Do I have your attention, yet?
Now?
How about now?
Three different, but very similar, antique boxes, two in my stewardship, the last in my mother's.
WARNING: IMAGE-HEAVY POST AHEAD
So, have you ever had the experience, when finding something special you had never seen before and, keen to learn more about it, been stymied in finding information about it or its history? Have you then, primed by the long researches, suddenly discovered more of these objects, while their source or sources are still a mystery? We all know that human eyes and ears are designed to seek patterns, so really, this experience shouldn't be a marvel, but it is a marvel when three apparent hens' teeth land in your hands.
I have loved antique sewing boxes and lap desks since I was a little girl of maybe eight, awed at the sight of a little antique lap desk with the silhouette of a swan inlaid on its top, that lay piled with many other boxes in an enormous New York state barn-turned-antique-shop. As a teenager, I found a local young girl's lap desk and it came home with me, and later an Englishman's campaign desk with secret compartments, and a sturdy late Victorian or Edwardian sewing box that I use all the time.
It would be nifty to round out the collection with a dressing box piled with bottles and brushes and combs, but that is probably gilding the lily, a notion that didn't afflict affluent Victorians, but does me. Yet like any person of a collecting mentality, an awful lot of hours have been spent examining boxes, looking them up online, reading about them, just for the pleasure of getting a sense of the inside of other eras through the objects they made.
But these boxes were almost all of them English, American, or French. Never once in all the shops or in all the Englishl-anguage online markets I had I come across any like these three, with their pewter trim and pewter containers, their tiny identical bone lid knobs, and the other features that all three share.
Those of you reading from continental Europe may often have seen these before, or own one, but I thought to share them for those of us who love antique boxes but haven't seen any like these.
A Lady's Necessaire Box
These boxes appear to be the very definition of a lady's ncecessaire box, a handsome container to hold the important implements of a lady's life: sewing implements and supplies and pin cushion for dressing and mending and embroidery, ink and pounce or sand for writing, room for storing letters and documents, space for personal hygiene implements.
A combination box then, not a sewing box, or a dressing box or a lap desk/writing box, but a compact mix of all of these.
From all I can find out or suspect, all three boxes may have been made by the same maker on the Continent, and that maker may have been located in Germany or Austria. Two I believe, on the evidence of similar boxes I have since seen in European antiques houses, date to the Biedermeier period, and the third may be a little later; its wreath of flowers feels mid-nineteenth century or perhaps Edwardian, but that is merely based on the nature of the floral design and of course I may be off by decades.
What's in the Boxes? Let's Take a Tour
First, the largest box
It's of mahogany, very well veneered. If you look carefully at the front right edge, you can just about make out the dovetailed joints of the underlying wood.
The lid features inlaid pewter trim, to protect the sides of the lid and at the bottom, though it has come off on the ends, alas. The depression for the finger to lift the lid is a nice touch. The key is still with the box. How often that does not happen! The styling is restrained but handsome, and the use of pewter rather than brass reveals a different metalworking tradition.
 |
| 11" long by 7.25" wide by 4" deep, approximately |
 |
Note the wood grain is matched. Sigh: the pewter bottom trim is gone.
|
 |
The cartouche on the lid, ready for engraving
or just to leave as restrained decoration |
Now, for the inside.
The top contains a mirror and a swiveling catch. You cannot see it, but the remnant of a little silk loop pull sits near the catch. Originally, the mirrored piece laid almost flush with the inside of the lid, and could be opened to reveal a place for letters or whatnot. The silk has long disintegrated. On the evidence of one of the smaller boxes, this panel may have been held in place by two tiny hinges made of fabric bands nailed into place with tiny nails.
 |
| The interior, with natural wood-grain on the comparment lids |
The body of the box has two layers, with the top section, consisting of compartments, nesting tightly, but removeable, also by little silk bands. The remnants are here too, on the sides, and are barely visible. Underneath is less than an inch of space for more storage.
Let's look at the compartments and their accoutrements. In this box there are two pewter canisters with close-fitting lids. They do not screw on, but fit perfectly. The beading decoration is fine and offers just enough rich contrast. Anything but liquid might have been stored in here.
