Chats on English China

III

BOW

III

THE BOW CHINA FACTORY

In this “Chat” we shall treat of the wonderful porcelain made at Bow, or “New Canton,” as the makers called their factory on the banks of the Lea. It was established about 1730, and it ceased about 1776. That is to say, it commenced with the reign of George II. and continued for a short time during the reign of George III. Pope was not dead, Fielding was writing his novels, Burke was electrifying the country with his genius, the great Doctor Johnson was in the midst of his Dictionary, David Garrick was holding the town in a spell by his art, and Sir Joshua Reynolds was, with his brush, perpetuating the beauties of his day, while Burns and Scott, Wordsworth and Coleridge, and Byron, Thackeray, and Dickens were then in the unborn future.

So this porcelain of Bow comes to us direct from the eighteenth century. We have been taught to regard the eighteenth century as a period of lace-ruffles and wigs, of powder and of patches, of dull, insipid ladies, of hard-drinking squires, of rough soldiers—a century with little or no love of art, when Shakespeare had been almost forgotten. Of its china, certainly, we call up only a picture of ugly grinning monsters, and little meaningless gee-gaws—snuff-boxes and patch-boxes, and china handles for walking-sticks; but a glance at what Bow produced dispels so crude an idea at once, and, let us hope, for ever. Bow, in its own field, is worthy to stand by the side of what Sir Joshua has left us, and what Gainsborough bequeathed to posterity as poetic memories in paint and canvas of “dead women, loved and gone.”

As in our other “Chats” on Derby and Worcester and Chelsea, so with Bow, we shall have to tell of the human lives that have gone to the making of these fragile porcelain figures, all that is left to us of dead men’s life-work—which Polly or Molly or Elizabeth Ann may demolish by a fatal twist of the feather-brush. A patent was taken out by Edward Heylin, in the parish of Bow, and Thomas Frye, of the parish of West Ham, in 1744, for a new method of manufacturing “a certain mineral, equal to, if not exceeding in goodness and beauty, china or porcelain ware imported from abroad. The material is an earth, the produce of the Cherokee nation in America, called by the natives unaker.” In 1749, Thomas Frye took out, alone, a second patent “for a new method of making a certain ware, which is not inferior in beauty and fineness, and is rather superior in strength, than the earthenware that is brought from the East Indies, and is commonly known by the name of China, Japan, or Porcelain Ware.”

A word or two concerning Frye. Our Irish readers will be glad to learn that he was born at Dublin, in 1710. He came to London in 1738, when, he painted a portrait of Frederick, Prince of Wales for Saddlers’ Hall. At the establishment of the Bow factory he took the management. To bring the china to perfection, he spent fifteen years of his life among furnaces, which had so bad an effect upon his health that his constitution nearly broke down. In 1759 he had to go to Wales for a change of air, and in 1760 he returned to London, and we find him taking a house at Hatton Garden, where he executed some important mezzotint engravings—which, as Mr. Rudyard Kipling observes, “is another story.” He died of consumption in 1762. Perhaps Oliver Goldsmith had him in mind (who knows?) when he wrote his line—

To ladies it will be especially interesting to read that Frye had two daughters, who assisted him in painting the china at Bow.

Readers will, before now, have come to the conclusion that the study of old china is not superlatively easy, and that the question of marks is at the best a vexed one. Should there be any who have any lingering doubts on this point, they will speedily join the majority when they come to consider the bewildering marks of the Bow factory. These same marks, be it said, have puzzled experts who have denied each other’s conclusions, though with hardly as much vehemence as the late Mr. Bret Harte’s learned society “Upon the Stanislaus,” who engaged in conflict “with the remnants of a palæozoic age” in shameful manner—

We give one set of the known marks of the Bow factory, later we shall give another set no less puzzling. It is difficult to attempt to offer any definite conclusions, or to do more in the space at our disposal than to state that these are marks known to have been used at Bow, and are upon specimens in the national or well-known private collections. The letter B and the drawn bow, of course, explain themselves. The crescent in blue and the sword and anchor in red occur together on a china figure of a sportsman with a gun. It is conjectured that the introduction of a dagger may have been due to the fact that both proprietors were freemen of the City of London, and the dagger, as is well known, is part of the City arms. The triple mark of the anchor with the vertical and horizontal daggers, by some collectors is ascribed to early Chelsea, by others to Worcester; it is a disputed point.

