Something Or Nothing ( VILLAGE TILES EP. 33 )

Does a collector’s cabinet, which has no key, have anything valuable inside? 

Does it have anything at all? 

Would you destroy it to find out, or happily just dream about what it could be? 

Imagining what might be inside could tell you more about the you than the cabinet.

A collector’s cabinet came my way some years ago and it was cheap due to the owner having lost the key. It was late Georgian, eight drawers, mahogany, banding in various woods and a trophy inlay on the top comprising various classical elements. The seller had been left the cabinet by a close relative who had died without giving any clue as to the contents. The relative had enquired about the key but none of those who knew the deceased could help, they had never seen the drawers open, and so had no idea what was inside, if anything. On him had fallen the dilemma as to whether he should destroy the cabinet to find what was inside or sell it undamaged and imagine that it contained nothing of particular value. When I purchased it, I was optimistic enough to think it wouldn’t be long before I’d have the drawers open and be examining the valuable contents. It then struck me that the owner must consider the contents to be worthless, as in the same situation if the contents were unknown, I would tend to the opposite view, but that is my nature, and maybe not his.

On the way to my workshop with the cabinet, the game of wondering what it contained began. A good quality collectors cabinet, which this certainly was, would hardly be made to store a worthless collection. The depth of the drawers varied and any set I had seen made for a coin collector, had shallow drawers, and lots of them. This set was made for a range of sizes and having purchased it near the Dorset coast, fossils first came to mind. When moving it however, it didn’t feel as if it was full of rocks. 

Opening it became the priority. Rails ran up each side of the drawers ensuring they could not be pulled out. A label, held in a small brass frame in the centre of each drawer, had nothing more than a faded series of numbers, perhaps references to the collector’s notebook. Both side rails had to be unlocked top and bottom and then opened out fully before any single draw was free to be drawn out. Any hinges were concealed within the rails and may well have metal reinforcement. Within an hour or so I had tried all the keys I had collected over the years. The keyhole was like a slot with the round hole in its centre not at the top which would be usual. I asked friends in the trade what they thought, but none had seen keyholes like them. One thought it was patented to be reversible, or so that the key could be inserted either way up. After he had tried all his keys and fiddled for an hour or more his verdict was that as there were guides above and below and any key would have to negotiate both sets of guides simultaneously. I thought it was just my luck to have bought something without the keys that had a revolutionary locking system. To open the drawers without the key, I would have to virtually destroy the piece. The cost of its restoration would be about the best that one could ask, and that would only be a fraction of its original value.

Over time several locksmiths took up the challenge but against the rule that no damage should be done, they found it impossible and their knowledge of Georgian locks was limited, particularly one that was unusual. 

A busy period followed so I put the cabinet to one side, but not out of sight. It, and I, would wait for, ‘something to turn up’. It may seem a hopeless strategy but it’s surprising how often something does, as long as you believe it will. It didn’t stop me wondering whether there was anything inside and if there was, whether it was valuable. Collectors don’t always collect things that have much value, on the other hand some do, very, very much so. 

After about two years the cabinet still remained unopened. Occasionally a key might turn up which raised my hopes but to no avail. 

The routine of buying and selling continued and it was while I was at an auction chatting with another dealer that he said he had known of an identical cabinet where no key was needed. It gave the impression that there were locks but a secret lever released the rails and allows the drawers to be opened. On the assumption that ‘something had turned up', I moved the cabinet into an open space and explored every moulding, rebait, and junction. I pressed, twisted or pulled every square centimetre without finding anything that had the slightest give or inclination to move. The suggestion had confused rather than illuminated, now a key was needed, or it might not be.

Back in its place the drawers became that upon which my gaze would rest during lunch and tea breaks. The dilemma grew. Ruin a beautiful antique to find out that it contained nothing, or nothing of value, or something of immense value. It reminded me of a quiz show where you had the opportunity to ‘open the box’, or ‘take the money’. The contestant did not know what was in the box, a fabulous holiday, a brand new car, or a cuddly toy, a house brick, or a toilet roll. They had a limited amount of time to decide while the compere was tempting them with ever increasing handfuls of fivers and the audience shouted out helpful advice, as usual. I had no time limit but I thought I could rule out cuddly toys or toilet rolls. That the drawers might hold a collection of priceless artefacts became a break time pre-occupation. As I sat, tea in one hand and cheese roll in the other, I stared at the drawers, willing them to open, and visualising what treasures might lay in orderly rows. A collection of jade perhaps, for several weeks Japanese netsuke was a favourite, I even researched them deciding which ones I’d like in my ‘fantasy collection’. I considered Silver vesta cases, snuff boxes, crystals or semi precious stones, and why not precious stones, a sought after collection of Georgian miniatures, Venetian paperweights, or Faberge eggs, five or six, any more would be just greedy. As an eternal optimist the idea that the contents were worthless was anathema.

While I pondered the riches that lay within the cabinet, two dealers I knew decided to sell up. One was expected as he had been threatening it for some time and he was a glass half empty type, and often no glass at all. The other decided he could earn more doing deliveries and as his wife had just had another child it was time to give up. Dealers when they’re not in their own shop they are usually in someone else’s. I’d seen both of them regularly and neither ever had much hope and now they both decided they were, ‘giving up’. They also had something else in common. Examining the cabinet they both decided that if there was anything in it at all, it would be worthless. They also suggested I get on with it, remove the rails with whatever it takes, then at least it will put my mind at rest, they said. My mind was more than happy imagining what lovely things the cabinet might contain and I felt no inclination to destroy the cabinet, or my fantasy.

Antiques, bric-a-brac, junk, call it what you will, you can’t be in that kind of business if you don’t think ‘something is going to turn up’. If you lose money one day, you’ll hope to make it back and maybe a bit more, the next. There are many people, particularly the majority of creative types, who rely upon optimism to keep them going.

Dave, at our local The Old Drum and Monkey, does the lottery. He buys a ticket but doesn’t check the number until after he’s bought the next one. That way, he says, he could be walking around with a ticket worth a few million in his pocket. Why exchange that illusion for another week’s disappointment. 

Any discussion regarding the cabinet would inevitably come down to, what was inside, and that reflected that person’s outlook on life, whether there was something, or nothing. Their character, their sense of humour, their sense of the absurd, or even of the macabre, or the grotesque, all was revealed by what they imagined the cabinet might contain .

I still have the cabinet, besides anything else it is a beautiful piece of furniture. It suits the cottage and when friends visit, it always attracts compliments.

Yes, something did turn up. eventually. 

What was inside? 

Well, why do you think? 

Listen to Village Tales and other short stories from the HONKEYMOON CAFE

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Written and read by Barkley Johnson.