Next to the top of the lid you see one of the little bone knobs. It is rubbed from use, but intact, as are all the others in this particular box. The compartment with the hole for the container is covered with a faded cream or perhaps yellow velvet. You can also see the stamped red leather cover to the central compartment.
This box, like one of the two others, has a small compartment with notches cut in two sides to hold thread winders. Each bone bobbin can hold two threads. I was so happy to see these still intact.
The pewter pounce pot has the same decoration as the canisters, but in slightly higher relief. The seed-shaped holes are hand-cut and are for pouring out pounce or sand. After a letter was written in ink, the sand was poured over to help blot it. If the container held pounce, which usually had a color to it, it could be shaken over piece of paper pricked with holes which sat on top of fabric or another piece of paper, in order to transfer the design created by the pricks. In this way, you could create a pattern for embroidering or possibly drawing or painting.
Here's the little pounce pot on its side.
The little piece of wood covered in velvet comes out of the box, so that you can see its underside...the velvet was simply folded under, and two tiny panels were glued to the side of the compartment to hold it.
Here is the inkwell, with the lid in it. Same design, nicely executed. While the lid is tight, I'd still worry that the ink could escape if the box accidentally was tipped. Other boxes I have or have seen use other materials for the bottles, and cork or screw tops for the lids.
The inkwell on its side, with its lid. You also have a clear view of the central leather panel. Those loops are not pulls: pens and scissors and personal implements could go there. As for the narrow velvet-lined compartment, was that for rings or something else?
Here is one of the thread winders, just over an inch long. The tiny protrusions on the ends fit perfectly into the notches in the compartment that holds them.
The box with the compartments opened. At the top, the heavy-ish solid wood block, with velvet pincushion glued on, and those little silk pulls rather more intact. There is just the smallest space left under there for storage. As you will find out, the bottom of the pincushion is a bit of a surprise.
In the left middle compartment I found a key and a handsome bone threadwinder with very, very fine thread indeed, one good for extra-fine sewing or whitework embroidery. It's either linen or a fine cotton, though its stiffness leads me to think linen. In the bottom middle, a later pincushion, marked "Sterling" in English for the silver content.
The pincushion, the silver slightly tarnished, the interesting berry-like fabric, and the lining fabric underneath, which holds the
emery, a finely ground metallic rock. Needles and pins stuck into it would have the rust rubbed off, in the days before stainless steel sewing implements.
The box key, the thread winder and an "extra" tiny knob in full. The latter is most interesting because you can see that the bottom was pointed. A hole would be made into the compartment lid, and then the little end stuck in, perhaps with a bit of glue, or perhaps just with friction. I learned more about that in another box.
Up close.
Here is pincushion bottom. How I wish I could date the paper design glued onto it! It's an ombre with dots. In the top center is a metal pieces carefully screw in place, and with a screwhole in the center. I think this was for mounting the pincushion to something else for use, but what?
Finally, we see the inside of the box at the bottom. At each corner was glued a rounded piece of wood on which the nesting section sat. Two have come unglued and one is gone. The entire bottom of the box has split. This often happens with age, as the wood shrinks.
Originally I found this little slip of paper in the bottom of the box. It's a recipe for wrinkles. It's no doubt later, but is a nifty bit of ephemera.
Lastly, and this is an odd image: I am showing the bottom of the nesting portion of the box. The number "10" is pencilled in two spots. Americans rarely shape the number "1" like that.
The second box, smaller box, a mix of elements
The second box was the first I found, through someone here in Kentucky with Philadelphia, Pennsylvania connections. He had bought the box years ago in that area.
Gee, the box looks familiar, doesn't it? The wood is a little lighter and may be fruitwood. I am not knowledgeable in that area. You can see the trim is similar: the pewter edging (though on the top only), the inlaid cartouche in the lid, the similar treatment of the keyhole, although the trim in the side of the lid is just flat, without a depression. I do not have the dimensions of this box, but they are very similar to the last and latest box.
Now for the inside. Since my mother owns this box, I only have these two pictures at the moment. Here you see a familiar set of compartments, don't you? The compartments with the inkwell and pounce pot, which are very similar to those in the mahogany box, down to the hand-cut seed-shaped holes in the pounce pot, but they are smaller, and the inkwell's lid went a-wandering. The space for threadholders is there, but it lacks the bobbins: I gave Mom some threadwinders and mounted a wooden spool on a tiny dowel. The leather lid in the middle is plainer, and the knobs are smaller (two are replacements), but the original one at bottom is an exact match to the "extra" in the mahogany box.
