The allure of the British gun

I noticed that beautiful Churchill with the nicely detailed scroll back receiver. I attach a couple of pics of a Churchill that was formerly part of my collection. It's a 20 ga Boxlock ejector built in the 1950's and proofed for 2 3/4" shells so it was liked headed to the US market. The receiver is straight edged in sharp contrast the the scroll backed type. I don't know what grade my Churchill is but likely near the entry level. Interestingly. it had chopper lump barrels a feature that was normally only on best guns.
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I expect that's why apprenticeships were usually 7 years or more. Apprentices would have to prove to their master that they are capable of doing the work flawlessly, before being unleashed on a commission where mistakes would be costly to fix. For engraving, I'm sure there are many tricks to cover up or disguise minuscule errors and tiny overruns that would require a lens and a careful eye to spot. Part of the magic is the occasional imperfection, and that's why laser-etching lacks soul. I think it would be much harder to correct a mistake on a game scene, than on repetitive scrolls and borders. It must have happened, though, leading to a shortened career path?
Ha, exactly. I worked as a machinist for over 40 years. An old fellow employed in the same trade told me, " Anyone can bugger up a job but it takes a journeyman to hide it so no one will ever know."
 
I noticed that beautiful Churchill with the nicely detailed scroll back receiver. I attach a couple of pics of a Churchill that was formerly part of my collection. It's a 20 ga Boxlock ejector built in the 1950's and proofed for 2 3/4" shells so it was liked headed to the US market. The receiver is straight edged in sharp contrast the the scroll backed type. I don't know what grade my Churchill is but likely near the entry level. Interestingly. it had chopper lump barrels a feature that was normally only on best guns.
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That's about as beautiful as a 'modern' boxlock gets. Thanks for sharing!
 
. I think it would be much harder to correct a mistake on a game scene, than on repetitive scrolls and borders. It must have happened, though, leading to a shortened career path?
In fact , it is the opposite. Things like game scenes and such are far easier to correct an oops than scroll. Anything that is somewhat symmetrical and regimented, like scroll work, any mistake sticks out like a sore thumb and is difficult to correct without affecting the flow of the design. Game scenes are more “random” in its elements and only the engraver knows what the intended finished product was supposed to look like. Make a mistake, often the scene can be “adjusted” to hide the mistake. Example, yo make a serious mistake on a deer, a tree can be added maybe with a branch in front of the deer covering up the mistake. Same goes with wood, make a mistake doing a carving, just adjust the design. Make a mistake checkering and, in most cases, you are hooped. There is no “fixing” it.
 
Years ago (tks to my old-coach) I had the opportunity to meet Heide-Marie Hiptmayer... it was always interesting to listen to her and her husband (Klauss, a stockmaker) on how they got into the business.

As in, what does it take to be a good engraver? Do you need to be a good artist?
Her: No, patience, lots of it... and determination... and plenty of confidence... And then she'd go on about the time it took her to learn to draw before she was even allowed to start to use a chisel and if you didn't agree with the teacher, the door was there for you to walk out (insert German accent). She had apprenticed in Austria, if I remember correctly.

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Apprenticeship is a much more thorough proposition in Europe and Britain in the metal trades than North America. This side of the pond employers for the most part are loathe to offer much training apart from on the job. And offer little incentives for purchasing tools etc. As well as having little loyalty to their employees and will lay them off at the drop of a hat when financially expedient.
I worked with a German machinist who was very good. Told me in Germany a tool and die maker was generally much more highly regarded than a lawyer. As they should be imo.
 
Ah, I am very snobbish on British guns. “Guilty!, Guilty!” I must plead…

I also think no one beats the French for wine, and the only cars that make my blood fizz are Italian. To each their preferences, I guess, in this wonderful world. As to whether British guns are overly expensive, that is for markets to decide. Second-hand, they can be the bargain of a lifetime, and a lifetime’s worth of joy and pride.

The recent examples by Churchill presented in this thread, and comments on apprenticeships, prompted my brain cells to reflect further on the incredibly intertwined nature and histories of the British gun trade through apprenticeships, and the evolution of trade names.