The little figure we reproduce (on p. 50) is of a woman playing the pastorella. It is one of a pair of figures. The other represents a man singing. Each figure is marked in red with both anchor and dagger. The pastorella represented in the figure was a musical instrument in general use previously to the introduction of the spinet. It may be remarked that at the back of each of these figures, near the base, a square hole has been pierced before glazing, for the purpose of receiving a metal stem supporting nozzles for candles. As this square hole is said never to be found on similar Chelsea pieces, it has come to be regarded as a distinctive feature of old Bow figures.

Among the various articles made at the Bow factory may be enumerated the following, which have been taken from the account-books of the factory: Shepherds and shepherdesses, cupids, fluter, fiddler, harlequin, columbine, pierrot or clown, tambourine player, Dutch dancer, woman with chicken, birds on pedestals, swans, boars, squirrels, goats, as well as many miscellaneous articles for general use, such as salt-boxes, candlesticks, mugs, pickle-stands, &c. We reproduce an inkstand, four inches in diameter, of white glazed porcelain decorated with flowers, which decoration we call attention to as being characteristic of Bow. An inscription appears at the top: “Made at New Canton, 1751” (p. 49).

Since Chaucer’s day, Stratford-le-Bow has come down to us in rhyme, for the poet playfully pokes fun at the good nun in his “Canterbury Tales”:—

But should china collectors who travel down the Great Eastern Railway wish a further fillip to remind them of Bow, sundry soap and candle factories, with stench so strong that it knocks at the railway windows, will arrest their straying thoughts. The literary reader may, when he catches glimpses of the brown and oily ooze of the River Lea, think of Coleridge’s lines to Cologne and the River Rhine.

And here at Bow linger still the memories of the old factory—a century old—where Quin as Falstaff was turned out in porcelain, and Garrick posed as Richard III. in a china figure. A match factory stands on the site of the old Bow China factory, but there is still a “China Row” to suggest the old days of “New Canton” and its wares.

The discovery is interesting of fragments of old Bow porcelain, and portions of “saggers” on the site of one of the kilns while digging a drain from the match factory.

The children of the neighbourhood were observed to have as playthings bits of broken china of a high-class and delicate ware, never emanating from the china shops of Bow, and Mr. Higgins, attached to the match factory, henceforth kept strict watch over the excavations, and careful examination unearthed a number of broken specimens of the Bow ware. He and his sister carefully arranged the broken pieces, and they form an excellent authority, these trays of broken china, for determining the paste and glaze, and identifying the decoration and designs of Bow. By means of this find it was possible to classify many doubtful pieces of china in well-known collections hitherto wrongly attributed to other factories. This discovery by excavation was followed many years later by a similar find at Lowestoft.

It is interesting to note that among the fragments found, not a single piece is of Delft or common earthenware, but all are of porcelain. The designs of many of them are of Chinese landscapes, with flowers, figures, and birds. Their general character may be gathered from sketch of four examples. They are all painted in blue with the exception of a cup painted with green leaves and crimson-lake flowers. None of the pieces is printed, but all are painted with a brush. The other two illustrations we give are of china ornamented in relief, the favourite pattern being the mayflower. Each of these Bow cups is a typical example. The design stands out very sharply, and is raised from the surface of the china. The cups are rather heavy for their size.

Among the débris were found many pieces of an ornamental character, a salt-cellar beautifully modelled, formed of three shells, with smaller shells and seaweed between, but the upper shell to hold the salt is missing. Pieces of dishes, evidently intended to hold sweetmeats, were unearthed from this sewer hole, with finely designed corals and shells and seaweeds. Some natural shells were also found, which had evidently served the artists as models. Two china pug-dogs were discovered with collars bearing roses on them.

