the off side is a cock and carries his wings perpendicularly, or if
she is a hen and, after looping the loop, has also acquired the same
wing position, which appears to be just the right one for billing and
cooing, then it is about time for the collector to turn-er-over and see
if there is anything more fascinating than a love story on the back of
the piece.
To make myself doubly clear, and to remove any possible doubt
whatsoever, I give an illustration of another Willow Pattern dish which
has no mark, and is, to my mind, worth half a dozen of the “S” specimen
as an antique, for it must be fifty years older, is a better shape,
and a nicer blue. I obtained a pair of these from an auctioneer, one
being broken in two, and whether I gave him three shillings for the
whole one or for the whole lot I am uncertain, and so I cannot make up
my pottery account, for I am unable to say the exact number of pieces
I have bought. I rather think he sold me the whole one, and gave me
the two halves; he certainly did not knock down the lot, or both the
dishes would have been broken. With some stuff that is guaranteed to
stick everything, on two occasions I joined the two halves, but each
time they fell apart a while after. As the third time is like no other
my reward for perseverance was that they held together until I nearly
got the dish on the shelf, when half fell on the floor, broke in many
pieces, and I dropped the other on the top of them in disgust. I
suppose those uneasy birds started carrying-on, and the cement did not
have a proper chance to set.
I shall now have to photograph No. 2, and I must see those cuckoos
maintain their present positions.
“Birdie, come here a minute and help me take a photo. You keep an eye
on that off-side budgeregar, and see he doesn’t budge, while I put a
W.P. plate in the slide.”
“Hurry up, dad--they’re gliding.”
“A’hem! they’ve shifted--so like a bird to move; it’s a snapshot
anyway.”
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but when they are in the
air, and you haven’t got your gun,--well, there you are. Talk about
Willow Pattern--but those flighty birds are no pattern.
I once collected a pair of love-birds in London, and fetched them home.
I thought they would do well in the nursery to teach the young idea
how to love. One day Mr. Lovebird got loose and flew about the room
until at last he found a perch out of reach in a hook in the ceiling
from which was suspended a swing. The hook was kept well greased, and
what with friction and dust he could not have found a handier place for
disguising himself as a blackbird. To get him down the nurse hit upon
the brilliant idea of dipping a stick in treacle, and poking about with
this to entice him down, with the result that he got treacled as well
as vaselined. At length he was caught, and put under the bathroom tap
by my better half, who was rewarded by having his beak through the best
half of her thumb. When I came home to lunch, on learning what had
happened, I flew to the nursery, and then I saw something that looked
akin to “L” on one end of the perch, looking very down in the feather,
while Mrs. L. was at the other end. I enquired, “Lovey, why don’t you
get on with your loving.” When swallowing a tear he answered, “She
won’t let me, cos I’m sticky.” I said, “Oh, that’s foolish; if you love
one another you should stick together whatever happens.”
I gave them to a local bird dealer eventually, and the last I saw of
them they were playing about with some rabbits. This man came up to
cure a Plymouth Rock rooster which I thought had the gout; he wrung its
neck, and that is what I would like to do with those wriggling skylarks
which have caused me all this trouble.
* * * * *
“Hello--what’s this?” In reply the broker just said “Two.” Of course
he meant the price of the plate, but I referred to the portrait; on
my explaining he only answered, “Don’t ask me.” I felt sure it was
intended for Tennyson, for although we writers are a bit jealous, we
soon get to know one another. I wanted my impression confirmed, so I
enquired of No. 1, “Who do you think this is?” “Oh, that’s Sir Stafford
Northcote; I can tell by his beard.” No. 2 said it was “Garibaldi,”
judging by his necktie. Then I considered, who do I know who runs a
beard, because anyone who flies a kite at this angle usually trims
it _à la_ somebody, and so I thought of my friend the librarian. He
has plenty of whiskers on his face, a store of information in his
head, and much more on his shelves, and it’s no use having a lot of
shelves if you store everything in the brain. He thought it might be
Tennyson and yet it had a look of Browning; it had rather too much
beard for Tennyson. I pointed out that at intervals beards were usually
trimmed, and he, whilst stroking his own, agreed with me. He kindly
produced volumes which gave Tennyson from photographs, woodcuts, and
steel engravings, taken at various times, and the beard seemed to
change after each poem; in the end I came away firmly convinced it was
Tennyson, and he didn’t seem to mind who it was. I know that Tennyson
was born in 1809, and the plate was made before 1867 by Copeland,
otherwise the mark would be “Copeland and Son,” so if we call the plate
sixty years old, we find that the great poet was honoured by a halo of
Willow Pattern when he was about fifty, and that is as near as one can
guess to with such an illustration. I need hardly say that Tennyson was
not the writer of that much-whistled and enticing poem “Tit-willow,
Tit-willow, Tit-willow.”