The typical formation of a gunmaker started with an apprenticeship under a recognized master gunmaker. In time, the apprentice would become a gunmaker, possibly be taken on as a partner, or move on to set up on their own. In this way, the pedigree of most gunmaking names can be traced back to the Mantons or other famous 18th-century or early 19th-century gunmakers. There were notable exceptions, the tobacconist Harris Holland being one, and another being Benjamin Cogswell, the pawnbroker.

In my earlier posts, should anyone decide to scroll back, I described how many gunmaking firms can be traced back to apprenticeships under Joseph Manton, including Boss, Purdey, Moore, Lancaster, Fuller, Lang, Greener (Senior), and so on. The better one’s business became, the more consequential apprenticeships in these firms were in terms of future success and recognition, or the more solidly the firms became by keeping evolving businesses within the family line (this latter point is not only limited to British gunmaking, as the Italian firm of Beretta has been kept in the same family for the past 499 years). In some firms, adding “& Son” marked the addition of a family member after completing their apprenticeship, or made a full partner, as in the case of Holland & Holland. Some used their origins as part of their identity -- when James Purdey started out marking his guns with his name, he added “From Manton,” and the London gunmaker William Evans, who learned his trade under James Purdey and Harris Holland, marked his guns “From Purdey's.” Today, the cheapest new William Evans sidelock double, built for them by Grulla-Armas, S.L. of northern Spain, can be had for a mere $22K, though if you want the one based on the H&H design, maybe with a round body, that will set you back more than $36K; hand work is not cheap, regardless of country of origin. Oh, and if you want a sporting clays-ready over/under, William Evans has one too, also Spanish-made but designed by Perazzi, but price is on application only. (All of a sudden, a fine used British double on the Canadian market for $1-2K, or less, seems like a sweet deal!) Sorry, I digress.

As I mentioned, there have been a small number of self-taught gunmakers, persons with an affinity towards guns and shooting, and who were inventive and skilled with tools, but these self-taught makers were the exception. In any case, they might have been more concerned with the business side of things, rather than the actual making of guns or gun parts. Guns were generally built of parts made by specialist craftsmen, and assembled and finished by different specialists. These skills had to be learned, and this was usually done through apprenticeships. A typical apprenticeship to learn a trade was for seven years, though in some cases could be longer. Such apprenticeships were bought and paid in advance, a welcome source of money for the master. Pay was minimal and might only be in the latter years of the training, a sum less than that for a journeyman (daily paid worker, derived from the French journée) [Note: in gunmaking a journeyman was a craftsman who although had completed an apprenticeship, could not employ other workers; they were often called jack or knave, and this is where the expression “jack of all trades master of none” comes from]. Masters would be obliged to provide room and board, which is why so many gunmakers had an apprentice living with them at their work address. A typical age to start an apprenticeship was 14, but could be younger depending on the trade. During the 7-year period, the apprentice could not gamble, or go to the theatre or a public house (bar), and certainly could not marry. Some kept apprenticeships very much in the family, and in the gunmaking business, this meant training sons who were expected to learn and continue the business. There were other incentives for completing the apprenticeship, for instance an apprentice who had not completed his term would not legally be able to work in his trade for another master.

The first years would involve tedious, repetitive work until a sufficient level of skill was achieved. An apprentice would not be let anywhere near finished parts or a complete gun, lest he make a mistake that would require parts being discarded or work re-done. An apprentice would typically start by making the tools they would be using throughout their working lives. After completing an apprenticeship, the worker would usually continue as a journeyman for four or five years or more. They could then become a Master in their own right by applying to the Guild (The Worshipful Company of Gunmakers, a livery company of the City of London established by Royal Charter in 1637), a process involving a fee and the presentation of a "masterpiece” to be judged by the Guild (now you know where the word “masterpiece” came from). The interlinkage of master and apprentice, and apprentices becoming masters, means that the educational lineage of gunmakers can be traced through the apprenticeships they went through, and the apprentices they in turn trained. Here is a Harris Holland 12-bore, from the time when his nephew was his apprentice; he might have allowed his nephew to make the screws:

