fickle humans--8/28/26

28 Aug 2026

fickle humans--8/28/26

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Today's selection -- from Confessions of an Art Dealer by John Howard Swanson. Trying desperately to get a slightly better deal on an antique:

"In the buying of works of art of any description the purchaser, be he connoisseur, amateur, or dealer, learns a very great deal about the frailties of human nature. Indeed, one of my greatest annoyances has always been the frequent manner in which people change their mind about the prices they have asked for a piece of porcelain, a picture, or antique furniture. This is usually due to a mixture of ignorance and sheer greed. Time and again I have lost things after having quoted for and supposedly bought them at a very fair price, and such incidents left a bitter taste in my mouth, because too often my loss came through giving advice or approximate values out of a kindly feeling and a spirit of friendship.

“A peculiarly unhappy case of this sort happened during my first year in Liverpool, when I was asked by a client to visit a small exhibition in aid of charity, at the school in West Derby. I was shown round by a fussy little gentleman named Radford, who insisted on telling me all about the various pieces. Now and then he went ‘all abroad,’ and very soon I had to do the ‘telling’; which resulted in our becoming quite friendly. I did not see much of him in the next few months, but one morning he came in, bearing a brown-paper parcel.

A vintage travel gear seller at Marché Dauphine, Saint-Ouen, Paris

"'I want you to have a look at this,’ he said, opening it with care. ‘What do you think it’s worth?’

“It was a rather fine Louis XV fan, worth about £75. I told him the value and added that there was precious little demand in Liverpool for old fans of that type.

"Will you keep it for me and try and sell it to some Continental dealer who may come over?’ he pleaded.

“I agreed. Just by luck, a Dutch dealer did come over a few weeks later: he told me he was making a small collection of French and Spanish fans for a client.

"'Here is the very thing!’ I exclaimed, glad to be able to do a stroke of business for Mr. Radford. ‘You can have it for £80.’

“After some argument the Dutchman said he would take it at that price, and at once I wrote to Radford. I was really pleased at having got an additional £5 for him. Next day he came into the shop, looking quite hot and bothered.

"'I had no idea you would sell the fan without consulting me!’ he puffed. ‘You see, it really belongs to my mother and I cannot dispose of it without her consent.’

“This looked queer to me. Radford was certainly on the wrong side of sixty, so surely he could make up his mind one way or another without recourse to ‘Mother!’

"'Oh well,’ I replied, rather piqued. ‘You asked me to sell it and I got a better price. However, if you really want it back I will ask my client to relinquish it.’

“After a great show of gratitude from Radford, I prevailed upon my Dutch friend to return the fan, though he shook his head and gave me sage advice.

"'This is a trick, my friend,’ he said. ‘Watch that client of yours. I do not trust him.’

“Having got his fan back, Radford assured me he would ask his mother's permission to sell and that within a day or two I should know one way or the other. Within twenty-four hours I was rung up by Mr. Kidson, the well-known Liverpool art dealer.

“'I say, Duveen, I want to ask you a confidential question. I have a fellow here who has a Louis XV fan: he says you offered him £80 for it. Is that right?’

“'What do you want to know exactly?’ I parried.

“'Well, I don't often buy French stuff, but what would you give me for it? This man wants £100.’

“The cat was well and truly out-of-the-bag.

“'I won't buy at any price!' I shouted.

“When my Dutch friend heard the details, he chuckled.

“‘Don't worry. That man will come back to you again.’

“'I'll show him where he gets off!’

“'Don't be silly: this is a matter of business. If you like, put all the blame on me.’

“That very afternoon who should turn up but the grey-haired and gushing Mr. Radford. I'd have given a lot to take the smile off his face with a good ‘piece of my mind!’

“‘Mr. Duveen,’ he exclaimed, ‘I've done my best for you with my mother, and she is willing to accept £100 for the fan.’

“'I’m sorry,’ I replied, ‘but the friend who was to have bought it has already left for the Continent. I'll write to him, if you like.’

“Of course, I never wrote at all: I was too sore over the whole shabby business. When he next came in I explained that the Dutchman had completed his collection and did not want the fan after all. Later I heard from Kidson, the dealer, that Radford had asked him to take the fan to London where, at a sale, it fetched just £50. I'm afraid I was so uncharitable as to be pleased that the would-be biter had been bitten!”