THE SALT CELLAR

In the old days when costume determined the gentle from the simple, when demarcations of rank were definitely pronounced, when men wore feathers in their hats and swords at their sides, when retainers and menials sat at the same board with their lord and lady, the customs of the table were not our customs. It was only in Elizabeth’s day, when dinner was served at a long table, that the oaken floor replaced rushes. The diners threw bones to the dogs, and although sweet sounds came from the musician’s gallery, the scene one may recall is one rather of barbaric splendour than of luxurious refinement. To him who loves to quicken the dry bones of collecting into something pulsating with life, the salt cellar provides a delight which is not easily equalled. It was an honoured guest at every feast. It was the social thermometer which marked the exact degree of rank of the sitters. Persons of distinction sat above the salt, and between it and the head of the table. Those who sat below the salt were dependents and inferior guests.

If only these salt cellars reproduced as illustrations could give tongue to the secrets they caught in whisper from the upper end of the table before the withdrawing chamber, prototype of our modern drawing-room, became a necessity! If walls had ears, and if the salt cellars of Tudor England or of the stormy days of the Stuarts could have been fitted with American gramophone wax cylinders, the by-ways of secret history would be less tangled to the historian.

Had this been the case, modern millionaires would have been in competition with one another to secure precious records, as it is only a rich man who can afford to gather together a representative collection of old salt cellars. But for all that, the collector with small means, who is less ambitious, may obtain specimens that are of exceptional interest, and in his quest he may, even in these days when collectors scour Europe, come across an example which may be antique.

As may be imagined, these “salts” are very varied in character. They may be of silver, of earthenware, or of ivory. They may be of simple form with little to distinguish them artistically, or, on the other hand, of such intricate design and rare workmanship as to make them superb examples of the art of the jeweller or silversmith.

Take, for instance, the salt cellar sold at Christie’s in 1902 for £3,000. It was only 75/8 inches in height. It is silver-gilt, bearing the London hall-mark for 1577, and the maker’s mark, a hooded falcon, probably the work of Thomas Bampton, of the “Falcon.” The receptacle for the salt is of rock crystal, and the base stands upon claw feet, which are of crystal. The cover is square, having a circular dome top, above which stands a delicately modelled figure of a cherub as an apex.

A standing salt of the time of James I, with the London hall-mark for 1613, was sold at Christie’s in 1903 for £1,150. The height of this is 11³/8 inches, and beyond its special value on account of its age and rarity, its form is not possessed of greater elegance than many a lowly pepper caster whose presence it would scorn on the same board.

From the rare Henri II majolica of the sixteenth century to the humble trencher salt, the range of salt cellars is a comprehensive one. The most sumptuous examples, set in a magnificence of chased design exhibiting the finest craftsmanship of the goldsmith and silversmith, command high prices on account of their rarity, and old salts of exceptional character place their collecting in the hands of the elect whose cabinets are known all over the world. But there are many lesser examples of the silversmith’s work, and it is not yet too late to acquire pieces suggestive of days when at the table “the jest was crowned at the upper end and the lower half made echo.”

The City Companies possess many fine examples, and among the college plate at Oxford and Cambridge there are many unequalled specimens of the high-standing old salts. There is the silver-gilt plain salt presented by Roger Dunster to the Clothworkers’ Company in 1641, and another a drum-shaped salt, silver-gilt, the “Guift of Daniel Waldo, Clothworker, Esquire, an^o 1660.” Then there is the circular salt and cover, 22 inches high, of the Goldsmiths’ Company, with the date letter of the year 1601, which was “the guift of Richard Rogers, Comptroller of His Maj^ties Mynt” ... “desiring the same may bee used at their solemne meetings and to bee remembered as a good benefactor, anno dⁿⁱ 1632.” This salt has a body of glass, round which are two silver-gilt collars in chased and repoussÉ work. The Goldsmiths’ Company have other salts, notably one the “Gift of Thomas Seymour” in 1693. The Haberdashers’ Company have a circular salt the gift of Sir Hugh Hammersley in 1636. The Innholders’ Company have two circular salts the gift of John Wetterworth in 1626, and a circular salt, silver-gilt, 16 inches high, with a dome raised on four scrolls, terminated by an obelisk, the gift of Anne, widow of John Sweete, 1635. The Ironmongers’ Company have two fine silver salts, parcel gilt, shaped like hour-glasses, having six-foiled sides, in three of which is foliage engraved. The date of one is 1518 and of the other 1522. The Skinners’ Company have a silver-gilt octagonal salt 9 inches high, the gift of Ben Albin, a member, in 1676. The Mercers’ Company salts we are enabled to illustrate by courteous permission. The Vintners’ Company have a fine silver-gilt salt, the gift of John Powel, Master of the Company, in 1702. It is like a square casket in form, with panels richly decorated in bold relief with figures, and the cover surmounted by an urn upon which stands a female figure.