I thought I had done with Willow Pattern, but the arrival of Tennyson
has caused a flutter in the dove-cot. When I came to arrange a
photograph for this book I found he was out of place in any position
for making an artistic group worthy to grace a standard work on the
Willow Pattern such as this aspires to be. I therefore went through--or
to be more accurate took up a position in front of--my collection, and
seeing a set of Leeds bread dishes with beaded edges, found they were
all too large. (By the way, these have no warblers on their design.)
Then I saw an oval pie-dish by Job Meigh and Son, and thought that was
no match; next I caught sight of a pair of dishes by the so-called
Wedgwood and Co. of Stockton-on-Tees, but neither of those would fit
the space. A small pickled-onion holder, shaped like a flat-bottomed
boat or barge, was hardly dignified enough, especially as the futurist
artist had given his coots two wings and two tails each. I was on the
point of throwing up the sponge--which, of course, I did not have with
me--when I espied on the top shelf a hot-water plate with an antique
cork in the hole. This I thought very suitable, for had I not heard an
ode to the odour of a cork by a poet who had lost his licence? Also the
lapwings looked fairly normal. Perhaps they were tired with having had
such warm times and fidgeting about trying to find a cool corner on a
round surface. Anyway, they did not look like nesting in that beard and
thereby upsetting the growth of years.
I must decline to discuss the matter further.
_SIXTH COURSE_
Old China
Hard or Soft Lowestoft--“Won by Waiting”--Bow Bowls--Contrast
in Prices--Changing Trains--Eye Openers--A Hidden
Meaning--Photography--Bow--Chelsea--Lowestoft--Bristol--“T” and
Crossed Swords--Tebo and Taboo--Minton--“Thereby Hangs a Tale,” A
Transparent Error--Swansea--The First Starter--“Woodbine”--Blue
Dragons, and Green Ones--Worcester--Sauce and Sentiment--English
Japanese--Some Temper--Some Difference--Newhall--The Broken
Bowl--Camouflage--Physiognomy--Derby--Spode--Leeds--French
Porcelain--What’s in a Name?
Enobarbus said of Cleopatra, “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
her infinite variety,” and the sentiment embodied in this remark seems
singularly applicable to china. Year after year it wears the same charm
and beauty if taken care of, while we see evidence of its infinite
variety every day. To the amateurs who are desirous of gathering
together a collection let me remind them that “a little knowledge is a
dangerous thing.”
I was recently examining a teapot, the only mark on which was “25s.”
in ink, and on commenting on the price to a lady who was also looking
round, was amused at her remark that “it did not seem excessive if it
was either hard or soft Lowestoft.” I did not argue the point, but it
came into my mind that I had read that the furnaces at Lowestoft were
never capable of firing hard China. Moreover, I had seen an identical
teapot in a shop about a mile away, and I have one almost identical
labelled “Newhall” and marked “N” (_see_ Shelf 3, Plate XLII, facing p.
136); also Lowestoft china is very scarce. I believe if all the china
which has been, and still is being, offered as Lowestoft had been made
at that small early factory it would have necessitated its being many
times larger than Doulton’s is to-day.
[Illustration: China Cabinet, Mahogany, Late 18th Century.
PLATE XXXVIII.]
