Folklore expert and Tanners Events Manager Alix Chidley-Uttley highlights one of the many historical artefacts at Tanners HQ.
The pewter inkwell was once so commonplace that its historical significance has perhaps been obscured. During the 18th and 19th centuries, and well into the first five decades of the 20th, it was an indispensable feature of offices and commercial premises. Before self-filling fountain pens became commonplace, correspondence, bookkeeping and legal paperwork all depended upon a ready supply of ink. Pewter was particularly well suited to the task: inexpensive, durable and easily cast, it could withstand constant handling without the cost and fragility of ceramic. Removable glass liners were fitted not simply for ease of cleaning, but because the iron gall inks commonly used throughout the 19th century were acidic enough to attack metal over prolonged periods. The liner protected both the vessel and its contents, while the clever addition of a hinged lid reduced evaporation.
Although the pewter inkwell was largely functional, ceramic examples reveal another side of rapidly expanding Victorian consumer culture. Potteries produced souvenir inkwells decorated with transfer-printed or hand-painted views of spa towns, seaside resorts and beauty spots, reflecting the dramatic growth of domestic tourism following the expansion of the railway network. An everyday writing implement could therefore double as a memento of Harrogate, Buxton, Matlock or Scarborough. Or Shrewsbury!
The ink itself was not without its inconveniences. In an age before centrally heated offices, cold weather could cause water-based inks to thicken or partially solidify. Staff here at Tanners Wyle Cop became familiar with a practice that would have been known in countless workplaces across Britain: warming the ink. One long-retired member of staff has told me first-hand of his early years at Wyle Cop, refilling and warming the ink while the high Dickensian desks were still very much in place.
The survival of pewter inkwells presents an interesting paradox, because objects made for everyday use are seldom preserved. Ubiquity eventually creates scarcity. They wear out, become obsolete and are discarded. Their scarcity today is therefore not a reflection of how rare they were, but of how common they once were. In that respect, the humble inkwell is an important witness to the everyday mechanics of literacy, administration and commerce before the age of the ballpoint pen. How lucky we are to have one remaining at Tanners, offering a tangible glimpse into a long but not so distant past.