Some rare examples are in the possession of corporate bodies. There is the silver-gilt salt and cover, 15¹/4 inches high, belonging to the Corporation of Norwich. This is, as the inscription indicates, “The Gyfte of Petar Reade Esqviar.” The plate marks are a roman capital letter D, the arms of Norwich, and a cross mound within a lozenge. It was made at Norwich, and its date is not later than 1568, for Peter Reade died in that year.

Then there is the wonderful Ashburnham salt cellar and cover of the time of Henry VII, the earliest standing salt, 12¹/2 inches high, bearing the London hall-mark of the year 1508, and the maker’s mark, a rising sun. This was bought by Messrs. Crichton Brothers for £5,600.

Later salt cellars, while still being collectors’ pieces, depart from the older form when “below the salt” had no meaning. The old silver salt cellars of Queen Anne and Georgian days are another story. The elegance of form and the quaint reticence of design make them desirable acquisitions for any modern dining-table.

During the past twenty years, when the furniture of Chippendale and of Sheraton has been collected with such avidity to refurnish old homes and to give age to modern mansions, the demand for old silver accessories of the table has been equally great. In consequence, spurious silver of later date, with the old hall-marks cunningly inserted, has appeared in great quantities. As a warning to the collector of “old salts,” it cannot too strongly be urged that in his earliest flights he should consult a friend who has passed through the same stages before him. The same advice is, unfortunately, necessary in connection with collecting old china and old furniture. The literature of these two subjects is more ready to hand, and there are many popular handbooks designed to set the feet of the novice in collecting on the right path. In silver collecting there is always a sure road. In furniture or in china there is no puissant company of furniture experts or china moralists. The buyer may be advised to use his common sense and demand that the dealer put on the invoice the exact description of the goods he is selling. If after expert advice the purchaser finds he has been deceived, he has his remedy in a court of law. But with silver, there are the hall-marks determined by law for the protection of the public. The Goldsmiths’ Company exist to safeguard the public against fraud, and their honourable traditions extend, as we have seen, over four hundred years. If any buyer has any doubt as to the London marks or the provincial marks on a piece of silver he has purchased, it is easy to establish their authenticity. If, for instance, the mark is a London one, the Goldsmiths’ Company would obviously be pleased to discover the identity of any one counterfeiting their ancient marks. They have statutory powers to inflict fines on persons convicted of such malpractices, and in the public interest they would naturally prosecute inquiries as to how false marks came to be placed on silver purporting to be assayed by an old and honourable company.

You may search the chronological tables of the statutes through and through, and you will find nothing relative to punishments specially laid down to meet the case of fabricators of old furniture or old china, but in regard to forging old silver marks there are a multitude of protective measures. There is reform needed in the laws relating to silver, and urgently needed. We offer this suggestion to some Member of Parliament bursting to distinguish himself. It was urgently recommended by the Committee of 1856, and a Bill was prepared by the Commissioners of Inland Revenue in 1857, but nothing came of it. The Select Committee of the House of Commons, again, in 1879 made further recommendations, but no restrictive measure has ever been laid before Parliament. “There is much to say for the old demand of the Goldsmiths’ Company for further powers of enforcing the law than the mere right to sue for penalties. Sales by auction now take place with practical impunity, no matter how spurious and debased the goods may be, and there is evidence and to spare to show that the general sense of the trade and the public is in favour of the preservations of the old guarantee.”