The comparment lids are painted with faux bois mahogany or rosewood patterning, a less-expensive treatment, but still an art to achieve. The pincushion appears to be fixed.
There is a mirrored panel that belongs to the box lid, and that has a similar catch. The frame is of light wood panels with square faux bois dark panels at each corner, all of it veneer over basic wood. It is not shown here.
You can see tiny nail holes in two spots on that panel, and matching holes in the box lid corresponding to it, making me think that silk or leather hinges were used to open and close that panel. Behind it was storage. The main body of the box does not appear to come out, but appears glued in place, and after all, the body of the box isn't deep.
This particular box is labeled on the underside of the mirror panel with "Grandmother Owing's sewing box". The mirror is a replacement, and is nailed in place. You can see the number "14" pencilled in on the edge, rather like the "1" was pencilled on the mahogany box.
This box came with several things in it: an Edwardian crochet dress bobble and another bone bobble of unknown use, a bar of what smells like balsam soap, a homemade pincushion made of a bottle cork nested in a crochet flower, a pair of tiny metal eyeglasses with an earpiece missing. The key, alas, was missing.
The last box: similar but different
The last box came from California. It's in rough shape, rather, and is a far less expensively made article, and undoutably later in construction. but it's still nifty. It was sold to me, not surprisingly, as a trinket box. It was musty when opened, and you could smell the old wood, so it had sat a while somewhere.
Yet necessaire it is.
This box measures roughly 9.5: long, 6.5" wide, and about 3" deep. It appears to be made of, well, I am not sure, but it's warm. It too has metal decor on top, but just nailed with little roughly faceted domed nails in each corner. I can't help but think the design to be Art Nouveau-ish, but I could be miles off. It doesn't fit well with the inlay, which is prettily enough done, if damaged, though the inset work on that panel is a bit rought. The inlay design feels very Victorian, or even 1910s or 1920s. In all cases, bows and foliage were popular, as were oval designs. I haven't any experience in inlay to speak of, so do not know how such design elements changed over time. I do know it's likely not Orientalist from the late 19th century :}
Here is a closeup of the inlay, which is beginning to shrink. I am not sure what the holes, which appear to be filled with something dark are. Was there a handle there at one point? But no. There's no evidence of that from inside.
The sides of the box are faux bois painted, like the lids on the Owings box. There is the little pewter inlaid keyhole, with a familar design to it.
Now for the inside.
When you open the lid, you realize that the panel that on the other two boxes was simply hinged, has become a fold-out dressing mirror, turning on little metal dowels. The mirror is heavily corroded, and the black-painted frame
When lifted up from the back, you can see that the mirror and its wood backing are nailed roughly in place, and in this case are truly roughly made.
The underside of the box lid looks like pine, and the sides are painted an ochre yellow.
The inside of the body of the box should look very familiar to you by this point.
There are the faux bois painted compartment lids, the pincushion lid in the same place, the velvet the same, and tiny bone knobs too, but there is no ring holder. There are the pounce pot and the inkwell sans lid, but we will be noticing something different about these in a moment. The insides of the compartments are painted in that cheery ochre yellow. The whole interior feels provincially styled, full of contrast and rich tones.
If you are wondering about the metal hinges, they are similar on all of three boxes, but also on the American and English pieces of known provenance in in one case and with the original Regency-era maker's label in the other.
Look what was inside. Clues to where it came from.
An old mother-of-pearl button. A nicely shaped pair of embroidery scissors. A sewing needle with completely round shank, so not an antique Singer or Wilcox and Gibbs. The only round-shanked sewing needle I have is from my Warwick, a British make from the Victorian era, but it's longer. Sewing needles with flat-shaped heads, not rounded ones, so older. And, ooh! A lovely little needle packet.
The scissors. I cannot read the name for the life of me. The letters include "VERKIN".
The Leo Lammertz of Aachen, German needle packet.
