Chats on English China

V

PLYMOUTH
AND
BRISTOL
CHINA

V

PLYMOUTH

The name of Plymouth stands high in the records of English china factories. Its porcelain was the first hard porcelain produced in this country. Other English chinas melted when placed inside the pieces in the Plymouth kilns.

Not so well known as Josiah Wedgwood, of the Staffordshire potteries, William Cookworthy, of Plymouth, Quaker, chemist, porcelain maker, is worthy of a niche in the gallery of dead princes of ceramic art, and his is a name that will never be forgotten by those who know the history behind the old Plymouth vases and mugs and statues.

It is true the enterprise was a failure. It only ran fourteen years, and was, in 1774, transferred to Bristol. It is true that Lord Camelford, one of his partners, laments the three thousand pounds expended on it. But it is more than true that the results of William Cookworthy’s efforts were no failure.

The brief life history of the Quaker dreamer (we know he must have been a dreamer, for he translated some of Swedenborg’s works into English) is remarkable. At the age of fourteen, the eldest of a family of six fatherless children, he tramped from Plymouth up to London and commenced his apprenticeship to a chemist. His mother battled on, eking out her slender means by dressmaking. Later on, when William Cookworthy came home, his mother lived under his roof and became a leading favourite with the great people he knew. The poor Devon lad who wearily tramped to London over down and dale, dreaming golden dreams, came home to entertain Dr. Wolcot, the famous “Peter Pindar” of vitriolic pen, Sir Joseph Banks, Captain Cook, and the fighting Earl St. Vincent, who remarked, “whoever was in Mr. Cookworthy’s company was the wiser and better for having been in it”; while Smeaton, the builder of the Eddystone Lighthouse, was an inmate of his house during the erection of the lighthouse.

In an early letter of Cookworthy’s we find him speaking of a certain unnamed, strange individual who came to him with some china earth. “’Twas found in the back of Virginia, where he was in quest of mines; and having read Duhalde, discovered both the petuntse and kaolin. ’Tis the latter earth he says, is the essential thing towards the success of the manufacture. He is gone for a cargo of it, having bought the whole country of the Indians where it rises.” We hear no more of this mysterious individual; but we do hear of extensive and painstaking researches by Cookworthy, till at length he is rewarded by discovering the very earth he wanted, in Cornwall, on the estate of Lord Camelford.

He established himself at Coxside, at the extreme angle which juts into the water at Sutton Pool. The buildings subsequently became a shipwright’s yard, and even then bore the name China House. We wonder, do they exist now?

The early examples of Plymouth are clumsy, sometimes very coarse and rough. Experience was wanting in firing. Most of the pieces were disfigured by fire-cracks. Of those decorated in blue the colour had run into the glazing. But Cookworthy did one thing—he was the first to produce cobalt blue direct from the ore.

The white ware of Plymouth, in which is introduced as ornament shells and seaweed and coral, is very artistic, and is one of the features of Plymouth, although none of this ware is marked. They mostly consist of salt-cellars, pickle-cups, and what would now be used to put roses in. The salt-cellar we illustrate is one of a pair in the Bethnal Green Museum; it has a plain, white body and cloudy glaze, and is unmarked. Similar shapes are believed to have been made at Bow. We reproduce a dainty piece, a shell dish of beautiful design, and ask—was Cookworthy a failure?

During the latter part of the fourteen years that Plymouth produced her china, Cookworthy, then nearing his seventieth year, thought to emulate Sèvres and Dresden, and employed several artists for decoration. He engaged the services of a French artist named Soqui from Sèvres, and he and Henry Bone, of Plymouth—one of his own apprentices—produced some finely-painted birds and flowers.

The mark of the Plymouth china is blue on the early clumsy pieces, and later was neatly drawn in red, sometimes blue. It is the chemical symbol for tin, being doubtless adopted by Cookworthy to denote that his materials came from the tin district. It is like the figure four, with a little curved loop at the beginning.

