CHAPTER VII: CLOCKS AND CLOCK-CASES

A learned dissertation on clocks and the theory of time would be out of place in a volume of this description, and anything we have to say concerning the clocks of the "walnut period" will, of necessity, be of a popular nature. In England the chamber clocks, as distinguished from the costly and elaborate timepieces which adorned public buildings, appear to have been introduced about the year 1600.[6] The type is fairly familiar, and is known as the "lantern," "bird-cage," or "bedpost." Amongst dealers such clocks are usually styled "lantern" or "Cromwell." They usually stood on a wall-bracket, but sometimes were suspended from a nail. The clocks are built of brass surmounted by a bell, sometimes used for striking the hours and sometimes only for an alarm. The clocks were often housed in hooded oak cases, which protected them from the dust. These original cases are sometimes met with and are interesting in themselves, but the brass clocks are more ornamental when minus the cases. These clocks were made to run for thirty hours, the motive power being a heavy weight with a cord or chain. At first the vertical verge movement was used, but about 1658 the pendulum was introduced. The alternate bobbing in and out of the short pendulum through slits in either side of the clock accounts for the term "bob" pendulum. It has been noticed that the doors of these early clocks were often constructed from old sundial plates, the engraved figures of the sundial still showing on the insides. Doubtless the sundial makers, finding their trade falling off, used the materials in hand for the new-fangled clocks. The dial-plate of the early lantern clock is circular, with a band of metal (sometimes silvered) for the numerals, which at first were rather short. About 1640 the hour-hands were made wider and the numerals longer. After about 1660, we find the circular dial growing larger in relation to the body of the clock and protruding slightly on either side. During the latter years of Queen Anne's reign the dial-plates often protruded as much as two or three inches on either side. This did not improve the general appearance. Clocks of this pattern are known as the "sheep's head." With such slight variations the lantern clock was made from Elizabeth's to George III.'s reigns. The late ones, probably made by provincial clock-makers, have square dials with arched tops.

The tops of the square cases of the lantern clocks are often surrounded by fretted galleries. As a rule the four fretted pieces are all of one pattern, but generally the front one only is engraved. A favourite form of fret is that in which the crossed dolphins appear; this pattern came in between 1660 and 1670. These lantern clocks with ornamental galleries are furnished with bells as wide as the clock-case suspended from two intersecting arched bands stretching from corner to corner. They are finished off by the addition of a turned pinnacle at each corner and a fifth one on the apex of the bell. Such clocks were apparently not intended to be covered by an outer wooden case. They would not be greatly harmed by dust, as they contain no delicate mechanism.

These old-world lantern clocks were practically indestructible, and until a few years ago they could be found in plenty in the old farm-houses, and would fetch but a pound or two at auction. Of recent years, with the growth of the collecting habit, the dealers have found a ready market, and to-day a well-made lantern clock in original condition has an appreciable value of from five to ten pounds. They have but a single hand, like the old clock on Westminster Abbey, and consequently to tell the exact time of day is a matter of guess-work, as only the quarters are marked. To tell the time within a quarter of an hour would have been sufficient for the original owners, who had no trains to catch. The usual process to-day is to substitute a modern eight-day "fuzee" movement for the old thirty-hour "verge." Thus, by eliminating the chain and weight, the clock is adapted for a place on the mantelshelf. From a decorative point of view it is difficult to conceive anything more charming as a finish to a "walnut period" room.

Fig. 67 is a "bird-cage" clock at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The dial, which is very nicely engraved with a flower design, is signed "Andrew Prime Londini Fecit." It has dolphin-pattern frets on three sides. The side frets are engraved to match the front one. This clock cost the museum £4 4s. in 1892. Andrew Prime was admitted to the Clock-makers' Company in 1647, and we shall be within the mark in assuming that the clock was made some time between that date and 1680. The dolphin decoration would, indeed, point to a date not earlier than 1660, and, furthermore, the length of the pendulum would suggest not earlier than 1675.

In Fig. 68 we give an illustration of a small lantern clock by Anthony Marsh, of London, with its original hooded oak case.

Fig. 69 is the same clock shown without the hood. This subject was kindly lent for illustration by Mr. Whittaker, of 46 Wilton Road, London, S.W., one of the comparatively few remaining clock-makers following the old-time traditions. A talk with Mr. Whittaker in his workshop takes us back to the old days of individual work at the lathe and bench, when each clock-maker was an artist with ideas of his own—a clock-maker in every sense of the word, making his own parts by hand instead of, as in these days, buying them by the gross from the factory.

Anthony Marsh, the maker of the clock illustrated, was a member of the Clock-makers' Company in 1724, and worked "at ye dial opposite Bank of England." Marsh is a well-known name amongst the clock-making fraternity, no less than fifteen of the name following the trade between 1691 and 1842.

Contemporary with the lantern clocks of the middle period (about 1660) we find the "bracket" or "pedestal" clocks enclosed by wooden cases, as distinguished from the brass-cased chamber clocks. The earlier patterns had flat tops with brass handles for carrying. Sometimes they were surmounted by perforated metal domes, resembling inverted baskets, to which the handles were fixed. As time went on the tops of the clock-cases were made more dome-shaped and the baskets and handles were elaborately chased. The cases, often of exquisite workmanship, were generally constructed of oak or ebony, and as timepieces these clocks, by skilled makers, were far superior to the generality of lantern clocks of the country-side. We associate these bracket-clocks with such names as Tompion, Graham, and Quare.

