II memorabilia. English potteries produced teapots such as yours, decorated with black glaze and simple, hand-painted flowers, during World War II as part of a fundraising program to provide money, equipment, and supplies necessary for Britain's war effort.

From 1939 to 1945, the United States and Canada provided escort ships to convoys of merchant marine vessels carrying massive cargoes to England. Many never made it across the North Atlantic and instead lie beneath the waves, the victims of German U-boat attacks. Once the ships arrived safely in England, British dock workers unloaded them and refilled them with English ceramic ware which served as ballast for their return trip. On arrival in America the ships full of teapots and other goods would be unloaded and distributed to merchants who sold them as a way of helping to pay for the convoy costs.

Staffordshire potteries produced these teapots by the hundreds during World War II. Women decorated these five-inch tall, black/brown, Rockingham glazed teapots with hand painted pink, orange, yellow, and green flowers, highlighted by a purple bow. They hand painted the words “ For U.S.A. Britain and Democracy” or just “For England and Democracy” on the lid, which they edged in gold. Painted in gold on the bottom are the words “World War II. Made in England. Escorted to USA by Royal Navy” or as in your case “by Allied Fleets.” The pretzel-shaped, three-loop, twisted, gold rope, known as a Stafford or Staffordshire Knot, is the symbol used by potteries in Staffordshire, England since the 1840s. Within the knot is a British flag and a lion.

Legend says that Winston Churchill chose the teapot for this special duty since it had become a symbol of Britain to many Americans. He insisted that “For England and Democracy” be painted on the lid because this was the shared goal of both the U.S. and England. In the beginning, the overall aim of the teapots, specifically made to appeal to Americans, was to help earn their support. At that time, before the attack on Pearl Harbor, Americans were undecided if the U.S. should join England in fighting the Germans.

Today, these teaports sell online for $40 to $45, although some go as high as $150.

Leave it to the Romans

QUESTION: My father has been trying to find out information about an old wooden armchair that he has that bears a label that reads “Hartwig &Kemper, Baltimore.” He could use some assistance on what it exactly is and the manufacturer. Could you possibly give us some information about this chair?

ANSWER: Your chair is what’s known as a Roman chair and dates from around 1870 to 1880. It’s done in the Victorian Neoclassical Revival style, a substyle of Renaissance Revival. But the origins of this chair go far back in time.

It’s ancient ancestor was the curule chair or sella curulis, from the Latin currus, meaning chariot. In the Roman Empire, only the highest government dignitaries, from the Emperor on down, were entitled to sit on it. It began as a folding campstool with curved legs. Ordinarily made of ivory, with or without arms, it became a seat of judgment. Subsequently it became a sign of office of all higher “curule” magistrates, or officials. According to Livy the curule seat, like the Roman toga, originated in Etruria.

Although often of luxurious construction, the curule chair was meant to be uncomfortable to sit on for long periods, since the Roman public expected their officials to carry out their duties in an efficient and timely manner. Also, its uncomfortability showed that the office held by the magistrate was only temporary, so he shouldn’t get too comfortable.

During the 15th century, both the Italians and the Spanish made chairs with cross-framed legs, joined by wooden stretchers that rested on the floor. A wooden back made the chair more rigid. Dealers in antiquities in the 19th-century called them "Savonarola Chairs." 

By the 1860s, the original curule chair form changed once again. Although some chair makers continued to use the cross-legged design, others modified it so that the legs splayed outward from a rectangular seat while the back had upright spindles and low-relief carving.

Hartwig & Kemper was a well-known furniture manufacturing company in Baltimore, with an office and salesroom at 316-318 W. Pratt Street and a factory at 309-331 W. King Street. The company also had numerous warehouses in the city and stocked a wide variety of furniture, especially chairs and tables, most of which they made of golden oak. Their 1904-05 catalog featured over 300 different pieces of furniture, mostly chairs, settees, couches, and tables. But they were mostly known for their chairs, which they produced in every style and type imaginable.

Your chair, however, was an earlier model made of tiger oak, a variation of golden oak that was dark-stained to look like mahogany. It features the stylized heads of two lions, with their mouths wide open to facilitate lifting the chair, on the top of the back. Your chair is called an elbow chair, presumably because a person could rest their elbows on the arms.

Furniture manufacturers like Hartwig and Kemper interpreted the prevailing furniture styles following the Civil War in homely, machine-made versions as well as more luxurious models.