We reproduce a fine specimen of a splendid vase, hexagonal shape, sixteen inches high, in the possession of the Fry family at Bristol. It is richly decorated with festoons of finely modelled raised flowers, with painted butterflies and borders. This was the forerunner of the exquisite Bristol vase made by the firm which bought Cookworthy’s life secrets.

Devon and Plymouth suggest Elizabethan days and one man’s name flashes uppermost, but—

But there are heroes of peace and the arts of peace and that art of all arts, the art of self-effacement and William Cookworthy is one.

BRISTOL.

For several centuries earthenware was made at Bristol, and a very fair quality of blue delft was produced there, but it is not of the old potteries of Bristol that we shall speak, but of the manufacture which was transplanted from Plymouth to Bristol. We have related the struggles of William Cookworthy to establish Plymouth porcelain. The strenuous efforts to perfect the china were carried on by Richard Champion, of Bristol, merchant, who bought Cookworthy’s patent, and established the manufactory of hard porcelain at Bristol. Champion had, it appears, been associated with Cookworthy as partner when the works were at Plymouth.

In 1775, when Champion presented a petition to the House of Commons to be granted the patent right for a further period of fourteen years to himself, he was vigorously opposed by Josiah Wedgwood, who represented that by granting a patent to Champion, it would be detrimental to trade and injurious to the public, urging, among other grounds, that “the use of the natural productions of the soil ought to be the right of all.” Wedgwood presented a memorial to Parliament, and a fierce controversy ensued. “Much might be said on both sides,” as Sir Roger De Coverley observes, and much was said on both sides.

At first blush it seems hard that Cookworthy and Champion, who found the earth and worked hard at developing the manufactory in the West, should have no protection given to their secret. But Wedgwood, who speaks with authority, urged that when he invented his Queen’s Ware he did not apply for a patent, which would have limited its public utility. “Instead of one hundred manufactories of Queen’s Ware, there would have been one; and instead of an exportation to all quarters of the world, a few pretty things would have been made for the amusement of the people of fashion in England.”

Without going further into the details of a controversy which trenches upon questions of political economy two facts stand out, and the reader can judge of them as he will. The patent was granted by Parliament to Richard Champion, who was subsequently ruined, and left England to die in South Carolina; and secondly, hard paste was made at Plymouth and Bristol (never before or since in England), while the manufacture of the less difficult soft-paste porcelain and of pottery was carried on by the Staffordshire factories and Wedgwood.

During the struggle between Wedgwood and Champion one curious incident occurred. When the Bill was before the House of Lords for discussion, one of Champion’s witnesses left London for Bristol without permission. As it was necessary to bring him back at once, as the end of the session was at hand, he was recalled by an “express,” which travelled the 240 miles to Bristol in twenty-seven hours!

In 1775 was passed (15 George III., cap 52) “an Act for enlarging the term of Letters Patent granted by his present Majesty to William Cookworthy, of Plymouth, Chymist, for the sole use and exercise of a discovery of certain materials for making Porcelain, in order to enable Richard Champion, of Bristol, merchant (to whom the said Letters Patent have been assigned), to carry the said discovery into effectual execution for the benefit of the public.”

So we shortly find the Bristol factory in full swing. The stock of Plymouth, and the tried workmen, were transferred to Bristol. First of all, attention was paid to common blue and white ware as likely to demand a ready sale, and to be profitable. As in the case of Worcester and other factories, Champion took Oriental models, and some of his ware is confounded with other makers who used the same models. The blue was of good colour, and dinner, tea, and coffee services, as well as jugs and mugs, were turned out, sometimes marked with the Bristol cross, but oftentimes without any distinguishing mark at all, to the confoundment of the latter-day collectors.

Bristol was very successful in imitating the commoner forms of Chinese ware. We reproduce a teapot and cup and saucer. It will be observed that the cup follows the original model, and has no handle.

The usual mark of Bristol was a plain cross, sometimes in blue, sometimes in red, and often in neutral tint, or slatey-grey. The crossed swords of Dresden, accompanied by the Bristol cross and the figures 10, appear on one specimen.