Thomas Tompion, "the father of English watchmaking," was born at Northill, in Bedfordshire, in 1638, and died in London in 1713. He was the leading watchmaker at the Court of Charles II. George Graham, Tompion's favourite pupil, was born in Cumberland in 1673, and died in London in 1751. He was known as "Honest George Graham," and was probably the most accomplished British horologist of his own or any age. He was admitted a freeman of the Clock-makers' Company on completion of his apprenticeship in 1695, when he entered the service of Tompion. A lifelong friendship was only severed by the death of Tompion in 1713. Graham was elected a fellow of the Royal Society in 1720, and made a member of the Society's council in 1732. Even to-day Graham's "dead-beat escapement" is used in most pendulum clocks constructed for really accurate time-keeping. The site of Graham's shop in Fleet Street is now occupied by the offices of The Sporting Life. Tompion and Graham lie in one grave in the nave of Westminster Abbey, near the grave of David Livingstone. Daniel Quare, a contemporary maker of first rank, was born in 1648 and died in 1734. He was Clock-maker to William III. There is a fine example of a tall clock by Quare at Hampton Court Palace. Quare was the inventor of the repeating watch.

Fig. 70 is a bracket clock in marquetry case made by John Martin, of London, in the seventeenth century. It is fitted with "rack striking work" invented by Edward Barlow (born 1636, died 1716). It will be noticed that the corners of the dial-plate are ornamented with the winged cherubs' heads which we find so often in the scheme of decoration of Sir Christopher Wren's churches. This clock, lent by Lieut.-Col. G. B. C. Lyons, may be seen at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

The "bracket" clocks were the favourite household timepieces before the introduction of the long-cased or grandfather clocks, which came in some time between 1660 and 1670. The earliest long-cased clocks were furnished with the "bob" pendulum. The long or "royal" pendulum was introduced about 1676. The "bob" pendulum clock-cases were very narrow—just wide enough to comfortably accommodate the chain and weights, the primal idea of the case being merely to hide the chains and weights. The wide swing of the long pendulum necessitated more room in the case, and examples are found with added wings, showing that long pendulums have been added to the old movements.

As with the lantern clocks, the early long clocks had thirty-hour movements; but the great makers, such as Tompion, Graham, and Quare, constructed clocks to run for eight days, a month, three months, and even a year. The introduction of the eight-day movement appears to have been coincident with the long pendulum.

The cases of the grandfather clocks, in the main, harmonised with the other furniture of the period. The majority of them were built of oak, and those of country make were generally plain. Many were veneered with walnut, and others (more rarely) with ebony. With the advent of William III. came the taste for marquetry work, and the long-cased clocks received their due share of this form of ornamentation. The fronts were often pierced with an oval or circular hole filled with greenish bull's-eye glass, through which the swinging pendulum bob could be seen. About 1710 the taste for marquetry began to wane. The lacquering craze was at its height. Clock-cases were sent out to China to receive treatment at the hands of the Chinese lacquerers. It was a lengthy and expensive process: it probably would take a year or so with the slow travelling and slow drying of the various coats of lacquer. We show, in the chapter on lacquered furniture, how the growing demand was met by the English and Dutch lacquerers, who adopted less expensive and more expeditious, if less satisfactory, methods.

It is in the nature of things that the old long-cased clocks were gently treated, and, consequently, genuine old specimens are still fairly plentiful. Old thirty-hour clocks in plain oak cases with painted dials may still be bought for four or five pounds apiece, whilst reliable eight-day clocks of fair make will fetch anything from five to ten pounds. We cannot expect to get a Tompion or Graham clock for anything like these prices. We had the opportunity five years ago of buying a magnificent Graham clock in a mahogany case of fine proportions for £20. It was the chance of a lifetime, and—the chance was missed.

The three illustrations we give (Figs. 71, 72, and 73) represent fine examples of marquetry-decorated clocks at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The simple naturalesque style of marquetry, showing direct Dutch influence, is shown in Fig. 71. The carnations are exceedingly lifelike. The dial-plate of this clock, which is still in good going order, bears the inscription "Mansell Bennett at Charing Cross." It was probably made about 1690. Figs. 72 and 73 represent the more typically English style of delicate geometrical marquetry work, dating from about 1700. In both of these clocks the fretted bands of wood beneath the cornices, as well as the nature of the marquetry, would point to a later period than that of the Mansell Bennett clock. They belong to the Queen Anne period. Fig. 72 was made by Henry Poisson, who worked in London from 1695 to 1720. Fig. 73, unfortunately a clock-case only, has the original green bull's-eye glass in the door.