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As to the Churchill name, and the rights to using it, that’s another story. At the age of 14 in 1870, Edwin John Churchill was apprenticed to the gunmaker William Jeffery of Dorchester. He then moved to London and in 1877 worked for Frederick Thomas Baker, becoming its manager by 1882. In 1891, EJ Churchill left to establish his own business. He was also an accomplished live-pigeon shooter by this time, known nationally and internationally for his shooting skill and his ability as an instructor and gun fitter. Churchill used outworkers to produce gun parts and complete guns to his preferred designs. He also recruited his own skilled staff, but like so many firms, still relied heavily on outworker talent, and the addition of family members. In 1893, his son Henry joined as an apprentice. In 1899, his nephew Robert joined the firm, beginning his apprenticeship at the age of 14 in 1901. Business boomed, and by 1905, EJ Churchill was appointed gunmaker to the King of Spain, Alfonso XIII. Not all was quiet at home; EJ’s wife died in 1904 from a drink-related illness, perhaps exacerbated by EJ’s dalliance with a Miss Houssart, with whom he fathered three children. They did eventually marry, but secretly (most of EJ’s family was not aware). In 1906, at the age of 12, James Chewter began working for the firm; he was rumoured to be another illegitimate son, who later became the company's general manager and stayed with the firm until 1962. Ah, when guns were made by people, not faceless companies!

EJ died in 1910, and Robert continued the business. In 1913 he started his “Hercules” boxlock ejector, and by 1920 the “Hercules” model had the scroll back action, as seen in Sillymike’s picture. EJ had made short-barrelled guns, but it was Robert who became closely associated with 25-inch barrels more than any other maker, because of his live pigeon shooting success and because he developed a style of shooting to suit short barrelled guns. His book, How to Shoot, was published in 1925 and revised several times. In 1917, the firm became E J Churchill (Gunmakers) Ltd. In 1933, the firm received a royal warrant from the Prince of Wales, though this appointment changed in 1936 when George V died and Edward VIII abdicated in 1937. In 1955, Robert wrote his second book, Game Shooting; it is a great read, and I highly recommend it. Robert died in 1958. In 1959, the firm was sold to Interarmco (UK) Ltd, who also owned Cogswell & Harrison, and the name changed to Churchill (Gunmakers) Ltd. In 1963, the firm merged with Atkin Grant & Lang Ltd, though each firm kept their name to conduct business. In 1971, Churchill (Gunmakers) Ltd changed its name to Churchill, Atkin Grant & Lang Ltd. In 1972, the firm was bought by a large company, Thomas Poole & Gladstone China Clay Ltd. It was sold again in 1973 to the Harris & Sheldon Group. In 1977, that company decided to stop gunmaking activities, and Churchill staff started a workers’ co-operative, selling guns under the name Churchill (Gun Works) Ltd; it ceased trading in 1980. In 1981, a former production director bought the plant, machinery, and tools and registered a new company, Masters Gunmakers (from Churchill) Ltd. In 1993, the name was changed again, to E J Churchill (Gunmakers) Ltd. However, plans to build guns again never materialized.

OK, this has been a particularly long-winded, convoluted, and overly detailed history of a name that has nothing to do with the Turkish gunmaker Akkar, which obtained a registered trademark for the brand name “Churchill” in Turkiye in 2013. Akkar must have figured they could capitalize on using a recognizable name from the gun world, but there is no connection whatsoever to the storied Churchill name and its gunmaking heritage.
 
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overly detailed history of a name that has nothing to do with the Turkish gunmaker Akkar, which obtained a registered trademark for the brand name “Churchill” in Turkiye in 2013. Akkar must have figured they could capitalize on using a recognizable name from the gun world, but there is no connection whatsoever to the storied Churchill name and its gunmaking heritage.

Much like the current use of the name Charles Daly. Absolutely no connection to the company and the people who made the brand noteworthy.

But....it's a common practice for any consumer good that uses brand names as part of the appeal. I myself have licensed the name Slazenger (you are probably familiar with that brand name) at some point in the past.
 
Remember some clunker Belgian shotguns from the early 20th century by Barker Bros. LC Schmidt etc.
Who ever would have thought that advertisers would lie or trick? Seriously, misdirection and fibbing have been a part of gun advertising since… guns. But there is a difference between making outlandish claims about the latest product, and trying to bamboozle the unwary into a bait-and-switch. Not long ago, there was a gun sold through one of the auction sites, signed “Purdy.” It was not a quality gun, possibly of Belgian origin, but it sold for a price way over its market value as a tired wall-hanger; the new owner probably thought it the product of a certain storied house and didn’t catch the misspelling. Live and (hopefully) learn.