Some of the following marks which we give have been assigned to Bristol. Figures sometimes occur as well as the cross; these are believed to denote the painters engaged on the piece, and are often marked in red. On one known Bristol piece, a date occurs. But to collectors of Bristol porcelain there is one test which also applies in more marked degree to the Plymouth ware; this is the series of spiral ridges which may often be observed on the surface of the ware when held in reflected light.

We have alluded to the somewhat heated controversy between Josiah Wedgwood and Richard Champion, who had transferred the plant from Plymouth and had applied for an extension of Cookworthy’s patent to himself. Josiah Wedgwood, we think somewhat unfairly, alleged that both Plymouth and Bristol factories were still in an experimental stage; he belittles their art, which “neither the ingenious discoverer nor the purchaser, for want, perhaps, of skill and experience in this particular business, have been able, during the space of seven years already elapsed, to bring to any useful degree of perfection.”

This is not the place to enter into the merits of a dead conflict between Staffordshire and Bristol. That Bristol was not merely an experimental factory is more than proved by the specimens which have come down to us, specimens, be it said, that are more eagerly sought after than many of Wedgwood’s productions, since they are of hard porcelain which Staffordshire never made, and which hard paste has never again been made in England, either before or since.

One of the choicest examples of the highest art of Bristol is preserved in the national collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is stated to have been “the best that the manufactory could produce.” It was made in 1774-5, within a few months of the establishment of the works at Bristol. This example is interesting too, as being one of the few examples of the Bristol works, of which the exact date can be ascertained.

In the year 1774 Edmund Burke was nominated for Bristol, the capital and richest city of the west. A fierce election contest followed, in which Burke was returned as one of the members. During this election he was the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, of Bristol, and it was then that Burke ordered a splendid set of china from Champion. We reproduce the cup and saucer of this service. It is profusedly and massively gilt in dead and burnished gold, the wreaths of laurel being in green, which was Burke’s electioneering colour.

Each piece, as will be seen, bears the monogram of Mrs. Smith, “S. S.” interlaced, formed of wreaths of roses in pink and gold, and also the arms of the family. This service is marked with the usual Bristol cross.

It is obviously absurd to have asserted that such china was merely experimental. The collector of to-day has more than hall-marked Bristol porcelain. Recently, at Christie’s Auction Rooms, £168 was paid for two small cups and a tea tray, and, alas! Cookworthy and Champion died unsuccessful men. If they are recognised to-day as martyrs to the ceramic art, their own generation were somewhat stiff-necked to their genius and enterprise.

The vase which we reproduce shows to what perfection the manufacturers had reached. Among the decorators of Bristol was Henry Bone, afterwards an R.A., and miniature enameller to the Royal Family. Bone was apprenticed to Champion for seven years, dating from January, 1772.

This vase, in the possession of the Fry family of Bristol, is of hexagonal shape and is 12¹⁄₄ inches in height. The landscapes are excellently painted, and it has well-modelled female busts on two of its sides, from which hang festoons of raised flowers in white. This vase and the other splendid and almost priceless vases in the possession of the same family are not marked. It appears that although only Champion’s name appears on the documents in connection with the Bristol factory, he had partners who assisted him financially, one of whom was Joseph Fry, whose only return, when the factory was discontinued, for the money he had sunk into the concern, was the set of vases now in the hands of his descendants.

We now come to the last act of Bristol. Wedgwood writes to Bentley in a letter, dated August 24, 1778, concerning Champion’s failure: “Poor Champion, you may have heard, is quite demolished; it was never likely to be otherwise, as he had neither professional knowledge, sufficient capital, nor scarcely any real acquaintance with the materials he was working upon. I suppose we might buy some Growan Stone and Growan Clay now upon easy terms, for they have prepared a large quantity this last year.”

