These gentlemen portray loyal volunteers, the men who volunteered to serve in Britain's army in the war-torn years of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. They are by no means itty-bitty, and each stands a good eight inches tall. I’ve recorded loyal volunteers decorated in underglaze colors, but our collection focuses on enamel-painted figures, and this was the first enamel-painted pair to come my way. Like so many things fine and rare, these historical gems came to our family's shelves from the stock of John Howard. And with them comes a cautionary tale.
Not so long ago I spied these two soldiers at an upcoming auction in the UK. Who doesn’t like a bargain? Of course, we all do, and when it comes to buying Staffordshire pottery figures a bargain seems particularly sweet. For that reason buying at auction is tempting. After all, traditionally auctions have been dealers’ prime wholesale sources. But auctions are fraught with risks, and once the hammer goes down there is no going back. For better or worse, the buyer is the new owner, even if the description and condition report prove to have been totally misleading. Of course, my heart skipped a beat at first glance, but slowly common sense prevailed as I thought of the pitfalls.
- As you see, both soldiers seemed firmly attached to marble plinths of a sort, and I feared separating them (not always a simple task) might harm them.
- And what of the condition of figures? Without their plinths, they stand tall on relatively small bases, so quite possibly at some point they had been knocked over and broken into multiple pieces. Perhaps a restorer had patched them up and mounted them on those monumental bases to prevent that recurring. In an ideal world, the auction houses condition report would have clarified this. Buyers pay a premium that can exceed 30% of the hammer price, but, sad to say, condition reports typically come with a disclaimer and the vast majority are unreliable. If I were to bid, I would be buying blind, and I hate making mistakes. I don’t live with them easily!
- If I won at auction, I would then have to arrange overseas payment as well as collection and packing— most shippers that pack for auction houses are extortionate and seem to delight in packing the smallest object in the hugest box to boost the shipping cost. Also, some seem to think they are doing me a favor, and it can take weeks and multiple emails and calls to get my parcel on its way.
- And after the soldiers arrived, I would have to send them, plinths and all, off to a restorer. At that point, I would have full knowledge of all their problems, and my heart might not be singing at the thought of sinking yet more money into what might ultimately be patched up, once-fragmented figures.
With all that in mind, the thought of waking up in the middle of the night to bid on a UK auction seemed sheer stupidity. I left the soldiers for someone else.
Some things are meant to be, and I was over the moon at acquiring these plucky men from John. His restorer had been able to remove them from their plinths uneventfully, and apparently those heavy structures had saved the figures from being toppled and smashed. To top it, they arrived on my doorstep with warp speed, and I opened the box with anticipatory delight rather than dread! Thank you, John Howard!!
In our haste to get an auction bargain, we too often forget the value a knowledgable dealer adds. He or she is essentially a curator, who guides us to desirable objects. Add to that the dealer puts his money at risk. He bets his wallet and his reputation on every auction purchase. His neck, rather than yours or mine, is on the block. When he gets burned at auction (and trust me, the smartest is caught on more than one occasion), he won’t attempt to sell his mistake. Instead, he sends it to another auction. Dealers send their mistakes to auction, so next time an auction “bargain” beckons, beware!
