A soldier at charms
Parade armour at Thomas Del Mar certainly brightened winter days for its new owner, even if it would do little more than deflect the dirty looks of the underbidder, says Roger Field
I HATE late winter. Disciplining myself to leave my desk in time to walk the dog before it is suddenly too dark. I failed again this evening, so it was torch in pocket to supplement the weak moonlight in case of emergencies, whilst praying that Freya didn’t scent a rabbit and disappear forever. Watching the days drop away on the calendar, already mourning the imminent end of the shooting season; that same wall calendar telling me that the fishing season is still months away. A sporting black hole for a non-horseman, although magical months for those who are.
It was not always so. Before it got to the point that the price of four plates of chips for the family high on the slopes could pay half that month’s mortgage, February/ March meant skiing. It then came to mean an annual trip to the Caribbean. As most of my family thinks that fishing is like watching paint dry I bought a quarter share in some land in Tobago – as one does – with chums, safe in the knowledge that trips to the Carib can be surprisingly affordable when you only have yourself to entertain. Trouble was, my fellow owners enjoyed deep-sea fishing whereas I wanted to stalk the flats for tarpon and bonefish and whatever else might take a fly.
First time out on an offshore gin palace I ‘caught’ a blue marlin; the pinnacle of prey out there. Cue high fives and much back slapping. Except that, even as I was grinding away in the torrid heat, I knew I hadn’t caught anything. The skipper rigged the rods, took us to the fish, set up the bait and controlled the trawl speed and depths. When the fish hit his number two took the strike, setting the hook as I was strapped into the fighting chair. All I did was winch it in, the least interesting bit about fishing with a powerful rod and near unbreakable line. When I catch a fish, be it trout or tarpon, I do everything, except tie the fly. That is then, unequivocally, my fish. Which that marlin never was. And so, in time, I sold my share as I often had no one to fish with. A sad decision bolstered by a horrified local fisherman who, spotting me wading miles of empty flats on my own, told me that this was one way to die. Sharks and even caimans sometimes patrolled the flats, and for one reason only. If anything went wrong, alone, I could be supper. And so it is that the back end of winter spells a gaping hole in my sporting calendar. Just as bad, my other, more sedentary, sport of stalking the arms and armour auctions also takes a break during these dull months.
All the big specialist arms and armour sales, the auctions that get me salivating
This is 16thcentury bling on steroids. All about show, little to do with protection
in the hope of bringing home a trophy to add to my collection, are over by mid/ late December and don’t come alive again until early summer. Thank God for Holts on 21/22 March but, as those who follow this column will know, I am now fully ‘gunned up’, although a chum is periodically floating a redundant William Evans sidelock over my nose and, like a hungry trout, I twitch every time he does so. Watch this space… To add to my general gloom (England are being thrashed again at cricket as I write), the end of 2021 left me frustrated in the auctions yet again.
Pride of place, although I was never even a contender, went to the exceptional, super-rare, late-16th-century, north German ‘parade cuirass’ (breast and back plate) Thomas Del Mar sold on 8 December. Unlike most ‘parade armour’ – proper defensive steel but decorated to a far higher standard than fighting armour – this has a steel frame on to which highly ornate, embossed, sheets of gilt brass were attached. This is 16th-century bling on steroids. All about show and little to do with protection; as much high renaissance ‘art’ as ‘armour’. Estimated at a conservative £20,000 to £30,000 – but difficult to value given it is either, or neither, pure art or armour – bidding roared up to £60,000 and then stalled. This is when top auctioneers earn their money. As the silence lengthened, Tom suggested a £1,000 increase to £61,000, instead of the £2,000 per bid it had been ripping along at. Accepted. He took it, at £1,000 a bid, up to the mid £70,000s, when he suddenly accelerated it to £2,000 a bid once again. Just why the under bidder stopped at £60,000 when they were obviously prepared to go very much higher, I have no idea. Each was doubtless playing mind games with the other bidder, each trying to psych out the other. What I can report is that Tom egged them on until the hammer struck at a meaty £86,000. Then again, perhaps not unduly expensive for ‘princely’ quality, high renaissance ‘art’?