His patent right was sold by Champion to a company of Staffordshire potters who continued the manufacture at New Hall for some little time until the ordinary soft paste was allowed to supersede Champion’s hard paste. So ended the triumphs of Bristol and Plymouth. It appears that from November, 1781, to April, 1782, Champion left his native city to superintend the works of the china company who had purchased his rights. But Edmund Burke came to his rescue, and, conjointly with Burke’s son Richard, Champion was appointed deputy paymaster-general. Champion occupied official apartments in Chelsea Hospital. In July a change of ministry lost him his post, but in April, 1783, he regained it, only to resign on the fall of the famous Coalition Ministry in January, 1784. In October, 1784, he left England for South Carolina, where he became a planter. Seven years after leaving England he died of fever, and lies buried in the New World.

There is nothing to be said—his fate was the fate of so many enthusiasts and workers in the field of art. Nobody has ever unveiled a monument to Champion’s memory or to Cookworthy’s memory. Nobody has designed a stained-glass window to record their ceramic triumphs.[1] Their monument—and it is a lasting one—lies on the china shelf; the votaries of Plymouth and of Bristol porcelain need no spark to quicken their fire.

We know Browning’s “Waring” and his unfulfilled promise of greatness, and how the friend who has lost him, “like a ghost at break of day,” wishes him back—

And the world would call back its neglected and unrequited men of genius if it could, and herein lies the principle that makes china command high prices—these conscience-prickings are the tribute posterity pays.

Characteristics of Plymouth and Bristol Porcelain.

Among special features of Plymouth and Bristol china, spiral ridges are to be seen, though often barely noticeable, running from the base transversely around the body of piece, more noticeable in basins and teapots, at an angle of 45°. The china of these factories is often untrue owing to imperfect firing, and is frequently cracked at base. The Bristol decorators had a partiality for wreaths and festoons of laurel in green, interspersed with detached bouquets of flowers. The Bristol glaze is rich and creamy white, and upon examination a series of minute depressions, somewhat similar to the bubbles on Oriental glaze, may be discovered.

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VI

THE
LOWESTOFT
FACTORY

VI

THE LOWESTOFT FACTORY

We have dealt with Worcester and with Derby, with Chelsea and with Bow. Of the latter, we told of the difficulty of determining the marks, and of accurately naming the china; but what are we to think of a factory, which we may term the “Mrs. Harris” among china factories, inasmuch as some people with no less scepticism than Sairey Gamp’s friend, believe it did not exist at all. The legends of Lowestoft are many and varied, but we think we shall succeed in presenting some sort of rational account of the factory to our readers, which may dispel many notions, perhaps wrongly, held by those to whom “Lowestoft” is a myth and the collecting of it a snare and a delusion.

It is stated that a Dutch sailor, wrecked on the coast, in return for the hospitality of a gentleman who brought him to his house, was instrumental in pointing out the value of the white earth which he discovered on the gentleman’s estate. It is certain that the sand on the coast of Suffolk at Lowestoft is of great purity, as compared with that of other parts of the country, and, when the Lowestoft works were closed, the Worcester factory availed themselves of it in making their best porcelain.

There are certain plates of reputed Lowestoft manufacture, dated 1752 and thereabouts, bearing the names of Quinton, of Yarmouth, Parrish, of Norwich, and other local families. These plates are of earthenware body, with coarse decorations in blue, and having a yellow rim. They were made to celebrate the marriage of the persons named on them. In the one we reproduce, specially photographed for this volume, the inscription runs: “Henrÿ and Marÿ Qu̓inton, Yarmou̓th, nor f f: olk. 1755.” This lettering, with the two dots over the letters y, and the peculiar placing of the commas over the letters u, is conclusive evidence that it was written by a foreigner, and presumably plates such as these were made in Holland to order of some shipmaster.

One of the owners of the original factory was Robert Browne, who died in 1771, when the management was undertaken by his son—also Robert Browne—who made great experiments in pastes. There is a story of how Robert Browne the second paid a visit to London disguised as a workman, and by secreting himself in a barrel, was enabled to watch the mixing of the ingredients forming the paste of Chelsea or of Bow.