Aside from the examples Mike gives, turn-of-the-century cheap Belgian guns can be easily found with the names “W. Moore” and “W. Richards.” William Moore died around 1864, but at that time, it was a famous name, one of the greats. What didn’t help is that real Moore guns might be signed William Moore, Wm Moore & Co, Moore & Harris, William Moore & Grey, William Moore, Grey & Co., or W. M. & Co., so having yet another form of Moore’s name might not have seemed suspicious to some buyers. Regarding the “W. Richards” name, which attempted to emulate the famous Birmingham maker Westley Richards, it can be even more confusing, as there was a very talented Liverpool gunmaker, William Richards, who signed his guns “W. Richards.” We see the hardware-store guns in a worn, dilapidated state today, but they were once new and shiny, and the name trickery would have been harder to spot, at least to those who weren’t attentive.

Even in the 19th century, British gunmaking had a fair bit of skulduggery around its edges. Here is one example, based on the Jeffery family of British gunmakers from Poole, Plymouth, Lymington, Dorchester, and Farnham. Having seen examples of their early fine provincial muzzle-loaders and their later London-built central-fire guns and rifles, I imagined how exquisite a Jeffery pin-fire game gun might look, and it was high on my want list. I was fortunate to obtain one finally – or so I thought. To my disappointment, once in my hand, it turned out the gun was signed “Jeffrey,” not “Jeffery.” I can’t fault the seller, who wasn’t aware of the distinction, and as I would later realize, confusing the two spellings is common in online gun discussions. Even in the 19th century, the Jeffery name caused confusion: an early business record for a gunmaker William Jeffrey in Farnham, Surrey, turns out to have been a misprint of his name.

The gun is a 12-bore double-bite screw grip pin-fire sporting gun of typical form, of the kind commonly made in the Birmingham trade in the late 1860s. The barrels were made by the Rose Brothers of the Hales-Owen Mills & Forge, under their patent for making machine-forged damascus barrel tubes. These were cheaper than hand-forged barrels and can be found on guns built for the trade, appearing under any name. The top rib is signed “Jeffrey London,” as are the back-action locks. The name is probably as close to London as this gun ever got, and adding “London” was a common marketing ploy for selling lesser-grade Birmingham guns in towns and villages, for the big-city cachet. Indeed, any sporting gun marked “London” without a specific street address was engaging in false advertising, at the very least. While an inexpensive gun with dubious markings, the Jeffrey is nevertheless adequately made, and the form of the under-lever, lacking a central fixing screw visible from below, is oddly attractive. The generic engraving and overall plainness mark the gun as a basic offering; however, when new, it would have looked quite handsome to someone with a limited budget.

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The use of 'almost' names in the gun-making business has been around for a long time. Established gunmakers used the shooting press to publish the names and addresses that appeared on their wares and to warn against counterfeits and the use of names "nearly, but not quite, like those used by the makes whose guns they are intended to represent." Duplicating a real name might be a criminal act, so changing a letter or two would evade legal consequences. The problem was so widespread that the British periodical Shooting published a list of the principal gunmakers and how their guns were marked on the ribs and lockplates in their 9 March 1887 edition, to help buyers from being tricked.
 
You may enjoy this article by McIntosh that was republished recently on the allure of all things British for the Sporting Life:
https://sportingclassicsdaily.com/unmistakably-british/
Thanks for posting, Pinepointer. I see Mr McIntosh covered many of the same points I’ve touched upon, which is unsurprising, as facts are facts, and our sources undoubtedly overlapped. I tend to give the Continental influence on gun history higher marks, without taking away any of Britain’s contribution, but that is a subject for continued debate. The mystique of the British gun is sufficiently complex to pin down, that a great many articles and threads can yet be written on the subject, without fear of exhaustion. Michael McIntosh passed away in 2010, when our sport lost another great writer on guns and shooting. We live in the age of YouTube now, and AI-generated industry drivel. I miss the old days of curling up with a good book or the latest Double Gun Journal – I guess that dates me.

I rather like a good juicy scandal, who doesn’t? Guns fraudulently marked with false or misleading names and addresses, barrels without proofs or with counterfeit proofs, and gunmakers conducting illicit affairs, I’ve briefly touched upon. I could provide more examples of these, I assure you, but there is still more ‘dirt’ and shameful behaviour to be found in the history of British gunmaking, proving that not all the rogues and pirates were at sea. There is, for example, the curious tale of the Breechloading Armoury Company Limited of London, resulting in one of the most lurid and entertaining legal cases in Victorian Britain.

