Victorian Aide Memoires

Used most commonly in the Victorian era, the Aide Memoire (French for ‘Memory Aid’) is one of the quirkiest antiques that you could find today. Most people who come across them have no idea what they are, and frankly I’m not surprised. So, here we go…

Aide memoires were riveted booklets made of very thin slices of ivory, usually numbering between five to eight pages in length, and usually having the days of the week on the pages (usually Monday through to Saturday, and sometimes Sunday).

More elaborate versions had covers of pierced silver, mother-of-pearl, or tortoise-shell as decoration, while others had simple ivory covers, sometimes with silver edgings or cartouches riveted on.

Aide memoires were popular during the 1700s and 1800s, slowly dying out in the early 20th century, and their existence is directly linked to the evolution of writing instruments during this period.

The Function of an Aide Memoire

In an age when the dip-pen ruled supreme, and the only portable writing instrument was the propelling pencil made of sterling silver, or the humble, wood-cased pencil which more often than not, was sharpened with the blade of a pocket-knife, writing notes on the move was a tricky and messy process. Paper was expensive, ink was prone to leaks, and small, pocket notepads had not yet been conceived. So how did you keep reminders of what you needed to do that week?

You bought an aide memoire.

On an aide memoire, you wrote in pencil the things you needed to remember for that week. The dates of doctor’s appointments, nights at the theatre, dinner with friends, shopping that had to be done, and so on. At the end of each week, the ivory sheets were wiped clean with a damp cloth, and the details for the next week’s engagements were written down.

Like an iPad or personal organiser today, the original expenditure on an aide memoire was likely to be fairly high, but the money saved in paper was probably considered to be worth the expense.

Aide memoires varied in size and intricacy, from tiny little ones not much larger than matchboxes, to significantly larger ones almost the size of a modern iPhone (which is about as big as they get).

They usually resided in a gentleman’s coat pocket, on a watch-chain, in a lady’s handbag, or else hung from a chain on her chatelaine. Aide memoires designed for chatelaines and pocketwatch chains came with a ring, swing-toggle or hook on the end so that they could be clipped on safely without fear of loss or breakage.

Due to their extremely thin sheets of ivory, aide memoires are pretty fragile. They need to be handled with care, and cleaned gently. Any old marks or stains can generally be polished off with warm water. If there are heavier stains, then a microscopic amount of Brasso metal-polish will also do the trick; a drop will suffice.

Aide memoires did exist in other formats; versions of them were included in higher-quality writing boxes, and these ranged from cheap waxed cardboard, to ivory, to the new wonder-material of the 1800s: Celluloid. Portable, pocket aide memoires were also made of celluloid, but ivory was always the preferred material.

 

Ten Tools for Effective Antiquing.

As with any proud antiques collector, I take a lot of pleasure in showing off my latest finds online. On Facebook, in collectors’ forums and of course, here on my blog.

Often I get people asking me stuff like: “Where did you find that?”, “How did you spot it?”, and “How do you know what to look for?”

A lot of my success is down to dogged determination and careful examination, but there are certain things which I always believe that a good antiques-hunter should always have on his or her person whenever they go out bargain-hunting. Here are my tools that I think every person should bring with them when they go antiquing, to improve their chances of finding a bargain…