Bow paste is exceedingly hard, and the fracture when it is broken is close and compact. The pieces as a rule are very heavy for their size, but many of the cups and saucers are almost of egg-shell thinness. The colour is milky white. Should any of our readers be possessed of Bow china, they may ratify its origin by carefully examining it, if possible, under a magnifying glass. On scrutinising the blue pieces it will be found there is a peculiarity in the glaze, which arises in this manner. At that time blue was the only known colour that would bear the intense heat of the kiln. It was always painted on the biscuit before being dipped in the glaze. It is found that certain portions of the blue, however slight, are apt, while the glaze is in a fluid state, to spread over the surface, giving it a blue tinge. The other colours as well as the gold were painted over the glaze, and set in a kiln of lower temperature. Hence the blue, being under the glaze, is imperishable, and the other colours from frequent use get rubbed off.

We have given a number of marks used at Bow; we supplement that list by two others, one of which is exclusively composed of signatures actually used by Thomas Frye himself.

Although none of the ware unearthed at Bow was printed, yet printed ware did come from there. In all probability it was sent to Liverpool to have the transfer engravings, so much in vogue when Bow flourished, put on the china. As early as the year 1756 this was done, for certain entries appear in the Bow books: “One pint printed mug: a sett compleat of the second printed teas.” Or it is possible that they were sent to Battersea to be printed. It is not a far cry from Bow to Battersea. Transfer printing on enamel was in vogue at Battersea before 1755. Horace Walpole, writing to a friend in 1755, says, “I send you a trifling snuff-box, only as a sample of the new manufacture at Battersea, which is done with copper-plates.” But Battersea and Battersea enamel—that is another story.

It is to be hoped that this “Chat” on old Bow china will have helped readers, to whom Bow is a name, to form some idea of what went on there more than a century ago. The china cabinet holds more mysteries within it than many a good housewife dreams of. It will be seen that the difficulties of china-collecting are legion. At the modern find at Bow, lovers of china ought to be grateful, for it enabled many vexed questions to be settled, but what is Bow and what is Chelsea still puzzles experts. In all probability Bow, Bristol, and another very much debated factory, Lowestoft, will continue to offer traps and snares and pitfalls for the unwary collector (or misshapen falsities attributed to them) till connoisseurs are no more and collecting days are done. The find in 1903 at Lowestoft is as important as the find at Bow, but it is exceedingly unlikely that any more facts will ever come to light respecting these old factories; every available source of information has been tapped and all that can be known concerning them is known. The potters who made the exquisite shapes, the artists who painted the roses on bowl and beaker, have long since departed with the roses of yester-years. Their life-work is scattered. Much of it, perhaps most of it, is gone for ever. Each cup and each dish of the long-dead artist is like “a good deed in a naughty world.” To-day, with a handful of facts, collectors and connoisseurs wrangle together over theories.

Body and glaze often defective, pattern so arranged as to cover flaw. Insects often introduced for this purpose to hide imperfections. Coarse, chalky white ware, covered with glaze much pitted and speckled. The bottom often shows three marks representing points on which piece rested in kiln. The glaze is thickly applied, and fills up interstices of raised patterns. The body and glaze varied; the earlier pieces have a yellow tinge in the glaze. The bottoms of some basins and dishes are often twice as thick as the sides. The ware, owing to large amount of lead used, is discoloured.

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IV

OLD WORCESTER

IV

OLD WORCESTER

In old Worcester china there lies a magic that appeals to the collector of fine copies and adaptation from Nankin and other Chinese porcelain. The real old blue colouring of Worcester has a charm about it which cannot be reproduced nowadays. There is something personal about the productions of the old factories; the workman was proud to make his mark at the bottom of the plate or bowl he had created, much in the same manner as the masons who built Fountains Abbey left each man his mystic sign on each stone he carved.