[Illustration: Old China.
Shelf 4. Derby.
” 3. Spode.
” 2. Spode.
” 1. Chelsea.
PLATE XXXIX.]
These remarks caused me to reflect on the difficulty I experienced in
learning to distinguish between hard and soft china, as I had no desire
to collect any but old English. I read that the surest way was to use
a file, but I always feared antique dealers might resent my testing
their stock in this effective manner, although it would have been a
useful tip for some who have sold me pieces of Chelsea and called
them Oriental. I have for some time been fitted with a thumb-nail of
experience on which I have to rely. As illustrative of what may be “won
by waiting” let me relate the following:
In the year 1912 I was in Harrogate and had a desire to acquire a
blue-and-white china sauce-boat, and I found one which the dealer and I
agreed must be Lowestoft. The price was high, but he advised me to buy,
as I might not find another. Seven years after I was struck with the
strange appearance of another blue-and-white sauce-boat which I bought
for a nominal sum. I found it bore a faintly impressed mark, and this
enabled me to identify it as made at Bow and printed at Battersea. This
discovery led to another, which I think worth recording. In 1912 among
other pieces I purchased a triangular-shaped tray with fretted sides,
and not being able to locate its origin said nothing when I found it
had been appropriated for use in the bathroom as a receptacle for soap.
When I had labelled the Bow sauce-boat, which was made of a thick body
with a yellowish cast, I looked through my collection for anything like
it and found a small blue-and-white saucer and the tray which had been
desecrated with soap instead of decorated with sweetmeats and consigned
to the risks of a bathroom instead of the safety of the display
cabinet. Pursuing my investigation I turned out an oblong basket-work
pattern dish with quaint fret edge and with every evidence of old age,
which had been in my cupboard for nearly ten years, and then realised
that it also was early Bow.
You will see on Plate XV a 9-inch Bow bowl of the famille rose design;
this appeared in an auctioneer’s catalogue as “Oriental bowl” and was
knocked down for half a crown to a broker who took a profit of one
shilling from me for his bargain.
Here is another incident:
“Will you buy that bowl?”
“Well hardly, but I don’t mind making you a sporting offer for the
rivets,” I said.
These were the oldest type of rivets used for china I had seen, and
they, with some very ancient shellac, held the two halves very firmly
together. My offer was accepted, and I do not mind telling you the bowl
is early Bow and the only piece with green in the decoration I have
ever seen. (_See_ Plate XV.)
I shall not attempt to place values on any of my specimens as it seems
to me they are worth just as much as I could get for them, while the
same theory holds good in buying.
I show on Plate XLI, Shelf 1, a cup and saucer which are marked with
cross swords; the matched cup and saucer were sold to me by a dealer
as Dresden for about 10s., whereas an odd saucer, also with cross
swords (Shelf 3, Plate XLII), was sent to me marked “4d.” with some
other china, mostly rubbish, on approval. These three items might have
belonged to the same set, and are excellent examples of the beautiful
hand decoration turned out at Bristol about the end of the 18th century.
I was changing trains at a station and had some short time to wait,
so I strolled into the principal street of a town that is constantly
visited by dealers or their representatives, when I espied in a
secondhand furniture shop a pair of hand-painted dark-blue lidded pots
which at first glance I thought were Chinese ginger jars, and yet I
desired to make closer acquaintance. On enquiring from the girl what
was the price she shortly returned and said: “She has been asking
three-and-six for them, but she will take two-and-six.” The pots and
lids were quite thick, and I could make nothing of them in the train;
but when I got home, and in a dark room switched on the electric light,
turned them round until I came to a part thin enough to be transparent,
then by the cast of the paste I knew they were what I anticipated, real
Old Worcester teapots.
This reminds me of another adventure when I passed a shop on my way
to catch a train, and noticed in the window a blotchy blue and white
teapot and felt sorry I was tied to time. About three months after, I
had occasion to visit the town again, and my business being finished
I went straight to that window, when to my joy the teapot was still
there. A very short examination and I had made up my mind to have it
although it was minus a lid.