  1. A flashlight or torch – Antiques shops are not always the best-lit of places. The most amazing treasures are usually hiding in plain sight and without adequate lighting, it’s impossible to tell what you’re looking at. In flea-markets, where cases are often jammed with trinkets, a small, but powerful pocket flashlight is often useful for carefully inspecting each object, before asking the shopkeeper, or the stallholder, to unlock or open the cabinet for you. It’s easier for you, and it saves the other guy’s time.
  2. A Magnifying Glass – Every good antiques collector should have a magnifying glass…I actually have several of these. Everything from those massive, solid, cut-glass monsters with brass frames, that remind you of Sherlock Holmes, right down to tiny pocket-magnifiers which I keep in my waistcoat pocket. A powerful magnifying glass is essential for checking for flaws, cracks, chips, maker’s marks, hallmarks, serial numbers and other small details in items like watches, porcelain, silverware and other manufactured goods.
  3. A Measuring Tape! – A small, pocket-sized retractable measuring tape is great for antiquing. Ideally, it should be one of those cheap ones with the soft plastic measuring-tapes inside them, not the hard, steel ones that you find at hardware stores – the last thing you need is the hard edges of your tape scratching up a table! A small measuring tape that measures out to about 150cm (around 60in) will be sufficient for most purposes. Nothing sucks more than not knowing if that vase or pot or spare part, or table, is going to fit into the space that you had envisioned for it in your home! So make sure you take measurements!
  4. Notepad and Pen – For taking notes, jotting down measurements, serial-numbers, the names of items…What, you seriously think you’re gonna remember all that crap? Huh… Get real!
  5. Camera – For taking pictures, duh! Useful for remembering things and cataloging where and when you saw something of interest. In antiques shops its unlikely to be a problem, but some people at flea-markets get a bit antsy when you snap their stuff (I’m yet to figure out why), so unless you know the person well, always ask before snapping.
  6. Your Mobile Phone – For taking pictures, if you don’t have a camera, and for accessing the internet (if you can), for doing on-the-fly checks about whatever it is you’re looking at, to find out more information before you buy it.
  7. Cash! – Where possible, pay in cash! Sometimes, you have to (such as in flea-markets or antiques fairs where access to EFTPOS isn’t always possible), and sometimes it’s just easier. People are more likely to accept a discount if you’re able to cough it up there and then. Cash is King. And the king (usually) gets what it wants.That said, if possible, keep your cash to small denominations. Fives, tens and twenties. Don’t bring out the big guns unless you’re actually paying for something expensive. Trying to chip down something from $30 to $20 and then paying with a $50 bill looks kinda iffy, yeah?
  8. Pocket Reference-Book – If you can find one (and if something like this is useful), then a pocket reference-book (such as for silver hallmarks) should be something you should keep on you at all times when antiquing. If nothing else, it’ll save the batteries on your phone from wearing out as you try to look up those marks online!
  9. A Magnet – For testing if something is brass, gold, silver, plated, or just really really shiny steel.
  10. Manners and a Good Sense of Humor – You want a bargain? Smile. You want more bargains? Be funny. I’ve managed to knock prices off all kinds of things just by being sweet, charming and cute. If a stallholder or antiques dealer likes you enough, they may be induced to drop the price…even moreso, if you’re a regular customer!

And there we have it. Some of those are obvious, some, perhaps not. But either way, they should all help to increase your odds in one way or another.

If you want to know more about antiquing and get more tips and tricks, then keep an eye out for the upcoming MAY issue of The Australia Times – Antiques, where I’ll be going into this stuff in MUCH more detail! The magazine is free, online, and easily accessed at:

http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/antiques/

 

Solid Brass Antique French Binoculars

Proof that it always pays to hunt around.

I’ve seen many pairs of antique binoculars at flea markets and antiques shops over the years, but while most were pretty reasonably priced, they were often in horrible condition. Covered in scratches, dents, cracked, scratched or chipped lenses, and jammed or faulty focusing mechanisms which left them impossible to operate.

But not these:

These are typical of binoculars produced in the late Victorian era, around 1870-1900. They were spectacular, and in fully functioning condition. I found them in a little antiques shop a few blocks from my house and I just had to have them. I know the shopkeeper fairly well and he let me have them for a discount to boot. I think they’re the most amazing and beautiful set of antique binoculars I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen quite a few! The brass body shines in the sun and the lenses are just amazingly perfect – not something that you often get with antique binoculars.

The sliding glare-shields had to be disassembled and cleaned and the felt linings inside had to be replaced (which was an easy fix), but other than that, they were in almost perfect condition.

They were made in Paris by Mohrson. That’s literally all I know about them. At one time they would’ve come with a strap, and most likely a case as well, but they’re long gone. Straps for binoculars like these are pretty simple, so getting a new one is unlikely to be a problem. I think they’re fantastic, and just had to share them.

They fold up pretty compact. Fully extended, they’re about six inches long, and they’re not so bulky that they’re difficult to operate, hold or use. All in all, a lovely pair of Victorian-era field glasses.

