The Family Collection of the late Countess Mountbatten of Burma
The Family Collection of the late Countess Mountbatten of Burma
Auction Closed
March 24, 08:41 PM GMT
Estimate
400 - 600 GBP
Lot Details
Description
Two cut-steel chatelaines
English circa 1860-1875
the first with horseshoe head, belt-clip and four chains with further chains and several attachments including a pair of scissors, the blades etched 'J.A. GORE,' small propelling pencil, the ivory body stamped 'S. MORDAN & Co.,' a circular tape measure, a pen knife, a rectangular pill box, &c.; the second with pierced scroll-pattern head, ten chains fitted with the following implements, including: a thimble bucket (with thimble), a sixpence, a tape measure, a pen knife, a folding perfume bottle corkscrew and hook, a buoy-shaped propelling pencil, a needle case, a pair of scissors and a pin wheel; together with an English mid-18th century gilt-metal chatelaine with head and five later chains, fitted with two acorn-shaped boxes, a scissors case, a needle case and a bodkin case, richly decorated with cherubs' masks, putti and stylised foliage
3
'J.A. GORE' refers to the cutler James Ambrose Gore (1837-1876) who succeeded about 1866 to the business of Lister, Son & Co., manufacturing cutlers and surgical instrument makers of Haymarket, Norwich.
Just before Christmas 1838, fashion-conscious readers of The Dublin Evening Mail must have been intrigued to read that the latest Parisian novelty was the chatelaine. At the time they had been almost obsolete for the best part of forty years. Those that survived were sufficiently distinctive, even exotic to be the perfect accessory for elegantly attired women, influenced as they and their dressmakers were by the prevailing interest in historicism.
For adventurous and imaginative participants at fancy dress balls, which had grown in popularity since the 1820s, the scope for studying historical costumes was limitless. In 1840 Dresses and Decorations of the Middle Ages, from the Seventh to the Seventeenth Centuries by the antiquary Henry Shaw (1800-1873) began to appear. To all but a few scholars, what he revealed not only came as a revelation but also inspired the growing popularity for costume balls. Queen Victoria gave several, including one in 1845 whose guests were invited to dress as their great grandparents had in the middle of the 18th century.
Second-hand dealers like Abraham Joseph of Regent Street were quick to advertise 'ANCIENT BROCADED SILK and SATIN DRESSES, fine old guipure, cardinal, point, and Brussels lace; antique fans, gold and gilt chased watches, chatelaines, Turkish swords, &c.' as suitable to wear at such an event. (The Morning Post, London, Friday, 9 May 1845, p. 1e).
Soon, a number of enterprising tradesmen began to manufacture new chatelaines and their accessories for an expanding, many in highly polished steel. One was Joseph Banks Durham (1816-1899), 'Cutler to H.R.H. Prince Albert.' Another was Walter Thornhill (1806-1887), whose business was established in 1734. Both were praised for their chatelaines and other cutlery at the Great Exhibition of 1851. Queen Victoria's own Thornhill steel chatelaine, which she purchased in January 1850 for £21, is preserved in the Royal Collection.
The fads and fancies of passing fashions, however, are easy targets for the mocking satirist. In two famous Punch cartoons of 1849, the English illustrator John Leech (1817-1864) made fun of the new enthusiasm for chatelaines. In one he depicted a proud young husband standing by his wife from whose waist hangs an enormous chatelaine equipped with a broom, a carving knife and fork, a kettle, a chamber candlestick, &c. 'Look, Ma' dear,' says the young woman to her mother, 'see what a love of a chatelaine Edward has given me.'
And so, over the next fifty years, the chatelaine, at first a plaything for the wealthy became widely accepted to all but the poorest classes. Eventually the old-fashioned charm of the chatelaine ran its course. The woman's column in a 1911 edition of The Weekly Telegraph featured the finger chatelaine as a novel trinket. The writer had seen a couple of them, but 'they made an irritating jingle, which was distinctly trying to the nerves...'