With the growing popularity of the pin-fire system in Britain in the mid-1860s, a number of new gunmaking firms appeared to fill the demand. One of these was the Breechloading Armoury Company Limited of London, selling guns from their fashionable Pall Mall address for only a short period between 1866 and 1868. One of their guns is shown here, a distinctive twelve-bore game gun with bar-action locks and a slender side-lever to release the breech. The hammers are nicely sculptured, and the thick fences and the long action bar are typical features of later pin-fire guns built for improved strength. The top rib is signed “The Breech Loading Armoury Company Limited 4 Pall Mall London,” the gun has London proofs, it has 29 5/8” damascus barrels, and the gun weighs a trim 6 lb 12 oz. The high serial number (10244) for a gun produced by a new company that lasted less than three years, together with the fact that the firm's name is lacking from the lock plates, suggests that the gun was obtained from an established gunmaker or supplier, with only the company's name added to the top rib.

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The very unusual action is a single-bite snap-action worked by a side lever, using part of Stephen and Joseph Law's provisional patent no. 2063 of 1865. The original patent belonging to these Wolverhampton gunmakers was for an ingenious design that would release the barrel locking bolt by pulling one of the hammers at half ####. The patent included a pivoting locking bolt whose rounded free end engaged a hook-like barrel lump, with a vertical V-spring applying tension against the bolt. This is the locking system used on this gun, and the action flats are stamped with the inscription “Law Bros Patent.” The slender side-lever, when pressed downwards, rotates and disengages the locking bolt. This is slightly different from the patent specification, but it may be that the Law brothers' hammer-release design was too complex to build or too fragile for heavy use, and was never really implemented. In practice, the action works well, though the downward throw required to release the barrels is quite long and, coupled with the fragile build of the lever, one can only speculate how many of these levers might have been bent or broken off during a hectic pheasant drive.

Another feature of this particular gun is that it is dual-fire, using either pin-fire or central-fire cartridges. During the transitional period between the pin-fire and the central-fire, when the latter's cartridges were challenging to obtain, some believed such a gun offered the best solution. This gun was built as a dual-fire, as opposed to being later modified. The two-piece strikers appear based on Thomas George Sylven’s 1866 patent: two holes are drilled into the breech face for each barrel, one vertical and one horizontal, meeting inside the breech face. One striker fits in the vertical hole, while the other striker slides in the horizontal hole. The upper striker is retained by a locking screw at the rear of the action, while the horizontal striker is kept in place by a plug fitted flush against the breech face. Upon being struck by the hammer, the first striker moves downwards and its angled tip transfers its energy to the second striker, which moves forward and explodes the cap. Should a pin-fire cartridge be inserted instead, the hammer nose would strike the pin and explode the charge before the hammer would reach the central-fire striker. The gun does not carry Sylven's mark, so it is unclear whether this is Sylven's work, or if this was done by another gunsmith. The central-fire cartridge soon became as readily available as the pin cartridge, and the need for dual-ignition guns disappeared before the end of the decade.

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But let’s set aside the gun for the moment, and get to the real story here. It starts, oddly enough, with Bertram Calisher and William Terry’s capping-breechloader (percussion) carbine of 1856. This rifle had a very limited service use with the British 18th Hussars from 1859 to 1864, after which the same rifles were re-issued to the Cape Mounted Rifles in Southern Africa until 1870. In addition, some rifles were built by these two Birmingham gunmakers for sporting use. In April 1865, Calisher and Terry sold their London and Birmingham premises and patents to a new concern, which was to operate under the name The Breech Loading Armoury Company, incorporated in May 1865. It aimed to build and market the carbine and other guns, and offered a prospectus to attract investors, making available 6,000 shares at £25 each. The Chairman of the new company was Rear-Admiral Mark John Currie, who had played a significant role in the exploration of Australia and the foundation of the Swan River Colony, later named Western Australia.