They also make a great photography prop! See?

 

18th Century Dutch Brass Mortar and Pestle

Some things are just too cool to pass up. Like this doovelackey…

I picked this honey up online about a week ago, and the moment I saw it, I knew I had to add it to my collection. I just can’t resist antique brassware. Such variety, such beauty…I had to have it!

Mortars and pestles made of bronze (and later, brass) were very common in the period from the later-Renaissance period, up to the 1800s. They were relatively easy to make, extremely tough, long-lasting, and could be made into attractive shapes.

This particular mortar and pestle was made in the Netherlands in the early 1700s and while it’s only a medium-sized one, I just had to have it the moment I saw it online. I ummed-and-aahed over it for months, but when nobody else stepped forward, I finally plucked up the courage and decided to buy it. It took a week before it arrived, and it was the most anxious and frustrating week of my life. But, it’s here!

The base of the mortar, which was probably spun on a lathe, has two sets of concentric rings for decoration, and a ‘5’ for size. You might notice that the small hole drilled into the base of the mortar is slightly off-center (no, that’s not the angle of the dangle, that’s how it really looks).

Brass mortars and pestles were made by either being cast (usually sand-cast) or by being spun on a lathe, and the brazier using a chisel or tool to carve away the excess metal, leaving us with beautifully finished brasswork like this.

Here’s a few more shots of my latest toy:

Both pieces are in wonderful condition, considering their ages. No dents or cracks or damage anywhere.

The interior of the mortar is slightly concave, and full of dents and dings from the thousands of times that the pestle has been smashed into it or ground against it, in the course of hundreds of years of use.

I’ve often wondered why these mortars have those round, ball or knob-handles on the sides. For a period, they seemed to have been very common.

Someone I spoke to suggested that they might serve a more practical function than just a way to pick up the mortar, and that perhaps the handles held the mortar in a cradle or stand.

I’d never heard of such a thing, but it did seem to make sense. After searching online, I did find one photographic reference to wooden mortar and pestle stands for sets like the one shown here. I was so intrigued by it, I’m thinking of making my own.

With any luck, my next post in this blog will be about making that stand, and showing it off online!

 

“Velvetone Bell Company” Foot-Plunger Bell

I showed this to about half a dozen people on the way home after buying it, not a single person could tell me what the hell it was before I told them!

But it’s neat, yeah?

What we got here is a “Velvetone Bell Company” streetcar or horse-carriage bell, from the late 1800s. Bells like this were found on streetcars, cablecars, trams, horse-carriages, and even some early motor-cars, and were used by the driver to warn people ahead of approaching traffic.

Bells like this featured a removable plunger, usually connected to the bell by a short chain (as you can see in the picture), which could be pressed down into the bell using the driver’s foot, which activated the spring-tensioned striker-merchanism, which rang the bell…very loudly! Twice!

This bell hadn’t been used in 50 or more years, and so as a result, the striker mechanism inside the bell was extremely stiff. After a few experimental ding-dings, the whole thing seized up! So I pulled it apart…

…then cleaned, and lubricated the striker mechanism…

…to get it ringing again. Although this looks extremely crude, it’s actually a very effective mechanism. The chunk of brass on the right with the screw in it is the hammer that hits the side of the bell. The rest of it is all part of the spring-mechanism that jerks it back and forth to ring at each push-pull motion of the plunger.

The last thing I did was to re-reddify the red background on the plaque at the top of the bell…

…and put in some modern screws. I’ll replace these with brass ones one day, if I can find any.

 

Antique Magnifying Watch Stand

You certainly find the strangest things at flea-markets, and I think this is definitely one of the stranger things that I’ve ever found in all my years of searching!

I couldn’t figure this thing out when I first saw it. It’s chrome plated steel or some such thing, and it folds up, like you see there. It also pops open like this:

There’s a hook at the back, and at the front there’s a magnifying glass, and the whole frame is riveted together. But what is it? When I figured out what the missing link was, it all made sense!

Hey, hey!! It’s a pocketwatch stand!