The presence of coats of arms upon genuine known pieces of Lowestoft may have caused some confusion, which has continued to the present day. At the end of the last century a great deal of Oriental china was made having coats of arms of English families upon it. Although Lowestoft bore no resemblance in its body to Oriental ware, people came to suppose that, in some way or another, the ware was brought in its unfinished state from the East, and then decorated and re-fired at Lowestoft. With the exception of Plymouth and Bristol, Lowestoft is the only factory in England which is credited with producing the true hard-paste porcelain, as made in the East; all other old English chinas are of soft paste, and a great deal of our wares are earthenware, for instance, Wedgwood. But the claim that Lowestoft made hard paste has never been substantiated by facts.

Lowestoft may be divided into two parts, the first dealing with the early period when blue and white ware was made, and the second period, when a finer and higher class of goods, with heraldic designs and floral intricacies, were introduced. At one period of its history the paste of Lowestoft appears to have been harder than that of Bow or Chelsea. Roughly, just a half of a century saw the rise and fall of Lowestoft. It was established from 1756, and in 1802 the factory had ceased.

Many families in the Eastern Counties to this day possess specimens of the Lowestoft china with names and dates painted on them. This china with names or initials upon it, or bearing a date, in addition to its personal value is of historic interest in determining periods of manufacture. We give a highly interesting and very rare pair of dated cups and saucers, with unusual decorations, vine leaves in gold, clusters of grapes in red, and tablet in centre with inscription, “M. and E. Calder, Norwich, 1776,” rich blue glaze and gold bands.

Among other dated specimens of Lowestoft white and blue ware is a fine bowl, with Chinese figures of mandarins painted in blue, and inscribed at the bottom with the name, “Elizabeth Buckle, 1768.” This Elizabeth Buckle is known to have been an eccentric old dame, and the service, of which this bowl is a remnant, was made for her by her nephew, Robert Allen. This Allen was one of the worthies of Lowestoft. In 1819, in his seventy-fourth year, he executed a design for the East window of the Parish Church (we know not whether it is still in existence at Lowestoft). In acknowledgment of this service, a silver cup was presented to him, with the inscription: “A token of respect to Mr. Robert Allen from his fellow-townsmen of Lowestoft, for having, at the advanced age of seventy-four, gratuitously and elegantly ornamented the East window of their Parish Church. Ann. Dom. 1819.”

After the closing of the Lowestoft works, Allen put up a small kiln at his own house, where he carried on operations on a limited scale. He bought the unfinished ware from Mr. Brameld, of the Rockingham factory, and painted it and refired it, selling it himself afterwards.

We reproduce a design of a mug painted by Thomas Curtis for his father and mother, whose names appear on it. It is said that Curtis was formerly employed at Dresden, and that he was a “silent partner” in the Lowestoft works. Many other examples of blue and white exist with dates and names upon them, and there is more than enough evidence to show that, short as was the history of the Lowestoft factory, it did good work.

We shall now proceed to give an account of the wonderful decorative qualities of a great artist in Lowestoft china, whose works now are worth many pounds, but whose latter days, when he was blind, were spent in poverty.

We have dealt with the earlier ware made there—of the blue and white porcelain and of the delft ware probably made in Holland; we now come to the higher and finer products of Lowestoft, over which so many debates have taken place. It has been held that this ware was decorated at Lowestoft, but that it was real Oriental body imported in its half-finished state from the East, and only painted and re-fired in this country. However, on the signed testimony of one of the workmen, it is positively stated that no Oriental porcelain ever came into the factory at Lowestoft to be decorated. “No manufactured articles were brought there to be painted, and every article painted in the factory had been previously made there.”

The question, too, of hard paste being made at Lowestoft is now disproved; among all the recently discovered fragments is nothing of hard paste.