Open it up, and hooray, a location! These needles were sold by a store, perhaps named by the owner, Brodrene Sorensen, in Norway, in Kristiana, now Oslo. My apologies for not having the characters available to type the name correctly.
So, did this box live much of its life in Norway? How did it get to California?
The needles are beautiful and such quality, a joy for a sewist. I will not use them, because this is a bit of history.
Here are the other needles, the pin, and the sewing machine needle shank (second from right). The rightmost needle has been bent...but was kept. I use bent needles, too, and that's a nice thin one, good for detail sewing.
A wee comparison of the mahogany box and Norwegian box pounce pots and inkwells
I am thinking that the boxes come from a maker who was active for a long time. Why? The pounce pots, in particular, tell the tale. The photos below are a little hard to interpret, but you can see some changes in the pots, although the overall design remains the same.
I am going to have to redo these photos, because it's not clear now which is pounce and which is inkwell in most of them, but you will notice a few differences.
In this photo, the pot from the Norway box has a more prominent, less finely made beading around the edge. It's a little smaller when held.
The same pot's on the left. Can you see the machining on the bottom? Whereas the one from the mahogany box is smooth and merely has a faint dot at center.
In this photo, the mahogany box other pot...inkwell?...is also smooth. The Norway box pot on the right is clearly machined and there's a flaw in the metal at lower right.
Here are the inkwells side by side, the mahogany box to the left, the Norway box to the right. The mahogany box inkwell is more finely made, larger, and less tapered.
The real "tell", if I can venture that, is in the tops of the pots. The pounce pots are on the left. The Norway pot is to the left. The holes are circular and appear to be drilled and the details are rougher, while that of the mahogany box is hand-cut, and the details smaller and finer.
The inkwells are to the right, and frustratingly, the mahogany inkwell is up top, and the Norway inkwell on bottom. Oh, consistency! Anyhow, details here are rougher on the Norway inkwell. It, like its pounce pot, is also a bit smaller.
What're the pots telling us? Likely that the mahogany pots' work is older. Hand-cutting takes more time, but it wouldn't be acceptable later in the century, especially on an object in which the maker took the time to create a fine-quality beading. One would expect a later piece to have fine beading perhaps, for a higher price point, but not the uneven cutting of the pounce pot holes.
The difference in quality between the pots is also interesting. The Norway pots are less polished, and the metal bottom has a flaw.
What about the pots in the Owing's box? They are like those of the mahogany box, but perhaps smaller, although I have not had them in hand at once to compare.
In the end, I think that the mahogany box, and the Owings box are older, while the Norway box is newer model, made at a lower price point.
The difference in age is unclear. In European markets, similar pieces to the mahogany and Owings boxes are sold as Biedermeier period up to the 1850s. The details in these pieces point to the same maker. They're just too alike in construction...it's not just stylistic similarity, in my opinion. As for the other box, well, I need to keep looking.
Here are some screen captures of other pieces I have found.
This from Antiques Boutique:
The description reads: "Beautiful original antique Biedermeier Sewing Box in Walnut Veneer from Austria circa 1820. Walnut veneered. Ebony inlays. Brass button. Inside with complete original sewing equipment."
Do you see all the same equipment, with small differences? Do you note the differences in bobbin winders? I am wondering if in the smaller box the bone ones that likely came with it, as elegant bits, were replaced. In most sewing boxes, little bone or mother of pearl fittings were part of the cachet.
If I can, I'd like to find the maker. I am thinking that the RSA folks might know and so I plan to contact them. Or look in magazines. How long did Luxus und der Moden run, I wonder?
I am hoping that you have enjoyed the tour and that it piques your interest.
Why the Hiatus?
A year and some change has slipped into the past since I last wrote. That period was, on and off, a difficult time. It was no time for writing, anyhow. So much loss, so much illness.
On the up side, the boys graduated high school and are happily and heartily at college, I've started weaving again, and we've had some lovely times with family and friends. I am grateful, while praying for our suffering world, and try to do what I can to make the load of those around me lighter, as ant-small as that is. What else can we do, but help as we are able?
In any case, am back for the moment.
Here is something I am working on. After experimenting with a Louet table loom I'd had for years, I moved to an Oxaback Lilla countermarche loom. Now there's a learning curve for you...
