A price on one’s head
Having finally secured some decorations for the dining-room wall, Roger Field wonders whether Borneo’s “ancestor skulls” might make more of a talking point than trophy antlers
In last month’s column I was howling in indignation at yet again finding myself the frustrated underbidder, this time at Bonhams on a massive German, 16th-century, double-handed sword that would have added serious tone to my dining room and an appropriate sense of jeopardy to dinner parties. Well, this month it is all change and I have to confess to a major “Oops!” With no more specialist London arms and armour auctions scheduled until the winter I was so determined not to be thwarted again that, at Thomas Del Mar’s 28 June sale, I mutated in a few raises of my finger from frustrated chief bridesmaid to multiple bigamist as I slunk home with not one but three fine swords. Things weren’t meant to go down quite like that but they did. That’s the fun and the ever-present danger of an auction.
First, I did my research: essential to avoid making a prat – as against a bankrupt – of oneself. Del Mar has been selling off the “Property of a European Prince” for the past few years: a massive armoury that, if it has not necessarily flooded the market, has kept collectors’ appetites sated and resulted in if not bargains then prices that are unlikely to be seen again – until the next castle or museum sell off. And Del Mar’s June sale, rumour had it, was the last of the prince’s collection: some new-to-market pieces and the balance, the unloved “unsolds” from previous auctions. As I have remarked before when there is, for example, only one good(ish) 16th-century burgonet (a type of, often light cavalry, open-faced helmet) in the catalogue, bidding will tend to be keen as these genuinely old items are seen ever less frequently at auction. However, when there are 16 – which has been pretty much the situation these past couple of years – buyers can get choosy; chasing the very best ever upwards and leaving others, unless they are “no brainer” cheap. Until the once seemingly endless supply of princely swords and armour runs out, that is. As it was about to.
The catalogue thumped onto my mat with its selection of mouth-watering (to a crazed arms and armour collector) items, many at “come hither” estimates set significantly below what they had failed to sell for first time round.
First out of the portcullis came the prince’s unsold swords. My first target had a genuine, early 1500s, “double hander”, fighting blade, albeit a good foot shorter than the German semi-ceremonial one I had
The indigenous Dayak tribe hung the real human skulls of fallen enemies, suitably decorated, in their huts
underbid on the month before; that huge beast had once been carried by a musclebound bodyguard who must have been into serious steroid noshing, or the 16th century equivalent, just to have carried it, let alone wield it. “Hilt 19th century,” said the catalogue. “Probably Spanish. Hilt later than the blade, of course, but still probably much earlier than that,” said my man in the know. “Go for it!” With a still bright red material covering on the handle and painted a gaudy, but “period”, gold – meaning it would add a riot of decadent colour to my still-naked stretch of dining-room wall – this probably also ended its days being carried by a bodyguard; albeit one who would have been easily able to salami-slice anyone who meant his boss harm with this lethal and still sharp bit of kit. Excited now, I pointed out the nicks in the blade, obviously caused by the sword edge once smashing into another sword edge. “Ignore those,” said my expert. “As likely to have been some idiot like you fighting with it after dinner as genuine battle scars.” First time out in 2015 it had a bottom estimate £1,500, its own page in the catalogue and failed to garner a bid at £1,400. Bottom estimate (and probable reserve) was now £1,100 and it shared the page with four others. The gavel banged at £1,300. “Clever buy,” whispered one dealer. “At that price and with that provenance you can’t go wrong. Although I’d lose that bit of old curtain on the handle and get rid of the gold.”
Interestingly, a 19th-century copy of a massive two-hander sold for a mid-estimate £1,600 a few lots later, £300 more than my “semi-original”. Weird. Although I suppose it was a cheap way of filling a large bit of wall and half the price of a genuine one.
I then succeeded with another princely “unsold”: a composite (but this time all from the same period) early-17th-century Swiss sabre with a fabulous and very “strong” roaring lion’s head pommel and a really meaty, signed by a famous maker, limb-removing blade. European, as against Eastern, scimitars this early are pretty unusual, which further added to its appeal.
