I love Montblanc inks, and when I saw their Writer’s Edition ink celebrating Jane Austen, of course I ordered it as fast as I could!

Spoiler alert: I will be picking up a second bottle.

In their product description Montblanc writes: “the colour of Writers Edition Jane Austen ink is inspired by the colour of the ink Jane Austen created herself and used for writing her letters.”

What? I’d never heard anything about Austen formulating ink. I had to find out more…

1800s Ink Recipes

This post in the Fountain Pen Network forums quotes an ink recipe from A Jane Austen Household Book: with Martha Lloyd’s recipes:

“To Make Ink”
Take 4 oz. blue gauls, 2 oz. of green
Copperas, 1 oz of half of gum arabic, break
the gauls, the gum & Copperas must be
beaten in a Mortar & put into a pint
of strong stale Beer; with a pint of small
Beer, put in a little refin’d
Sugar, it must stand in a chimney
Corner fourteen days & shaken two or
three times a day.”

Martha Lloyd was a close friend of Jane Austen and even lived with the family for a while*, so it seems probable that Austen may herself have used this recipe for concocting ink. Certainly, when compared to several recipes from The Domestic Encyclopedia of 1803, it appears a more practical method: no boiling — I imagine because the beer would already be boiled and reasonably free from bacteria,– and the fortnight of standing by the warm chimney would substitute for the accelerated oxidisation of the process of reducing the solution over a fire. The absence of any sort of carbon (“logwood”) in Martha’s recipe is interesting, too.

Nonetheless, while oak galls may conceivably have been foraged for free, and sugar, though expensive, kept in stock, I imagine that green copperas (iron sulphate) and gum arabic would have to be procured at an apothecary, so it’s interesting that people still chose to brew their own ink rather than buying ready-made alternatives from stationers. The entry in The Domestic Encyclopedia suggests that this is because stationers’ ink was lower quality — omitting blue vitriol (copper sulphate) and “sugar-candy”, and using less of the dearer green copperas, and substituting with more of the cheaper galls.

* Aside: Judging by this mention in Austen’s letters, Martha was also the first Pride and Prejudice fangirl:

I would not let Martha read “First Impressions” again upon any account, and am very glad that I did not leave it in your power. She is very cunning, but I saw through her design; she means to publish it from memory, and one more perusal must enable her to do it.

Jane Austen’s Ink

This excellent article from The Morgan Library & Museum, which owns the largest collection of Austen’s letters, provides some interesting information about the pen, ink, and paper that Jane Austen (and her characters) used:

‘As for ink, Austen used the most commonly available ink of the nineteenth century—iron gall ink. It is composed of tannin (gallic acid), iron sulfate (known as vitriol in the nineteenth century), gum arabic, and water. Because it is indelible, it was used for official documents from the Middle Ages onward. The ink is easy to make, inexpensive, and can be transported as a powder and mixed whenever needed. When first applied to paper, the ink appears pale gray; as it is exposed to air, the ink darkens to a rich blue-black tone. Eventually, most iron gall ink changes to a brown color, as is evident in Austen’s letters and manuscripts.’

What fascinates me most is that the ink could be kept in powder form – a neat expedience, especially considering the lack of practical airtight containers. Even nowadays, how much easier would it be to travel with fountain pen ink if you could “just add water” at your destination? 

If created from powder, it must have been important to know the appropriate amount of water to add into the mixture — too much water and your writing might end up too faint. One of Austen’s letters mentions her brother (a naval captain) being stationed in “a place where the ink is so abominably pale” – perhaps a result of thrift, or of poor ingredients.

That Austen wonders, in one of her letters, whether ‘the ink-bottle has been filled,’ certainly indicates that she wasn’t the only person in her household who mixed up ink. Considering the rest of the paragraph treats of the price of meat and bread, and the possibility of re-dyeing a blue dress, Austen’s concern seems to be one of economy — either that the ink may go to waste because her sister is to leave Chawton, or that ink is simply another necessary, everyday expense. How fortunate for us that we have such a variety of beautiful, reliable, affordable, ready-made inks at our disposal!

Montblanc Jane Austen

I was quite confused upon opening my bottle, to see that the ink on the inside of the lid looked purple. For several moments I wondered whether the bottle had been put in the wrong box, but no… the sticker stated quite clearly, ‘marron’.

On Tomoe River and CAL the ink looks purply-blue, with a gorgeous coppery sheen in large swatches. On the more absorbent Col-o-Ring cards it starts out blue and dries more like a cool, dark brown. As you’re writing, it looks more like a blue-black, which I wasn’t expecting. Writing on ivory paper (as the article above suggests Austen would have done), does cancel out the blue somewhat, and I have a feeling that the hue continues to develop even after the ink is dry to the touch. On most papers I still found the resulting ink to be cooler in tone than the colour on the box, though of course there are endless variables at play.

As I understand it, Montblanc’s intention was to imitate the colour of the ink Jane Austen would have used when she first wrote her letters and manuscripts, which would have appeared a dark blue-black. The surviving examples of her handwriting are deceptive because iron gall ink fades over time, taking on a more brownish tone, or even a beige more akin to Montblanc Swan Illusion. I think Montblanc were successful in creating an ink that mimics this experience, even if it means that you never feel like you’re writing with an umber ink.

Iron gall inks are still produced (by Rohrer & Klingner and KWZ Inks among others), but are generally not recommended for prolonged use in fountain pens because of their corrosive nature. Austen, of course, was using a quill. Blue-black inks do sometimes contain small amounts of iron gall. I don’t know if this is the case for Montblanc Jane Austen; I don’t notice the ink darkening as it oxidises, but it does seem to shift hue, and it does have the flat, matte appearance of iron gall inks.

Packaging

Montblanc’s square bottles, while they might not be the last word on ease-of-filling (when the level gets low), are nevertheless absolutely beautiful; I love the heft of the glass and the lid, and the flutes that catch the light.

Montblanc’s drawer-style boxes are nice, too. They’re different, and functional. The Jane Austen edition also has the MB logo encircled by a sprig wreath, printed on either side of the drawer — a pretty detail that’s missing from their marketing photos. The design on the front of the box shows Jane Austen’s signature set in a fan of peacock feathers that, of course, symbolise pride, and are reminiscent of this well-known Victorian Pride & Prejudice cover design. Other than that, the box feels very plain; no textured card, no debossed or foiled touches to make it feel a bit more luxurious. Ferris Wheel Press, Laban, and Wearingeul are all smaller ink producers that create beautifully-designed boxes with an earnest attention to details, to story, and to colour that in my opinion overshadow Montblanc in this case.

Conclusion

Montblanc Jane Austen Umber isn’t the ink I was expecting, but I do like it. It has character, and subtlety, and would make a delightful everyday ink. I also appreciate that it led to me delve further into the history of Austen, and of ink-making!