The study of salt cellars suggests a flying word on the salt spoon. To quote from an essay by Addison, dated 1711, the Spectator says, in an account he gives of dining with a fine lady: “In the midst of these my Musings she desires me to reach her a little Salt upon the point of my Knife, which I did in such Trepidation and hurry of Obedience, that I let it drop by the way, at which she immediately startled and said it fell towards her. Upon this I looked very blank; and, observing the Concern of the whole Table, began to consider myself with some confusion, as a person that had brought some Disaster upon the Family.” This is a pretty picture of eighteenth century “high life.” The superstition concerning the spilling of salt is still with us, but helping salt with a knife is no longer in fashion in “polite society.”

In general salt cellars may be classified as follows, commencing with the Standing Salt, with its determination of rank as to those who sat above the salt and those who sat below it:—

The illustrations of the various types of salt cellars should be sufficient to indicate to the reader the great field which is open to him. The examples range from the rarer earlier periods to the beginning of the nineteenth century. The descriptions given of the successive stages in fashion and in design should stimulate the interest of the student in regard to the undercurrents of evolution progressive, and often retrogressive, through three centuries of the silversmith’s art.

The standing salt, in hour-glass form, of the Gothic period at Christ’s College, Cambridge, illustrated (page 143), is in date about 1500. Its height is 9¹/4 inches. It belongs to that great period of Henry VII. It is contemporary with the magnificent chapel in Westminster Abbey. It has survived the spoliation of the days of Henry VIII. Its perfect symmetry, its delicate ornament, its exquisite grace delight the eye. There is nothing redundant, nothing that calls for amendment. It stands as a perfect creation of the English silversmith. The unwritten, and never to be written, history of such a piece is not the least which appeals to us nowadays. We may revere the exquisite craft of the designer. But there is a tribute we owe to the sagacious custodians who, possibly in fear of death, preserved this for posterity. Its hiding-places, its narrow escapes, its glorious emerging into the light of day, to occupy a niche, almost sacred, in modern regard, these are happenings that cannot be chronicled. As an historic relic, a page remaining from the old history of these realms, such an example claims adoration.

A fine bell salt is illustrated (page 147). It is on three ball feet. It has the London mark, the letter D in Lombardic capitals, for 1601. It is decorated in upright panels, with flat chasing with floral design of roses. It is constructed in compartments for salt and spices and pepper. These bell salts belong to the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century; they are mostly on three feet. At the Dunn-Gardner sale, in 1902, £600 was paid for a specimen. They stand, in point of time, between the hour-glass form and the steeple salts. Few appear to have been made, or, at any rate, few are now in existence, and in consequence they bring great prices on account of their rarity.

The ring at the top is noticeable, mainly as the prototype of the ring-handle of cruets, with the same contents now in use three hundred years afterwards. And the ball foot, peculiar to the silversmith as something especially applicable to his technique is still retained in silver cruets of to-day.

The circular Stuart salt cellar comes straight from the days of Charles I. It has the date letter for 1638. See Marks illustrated page 365. This salt stood on the Mercers’ Company table in 1642—eventful year, when Charles was misguided enough to go in person to the House of Commons with his guards to arrest the five members. This was the signal for the Civil War. The salt cellar we now see was hurriedly put in the vaults of the Mercers’ Company. The trained-bands of London were up. The city declared for the Parliament, and Charles raised his standard at Nottingham. John Dethick, the donor, may have fought in the civic cause. Here is the salt he gave to his Company in those stirring days, an illustration of which we are enabled to produce by the courtesy of the Mercers’ Company. It has three handles with scroll ends. It is an important piece. It is silver-gilt, and engraved with the arms of the Mercers’ Company and the arms and crest of John Dethick.

The octagonal salt illustrated (p. 155) shows the style of Charles II. It has four handles with scroll ends. These handles were for supporting a napkin which was placed around the salt. It is of the year 1679, and the marks are illustrated on page 357. It is inscribed, “Ex dono henrici Sumner M^r.” This is known as the Sumner Salt, and Henry Sumner, the donor, was Master of the Mercers’ Company at that date. Its diameter is 9¹/2 inches and its greatest height is 8³/8 inches. This is the year of the Habeas Corpus Act. This Act defines the liberties of the subject. All prisoners except those charged with felony or treason can demand that they be brought before a judge to test the validity of their detention. All persons charged with felony or treason must be tried at the next sessions or else admitted to bail, or, failing this, be discharged. No person could be recommitted for the same offence and no person imprisoned beyond the sea. Heavy penalties were imposed on those who violated this Act.