However, the hilt is loose, the copper binding awry and it needs fixing back together. Even so, the
“grab me” £500 to £700 estimate was just too much of a steal and I had to go to £900 to get it. But still, for something this unusual and old? It is the going rate for a goodish British Army issue 1796 Pattern Heavy Cavalry Trooper’s sword – fairly common and 150 years younger. As to my third and “best” sword, you’ll have to wait until next month…
Next, it was the turn of the prince’s unsold helmets, breastplates and bits of armour. My plan was simple: even at these now much lower mid-estimates, and some even at top estimates, it was a no-brainer to buy a bit of this stuff and stick it away before re-rereleasing it onto a by now armour-hungry market, the profits helping fund the bits I kept. “Simple!” So simple that everyone had the same idea. A (very) heavy sapper’s burgonet – a footballer could have headed a small cannon ball with this brute and suffered no further neurological damage – complete and of elegant shape but of lowlier social status (sorry all you sappers) to a cavalryman’s helmet that had not even
It would add a riot of decadent colour to my still-naked stretch of dining-room wall
elicited a raised finger at an opening offer price of £1,400 in 2015, soared to an eyewatering £2,800 – far more than all but the very best of the prince’s many fine burgonets had fetched over the past few years. How do you explain that? I can’t, except to say that that is auctions for you. The “unsold” 16thcentury “black and white” breastplates with bottom estimates of £1,100 – at which price I was going to buy and store – soared up to and over their top £1,400/£1,700 estimates. I came home armourless.
Before leaving ancient weapons, back at Bonhams on 17 May there was a rare cased, 20-bore Forsyth & Co ‘Roller Primer’ double-barrelled sporting gun, dated 1821, estimated at £12,000 to £15,000. Although in fine condition the importance of this piece is that it is an early “transition” gun, from flintlock to percussion, and it is those roller primers – these were original, many are fake – that makes it so special. The “scent bottle” (study the photograph as this is complicated otherwise) on the side of the action rotates and, as it does so, it picks up a “pill” of fulminate of mercury, which is then deposited into the breach area. The pin at the top of the scent bottle is then hit by the hammer, the mercury ignites and bang. Percussion when it arrived soon after was far simpler and more effective, making these fascinating guns redundant. It blasted its high hopes to sell for £23,000. As did a superb pair of very short barrelled, cased flintlock “travelling” or “overcoat” – for blinking obvious reasons – pistols in “as new” condition; the chequering on the butts still as sharp as the day they were made at Parker of London circa 1815-20. “Exceptional” always commands a premium and these little beauties sold for a double top estimate £10,000.
And so to modern weaponry. Only Summers Place Auctions (13 June) could sell an item that, I suppose, could be best
described as “Of Kim Jong-un” interest (the smiling, folliclely inventive president of the worker’s paradise of north Korea): a rare (thank God!) Lavochkin V-760 missile “with dummy nuclear warhead”. Why bother, dear President Kim, with all that tedious nuclear testing when a bottom estimate £8,000 would have bought you a well-tried Russian nuke ready for refuelling and firing – just add your warhead.
And, ever eager to provide the discerning buyer with a “from cradle to grave” experience, the auctioneer also had the end result of all that nuclear testing in the same sale: Dayak (indigenous tribes of Borneo) “ancestor skulls”. Real human skulls of fallen enemies, suitably decorated for hanging in their huts and rather more of a talking point than the stag’s head or fox mask trophies displayed by we Europeans. An under £1,000 low estimate £800 would have bought you a pretty plain “starter” skull – perhaps this guy did not put up much of a fight? While for a top estimate £3,000 you could have brought home the full Monty: a highly decorated number that those long-dead Dayaks would doubtless have admired and discussed while sipping a fine vintage after dinner port – or Borneo hallucogenic equivalent.
Finally, a reminder of very different September days, not so long ago, at Cheffins on 6 July: September 1941 and the still desperate war with Germany. A large, action-packed oil painting by contemporary artist Simon Smith entitledcombat over the Pas de Calais, Johnnie Johnson’s Spitfire Vb, 21st September 1941, and the Spitfires of 616 Squadron. It doubled its top estimate to sell for a well-deserved £2,000: a painting our Brexit ministers and their European counterparts ought, perhaps, to
take a moment out to reflect on.