On asking the price I was told 1s., but--bless their honesty!--they
wouldn’t guarantee it was old. That teapot will be found among my
Lowestoft group and it is probably the earliest example.
I will here refer to the Liverpool teapot on Shelf 3, Plate XLI. I had
travelled by train to a town about twenty miles off and there called in
a shop kept by a man whom his most intimate acquaintances might have
found to be one of the best, but to my mind had some of the Stone Age
blood in him, for he was indeed a hard case. I asked how much for the
teapot.
“Five shillings to you.”
“Five shillings? Well, I’m sorry, but they ought not to have told you.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just thought you must know your number’s up and that you are in
training for the repentance stakes.”
“No sir, but I’m pleased to see you, and to be able to offer you a
bargain this time.”
“Oh, thanks--I apologise.”
When I was leaving with the teapot under my arm he added to his
farewell, “You’d be surprised if you knew how little I gave for it.”
This remark rankled, and I was no sooner in the train than I carefully
examined my purchase, when I found that the spout had been snapped off
clean just where it entered the body of the pot, and had been carefully
and neatly stuck in again, and so the mysterious outburst of genial
generosity was revealed.
Blue and white takes my eye always, pulls me up every time, and I fancy
myself fortunate in having so much of it in pottery and porcelain
considering the means I have adopted while collecting.
I do not flatter myself that I have any china of extraordinary value,
but the reader will gather from the photographs that, taken as a
whole, I have found something worth looking for. Being wishful that
the amateur may derive assistance from my book I have arranged several
groups as specimens of various factories, and although the photographs
can give only a poor idea of the colours, yet the style of decoration
and the shapes may be some guide. I have succeeded in obtaining a black
background by making use of the bookcase on the bureau, which gave me a
side light. I am glad to say that all the handling, moving from place
to place, fixing on wire stands, arranging on the shelves, shifting
from one position to another, taking down and getting back into their
respective quarters has been achieved without a chip. Beyond the
annoyance of having to arrange a grouping twice, owing to an oversight
which was not discovered until some days after the first negative had
been taken, the photography was interesting, and I hope the result will
be so to the reader, who is recommended to use a magnifying glass.
BOW (PLATE XL)
I have drawn my bow at a venture in getting this bag and my first
shot brought in a saucer pronounced “Worcester” which I found had an
impressed Bow workman’s mark; next I potted a saucer which was so thick
and heavy that I thought it was all pot; then came in sight the teapot
sold as “Worcester,” Dr. Wall period, and soon after I got a small
bowl, strange to say flying under the same false colours. Other stray
shots account for the odd handle-less cups. All these are hand-painted
in blue, and as they vary in shade and hardness of paste they have
been very entertaining. The tea-caddy on which I placed a small cup
inverted, and two cups with saucers are painted in red, blue and gold.
I have already spoken of my large bowl, the bowl with green decoration,
sauce-boat, fretted bon-bon tray and basket pattern dish, so I need not
again refer to them.
CHELSEA (PLATE XXXIX)
I fancy the two cups hand-decorated in red were among the first
pieces made, and I wonder what has become of the saucers for they
would be so thick they would not be likely to be broken except by a
twentieth-century washer-up. I have three large plates, two of which
were sold as Oriental, while the other was exchanged for a remark about
the weather and half a crown. The two small plates were “certainly
Lowestoft.” The fine cup I found at Dunbar, and strange to say I picked
out a saucer to match it at a Southport shop a few days later. Here I
also bought the little vase as Oriental, and at the next antique shop I
visited I was kindly furnished with an Oriental lid which fitted, thus
completing the picture in a way. The Chelsea painting is exquisite,
yet the whole does not bear careful scrutiny. Still the two make handy
examples of hard and soft paste. The odd cup dates between the cups
already spoken of. The small figure of Cupid holding a shell for sweets
completes the group, but an early bowl will be found on Plate XV.
[Illustration: Old China.
Shelf 4. Worcester, Caughley.
” 3. ” ”
” 2. Lowestoft.