The whole point of this whimsical little device is that it folds up for travel, and it’s something that you’d take along with you when you went on a long journey. When you reached your destination, you opened the stand up, popped it on your bedside table, and hung your watch on it. There’s a magnifying glass at the front so that in the middle of the night, you can roll over in bed, look through the lens and read the time with minimal fuss!

Was it expensive? Nope! Are they particularly common or rare? I have no idea. I’ve seen many watch-stands, both new and antique, made of everything from brass to wood to solid sterling silver, but this is the first that I’ve ever seen with a magnifying glass on it!

Brief research suggests that these aren’t uncommon, but I doubt that anybody ever did a roaring trade in these things – Travelling watch-stands with magnifying glasses certainly did exist, but they were rarely anything more than the little trinket that this one was. It was probably just a cheap, convenient travel-object, even when it was brand new, which was probably sometime between 1890-1920 or 1930. It’s quirky though, and that’s why I had to have it!

 

Puzzle Box No. 2!

Antique Singer sewing machines of the 27-28 variety, and the 15 variety had special toolboxes that came with them, when they were brand new, back in the 1880s and 1890s. Made of wood, rectangular in shape, with a square cross-section, these boxes held all the main tools and accessories that one of these machines would need: Bobbins, needles, screwdrivers, various attachments and bits and pieces which were vital to the smooth operation of the sewing machine.

Made from 1889 until about 1910, these wooden boxes, called “puzzle boxes”, by collectors, are relatively rare. Rare, because they were made for a short period of time, and rare because they were only made for two different types of Singer machines.

A few years back, I bought, and have since filled up – a puzzle box for my Singer 28 portable machine.

Since then, I got my hands on another sewing machine…

…which is a Singer 15, the only other model of Singer machine for which a puzzle box was made.

After cleaning, fixing and restoring this machine, I thought:

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if I had a puzzle box for this, too?” 

Then I thought:

“Yeah. Right…” 

Then about two weeks ago, I saw this…

That’s right! Another puzzle box!

It was empty, but it was cheap, so I snapped it up at once! I brought it home and started filling it up. So far, I’ve put in a screwdriver (left), a tucker (far right), a full packet of needles (far right, again), and a ruffler (Inner-right, top).

There’s still quite a few pieces missing (compare with upper box), but the main piece missing is the rack for the bobbins. Fortunately, this can be homemade. Bobbin racks for Singer 15 puzzle-boxes were shaped out of thin, steel wire, and once I’ve got the wire, I reckon it’ll be easy to shape it and simply screw it into place. Singer 15 puzzle boxes are even rarer than the 28 ones, or so I believe. I can’t wait to get this filled up and complete!

As Fats Waller said: “I’ve got my fingers crossed…” 

 

 

 

 

 

The Daily Grind: The Humble Help of the Mortar and Pestle

I wanted to post this last year, but I ran out of time, what with end-of-year things and all that stuff going on. So…anyway, this is my first official post for 2016!! Happy reading, folks!

… … … …

Name one thing made by the hands of man, which has been in existence since prehistoric times, and which is still in use today.

Stone tools? Cave-paintings? Leopard-skin cloaks? Fred Flinstone’s sedan?

Betcha didn’t come up with a thing, didja? Betcha thought there wasn’t anything, huh? Huh? HUH??

Well…you’d be…wrong.

Because there is one thing. One tool. One implement. One device, made by the hands of man, which, in over three thousand years, has barely changed its shape, and which to this day, is still widely used by millions of people around the world, and which is still being manufactured, purchased, sold, and even by some people – collected!

You probably have a set of it right now, in your kitchen.

The humble mortar and pestle.

What is a Mortar and Pestle?

A mortar and pestle, or a pestle and mortar, is a stick or club (pestle, from the Latin ‘pinsere’: ‘to crush’), and a bowl or cup (the mortar), which are used jointly to crush, powderise, pound, compound, liquefy, mix and combine whatever is put inside the mortar. These humble tools have had countless uses throughout thousands of centuries, and their use continues right into the modern period.

The First Mortars and Pestles

The first textual mention of a mortar and pestle dates back to around 1500B.C, but their existence goes all the way into prehistory. for hundreds if not thousands of years. As a result, they’re probably unique in being one of the few inventions of early man which can truly have been said to have stood the test of time!

