Having the arms of the company and inscribed “Ex dono Henrici Sumner. Mr.” This is known as the Sumner Salt, the gift of the Master of that date.
Greatest height 8³/₈ in.
(For marks see [p. 357].)
(By courtesy of the Mercers’ Company.)
Trencher Salts.—These were in use contemporaneously with the tall standing salts, either on less formal occasions or at the lower end of the table below the salt.
Early forms in the first half of the seventeenth century are circular (1603) or triangular (1630). These were diminutive, measuring only some 3 inches across, and being sometimes only 1 inch high.
Eighteenth-century Salts.—A great variety of form is apparent, and many styles succeeded each other, disappearing only to be revived a quarter of a century later. Circular (1698-1710), oval, octagonal (1715-40), tripod (1750). Circular with three feet; oblong and octagonal, slightly taller (1775), with pierced work on four feet, and with glass liner. Oblong, plain, with four feet. Tureen-shaped or boat-shaped, plain, with swelling foot, sometimes with rings as handles, or with two handles (1780). Shell-shaped salts in vogue 1788; circular, vase-shaped, with lions’ heads and tripod feet (1798).
Early Nineteenth-century Salts.—George IV and William IV styles, a reversion to some of the older types. The tureen and the circular-shaped salt, with four or three feet (1820-1830). Circular bowls on stands, with tripod and elaborate feet, the fashion (1810-1830). Many pieces betray classical influence.
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.