Victorian furniture offered a mix of styles, almost all revivals of former styles. The Renaissance Revival style, one of four major Victorian revival styles, included such substyles as neoclassic Roman and Greek Revival. The word Renaissance in this case covered just about everything. The result was a stylized mix of many ancient and classic styles.

The end of the Civil War saw an immense trade in relatively inexpensive furniture to meet the demand of the market. Steam-powered machines simplified the manufacture of inexpensive furniture for the mass market. Furniture produced had simple lines, relatively flat surfaces, and a minimum of detailed carving.

Although factories in New York, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania produced the greatest amount of furniture of all types. All made stock-in-trade furniture for the mass market. Golden or “antique” oak was the wood of choice. Some furniture companies just made chairs—straight-back chairs, dining chairs, rocking chairs.

Equipment they used was efficient enough that one reviewer said they could almost throw whole trees into the hopper and grind out chairs ready for use. However, early machines didn’t do such a great job with the finishing work. Any chairs with even a little carving had to be hand finished, a job entrusted to craftsmen brought from Europe. Sometimes, factory owners would use women and children to cover chair seats for very low wages.

The buying public at the time seriously considered price as well as style and comfort. By the end of the 1860s, Hartwig and Kemper were turning out large quantities of furniture, especially chairs.

Deck the Halls Victorian Style

QUESTION: I see a lot of references to the nostalgia of an old-fashioned Victorian Christmas. Just how great were Christmas celebrations back then and what did they do?

ANSWER: While what you read and see on T.V. about how the Victorians celebrated Christmas is often exaggerated, many of the holiday traditions we still practice today began back then.
 
With luck,  there was snow. Twinkling, sparkling, clean, white, heart-warming old-fashioned snow. Nothing reminds us of an old-fashioned Christmas like snow. Just enough to coat the brick sidewalks, to dust the backs of the horses, to lightly stick to the long velvet gowns and the top hats, to put a glow around the Christmas tree lights. For this was the essence of a Victorian  Christmas. During most years, many northern locations had many more than a dusting.

During the Victorian era from 1837 to 1901, people celebrated  Christmas with special family gatherings, feasting, embellishing the home with decorations, and gift giving in increasing abundance. Victorians loved to decorate for the holidays. A giant fir tree, adorned with dried hydrangeas in shades of rose and pale green, lacy fans, white silk roses—a symbol of the Virgin Mary—German glass balls, and delicate handmade paper ornaments, held  together with lace garland, woven with ribbon and strung fresh cranberries, stood in the parlor. Many people believe that the Christmas tree evolved from the Paradise tree, a fir hung with red apples and wafers, representing the host, which represented the Garden of Eden in a medieval miracle play about Adam and Eve performed on December 24.

Arrangements of fresh greens and holly, a pagan custom adapted by Christians, decorated Victorian homes. The color green came to symbolize the Christian belief in eternal life through Christ. Legend says that Jesus' crown of thorns was plaited from holly. It's said that, before the crucifixion, the berries of the holly were white, but afterward, they turned crimson, like drops of blood.

Greens hung from chandeliers. Pine roping, wrapped with  pearls and pink moire taffeta bows, draped the grand staircase.  Perhaps a small wooden tree covered with prisms stood on a marble-top  table. Another, covered in intricate origami birds, might have stood on a hall table. The crowning touch was a large welcoming wreath that hung on the vestibule door flanked by alabaster urns filled with gold tinged twisted willow and red poinsettias. But the most important part of the Victorian celebration was the family's creche, which featured carved figures of Mary, Joseph and the Christ Child set in a miniature village, complete with meadows, fences, windmills and ponds. flanked by poinsettias. Many believe St. Francis of Assisi created the first creche using live animals in 1223.

Gift giving played an important role in Victorian celebrations. The lady of the house would smile as she peeled back the tissue covering a heavily embossed sterling silver dresser set or opened a box in which a pair of gold and amethyst earrings nestled. On the more practical side, she might have received a steel chatelaine, a chain which clipped to the waist and held keys, a pencil, and a button hook. For a special evening out, she might have been given  a dress cape of black silk velvet trimmed with jet beads and ostrich feathers.

