The Carving of figureheads
The reopened Cutty Sark at Greenwich contains a collection of Merchant ships figureheads assembled by London Businessman Sydney Chambers.
http://www.rmg.co.uk/cuttysark/history-and-collections/collections/figureheads
In his letter LXVIII to the Morning Chronicle of 5th September 1850, the renowned Victorian researcher Henry Mayhew, who was carrying out an investigation into London Trades, published an account of specialist woodworkers, in the ship and boat building trade. This letter contains an interview with a carver of Ships’ figureheads, which gives a brief, if fascinating, insight into the labour behind some of these figureheads.
“The carving of figureheads is a distinct branch of the business of ship-building. In some yards this carving, as at present pursued, partakes more and more of the characteristics of a fine art, and all in all it is less rude than it was. The monstrosities, the merely grim and grotesque, which delighted the seaman of the past age, are now almost entirely things of the past. In the figure-heads of the meanest vessels now built, some observance of truth and nature is displayed. The figure-head is ordered of the carver for the general trade (the greater builders usually comprising that department as well as others in their own establishments). Sometimes he works from a drawing – rarely from a model. A carver upon whom I called had a spacious workshop in the corner of a large garden, immediately behind his dwelling house, which was near the Thames. Ranged alongside the wall, at the top of the garden, were a row of colossal and semi-colossal figureheads, exceedingly grim and sultry, and seeming singularly out of place, for they loomed down, with their unmistakeable sea-faring look, upon the white and orange lilies, the many tainted sweet peas and carnations , and the red and white roses. The figures were all of elm and each had a preliminary coat of paint of a dull brick colour, to prevent the wood from cracking, so that their uniformity of hue added to the curious effect that they presented. It was easy enough to recognise the figures or rather the approximation to the features, of the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Duke of Wellington; though there were several countenances that looked familiar enough, and yet puzzled the memory as to whose effigy was represented. Some figure-heads were robed, and starred, and coroneted, and some had the plain coats of the present day. With these were mingled female forms, some with braided hair, others with very rigid ringlets, carved out of solid wood…
Along the wall of the workshop were the same array of effigies, while in one corner , amidst heaped up timber , was a covered figure in a sitting position, which was much more elaborately worked than the others. A cornucopia rested on its left arm, while the other grasped a snake, the head of which had been broken off, and lay close by. The carving of the thick curly hair, was minute, and showed great painstaking. This, I found, was at one time a choice ornament of the Lord Mayor’s state barge, and represented Africa. An opposite figure, allegorical of another quarter of the world , I was told became rotten and had to be removed from the barge, and Africa was removed at the same time or she would have appeared isolated. When deposited in its present place the figure was gilt, but a great part of the gilding having been rubbed or fallen off, its new owner had it painted all over to resemble the others…
A muscular, hearty, and hale-looking young man , whom I found at work in the shop , presenting many of the characteristics of the one I have more particularly described , but not the same gave me the following information.:
‘ I was apprenticed to Mr- , and have never left London. My father was connected with shipbuilding, and so put me to this branch. I’m unmarried, and live with my friends. I have nothing to complain of in the way of business, as I have pretty good employment. We all drink beer- some of us perhaps, too much, but nothing compared to other trades. Ours is hard work, but we don’t drink much at work. Look you here, sir, this log of ellum, with just the sides taken off by the sawyers to make it square, has to be made into a “head”- into a foreign nobleman or prince, - I don’t remember his name, but it’s a queer one. To do that is heavy lifting and hard work. None of these fellows (pointing to the figures) here is proper size, hardly big enough, or I could easily gouge this one now into a lord. We first axe the log into a rough shape, a sort of outline, and then finish it with chisels and gouges. I sometimes work from a drawing, but mostly out of my own head, and direct myself by my eye. We have nothing to do with painting or gilding the heads. They’re sent home in their woods, just with a coat of paint over them to prevent them from cracking. Yes, you’re right, sir, that head will do for the Queen; but if a Queen isn’t wanted, and it’s the proper size, I can soon make her into any other female. Or she might do for a “Mary Anne”, without altering certainly she might The way the hair’s carved is the Queen’s style , and has been in fashion these eight or ten years. Ringlets ain’t easy particularly cork-screw ringlets as they’re called. The watch-chain and seals to a gentleman ain’t easy, as you have to bring out that part and cut away from it. The same with buttons and stars. Perhaps we aren’t as good at legs as at other carving. We generally carve only to the knee. The shipwrights place our work on the ship’s kneecaps. We have no Slop-workers amongst us; but there are two men who keeps a look out at the docks for broken heads, or heads damaged in any way, and offer to repair them cheap. They’re not workers themselves, but they get hold of any drunken carpenter, or any ship carver that happens to be hard up and out of work, and put them to the job at very low prices. But the thing don’t satisfy, and they do very little; still, it’s a break in upon us. I make 24s to 30S a week the year through, oftener nearer 30s. than 24 s; I make 36s at full work…..”
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