The study and collection of intaglios and such, and the study and collection of postage stamps and postal history are usually two different, distinct pursuits. Recently, a discovery of sorts brought them together – an intersection of glyptics and philatelics. This is the story.
While traveling in the UK, or to be more precise with regard to this story, London, I stopped by my favorite antique shop, Mark Sullivan Antiques at No9, Cecil Court (coincidently, a very short walk to Leicester Square, the home and workshop c.1800 of the Tassies, of whom we’ll hear more shortly). On this particular day, Mark was not in the shop; David, his long-time partner, was holding court. As usual, one of the antiquarian characters that frequent the shop was there. When one of these visitors is present a chair magically appears next to the counter, a mini-throne fron which they may hold forth. Although nameless to me, each guest engages in an ongoing chatter with David or Mark; all the while the shop proprietor effortlessly conducts business with the clientele. In this case it was a woman (I might describe her as elderly, but I find these days that, relative to me, very few folks qualify as elderly in the sense that they are older than me). Her chatter this day had to do with the ongoing work and changes to her apartment.
I puttered about as one might do in a museum, all the while keeping an eye out for a real “find”. There were a couple of intaglio impressions, one in red sulphur, the other in plaster, but I have plenty of these – nothing special. I spotted a large pendant sized medallion depicting Giovanni Sommariva appraising his art collection while seated in his gallery at the Villa Carlotta on Lake Como in Italy; it would make a wonderful presentation placed next to the similar, smaller plaster impression by Paoletti, already in my collection, but, no, it didn’t speak to me. Back toward the counter, the visitor was verbally moving pictures around on the walls of her parlor.
Then it jumped out at me – a brass holder with intaglio seals mounted at each end – my kind of thing! On one end, the smaller one, was a smokey crystal engraved with the figure of a stag, nicely done, but nothing special. On the other end was a thicker, larger, dark aquamarine colored device engraved with text, indecipherable on first glance; bits of red sealing wax were still evident here and there in the engraved letters; it had certainly been well used as a seal – a mystery that would require further study – again, my kind of thing. After a brief negotiation, David and I settled on a price and the transaction, the transition of ownership from him to me, was well on its way to completion.
Beyond the mystery of the message on the seal, it was clearly a “device” of the type produced by William Tassie in the first part of the 19th century. The seals were very popular during that period as attested to by the fondness expressed for them by both Keats and Shelly (Click on the name to access the relevent post). There are a few of them in the MyI collection and this would be a much desired addtion.
As David was preparing to wrap the seal, we opined about what words or phrase the letters spelled out. It was difficult to read because it was engraved in reverse text, like viewing writing in a mirror, so that it would read correctly when stamped into a glob of sealing wax. Modern technology on David’s phone quickly deciphered the two hundred year old text – take a photo, make a digital flip – so that we could read it. “THANK ROWLAND HILL FOR THIS”. What? Yup. “THANK ROWLAND HILL FOR THIS”. More of a mystery. I could see David’s interest pique, but, a deal is a deal, and it was wrapped and in my pocket. We continued to wonder what it meant. David searched for “Rowland Hill” and found that he was a “Sir”, but not much else. I left the shop as the rugs were being rearranged in the Visitor’s bedroom.
Earlier in the day, I had passed by the Noel Coward Theater, just around the corner from Sullivan’s, and noticed an advert promoting Stephen Fry playing the role of Lady Bracknell in “The Importance of Being Earnest”– a hoot. I had purchased almost the last remaining ticket. After I left Mark’s, I had a quick dinner at Brown Brasserie & Bar close by the theater. The play, with it’s very familiar comedic story line, was immensely enjoyable, but I couldn’t stop fingering the seal in my pocket. I had to find out more.
The walk back to my hotel was probably at a quicker pace than usual. Once there, I amazed even myself with how quick I could get my laptop up and running. What was “THANK ROWLAND HILL FOR THIS” all about? It didn’t take long to discover the significance of the phrase. I had my INTERSECTION OF GLYPTICS AND PHILATELICS.
Actually, the intersection of the two had existed for millennia – the use of wax seals created by intaglios to close correspondence. Glyptics – engraved gems and Philatelics – postal history (OK a little bit of a stretch). I had the intaglio. What, you may ask, did Rowland Hill have to do with postal history? A lot.
In the early 19th century England had put together the elements of a postal system. It was cumbersome, slow, inefficient, and costly, but it was a start. Each piece of mail was handled individually with the cost of delivery being determined by size, weight, and distance travelled; all factors contributing to the problematic success of the system, but worse yet was the fee collection point – at the end point of the delivery. After all the work and effort had been done, the item could be refused. This process fault, of course, led to gaming the system. A simple check mark on the outside of a piece of correspondence from a traveling spouse could indicate, “All is well”. Upon viewing encrypted memo the recipient would, having received the message, refuse the piece, thereby saving the cost of the communication, but adding to the problems for the system. Nobody liked the postal service, even its creators.
Enter Rowland Hill. Nobody creates change in a vacuum; change is always incremental, but at some instant there is a tipping point toward real progress and usually an individual is given or takes credit, or both, for the success. Think the Wright Brothers, Alexander Graham Bell. Thomas Edison and their brethren. In this case it was Rowland Hill. Hill was a teacher who had a penchant for organizing things and an overriding interest in “fixing” the postal system in England. An online search will fill in the details; the short version is that he fixed it.
The solution was a lesson in the study of human behavior, public relations, promotion, and, primarily, economics. It was an almost 180 degree change in direction of how the system worked. Make it user friendly. Encourage its use frequently and by the masses. Mostly, make it inexpensive. A one penny stamp with an adhesive coating (activated by licking – what a novel idea) would send a piece of correspondence almost anywhere in the country. Did you ever hear of the “penny black”? That was it. The system would be a success based on volume.
While not often given credit for this innovation at the time, Rowland Hill was eventually knighted for his efforts.
At the time of the introduction of the “penny black” and the other changes to the system, one very basic part had not yet caught up. The pieces of correspondence were still usually just pieces of paper folded over and closed with a seal, typically in red wax. 
There were a few appreciative folks who immediately gave credit and, yes, thanks to the man responsible – Rowland Hill. How to show that appreciation? When using the much improved postal system at such a greatly reduced cost, they would recognize his efforts by sealing the mail piece with, you guessed it, “THANK ROWLAND HILL FOR THIS”!!!!!
What fun.
P.S. The gummed flap on the envelope would soon obviate the need for the seal. That, together with the Poniatowski scandal and the advent of photography would sound the death nell for the popularity of the intaglio devices and glyptics in general. A couple of topics for future “Engravedgem.com” blog posts.
