Hungarian Stanhope Pen
A Glimpse into the Past
Not long ago I wrote an article titled Stanhope, the Medium Hidden in a Pen, about tiny photographs embedded in pens, glued to a magnifying lens and viewed by holding them up to the light. In this article, I present a Hungarian Stanhope pen through which we can see the past of Herkulesfürdő (Băile Herculane, now in Romania) through a small window on its side.
When it comes to Herkulesfürdő, one might first think of Jakab Pazeller’s classical waltz, or the song written by Miklós Sebő based on that melody here, or Pál Sándor’s film of the same title. And, of course, the many beautiful buildings from the Austro-Hungarian era that are still left to decay due to a history alien—or even hostile—to the Romanian national memory.
As for the spa’s history: during the Turkish war of 1737, the previously built settlement was destroyed and only began to recover when King Francis I personally took charge of its reconstruction on October 1, 1817. It was then that the imperial military community officially received the name Herkulesfürdő, replacing the former “Mehádiai Baths.” But let us return to the pen.
Although very little information (basically none) is available about the pen itself, the dip pen shown in the photos was probably made between the late 19th century (after 1887) and 1916. The nib is easily replaceable, so its age is not decisive. The pen’s shaft could also be used to open envelopes—a motion that likely caused the breakage of this section, which I managed to rebuild solidly. One side of the paper knife bears the inscription “Herkulesfürdő,” while the other features floral motifs. These floral patterns inspired the lyrics written by Béla Zerkovitz in 1903, the opening lines of which are:
“It was summer and wonderfully fair, the sky above was blue,
Around us a thousand flowers spread their scent anew.”
You can listen to the longer version of the song here. Caution: only for those with strong nerves—it’s intensely romantic.
If the decorator was indeed inspired by this song, the pen was likely manufactured between 1904 and 1914. The tiny glass plate containing the images is very small, yet four pictures were fixed onto a thin gelatin layer, accompanied by the caption: “In Herkulesfürdő I thought of you, and brought this memory for you.” The four images show the Szapáry Bath (1887), the Rezső Court / Rudolfshof (1863), the Therapy Hall (1863), and the Greek Church (1864).
Based on these images, I tried to find postcards or period photos that matched those visible in the pen to better determine its production period, but I couldn’t find any identical ones. Therefore, I assume that these images were created exclusively for this souvenir item.
Although I do not know exactly what optical process was used to imprint the images onto these tiny glass fragments, the diagram below clearly shows that the letters could only be measured in microns—and yet the image remains sharp. The blurred areas reflect my own technical limitations! I also possess a similar dip pen with the same optical device, but unfortunately its paper knife section is missing. However, from the remaining fragment I could determine that it was made of bone or ivory. Apart from this Herkulesfürdő pen, other Stanhope pens were certainly produced in the Austro-Hungarian era, but I have not encountered another specimen.
If you own such a pen, please get in touch!
Shortly after this article was published, I received a letter from Mr. Joachim Eichert, who follows my website from Klagenfurt. A former employee of the regional archives, he has been collecting old writing instruments and accessories since the 1980s. Last year, he even lent 80 pieces of his collection to an exhibition—one of them being a Stanhope pen like this. In the photo below, we can see Joachim with the pen and a newspaper excerpt. He wrote: “My example is engraved ‘GB Paris’ on the handle and comes from the estate of an old Klagenfurt family. According to an article in the Klagenfurter Zeitung dated December 18, 1870, this type of pen was first exhibited at the 1867 Paris World’s Fair. I would describe the shaft not as a letter opener, but as a folding leg for creasing letters (as was customary at the time). The written sheet was folded this way into an envelope, which was usually sealed with wax.”
I thank Mr. Joachim Eichert for his kind information and the photographs! You can read about last year’s exhibition (in German) here.