However, in July 1866, a pissed-off shareholder took the company to court, accusing it of fraud over amounts paid to Calisher and Terry, and the lack of investor dividends. While the role or responsibility of the company directors in financial malfeasance was never established, the court saw fit to order the winding down of the company in July 1866. In court it was shown that the prospectus shown to investors had a number of gross misstatements – such as the Calisher & Terry rifles built by the company had been approved and adopted by the government and supplied to the cavalry forces (when in fact the government had only agreed to a trial of the rifles); English, French, American, Austrian and Belgian patents had been obtained (in truth only one English patent had been obtained); several large payments had been made to the company (whereas none had been made); and that 35,000 rifles had been supplied to the Government of New Zealand (which was not the case). Lord Romilly, the judge in the case, stated “I must confess that the statements in the prospectus of this company are beyond anything the worst I have ever met with. The mis-statements are the most wanton I ever saw”. Lord Romilly (Sir John Romilly, 1st Baron Romilly) was Master of the Rolls, a legal position second only to the Lord Chief Justice; a previous holder of the Master of the Rolls title was Thomas Cromwell, under Henry VIII. If Romilly thought it was bad, it was bad. While the company at some point may well have intended to make rifles and guns, its real purpose was to swindle investors, to take the £150,000 and run. That sum is equivalent to $43 million today, so it is not surprising that the scandal caused a considerable stir back then.

Internet and publication searches tell us that in the brief time the company operated, it marketed percussion Calisher & Terry rifles and Beaumont-Adams revolvers, of which a few have survived. And, from the example pictured above, at least one breech-loading sporting game gun. While the Terry carbine was a good design, it was never adapted to metallic cartridge use and was superseded by better central-fire cartridge rifles. The actual maker of the shotgun is likely to remain unknown, and if anyone out there has ever seen another Law Bros action or Breech Loading Armoury Company sporting gun, I’d sure like to hear about it. How an obscure patent appeared on a well-made gun likely built on contract to a stock-swindling scheme, is a mystery. Was it a special request? A marketing attempt for show, to attract and dupe investors? Why use such a little-known patent, when so many others were better, cheaper, and equally available? The lack of any other examples turning up makes it impossible to finish this story.
 
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One constant throughout the history of firearms is their inevitable association with projection of power. The very nature of the tool is the essence of projection of power. It is no coincidence that the expansion of colonialist empires occurred over the same era as did the evolution of firearms and munitions in general. Domestic firearms industries were spawned and grew out of the constant need for military innovation.

Several European nations were early adopters of firearms and they all played a role in their development and evolution. Britain was at the forefront of this wave due to being a seafaring island nation. This was an advantage when establishing economically viable trade routes and when waging war. Britain's dominance during this period is evidenced by the pound sterling rising to prominence as the major exchange currency.

Commercial opportunities abounded, including for sales of guns themselves. Between military contracts, trade guns for sale and barter in foreign lands, and a nascent but fast-growing sporting market at home, British gunmakers had every incentive to build more and better guns. Bulging Royal purses and the aspirations of the nouveau riche combined to create demand for the best and finest guns that could be produced. Granted the demand was extremely low volume, but money was no object, so good profit could be made if the product achieved the best in ergonomics, function, and style that could be produced with the technologies of the day. Unless a clear advantage was to be gained, classic methods and materials were preferred.

These guns were 'unobtanium' to all but the very rich. The finest remaining examples in the very best condition (or new ones) remain so. However, best guns with a few decades of mild use on them can occasionally be found at prices mere mortals can afford. Also, name recognition is poor for some of the lesser known makers and their best guns can sometimes be found. And, not all desirable British guns achieve "best" status.

All this to say that the allure of the British gun is not wanton, misplaced, or snobbery. It is the appreciation of the finer things in life. It is the acknowledgement of a job exceedingly well done. This appreciation becomes a passion when you can take the piece out into the field and experience first-hand the elegance and simplicity with which it operates.

Full disclosure: I am neither English nor British and hold no bias for or against any nationality.
 
Well said, Straightshooter.

While the Brits were behind the curve on just about all major world-changing gun innovations, they made up for it in the myriad small inventions that, little by little, produced the guns of today. Have there been any significant gun inventions in the past 100 years? Maybe removable chokes would be on the list, and a few invisible advances in metallurgy, if you believe Italian hype. I think the most important developments occurred in cartridge technology (plastic hulls, wads, better crimping, improved powders etc.). As to removable chokes, I can’t help but imagine the ghosts of Greener and Pape are somewhere arguing over who would have come up with that idea first, had they lived longer.