The theory that porcelain came over from China through Holland to Lowestoft, if it be examined, does not hold water. First, it would not have paid, especially as then a large duty existed on china imported, whereas Lowestoft china was produced at a fairly cheap cost, and supplied to the public to compete with Worcester, and Derby, and the Staffordshire makers. Again, when the Lowestoft factory broke up, there would naturally have been a lot of unfinished Oriental porcelain in its white state, prior to the decoration, thrown on the market. What became of it all in 1802? Nobody ever seems to have seen any white china bowls, or white tea services, or white vases.

But there is a certain amount of mystery about Lowestoft, and a great quantity of ware exists both in this country and abroad, which is classed as Lowestoft china, but which is really Oriental porcelain with British armorial bearings.

In fact, the little factory has provided a considerable field for speculation as to what it did and what it did not produce. For so small a factory there is quite a literature in magazine articles, and one volume has been written upon it. The factory started about 1765, and closed down in 1802. When it closed its kilns and heaps of shards were hurriedly buried, it extinguished the hope of an art that promised to be greater. The abandonment of an art industry always breaks some hearts. There is just one fleeting glimpse of one of the old painters when teacups and roses were no longer wanted.

Perhaps some of our readers will look under the rose and read a story, sad enough, but true of many a craftsman at the end of the day. One old artist who, by your leave, ladies, painted red roses and twined chains of rosy wreaths, who put smiles and sunshine with his artful brush on to your tea services, had a very aching heart at the end of the journey. Fate herself twined a chain of grey roses for him. He was blind and poor. In his old age, he laboured, a broken-down old man, in the heat of the sun. A couple of donkeys given to him out of charity enabled him to bring water into Lowestoft. A beggar, he would slake a beggar’s thirst. “Wreaths of roses”—there is something gruesome in the sound of the words. Handle your china cups with more tenderness: human lives have gone to the making of them. The white-hot furnace and the minute brush-mark of your rose petal turned a man’s day to dark night. Roses and wreaths of roses, and behind them all—tears.

The writer is able to confirm the above statements respecting Lowestoft by information which has been courteously supplied by a kinswoman of the celebrated designer of the bouquets of roses on the Lowestoft porcelain. The first clay was discovered by Mr. Luson of Gunter Hall in 1756 (now the estate of Miss Fowler), who sent a small quantity to London to ascertain its quality. Upon trial it was found to be excellent, and Mr. Hewlin Luson procured workmen and erected a temporary kiln on his estate near the old Warren Houses on the Dunes north of Lowestoft. A good deal of jealousy was aroused and trade rivals attempted to wreck the scheme and tampered with the workmen engaged. After a year’s struggle a company was formed who purchased some houses in Bell Lane, now Crown Street, and established a factory.

In December, 1902, an interesting discovery was made on the site of the old Lowestoft factory. The kiln for drying malt of Messrs. Morse, brewers, is actually the old kiln in which the Lowestoft ware was fired, and upon the flooring of this being removed to make a drain, several moulds and fragments of china were found. I am especially indebted for many curious touches of Lowestoft colour and much information concerning this find to those present while the digging operations were going on.

This important discovery led to a complete investigation of the old site, and, largely owing to the enterprise of Mr. A. Merrington Smith, of Lowestoft, steps were taken to commence excavations. These resulted, in July, 1903, in the further find of several bushels of broken moulds and fragments of china. We give an illustration of the scene when the moulds and fragments had been discovered.

Among these fragments are some decorated pieces ready for glazing, which cannot be washed, as the colours, of course, come off. There are glazed fragments in blue and other colours. There is quite a variety of handles for cups, mugs, &c., and there are cups made without handles. There are some birthday tablets, and some clay pipes with heraldic devices made for William Harvey, of Yarmouth. One small piece, evidently part of the bottom of a cup, has a crescent marked in blue; but this does not prove that Lowestoft used the crescent as a mark; in all probability it is the fragment of some Worcester piece they had for purposes of copying.

There are also unglazed fragments for basket-work, and Lowestoft figures, unglazed, ready for firing. There are ribbed tea-cups and cups with cornflower decoration. Among other fragments are a great number of toy teapots and toy cups only an inch or two in height, decorated in blue. We give an illustration of this toy ware painted under-glaze in blue.

