“Assume nothing” is my usual mantra when buying off ebay, but occasionally I still make assumptions that turn out to be completely wrong. On this occasion I thought I knew exactly what to expect from the auction photos – something similar to the 1830s sets from David Riches’ collection.
The brass compass and dividers had the same unornamented plain steel points and English-style long joint heads. Both the compass and pencil bow had the older style porte-crayon holders, while the ink bow and ruling pen insert were mostly brass with short steel tips and round adjustment screws instead of the 18th-century wing nuts. Even the ink feeder/pencil topper seemed to fit this era. Only the ruling pen with its block-mounted all-steel blades and ivory handle seemed possibly out of place, more suited to a slightly later student-quality set (an example of which can also be seen on David’s page above).
The instruments in the photos were in a state of disarray, the compass and dividers in each other’s spaces and on their sides, bows and inserts distributed in an attempt to make the set look vaguely complete. I knew that it was likely missing an extension bar and possibly another insert such as a dotting pen, as well as the original brass-handled ruling pen with pricker.
It seems that the seller – from the Malvern Hills district of Worcestershire, England – was oblivious to the existence of a lower tier, as this was not shown or mentioned in the listing. Obviously, I hoped that this might include some of the missing parts or signed instruments such a parallel rule or protractor scale that would identify its maker, even though such hopes usually come to nothing. Even so, the starting price of £15 was reasonable enough for me to take a punt, and I ended up getting the set for £16 plus postage.
However, upon arrival its contents confounded all my previous expectations. For starters there were the two main pieces – compass and dividers – that had been nonchalantly lying on their sides. On turning them over, I was confronted with something I had never seen before: Those finger wells! Their angular design looks almost Italian, or maybe 18th-century German – I genuinely have no idea.
It didn’t stop there. While the screw for the hairspring dividers has a threaded steel rod at its centre to engage with the movable steel divider leg, the equivalent adjustment screws on the pen insert and pen bow are all-brass. All three nuts have a slightly strange domed top, quite unlike the usual concave English pattern as seen on the now obviously out-of-place ruling pen. Furthermore, the tension for the ruling pens’ top blades is provided by a thin blued-steel spring, notched into the brass joint in an unusual way, again unlike the standard English pattern.
Other aspects of the instruments look quintessentially English. There is nothing untoward about the bows, except for the aforementioned pen and a slightly over-long porte-crayon tube that reminded me of the illustration from plate I of George Adams’ treatise (indeed, the thumbscrews seen in profile on the Adams plate have similarly domed tops).
The design of the compass inserts, and even the pencil topper ink feeder, are just what you might expect to find in a reasonable-quality Georgian case or etui.
When properly arranged in the case, the only oddity is that the space for the divider is designed for it to lie on its side with the adjustment screw facing up, as do the screws of the pens. This “screws-up” approach reminded me of early European sets, although the same is often true of English ones from the first half of the 19th century.
Moving on to the unseen lower tier, this time it did not disappoint. Its two velvet-lined compartments (the same deep purple-brown colour as the top layer, suggesting none of it has seen much sunlight) contained a full complement of accessories – protractor scale, bar parallel and sector – unfortunately not signed.
Also down there was what I first assumed to be a horn semi-circular protractor, but which on closer examination turned out to be made of celluloid and signed Jackson Bros. Leeds, so likely a later addition.
The style of these rules and their numbering is not inconsistent with the time period I had originally assumed for the set, the only anomaly being the metal fixtures of the parallel which are of a lighter metal than the rest of the set, in contrast to the brass joint of the sector. However, they all seem to belong together and their presence was clearly not known to the seller, which would seem to reduce the chance of them being recent substitutions.
Turning to the construction of the box itself, this appears to be rosewood veneered with brass fittings. The five-leaf hinges are unmarked and fixed with steel screws, as is the lock. On the exterior lid is a small unmarked rectangular cartouche that appears to be made of silver.
Only the stamped sheet-metal escutcheon around the keyhole looks out of place, probably a later addition as it slightly too long for the case, which has resulted in somebody gluing a layer of coarse green baize to the bottom of the box to raise it and prevent the inevitable scratched tabletops. The escutcheon is marked “Rd. 149335” in tiny letters, which (assuming it relates to a British registered design) would place it after 1890, so possibly contemporaneous with the addition of the Jackson Bros protractor and incongruous ruling pen.
The box had one more surprise in store, only discovered after removing all the instruments from the top tray. Its underside is lined with beautifully marbled paper, not something found often on English sets, at least those of the 19th century.
So as the title of this post implied, I am completely stumped. I have no idea who the maker might have been, when it was made, or even which country it is from. It feels like something you might end up with if an alien had examined a selection of 18th-century books on drawing instruments and then synthesised a typical “Earth drawing set”.
Maybe I’m missing something – that’s where you come in!