If the reader chooses to weave a romance of airy nothingness on an old cracked bowl of Worcester blue there is substance enough, if he has the mind to do so. Mr. Austin Dobson, in one of his charming villanelles, has taught us how much lies in the dreamy depths of a plate with queer Chinese blue figures on it:—

We have already given the story of old Derby china, and when Derby and Chelsea and Bow were establishing for themselves a reputation, Worcester was engaged in experimenting in the same direction in the person of one Dr. John Wall, a physician of that city. He was a man of considerable taste, and besides being a clever practitioner, he was a practical chemist, and an artist of some ability. One of his paintings hangs in the hall of Merton College, Oxford, of which he was a Fellow. He was an etcher, and designed stained-glass windows; one of his windows is at Oriel College. What William Duesbury was to Derby and the foundation of the china factory there, and what Josiah Wedgwood was to Staffordshire, that was Dr. John Wall to Worcester. His was the guiding intellect of the Worcester enterprise, which culminated in 1751, about a year after Derby had been established, in the establishment of a manufactory of porcelain in the “faithful city.”

These were restless times, very troublesome then to domestic England, and having an influence upon art. Only six years prior to this the Pretender had invaded England with an armed force, and had penetrated as far as Derby. Party feeling ran very high. It has been asserted that the industry was introduced to Worcester for political reasons, so that the Georgian party might gain votes in the county against the Jacobites, who were strong in Worcester. It seems certain enough that Dr. Wall began his experiments merely for the love of the study, but whether he was used by politicians, or whether he used them, is of no moment to us; suffice it to say that the Worcester Porcelain Company was founded in 1751, and among the prominent co-operators with Dr. Wall were William Davies, an apothecary, and Edward Cave, the founder of the Gentleman’s Magazine. This latter was of inestimable use to the factory for advertising their wares.

The earliest Worcester productions were based entirely on Chinese models. Small cups, without handles, of Oriental design were decorated under the glaze in blue. All the characteristics of the Nankin ware became those of Worcester. Slowly and surely they attempted with complete success some of the more brilliant colours of Eastern ceramic ware, notably from the Japanese.

The early ware of Worcester may be known by a peculiar greenness of hue in the body of the china. The first mark used was the letter W in some form or another. This letter may stand either for Wall or for Worcester, as D marked on Derby china may stand either for Duesbury, the founder, or for Derby. We reproduce several of the earliest Worcester marks. About the same time a crescent was used, which is believed to have been adopted from the arms of the Warmstrey family, in whose ancient mansion the factory was first started.

The first two letters, , in script, were used when the factory was under the direction of Dr. Wall, who died in 1776. The capital W was marked in blue on early printed china. The crescent in outline was one of the earliest marks, while the second crescent filled in with blue, under the glaze, occurs on blue-printed china, which was invented about 1755.

Among other early Worcester marks are assimilations and variations of certain Chinese characters, probably from the models which the Worcester potters copied. Of the square marks, it may be observed that they do not always occur on Chinese patterns. Occasionally, too, a crescent in red is found with one of these squares in blue. Of the other ornate and curiously Eastern adaptations, it may be that they were workmen’s signatures, but they are only found on old Worcester. The love for Oriental flourishes is shown by a series of numbers. Examples from 1 to 9 are known. We reproduce the numbers 1, 4, 5, 7.

In 1756 the important invention of transferring printed impressions from copper plates was introduced at Worcester. It is debatable ground whether Battersea, Liverpool, or Worcester invented it. But in 1757 it had arrived at a wonderful state of perfection at Worcester. The engraver, Robert Hancock, was employed. Valentine Green, the great mezzotint engraver, was his pupil. A mug bearing the head of the King of Prussia, and dated 1757, is held to be one of the most characteristic pieces of this period.

Thomas Carlyle has a graphic description of one of these King of Prussia mugs, which piece of prose is worth giving in full, for we do not often see the historian of the French Revolution in the character of a china connoisseur:—

“There stands on this mantelpiece,” says one of my correspondents, the amiable Smelfungus, in short, whom readers are acquainted with, “a small china mug, not of bad shape, declaring itself, in one obscure corner, to be made at Worcester, ‘R. I., Worcester, 1757’ (late in the season, I presume, demand being brisk); which exhibits all round it a diligent potter’s apotheosis of Friedrich, hastily got up to meet the general enthusiasm of English mankind. Worth, while it lasts unbroken, a moment’s inspection from you in a hurrying along.

