The Brits did not invent the gun. That credit goes to the Chinese, who invented gunpowder in the 9th or 10th century in a failed attempt to discover the Elixir of Life and built hand-held tubes to fire it out of. The Spanish invented the rifle stock for such tubes, the Portuguese invented the matchlock, the Italians or Germans invented the wheellock, and the French are credited with the flintlock. It was a Scot, Alexander Forsyth, who came up with the chemical ignition lock, arguably the real game-changer, but the later percussion cap might have been a British, French or American idea – nobody knows for sure. The French can also lay claim to the pin-fire and modern centrefire systems, and the breech-loading sporting gun can be said to be a Swiss idea. The Belgians were masters in steel-making technology, and in the world of repeating guns, it would seem that most successful designs came out of John Moses Browning’s brain. And yet, though the Spanish, French, Germans, Belgians, Americans and others were (and are) capable of building the finest guns, none of these countries have been able to knock the British off their perch in terms of gun-making desirability, and I’m curious as to why.
Britain did not have a monopoly on source materials. Actually, much was second-best. The best gun steels came out of Belgium and Sweden. In fact, just about all British sporting guns with damascus barrels were built with Belgian-sourced tubes. The so-called English walnut isn’t even a native species, as Juglans regia originated in Persia before being cultivated and widely dispersed by Alexander the Great and the Romans (the latter brought it to Britain). The beautifully veined and marbled wood sought for sporting guns was most likely sourced from Central Asia and the Balkans. The Brits did catch up steel-wise with Henry Bessemer’s process (1856), which removed the impurities plaguing British steel, and Joseph Whitworth used this process, starting in 1857, to produce his fluid steel barrels (though his barrels did not become commonplace until the 1880s).
The Brits came up with mechanical ideas that drowned out the competition. Theophilus Murcott of London came up with the hammerless gun in 1871, available in sidelock and trigger-plate action versions. Then William Anson and John Deeley came up with the boxlock action in 1875 while at Westley Richards, and Frederick Beesley dreamed up the self-opener sidelock in 1879 while working for Purdey’s. [We’ll leave out the trigger-plate actions of James MacNaughton (1879) and John Dickson (1880) of Scotland, as they essentially copied an earlier German design.] Best-quality Spanish guns are generally copies of British designs (notably Holland & Holland and Purdey sidelocks), and everyone copies the A&D boxlock for its simplicity and dependability. Most French guns are based on similar patterns while producing a smaller number of their own outside-the-box, often exquisite, mechanical designs.
If the desirability of British guns is only partly due to originality of design and workmanship, there must be something else. It may be a social class affair, as fine British sporting guns were aimed at the wealthy (often land-owning) elite. Who doesn’t want to own what was formerly only the domain of the fabulously wealthy? There is also the matter of name recognition. One enterprising soul on another gun board has developed a scoring system to determine value, in which name recognition is an essential factor. Most can rattle off five British gunmakers of solid repute, and some can name ten without too much difficulty, especially ones still in business or whose span of years was considerable. Beyond this, it might be a struggle, though. Just for the period that fascinates me, the 1850s and 1860s, there were over 900 known sporting gun makers in Great Britain and Ireland operating for all or some of those years. Everyone knows the names Purdey, Holland & Holland, and Westley Richards in the context of Best Guns. However, a great many gunmakers had the ability to produce guns of equal quality when the commission required it. This is not too surprising when you consider the business model that generally depended on outsourcing the myriad tasks and manufacturing processes, and where the name on the gun is the ultimate retailer, not necessarily its builder. Can a Blanch, Erskine, Pape or Paton equal or surpass a Boss, Woodward or Rigby? Easily, if the client wanted it to, and many did, including royalty. Smaller gunmakers could buy the same materials (barrels, locks, etc.) from the same businesses that supplied the great names, and often hired the same outworkers the big names used, for the more difficult tasks and procedures. And yet, we are still seduced by the storied names, even though many of these are now owned by investment firms, and where profits come from branded clothing and accessories.
How to conclude? Perhaps the desirability of British guns comes from a bit of all of the above in terms of quality materials, workmanship, and humanity’s never-ending desire for a good story. Others may claim to have one or two of these, but perhaps not all three, as the Brits have perfected.
Does anyone have differing views, or their own perspectives on the subject?
Britain did not have a monopoly on source materials. Actually, much was second-best. The best gun steels came out of Belgium and Sweden. In fact, just about all British sporting guns with damascus barrels were built with Belgian-sourced tubes. The so-called English walnut isn’t even a native species, as Juglans regia originated in Persia before being cultivated and widely dispersed by Alexander the Great and the Romans (the latter brought it to Britain). The beautifully veined and marbled wood sought for sporting guns was most likely sourced from Central Asia and the Balkans. The Brits did catch up steel-wise with Henry Bessemer’s process (1856), which removed the impurities plaguing British steel, and Joseph Whitworth used this process, starting in 1857, to produce his fluid steel barrels (though his barrels did not become commonplace until the 1880s).
The Brits came up with mechanical ideas that drowned out the competition. Theophilus Murcott of London came up with the hammerless gun in 1871, available in sidelock and trigger-plate action versions. Then William Anson and John Deeley came up with the boxlock action in 1875 while at Westley Richards, and Frederick Beesley dreamed up the self-opener sidelock in 1879 while working for Purdey’s. [We’ll leave out the trigger-plate actions of James MacNaughton (1879) and John Dickson (1880) of Scotland, as they essentially copied an earlier German design.] Best-quality Spanish guns are generally copies of British designs (notably Holland & Holland and Purdey sidelocks), and everyone copies the A&D boxlock for its simplicity and dependability. Most French guns are based on similar patterns while producing a smaller number of their own outside-the-box, often exquisite, mechanical designs.
If the desirability of British guns is only partly due to originality of design and workmanship, there must be something else. It may be a social class affair, as fine British sporting guns were aimed at the wealthy (often land-owning) elite. Who doesn’t want to own what was formerly only the domain of the fabulously wealthy? There is also the matter of name recognition. One enterprising soul on another gun board has developed a scoring system to determine value, in which name recognition is an essential factor. Most can rattle off five British gunmakers of solid repute, and some can name ten without too much difficulty, especially ones still in business or whose span of years was considerable. Beyond this, it might be a struggle, though. Just for the period that fascinates me, the 1850s and 1860s, there were over 900 known sporting gun makers in Great Britain and Ireland operating for all or some of those years. Everyone knows the names Purdey, Holland & Holland, and Westley Richards in the context of Best Guns. However, a great many gunmakers had the ability to produce guns of equal quality when the commission required it. This is not too surprising when you consider the business model that generally depended on outsourcing the myriad tasks and manufacturing processes, and where the name on the gun is the ultimate retailer, not necessarily its builder. Can a Blanch, Erskine, Pape or Paton equal or surpass a Boss, Woodward or Rigby? Easily, if the client wanted it to, and many did, including royalty. Smaller gunmakers could buy the same materials (barrels, locks, etc.) from the same businesses that supplied the great names, and often hired the same outworkers the big names used, for the more difficult tasks and procedures. And yet, we are still seduced by the storied names, even though many of these are now owned by investment firms, and where profits come from branded clothing and accessories.
How to conclude? Perhaps the desirability of British guns comes from a bit of all of the above in terms of quality materials, workmanship, and humanity’s never-ending desire for a good story. Others may claim to have one or two of these, but perhaps not all three, as the Brits have perfected.
Does anyone have differing views, or their own perspectives on the subject?
... Got to play with some American stuff (Red Label and 101) and a BSS they were nice, but not nice enough to part with $.