With hammerless hinge-action guns, the arming of the mainspring is almost always done upon opening the action, with the exception of Frederick Beesley’s easy-opener designs, found on some Purdeys and Lancasters, which compress the mainspring upon closing the gun. This design makes the gun harder to close than to open, and earned Lancaster’s version the sobriquet “wrist-breaker.” One advantage of these designs is that the mainspring is at rest when the gun is opened or the barrels disassembled, for which it is claimed the springs last longer. In either case, opening the gun, loading cartridges, and closing the gun results in a ready-to-shoot configuration. There are also a few lever-cocking double guns, but I’ve never encountered one.

Hammer guns are a different affair entirely. In the latter years of the hammer gun, John Stanton’s rebounding lock innovation meant that at rest, the gun was opened, loaded and closed without touching the hammers, and bringing the gun to firing condition meant pulling the hammer back a single notch. After firing, the hammer reverts to its rebounded, neutral position. Before this, with flint, percussion, pin-fire, and early central-fire locks, there were three positions: half-####, full-####, and fired. Half-#### maintained a semblance of safety while loading/re-loading, and once fired, the shooter would bring the hammer back one detent to half-####, for reloading. While you get used to it, there is a lot to think about. Everyone who has used early hammer guns in the field can relate to (a) pulling a trigger while at half-#### (nothing happens, like a hammerless with the safety on), or (b) a gun that won’t open because the striker is still imbedded in the priming cap, pushed by the hammer in the fired position.

Before Stanton’s invention, gunmakers tried to devise mechanisms that would simplify the process as much as possible. The most successful of these was Cogswell & Harrison’s self-half-cocking gun.

Benjamin Cogswell started as a pawnbroker in London in 1770, and his son, also Benjamin, was born in 1796. Benjamin Cogswell the younger continued the family pawnbroker business and gradually became involved in selling guns, perhaps those held in collateral against loans. In 1842, he bought the pawnbroker business of Edward Benton at 223 Strand; Cogswell then advertised himself as a “gun and pistol warehouse,” selling guns by various makers. From these premises, Benjamin Cogswell found his talents as a gunmaker and as an inventor. In 1851, his shop manager was Edward Harrison, and from 1857, Benjamin Cogswell started advertising himself as a gunmaker. By 1860, Cogswell the elder had retired, and his son continued the business. Harrison became a partner, and in 1863 the firm was re-named Cogswell & Harrison. Edward Harrison was a prolific inventor; on 1 February 1864, he registered patent No. 271 for a part self-cocking, rotating bolt, single bite, snap action pin-fire gun. Here is a gun built on that patent, a 12-bore made in late 1864 or early 1865. The 30 3/16" damascus barrels carry the barrel maker's mark of Amos Elvins (Elvins worked for James Purdey before establishing his own business in 1864 at 64 Wells Road, Oxford Street, and he supplied barrels to Thomas Boss and other top makers). The top rib is signed “Cogswell & Harrison 223 & 224 Strand, London,” and the back-action locks are also signed. The push-forward underlever single-bite snap-action with half-cocking feature is Edward Harrison's 1864 patent. Rising from the fences are rods that push the hammers up/back to half-#### when the underlever is depressed. The gun can be opened in one smooth movement, and once reloaded, the gun snaps shut with the hammers at half-####. While not as ergonomic as later rebounding hammers and hammerless guns, this nevertheless quickened the loading/reloading sequence in the field, perfect for driven bird shooting. The action bar is signed “Harrison's Patent No 26” within an acanthus-leaf cartouche, indicating it is the 26th action built on Harrison's patent. Unfortunately, Cogswell & Harrison no longer have the records for guns made during this period, so the original owner remains a mystery. The gun still has mirror bores and weighs 6 lb 13 oz. Nice wood, too!

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Like everyone else who peruses this subgroup, I have been enthralled by Claudio O’s illustrated restoration of his Parker. Beautiful work, done properly – the highest accolade I can think of. British understatedness has rubbed off on me, I guess. Bravo, Claudio.

Anywhere we can applaud double guns is to be treasured, because there shouldn’t have been any double guns built after, say, 1905 or so. No side by sides, no over/unders. By that time, successful multi-shot repeaters had appeared, five shots for the price of two. Why on earth would anybody build and sell two-shot guns when much better and efficient designs were to be had?

