Under the hammer
IF you’ve ever wondered why the dodo became famously extinct, look no further than Summers Place Auctions on 15 November. Being offered to bidders is what is proudly described as the “First almost complete skeleton to come up for sale in nearly 100 years and the first to ever be sold at auction”. Students of this bizarrelooking bird will know that there is only one complete skeleton – meaning all the bones come from one dodo, as against having been put together from different skeletons – in existence and that is in Mauritius, where they presumably lived in harmony with nature until their unfortunate introduction to Dutch sailors in 1598. Within 70 years it was adios (forgive the mixed metaphor) to the poor old dodo, which, despite boasting the ever-agile pigeon as its closest relative, missed out on that most useful attribute of being a bird: the ability to fly. This particular example is exceptionally rare in being 95% complete (albeit composite) and, given the auctioneers believe that it is highly unlikely, if not impossible – the Mauritius government prohibit the export of dodo bones – that another one will ever come onto the market, they are hoping it will fetch “high six figures”.
Still at Summers Place, and cracking dodo jokes as fast as I can, I think I’d have been as dead as the proverbial had I returned home with one of their two splendid AT-3 Sagger missile glass-topped “occasional” tables, which were sold at the 7 June auction. Now, “As any fule kno”, at least any “fule” British tank commander who once peered in apprehension across the Iron Curtain, the Sagger was a line of sight, wire-guided, anti-tank missile. Meaning it was designed to blow holes in my Chieftain tank and reduce me and my crew to consommé. So, what better, says I, than to own a table made of something that would once have liquidised you? Although, why it should be described as an “occasional” table is a bit of a puzzle as such an object sounds positively twee. Take it from me, there is nothing twee about one of these killers, especially if it was heading in your direction. They were estimated at £1,500-£2,500 and each fetched £1,800.
From the vicious to the ridiculously cuddly: what is it about Peter Rabbit and Beatrix Potter? In a month that saw the Royal Mail issue four Potter stamps, Bloomsbury Auctions held a specialist Potter sale on 28 July. Collector wisdom has it that Beatrix Potter books take us – barring the incorrigible – back to our cuddly, warm childhoods: an idealistic and secure world we once inhabited before we discovered
air rifles, tax and what the fall in the pound has just done to our holiday spending money. And you think I’m joking? This really is apparently one reason why so many people collect
Potter: it makes them feel good and that makes it a favourite for those starting a book collection. Auctioneers deem it pretty much recession- and, therefore, bullet-proof (unlike some of those pesky rabbits). That’s the easy bit. Things then, like everything to do with collecting, get very technical. Take a first edition of The Tale of Tom Kitten in “very good” condition. It doubled its top estimate, £350, to sell for £700. A second Tom Kitten, in not such fine condition but complete with its original “glassine” dust jacket, was estimated at £1,500-£2,000 and sold for £1,300. Why the difference? Well, not only does a dust jacket always add to the value of a book but these original glassine Potter dust jackets were horribly unattractive (sorry, Potter lovers) and were usually thrown away. That makes them extremely rare and thus desirable and valuable.
The Tale of Peter Rabbit was her first published book and the original private edition, of which only 250 copies were printed, was the simplest looking of all her creations: positively dowdy compared to those that came later. It is only apposite, therefore, that it was the absolute star of the show and reached its top, eye-watering estimate of £35,000.
One predator that would have chomped through Potter’s cast of cuddly characters is Mr Fox and, at George Kidner’s 21 July sale there was a boxed pair of
From tank-busting tables to the dodo, Roger Field finds that there’s a lot to be said for the grim reaper when it comes to making a killing at auction
silver-handled boot pulls modelled as running foxes, complete with ruby chip eyes. Unsurprisingly, these fine fellows fetched a top estimate £300. At the same auction there was one lot I wish I had pointed out to my daughter, who seems to spend nearly every weekend at a wedding and is, therefore, forever buying presents: a pair of silver candlesticks with elaborate foliate scroll decoration. Marked for Birmingham 1964, I fully accept these could not be accused of being large being a rather measly 7½ inches tall, but what other tasteful and useful gift these days can be bought for the princely sum of £70?
Listening to the cricket as I write this, I cannot help but feel that the intriguing linocut picture created (or should it be crafted?) by Edith Lawrence circa 1929 would enhance any sport-lover’s wall. Wacky and modernistic and looking quite unlike any cricket match I’ve ever watched, it nevertheless draws the eye and is imbued with an aura of tension and purpose. It seems that Lawrence’s family sold another cricket linocut in 2013 for a surprise £8,500, which prompted them to dig out yet more pictures. This sold at Tennants on 22 July. Estimated at £3,000-£5,000, and despite it being number 23/25 – so not even a complete “original” as such – it scored a match-winning £6,200. At the same sale was a rather delightful survivor of more trusting times: a silver dog collar, complete with its padlock (alright, they were not that trusting back then) and a bell. Surprisingly, perhaps, the address engraved on it was not that of a castle dweller who would not have been overly worried about dognappers but of an “A Shipston, 7 Second Avenue, Nottingham”. Nowadays, it would be a very plucky, or foolish, owner who took their pooch onto a city’s streets and parks parading a silver collar. I wonder if it was that not exactly grand address that resulted in it only hitting the bottom estimate £150. What price had it been
Blandings
Castle…?
Talking of dogs, “Pug-ugly” was how one mate of mine described a matched pair of six-pounder iron cannon at Thomas del Mar’s sale on 29 June. He was right, they were aggressive looking lumps, but lumps that were cast complete with a crown, maker’s name and dated 1880, making them far better looking than most iron cannon at auction. What is more they were mounted on attractive old naval gun carriages – probably worth well in excess of £500 alone. Estimated at a “come hither” £1,500-£2,500, I thought they would make for a far better alternative than the railing my wife wants made to put around a hole outside one of our subground floor windows. You can “run out” naval cannon and genuinely repel boarders, they will amuse your friends and, if the postman does insist on tripping over it and launching himself down said hole, I reckon you’ve got an excellent
argument with the insurers. You can do none of these things with a metal railing, however attractive. Inexplicably, this logical solution is gaining little traction at home. They sold for £3,400.
Easier to hide if needs be and much easier on the eye, Thomas del Mar also had a “fine pair of 120-bore Adams Model 1851 five-shot double-action percussion revolvers of presentation quality by EM Reilly and Co, Oxford Street, London” with Birmingham marks for 1870-72. These beauties came complete in their original mahogany and brass mounted case. With its crimson velvet interior and full set of accessories – bullet mould with identical decoration to the pistols, blued spru-cutter nickel powder-flask by Dixon & Sons, turn-screw and nipple-wrench each with ivory grip, oil bottle and gilt bullet tin with the maker’s name engraved on the lid – this would look magnificent left open on any office desk. It might also send a not so subliminal message about not arguing with the boss. It sold for £9,500, just under its £10,000 lower estimate.
Over at Holt’s on 30 June there was an extraordinary 32-bore percussion, single-shot “carbine” with elaborate silver mounts that are hallmarked for 1859. What makes this gun most probably unique is that the silver butt cap pulls out to turn what looks to be a pistol into a short rifle, hence “carbine”. What makes it even better is that the silver heel plate is beautifully engraved with a skeletal representation of Death holding a scythe, around which is the legend in ancient Greek that says: “All enemies faced are sent dead to Hades” and, above Death himself: “I win”. I wonder. Given that this remarkable gun was made eight years after Adams first got his patent for his five-shot pistol, I know which I would have wanted to have in my hand had it come to a shoot out. Perhaps the £5,500-£6,500 estimate was that bit too rich because it did not find a buyer on the day.