Mortars and pestles have always been used for the same variety of tasks – their simplicity and ease of use is why they’ve lasted so long – but while they’re mostly used in the kitchen these days, they weren’t always viewed as food-preparation tools.

The Pharmaceutical Mortar and Pestle

For several hundred years, the mortar and pestle were actually the center of the pharmaceutical trade, and any pharmacy or apothecary was bound to have one. Herbalists, druggists, pharmacists and apothecaries (who all basically dealt in the same region of manufacturing and selling medicines and curatives), were the chief users of mortars and pestles for untold centuries, to the extent that a mortar and pestle became the iconic tool of the pharmacist, much like how the mortarboard cap is linked to study and education, or how the striped red and white pole is the icon of barbers the world-over.

The word ‘drug’ comes from the Dutch word ‘droog’, meaning dried plant-matter. Originally, herbalists or apothecaries had to go out and scavenge their ingredients for cures themselves. Having gathered the necessary plants, they then had to prepare them for use. Crushing, grinding, mashing, mixing and pulverising the plants in various ways was the best method to extract the juices, saps, nectars and other innards, which contained the active ingredients which went into the medicines that the apothecary would then prescribe to his patients or customers for curing their ills.

And he or she couldn’t dispense a single teaspoon of willow-bark powder (for treating headaches), or crushed nettles (for treating bruises and bumps), without first having processed them with their trusty mortar and pestle!

The Mortar and Pestle in the Kitchen

Although historically, it was most famously used by apothecaries and pharmacists, the mortar and pestle were also used extensively in kitchens. Ancient Greeks and Romans all made use of them in one way or another, for preparing food. It’s one kitchen gadget that went in and never came out again! Most of the people reading this probably have a mortar and pestle sitting on their kitchen counter right now, even if it’s only for display purposes.

Mortars and pestles were essential in ancient kitchens – in an age before food-processors and blenders, your mortar and pestle was your food processor. Sauces, pastes, purees, jams, secret spice-blends, and even the grinding of spices themselves, were all done by dumping the ingredients into a mortar and pestle and mashing and smashing the ingredients to a pulp. To this day, you can still go to the supermarket and buy basil or sun-dried tomato ‘pesto’, which gets its name from how it was originally produced – by being ground up in a mortar with a…pestle.

Mortar Materials

Mortars and pestles are designed to mix, crush, grind and pulverise. As a result, they have to be made of very tough materials! It can’t be anything that will flake off, chip, crack, shatter or break from the constant pounding, grinding, smashing and scraping. The materials which the mortar and pestle are made of have to be easily cleaned, and they cannot absorb the essence of what they’re grinding. This would impart conflicting tastes (in cooking), or contaminate medicines (if grinding herbs for medicinal uses), which would be unpleasant, or even deadly!

With this in mind, a mortar and its accompanying pestle couldn’t just be made out of ANYTHING! The material used to manufacture them had to be strong, inert, heavy, and not susceptible to imparting anything within it to the materials being ground up inside it. Early mortars and pestles were made out of stone, or specially-fired types of clay or ceramics. When mankind attained sufficient skill, mortars and pestles were also made out of first bronze, and then brass. Bronze and brass mortars and pestles could be cast and made to a very high quality. On top of that, both metals were very strong, and neither could emit a spark – very useful, when you consider that one of their chief operators were the people who made gunpowder! These days, mortars are also made of steel, wood, and even specially-manufactured toughened glass.

The Modern Mortar and Pestle

Mortars and pestles became less and less common in its traditional pharmaceutical setting as the 19th century progressed. The rise of mass-production, and the ability of companies to mass-produce pills, lotions, potions and tablets meant that it was no longer necessary for a pharmacist to grind up your medicines for you on-site. By the 20th century, the practice was coming to an end.

Although sometimes still used in scientific laboratories for crushing ingredients used in experiments, the place that you’re most likely to find a mortar and pestle these days is in your kitchen, where many people still use them for crushing herbs, grinding spices, preparing sauces and relishes, and for mixing ingredients. Slower than using a food-processor, perhaps, but it saves power, it burns calories…and hey…it’s lots of fun smashing stuff up in a mortar! Just make sure you do it right, and don’t send stuff flying around the room!