“Front side, when you take our mug by the handle for drinking from it, offers a poor, well-meant china portrait, labelled, King of Prussia: copy of Friedrich’s portrait by Pesne, twenty years too young for the time, smiling out nobly upon you; upon whom there descends with rapidity a small Genius more like Cupid, who had hastily forgotten his bow, and goes headforemost on another errand, to drop a wreath far too small for ever getting on (owing to distance, let us hope), though the artless painter makes no sign; and indeed both Genius and wreath, as he gives them, look almost like a big insect, which the King will be apt to treat harshly if he notice it. On the opposite side, again, separated from Friedrich’s back by the handle, is an enormous image of Fame, with wings, filling half the mug, with two trumpets going at once (a bass, probably, and a treble), who flies with great ease; and between her eager face and the unexpectant one of Friedrich (who is 180 deg. off, and knows nothing of it) stands a circular trophy, or imbroglio of drums, pikes, muskets, canons, field flags, and the like; very slightly tied together, the knot, if there is one, being hidden by some fantastic bit of scroll or escutcheon, with a Fame and one trumpet scratched on it; and high out of the imbroglio rise three standards inscribed with names, which we perceive are intended to be names of Friedrich’s victories; standards notable at this day, with names which I will punctually give you.

“Standard first, which lies to the westward or leftward, has ‘Reisberg’ (no such place on this distracted globe, but meaning Bevern’s Reichenberg, perhaps), ‘Reisberg,’ ‘Prague,’ ‘Collin.’ Middle standard curves beautifully round its staff, and gives us to read ‘Welham’ (non-extant, too; may mean Welmina or Lobositz), ‘Rosbach’ (very good), ‘Breslau’ (poor Bevern’s, thought a victory in Worcester at this time!). Standard third, which flies to eastward or right hand, has ‘Newmark’ (that is, Neumarkt and the Austrian bread-ovens, December 4th); ‘Lissa’ (not yet Leuthen in English nomenclature); and Breslau again, which means the capture of Breslau city this time, and is a real success, December 7th to 19th; giving as the approximate date, Christmas, 1757, to this hasty mug. A mug got up for a temporary English enthusiasm, and for the accidental instruction of posterity. It is of tolerable china, holds a good pint, ‘to the Protestant hero with all the honours,’ and offers, in little, a curious eyehole into the then England, with its then lights and notions, which is now so deep-hidden from us, under volcanic ashes, French revolutions, and the wrecks of a hundred very decadent years.”

This mug bears the letters “R. H.” on it, the initials of the engraver.

In addition to this portrait of Frederick the Great there were others engraved of George II., George III., Queen Charlotte, the Marquis of Granby, and William Pitt. The full signature of Robert Hancock is often found on garden scenes and Watteau-like subjects.

We illustrate as a headpiece a group of two cream-jugs and a sugar-basin with black Worcester transfer-printed subjects on them.

Leaving poetry and coming to fact, we arrive at the beginning of the second period in the history of the Worcester factory. Dr. Wall, the originator of the works, had died in 1776, and it must be borne in mind by the collector that from about the year 1764, when the Chelsea works became disorganised, up to the death of Dr. Wall, some of the most exquisite creations of Worcester were produced. Several of the Chelsea artists had come to Worcester, and mugs of a choice apple-green were made in imitation of the Sèvres ware, but none of these bear the Worcester mark. Vases with rich bleu-de-roi ground and salmon-scale markings, with exotic birds of rich plumage, of varied and elegant design, belong to this period, and command at the present day very high prices. Donaldson and O’Neale were two of the best painters, and painted some of the finest Worcester vases so much sought after. At the Victoria and Albert Museum, in the collection of the late Lady Charlotte Schreiber, there are some particularly fine examples.

We reproduce a fine Worcester dish (10³⁄₄ in. by 8³⁄₄ in.) from the collection of Mr. W. G. Honey, recently at the Cork Exhibition. This specimen is an excellent example of the best period, and is marked with a blue crescent.

