Flags, Flowers and Front Lines

Among the most charming collectables from the First World War are silk postcards, hand-embroidered on fine mesh and mounted in embossed card frames. Produced mainly in Belgium and France between 1914 and 1919, they were often sent home inside envelopes to protect them from damage – though many still show the wear of time, thanks to their delicate construction and glued borders.

Some of the most sought-after examples feature tiny silk ‘envelopes’ sewn into the design, allowing a small printed greeting card to be tucked inside. These inserts can actually be worth more than the postcard itself, so they’re always worth looking out for.

Patriotic cards, those decorated with flags, regimental crests, or stirring verses like “For the Right”, are popular and still reasonably affordable at £5-10 each. Birthday or generic greeting cards fetch a little less, usually £3 to 5. The real prize pieces, however, are those showing regimental badges of smaller or rarer units, which can command £20-100 depending on condition.

Delicate, colourful, and steeped in history, these postcards are miniature snapshots of wartime sentiment and a reminder that even in the bleakest of times, people found ways to send a message of hope back home.

A Tale of Two Denarii

Few things fire the imagination like holding a Roman denarius that still shows every hammer blow from when it was made.

Here we have two fine examples that speak of the drama and durability of Rome’s empire.

The first is a handsome denarius of Caracalla, struck in Rome around AD 207. The portrait remains sharp, showing the emperor’s famously severe features, while the reverse depicts Mars holding spear and shield with a war trophy over his shoulder. The coin’s irregular flan adds to its appeal – no clipping here, which is what gave rise to the phrase “short-changed” when coins were valued by their weight in silver or gold.

Our second coin dates from AD 223, during the reign of Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander. He became emperor at just 13 and ruled for 13 years – no small feat in an era where succession often meant murder. This denarius shows Mars again, this time with a laurel branch in his right hand and a reversed spear in his left, a subtle nod to peace as well as war.

Together they’re a reminder that even in turbulent times, Rome still celebrated its gods, its emperors, and its victories – in silver that has outlasted them all.

Love in Miniature

Among the most sought-after keepsakes from the Great War and beyond are sweetheart brooches mounted on tortoiseshell (or horn). These silver or gold-rimmed beauties were the height of fashion between 1914 and the 1920s – and they weren’t cheap. Each one features a unique, hand-engraved regimental cap badge, meaning no two are ever quite the same.

The workmanship is remarkable, likely carried out by skilled watch engravers early in their careers, and many are fully hallmarked and maker-marked. While we now shy away from the thought of using real tortoiseshell, it’s worth remembering these were made well before plastics or nylon became common, when horn buttons were still standard.

Collectors today still prize them, with prices ranging from around £35 for silver examples to £85 in gold, and rarer regiments commanding £125 or more. Whether treasured as family heirlooms or displayed in a collection, they remain a wonderfully personal link to the soldiers and loved ones of over a century ago.

A Civil War Time Capsule in Miniature

Every so often, an object surfaces that feels like a pocket-sized time machine. This tiny keepsake – no bigger than a modern pound coin at just 2cm x 2.2cm – is a locket in the form of a gilt book, containing four photographs from the American Civil War.

The most recognisable face inside is that of Union General Ambrose Burnside, remembered not only for his distinctive whiskers (the origin of the term “sideburns”) but also for his chequered wartime record. While he achieved successes such as cutting off Confederate access to the sea, his leadership was often criticised. Away from the battlefield, Burnside’s story is equally colourful: before the war he was famously jilted at the altar by Charlotte “Lottie” Moon, who would later work as a Confederate spy.

In a twist of fate, Burnside later ordered the arrest of Lottie, her sister Virginia “Ginnie” Moon, and their mother during the war. Though they were suspected of espionage, he never brought charges – a decision thought to be shaped by his lingering affection for his former fiancée.

Who the other three sitters in this locket are remains a mystery, but the piece is a reminder of how personal history and grand historical events often intertwine. A soldier’s portrait, a keepsake clasped close – and behind it, stories of loyalty, betrayal, love, and war.