The bulk of these moulds and fragments are in the possession of W. Rix Spelman, Esq., of Norwich, and it is to be hoped that careful study and research will, by means of these indisputable facts, re-establish the reputation of Lowestoft—

Mr. Crisp, of Denmark Hill, London, possesses some of the moulds which were disinterred at the first discovery on the Lowestoft site. He has had china made in them and baked, and has presented the results to the British Museum, where they are now exhibited. They seem too poorly made to show to advantage the delicate patterns in relief.

The headpiece (p. 113) shows two sauce-boats, blue and white, with raised decoration. It will be seen from the fragment of mould, photographed with them, how exactly this newly discovered mould helps to identify the pieces.

Among the fragments is part of a teapot mould, on which is the date 1761. Chaffers, in his authoritative work on china, remarks of Lowestoft that some of the larger pieces bear traces of having been “made in a mould,” and here, just a hundred years after the factory ceased, comes corroborative evidence.

There is an interesting mould for an oval perforated basket, such as Bow and Chelsea produced, with diamond spaces to be cut out; and upon one of the fragments of a mould for a sugar basin appears the most delicate tracery and exquisite designs in leaves and scrolls, and prominent among the decoration is the Japanese chrysanthemum.

All East Anglians and lovers of old Lowestoft will be pleased at this piece of new evidence in favour of the theories held concerning the old factory, whose reputation has been well-nigh blasted by thousands of spurious imitations made in France—literally covered by vulgar design and more vulgar coats of arms.

We are able to reproduce some genuine old Lowestoft. A remarkable piece is the old mug, about 6 in. high, depicting an old fishwife with bellows under her arm, and holding a spit of herrings. This is decorated in blue and white. On the reverse side of mug is a fishing boat. At the bottom it bears the name “John Cooper, 1768.” Under the scroll of the handle are the letters “R. P.,” probably signifying that it is the work of Richard Philips, a painter at the Lowestoft factory. Unfortunately it is damaged, as will be seen by the illustration, but for all that it is a specimen of considerable value. The jug we illustrate, having the “Mandarin” decoration common to Worcester and Bristol, is a fine example of Lowestoft under-glaze blue painting. It bears the figure 5 upon it as a mark. It may be observed that many of the Lowestoft pieces of blue and white bear a striking resemblance to old Worcester. At first blush one is inclined to believe them to be Worcester, but the blue is not quite the Worcester blue, and the glaze tells its own story. There are pits and dimples, and little raised surfaces here and there, particularly under the bases of cups, that are characteristic of Lowestoft.

“A Trifle from Lowestoft,” a legend which is a familiar one on Lowestoft ware, is an inkstand, with floral design in that shade of red peculiar to Lowestoft but so difficult to describe in words. The decoration on this piece is especially characteristic of the factory, and we ask readers to make a note of it.

There are certain marks on undoubted Lowestoft pieces which the writer has examined. The letter “R,” which might be the signature of Redgrave the painter. On another piece the letter “H” appears under the rim, which may stand for Hughes. The letters “R. P.” on the mug we illustrate (p. 125) may equally stand for Richard Powles or Richard Philips. On one piece two L’s appear back to back (). Is this Luson, Lowestoft? While on other pieces appear the mark in red and in blue.

Characteristics of Lowestoft China.

The china is soft paste, and is often very badly potted. The blue is inclined to run. There is a gritty appearance in places on the glaze, which is spotted as if by sand. In some of the blue decorated pieces, where a flight of birds is introduced, the crescent moon (like the Worcester crescent mark) has been put in almost as a challenge to Worcester. One especial feature is the green hue of the glaze settled under the rims of saucers and basins and cups. The paste often has little bumps on it, and a mound in the centre of base under rim. Roses, set back to back, appear on Lowestoft pieces. The red of Lowestoft is of a peculiar quality, approaching puce in some specimens, and varying from mauve pink to carmine.

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