In 1783 the works passed into the hands of Mr. Thomas Flight, who, together with his two sons, Joseph and John, raised the manufactory to some eminence. In 1788, George III., with Queen Charlotte, visited the works, and the title “Royal” was added to the mark, above the word “Flight.” Later on, in 1791, Mr. Martin Barr joined the concern, the firm becoming “Flight and Barr.” It should be noted that Mr. Chamberlain, the head of the decorating department of the old factory, never came under the Flight régime, but established a factory of his own at Worcester. We give in order of date the various marks used both by his factory and that of the Flights.

These two factories continued as rivals until 1840, when they amalgamated, and the two firms formed one company. The name of Flight and Barr disappears, and the business being carried on at Messrs. Chamberlain’s premises, the new Worcester mark became “Chamberlain & Co.” In 1850 Mr. W. H. Kerr joined the company, and for a little while the firm was known as “Chamberlain, Lilley, & Kerr.” In 1852 another change took place, Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Lilley retired, and Mr. R. W. Binns entered into partnership with Mr. Kerr. From that time the manufactory, under the management of Kerr & Binns was known as “W. H. Kerr & Co.” It is important that the collector should know all these transitions in the ownership and management of the Worcester works, which has a continuous history of nearly a hundred and fifty years, a record not reached by any other English factory.

Besides the above-mentioned two main streams of Worcester porcelain manufacture, there is yet another firm which was established in 1800 by Thomas Grainger, nephew to Mr. Chamberlain. The firm became Grainger, Lee & Co., and afterwards G. Grainger & Co. We give their marks, together with the other Worcester marks, to enable our readers to identify any specimens they may possess. One of the marks in the Kerr & Binns period requires explanation. The circle with the letter W radiating from the centre was especially designed for solely marking the productions of the factory made for the use of Queen Victoria and the Royal household.

The scent-bottle which we give as illustration has double sides, the outer being ornamented with perforated work, painted and gilt. The neck is beautifully decorated with flowers on a yellow ground. It is marked “Chamberlain’s Worcester.” It is an elegant piece, and very characteristically shows, for instance, in the double sides and perforated work, the influence of Chinese models. This specimen is at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

A set of three vases (15¹⁄₂ in. high), marked “Grainger, Lee, & Co., Worcester,” have views on them of Camden Place, Bath, Redcliffe Church, Bristol, and St. Vincent’s Rock, Bristol.

About the time of the Exhibition of 1851 there was great energy displayed by the Worcester factory. Especially noticeable were the enamelled vases, dishes, and ewers. This Worcester enamel is a variety of Limoges work (the Limoges being on copper and the Worcester wholly porcelain), which consists of applying semi-opaque white enamel of varying strength, produced by superimposing more or fewer layers in gradation upon a deep rich ground of blue. These enamels were designed to copy the fifteenth and sixteenth century work, and succeeded very well in their object. Later, Worcester essayed to produce jewelled porcelain, in which Berlin and Vienna had excelled a century before. It won especial praise at Paris in the 1867 Exhibition, and became a great financial success.

Whether it be with the Limoges ivory or with the newer Japanese designs which entered into the later Worcester productions, the Royal manufactory of the “faithful city” has always held its own with the foreign rivals and competitors at international exhibitions. At Berlin, Paris, Vienna, at Philadelphia, at Chicago, the success of modern Worcester is evidence enough of its vitality.

Characteristics of Old Worcester China.

In the early period a simplicity characterised the productions. “Mandarin” designs from Chinese models prevailed. These old Worcester under-glaze blue pieces have a tone unlike any other English factory, and more nearly approach the Oriental quality of depth. Blue and white dishes with pierced borders, and open basket-work dishes were a feature.

Transfer printing over the glaze is one of the characteristics of the factory.

In the second period of Worcester were produced the elaborate vases in the style of Dresden and of Sèvres, the finest examples of Worcester.

The third period of over-elaboration in decoration marks the decline of Worcester.

The porcelain is thin and of very beautiful quality, having an ivory-like texture. There is a greenish tint in the paste when subjected to a strong light.

The varieties of bodies used at Worcester from time to time make any generalisation obviously impossible. It is only by handling specimens that the true feeling of Worcester may become instinct in a collector.

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