Children often received books, considered appropriate for their educational or moral value. Or perhaps a doll's china tea service and sewing equipment for the girls, and miniature tools for the boys to help prepare them for adulthood. An extra special gift for the whole family might have been a stereopticon viewer with slides of exotic places.

Men weren't left out. To go walking, a man might receive a gold-tipped cane, or a brass bicycle lamp, reflecting the favorite pastimes of Victorian gentlemen. Or he might receive a fine ivory meerschaum pipe or a bowler hat by Stetson.

All of the above was fine and dandy for wealthy Victorians, but for the majority of people who worked long hours for subsistence wages—not unlike Bob Cratchet in Charles Dickens’ beloved story “A Christmas Carol”—life was a daily drudgery and Christmas, for many, was just another day of the year, albeit one they had off.   

Keepsakes, Not Throwaways

QUESTION: Sometime ago I purchased a box of colorful decorative holiday cutouts and imprints. Many of the designs feature St. Nicholas and have a definite British Victorian look to them. What were these called and what were they used for? 

ANSWER: Believe it or not, the cutouts you purchased are known as scraps. While the word “scraps” has now come to mean parts that are left over, such as scraps of wood, fabric, and paper, back in the 19th century it meant something quite different.

The Victorians loved decoration—the more the better. They also were very romantic and loved sentimentality and keepsakes. This led to a phenomenon popularly known as scraps.

Also called die cuts or chromos, scraps were small, colorful, embossed paper images that were sold in sheets by stationers and booksellers and used in various decorative, entertainment, and educational applications. Their diverse subject matter included flowers, trees, fruits, birds, animals, pets, ladies and gents, children, historical people and events, angels, transportation themes, and occupational motifs.

People pasted them into albums and used them to make greeting cards and decorated boxes. They also pasted them on folding screens and pieces of furniture. Scraps served as extra learning materials to teach young children the alphabet, counting, natural history, and geography, as well as teaching tools for learning prayers and Bible stories and in the enjoyment of nursery rhymes and fairy tales.

The first scraps originated in German bakers' shops as decoration for biscuits and cakes and for fastening on wrapped sweets. The earliest ones were printed in uncut sheets in black and white, then hand colored. Scraps appeared in Britain in the 1850s and soon became popular as decorative additions to Christmas cards. They were also used to illustrate historical as well as events of the time.

By the mid-1800's, chromolithography had been invented. This made a wide variety of  colored scraps available to an ever-increasing market. But chromolithography required a lengthy process. Each color had to be applied separately and needed to dry before the next color could be applied. However, the process made up to 20 printed colors possible. Printers made Victorian and Edwardian scraps in sheets that contained small chromolithographs designed to be cut out in the same manner as the first penny postage stamps. After printing and before embossing, they coated the sheets with a gelatin and gum layer that resulted in a glossy appearance and helped the paper stretch without cracking the print. Steel cutters, powered by foot treadles, punched out excess paper and left clean, sharp edges. Thin paper sheets, imprinted with manufacturers’ trademarks and called "ladders," held the cut sheets together.

The elaborate use of stamping can often be seen in uncut scrap sheets. Optimum use of space, required minimal cutting and lead to the intricate and ingenious design of the cutting die.

Early in the 20th century, young ladies and children of the middle and upper classes began keeping scrapbooks that contained collections of commercially produced scraps. They organized them thematically with a single subject for the entire book or with several themes arranged by section. Sometimes, they added lines of poetry, personal notations, inscriptions by family and friends, and drawings.

Stationery stores sold scrapbooks with tooled leather covers, elaborately embossed bindings, engraved clasps, and brass locks. Some scrapbooks contained printed decorations on their pages, as well as centered oval, circular or square sections into which people could paste items. Other albums held printed pages with theme-setting embossed decoration-like flowers or birds. Many scraps keepers made their own albums by pasting scraps over catalog and magazine pages.

Scraps production continued through the 1920's, but changes in popular taste, the effects of World War I, and the economic limitations of the Great Depression all contributed to their decline. Over time, newspaper and magazine pictures supplanted scraps as the "cutouts" of choice.

Today, sheets of uncut Victorian scraps and single scraps of good design, color, and condition are prized by ephemera collectors. Die cuts by celebrated manufacturers like Raphael Tuck and Sons, which produced a series of scraps to commemorate Queen Victoria's 50th jubilee in 1887, are especially prized by collectors. Values vary from $5 for common scraps up to $50 for unusual and sought-after images.