However, he did have a couple of ‘Blues’ (Royal Horse Guards) swords I did want as, aeons ago, I was a Blue and Royal myself. They carried low, ‘come hither’ estimates. I doubted I stood any chance but, you never know, so it was, “Fingers on buzzers” (aka my computer ‘Bid’ button). First up was a rare, late-17th-century ‘Trooper’s Sword of the Earl of Oxford’s Regiment of Horse’ (the Blues, because of their ‘Oxford Blue’ jackets). The Regiment was very small back then, so few of these swords were ever made and even fewer have survived. It looked as if it had been through the wars, literally, but was complete; a proper fighting sword. Inevitably, it blasted past its top £600 estimate before I even managed to press ‘Bid’, going on to sell for £1,300. Next up was a handsome, brass-hilted, early-19th-century Blues trooper’s sword, the sort that would have been carried at Waterloo, again with a low estimate of £300 to £400. This time I did manage to bid £450 before it ran away to £900. A shame…
Before leaving Tom, something for the horse lovers among you. There is a
Each was doubtless playing mind games with the other bidder, each trying to psych out the other
sub-genre in publishing that is known in the industry as ‘Beyond the veil’: fiction or non-fiction tales of gorgeous princesses trapped by wicked sultans in their stifling harems, rescued by lusty young princes who sweep in on horseback (not on smelly camels) to save them: SETTLE DOWN IN THE CHEAP SEATS!! And here was what said rescuer would have used: a North African (Morocco or Algeria), 19thcentury, high wooden saddle and highly ornate, embroidered with silver wire leather harness, complete with typical large iron stirrups and long, evilly pointed, ‘prick’ spurs. Estimated at £600 to £800, they fetched £4,000. Quite a talking point at the Boxing Day meet… And, to prove just how nasty those ‘Arab’ prick spurs are, you could have bought a pair sharp enough to make your own steed’s eyeballs cross just looking at them for a just over bottom estimate £60.
Holts had an immensely successful sale on 13/14 December; 85% sold on the day and much of the rest in after sales. In the shotgun section, only two sidelocks and two boxlocks were left unsold. Estimated at £5,000 to £7,000 was an exceptionally rare, .303 bolt-action sniper rifle, model Bailey’s Sharpshooters No 1 MKIII* with accessories, manufactured in 1916, with a cut-away ‘sporter’ fore-stock. Accessories included a tripod, telescopic sight, fourdraw telescope signed J Purdey & Sons, a trench periscope and other bits. This precision killer belonged to Lt NW Methven, MC, one of 24 members of ‘Abe’ Bailey’s South African Sharpshooters and one of only six to survive the war. Methven insisted on having the barrel replaced after every 500 rounds fired. He replaced it four times. After the war the Army bean counters demanded its return but, said Methven, Bailey had bought their rifles so he refused. Not a man to argue with… It was ‘a once in a lifetime’ opportunity, said Holts, so little surprise a sniper rifle collector lashed out £13,000 to take it home.
From the classic to the high tech: a bottom estimate £400 would have bought you a Yukon Advanced Optics Sentinel 2.5x50 night vision telescopic scope with a fitted Uniquefire infrared flashlight with which to control Thumper and his everhungry gang. A bit of advice here when inspecting similar modern gizmos at auction: do so in the dark so you can check for yourself it works perfectly.
Or, for something that would look truly splendid in its fitted box on your desk, but would be ludicrous were you to try to use it in anger, a highly decorated, made in Liège circa 1845, presentation 120bore percussion 18-barrelled pepperbox revolver, model ‘Marriette’s Patent’. Then again, back in the day, perhaps perfect
for emphasising a point with the neighbour about the reasonable height for a Leylandii hedge.
With global warming rarely off the news, a barometer might be the new ‘must have’, at least for those determined to bore fellow guests at dinner parties. Charles Miller sold a couple on 2 November, both by Negretti & Zambra; best-quality makers and both as used by the RNLI. First up was a small, round, brass ship’s bulkhead barometer, circa 1900, which fetched just short of top estimate £220. Next was a large, oak cased, ‘Admiral Fitzroy’s Storm Barometer’, as used in Lifeboat Stations. It beat its top estimate £1,500 to sell for £1,700. Batten down the hatches, storms be a comin…