Want to Know More?

http://www.herbmuseum.ca/content/mortar-and-pestle

http://www.liveauctiontalk.com/free_article_detail.php?article_id=206

http://www.motherearthliving.com/cooking-methods/the-mortar-and-pestle.aspx

 

 

 

 

Welcome To My New Home!

Hello to all my friends and followers, and welcome to my new online home! After years of using WordPress.com, I’ve finally made the transition to a paid domain of my own.

This inaugural posting is here to assure you that all the contents from my old blog at ‘Not Yet Published’ have been successfully transferred across to their new home, and that you can expect more of the same in the days, weeks and months to come! So hang around and check things out, and all in good time, I’ll start posting more and more about the people, places, pieces and events that have shaped and influenced our lives…throughout history. 🙂

 

Antique Gentleman’s Writing Slope. Ca. 1880.

Ever since I was a child, almost without exception, one type of antique has drawn my attention more than any other: Writing boxes. Also called writing slopes, lap-desks, box-desks and countless other things. This is the latest one which I found at the local flea market:

It’s not too shabby, but it ain’t fantastic, either. But I do like it, nonetheless! What we have here is a beautiful late Victorian (ca. 1880) gentleman’s writing slope. The plaque on top underneath the carry-handle says:

“~S. Neaverson, 1886.~”

Although this gives us a glimpse into the box’s history, there’s no way of knowing if 1886 is the date of manufacture (which it almost certainly isn’t); it’s merely the date of purchase.

Most boxes of this kind that I find are in HORRENDOUS condition with wildly inflated prices! On the same day I picked this up, I saw another one on sale for $400 and in nowhere near as nice a condition as this…some people and their money…

The deciding factor in me buying this box was the fact that it had its original glass inkwell still intact. Often, these glass inkwells go missing and you never find another one. People pinch them and reuse them and you never see them again. Keys going missing is a minor inconvenience. A missing inkwell is a pain in the ass.

I am rather proud to say that I cut and filed my own key for the lock in this box. This box had a warded lever-lock, which is a bit more complicated than a straightforward lever key, but I got there in the end.

A warded lever lock is one which has a sprung lever for the key-bit to press against, to push the bolt to lock or unlock. Filing a key for this is a matter of getting the key-bit to the right dimensions and then throwing the bolt. Easy enough if it’s a one-lever lock. If it’s a two-lever or three, four, or even five, or even EIGHT lever lock, then the challenges mount, as you have to cut new grooves into the key for each lever. As this box had a simple one-lever lock, it was easy.

But this box also had a warded lock. This means that there’s an obstruction inside the lock (a ward) which the key has to bypass BEFORE it gets to the lever. It’s an added security feature. Again, wards can be as complicated or as simple as you like. In this case, I was lucky. It was a one-ward, one-lever lock. So all I had to do was file one bit to the right size, and then cut in a groove at the head of the key, so that there was a gap to bypass the ward.

It took a couple of tries and I got very sore fingers afterwards, but I got there in the end!

The box fitted out with original and period accessories. The unsharpened, unused pencil reads:

“H.B. J.H. Jackson’s Drawing Pencil. Prize Medal. London & Paris”.

Underneath that is an ivory page-turner. An underneath that is a sterling silver dip-pen marked: “S. Mordan & Co. Sterling”.

The box, fully opened. There’s a lot of storage-space underneath the two writing-leaves which are both in excellent condition.

The hand-filed key which I cut for the lock. The gap underneath the barrel is to bypass the ward in the ‘warded’ part of the ‘warded-lever’ lock. And the square bit underneath the gap is to operate the spring-lever in the lever-part of the ‘warded-lever’ lock.

I think it’s the first key I’ve cut for a lock with more than one complication to overcome in opening it!

Still, for something that’s 130-odd years old, it’s nice to see this box in such great condition. Once I get a brass keyhole-plate to neaten up the front of the box, it’ll all be complete.