” 1. Bow.
PLATE XL.]
[Illustration: Old China.
Shelf 4. Turner Jug, Newhall, Chinese, Newhall.
” 3. Liverpool, Davenport Jug, Worcester.
” 2. Swansea, Nantgarw.
” 1. Plates: Coalport, Minton, Worcester,
Coalport. Cups and Saucers: Minton,
Leeds, Bristol, Rockingham, Pinxton.
PLATE XLI.]
LOWESTOFT (PLATE XL)
Before you set out to collect Lowestoft it would be as well if you
learned something about it, for as no marks are known of in connection
therewith it makes a most convenient name to conjure with. I have had
all sorts of stuff offered to me as Lowestoft. After I had coached
myself up I rambled out one day to endeavour to make a start and
you will scarcely credit it but at the first shop I came to I was
successful. After going through the china that was visible I worked my
way to the back where I found a few plates and odds and ends jumbled
together, and after turning them over came across the pair of small
blue hand-painted plates shown. I was told the plates had been in
the window ever so long, but as nobody wanted them I could have them
for a shilling each. I have found the other two odd plates quite at
haphazard, and they were treated as just ordinary old ware by people
who have not sunk deep into the mysteries of porcelain and glazing.
Three cups and a saucer in blue, also a cup and saucer with basket and
garland floral decoration in colours, make up the lot after including
the teapot to which I have already alluded as probably one of the
earliest pieces, owing to the way in which the design had run causing
its smudged appearance. The handle-less cup may be Longton Hall.
BRISTOL
To the group Shelf 3, Plate XLII, I think it worth while to call
special attention. To begin with I invested one shilling on the
handle-less cup blue and gold, marked “T,” and I concluded this
identified it with Tebo and Bristol; next I was sold the blue-and-white
coffee cup marked with crossed swords and guaranteed “Worcester”; then
I bought the spill-holder with crossed swords. All these at different
times and places. Later I spotted a dirty teapot, with no mark and no
gilt, which when washed looked well. It was evidently closely related
to the coffee-cup in decoration and age, and was undoubtedly old
Bristol. Then my faith in the “T” mark wavered, and when a few days
after I saw a feeding-cup which appeared new, and which on handling
revealed the “T” again, I began to feel cheap. Anyway, this settled the
doubt I had in my mind and convinced me that while I had found an old
Bristol piece which had copied the Dresden mark I had been deceived
by “Dresden” faking the old Bristol mark. I show the two wastrels
alongside the absolutes to illustrate my perplexity; certainly the soft
paste, hand decoration, and very little gilt remaining helped to take
me down. I wonder which of the copyists originated the design? “T” on
this class has meant taboo since.
_When the forger stops his forging
There won’t be half the fun,
For the hunter bargain hunting
Stands less chance of being done.
It’s just the doubt, when you are out,
That makes up half the game;
Without the fake, and chance you take,
The pastime would be tame._
The first Bristol cottage china teapot (Shelf 2) I discovered was on a
shelf and as I lifted it down I noticed the cross mark in red, and as
no lid was in evidence I was charged one shilling. On wrapping it up I
found the lid inside and called attention thereto, but was met with the
remark “That makes no difference.”
MINTON (SHELF 1, PLATE XLI)
I am noticing this name because thereby hangs a tale. While in a
well-stocked shop I was charmed with a cup and saucer, which I examined
and found impressed “Minton,” together with the name of the artist, and
dated 1864 in red. At the time of my find (1912), this artist had risen
to the important position of Art Director at ----, and I wondered why
he had gone to such trouble to please someone whose initials are worked
into the design on the cup and saucer, and how it came to be sold to
me with the remark, “Oh, that’s only modern; you can have it for----”
(so little), as it is hand painted with sweet delicacy. The plate is a
typical example of hand-painted fruit, with the border of turquoise
blue. Further specimens are on Shelf 1, Plate XLII, a Minton plate
giving a Spanish noble’s coat-of-arms in green, and a rather ordinary
cup and saucer in pink and turquoise.
* * * * *