The answer is path dependence. This is when a design is limited by decisions made in the past, even if newer and better alternatives are available. Path dependency also occurs when it is often easier or more cost-effective to continue along an already set path than to create or adopt an entirely new one. Path dependency is strong in gunmaking history. People don’t want to give up what they are used to: users of flint guns didn’t want to switch to percussion; percussion users didn’t want to switch to breech-loaders; pin-fire users didn’t want to switch to centre-fire, and so on. It tends to follow an evolutionary line, and few ever want to go backwards on it. Now, users of pumps and autoloaders view double guns as archaic, anachronisms of the past, and even symbols of backward-thinking (the Fudd gun). Though, to be fair, over/unders haven’t suffered anywhere as badly as the side-by-side, having been enthusiastically adopted by followers of shooting sports having a two-shot limit. Not exactly sure how that logic makes sense (horizontal bad, vertical good?).

In gunmaking the original design of a part might change in its function, such as the flint #### becoming a hammer, or a flint pan fence becoming a nipple fence, but all are still functional. However, merging earlier functional designs into non-functional ones is a repeated theme in gunmaking. There is even a term for such a practice, skeuomorphism, and it is not limited to gunmaking. Skeuomorphism is a concept first identified by the archaeologist Henry March in 1890, and it generally refers to hanging on to aspects of an object’s design that no longer have a function, or items pretending to be something they aren’t. Examples of skeuomorphism on a pin-fire game gun includes features such as decorative fences patterned after percussion fences, cap guards on pin-fire hammers, decorative fore-end finials evolved from ramrod throats, and metal butt plates. The latter were no longer necessary, as breech-loaders didn’t have to have their butts placed on the ground for reloading. In later pin-fires you can see the eventual evolution towards heel-and-toe plates, skeleton plates, horn plates, or leaving the wood as-is, but until the 1870s and beyond, the iron butt plate was usually there… because. The fore-end finial can often be found on more modern side-by-sides, either left for decoration, or to disguise an Anson push-rod release.

How necessary is chequering? The French often dispensed with chequered hands on their guns to no ill effect, leaving the wood untouched to best show off its figure. One might argue that diamond-topped chequering helps in maintaining grip, but the same argument can’t be made for English flat-topped chequering. Is any chequering really necessary on a splinter fore-end? Really? If you’re gripping a splinter fore-end, you’re holding the gun wrong (which might explain why some keep missing with their side-by-sides). The first French breech-loaders often had a steel fore-end. The fact that hinge-action breech-loaders still have wood fore-ends is path dependence, and a carry-over from the days of muzzle-loaders. We like the look.

Perhaps the best example of trying to retain as much of the previous era’s design as possible is the bar-in-wood hammer gun. Masterpieces of the breech-loading gunmaker’s art, such guns try to emulate the form and sweeping lines of the muzzle-loader, and hide the hinge pin and action parts beneath as much wood as possible. This is a very stupid solution, and far removed from being practical, leading to chipped wood and diminished strength. Ah, but remarkably beautiful when executed well, in a nostalgic kind of way. Few bar-in-woods were made outside of Britain (leaving out a few French and Belgian craftsmen who refused to be outdone by the Brits). But then again, a British gunmaking habit has always been to trim weight/metal to an extreme, producing the thinnest-walled and most fragile creations that will pass proof testing. “Can’t be done? Hold my ale...”

Skeuomorphism is not limited to guns, it is commonplace all around us, with a resurgence in the world of computing. To answer a call on your smartphone you tap an icon in the shape of a phone that no longer exists; I saved this document by clicking on a floppy-disk icon, a technological feature no longer found on computers today. We instinctively know its purpose, and it helps us deal with the new.

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Good read.Never understood folks slagging side by sides and cheering over and unders. Two sides of the same coin to me. I think the side by side is better balanced in general and action doesn't have to opened as far to #### and reload. To each their own, I guess.
 
SxS/ OU vs pump and semi's

I guess it depends on what you hunt vs how you hunt

Yes, a pump/semi can send more lead down range faster. And yes screw in chokes allows you to get different patterns with the same barrel.
- but to (at least) once I got taste of double barrels shotgun, with two different patterns available immediately... Going back to single pump/semi isn't all that interesting
 
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