A word of warning may be in place in regard to grandfather clocks with carved oak cases. Such things purporting to be "200 years old" are often advertised for sale, but are scarcely likely to be genuine. Speaking for ourselves, we have never seen one which bore the impress of genuineness. We must bear in mind that at the date of the introduction of the long case—say 1660-1670—the practice of carving furniture was rapidly on the wane, and by the end of the century had practically ceased. In this connection we quote that great authority on old clocks, Mr. F. J. Britten, who says: "Dark oak cases carved in high relief do not seem to have been the fashion of any particular period, but the result rather of occasional efforts by enthusiastic artists in wood, and then in most instances they appear to have been made to enclose existing clocks in substitution of inferior or worn-out coverings."

In regard to the wonderful time-keeping qualities of old grandfather clocks, Mr. H. H. Cunyngham, in his useful little book, "Time and Clocks," expresses the opinion that the secret lies in the length of the pendulum. "This," he writes, "renders it possible to have but a small arc of oscillation, and therefore the motion is kept very nearly harmonious. For practical purposes nothing will even now beat these old clocks, of which one should be in every house. At present the tendency is to abolish them and substitute American clocks with very short pendulums, which never can keep good time. They are made of stamped metal and, when they get out of order, no one thinks of having them mended. They are thrown into the ashpit and a new one bought. In reality this is not economy."

Mr. Cunyngham's remarks point the moral as to the economy of the long clock. But we should say, more strictly speaking, that German and Austrian wall and bracket clocks have to a large extent taken the place of the old English long-cased clocks. The shortness of the pendulum is not of necessity the weak point. The bracket clocks of the best English makers since the seventeenth century, with short pendulums, have been noted for their reliability as timekeepers. Efficiency from a badly constructed clock, be it American, German or English, can scarcely be expected.

As we have already suggested, fine clocks by the great masters are now beyond the means of the modest collector; but serviceable and decorative grandfather clocks of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries are still obtainable at moderate prices. In many cases the dials show great taste in the art of engraving. We must bear in mind that the majority of these clocks—particularly those with the painted dials and plain oak cases—were the joint productions of the country clock-maker and the country joiner, and numbers of them have the very smallest pretentions to correctness of design. We find clock-cases which have the appearance of being "all plinth"; others are too long or too short or too wide in the body; others are overweighted in the head; and, again, others are too shallow and have an unhappy appearance of being flattened out against the wall. The old oak clock-case of perfect proportions is comparatively rare. The collector must studiously avoid any clock-case which is "obviously out of drawing," and in the main his eye will guide him in the selection. We are indebted to Mr. Stuart Parker, an experienced amateur collector of clocks, for a carefully thought-out opinion as to the ideal dimensions of a clock-case.

Supposing a full-sized clock-case 7 ft. 6 in. high: the three main sections should measure as follows:

The plinth: 2 ft. high and 1 ft. 10 in. wide.

The body: 3 ft. high and 1 ft. 4½ in. wide.

The head: 2 ft. 6 in. high and 1 ft. 10 in. wide.

The width is taken at the middle of each of the three sections. The base of the plinth and the cornices of the head section should each measure 2 ft. 1 in. in width.

CHAPTER VIII: LACQUERED FURNITURE

English lacquered furniture "in the Oriental taste" belongs to the last quarter of the seventeenth and the first half of the eighteenth centuries. It is not surprising that when the rage for everything Chinese and Japanese—at the time indiscriminately called "Indian"—was prevalent, a school of Anglo-Oriental craftsmen should have sprung up. The taste was at its height about 1710, and continued for many years.

The art of lacquering is said by the Japanese themselves to have been practised in Japan as early as the third century, when the Empress Jingo conquered Corea. In the ninth century the Kioto artists inlaid their lacquer with mother-of-pearl. In the fifteenth century landscape decorations were used, and by the end of the seventeenth century the art had reached its zenith. The material used in Japan is resin-lac, an exudation from the lacquer-tree (Rhus vernicifera). Without going into the details of the art, it is well to bear in mind that the brilliant surface of Japanese lacquer is not obtained by varnishing, but by the actual polishing of the lacquer itself. It is treated as a solid body, built up stage by stage and polished at every stage. For an exposition of the art one cannot do better than read Mr. Marcus B. Huish's chapter on lacquer in "Japan and Its Art."

It was probably not till late Tudor times that any specimens of Japanese or Chinese lacquer found their way to this country, and then principally in the shape of small cups, bowls, and trays. "Indian Cabinets" are mentioned occasionally in inventories at the end of Elizabeth's reign, and in the household accounts of Charles II. there is an item of £100 for "two Jappan Cabinets."

The English and Portuguese traded with Japan in Elizabeth's reign, but were expelled in 1637. The Dutch were more tenacious, and from the commencement of their trading operations with Japan, in 1600, managed, at intervals, to keep in touch with their new market. Even the Dutch were regarded unfavourably by the Japanese authorities, and traded under considerable disabilities. The majority of the lacquered ware which came to England filtered through Holland. It was brought to Europe round the Cape in the armed Dutch merchantmen which, at the same time, were bringing home the beautiful old Imari vases and dishes with kinrande (brocade) decorations, which served later on as the models for the early Crown Derby "Old Japan" wares and the simple Kakiyemon specimens copied at Chelsea, Bow, and Dresden. One of these old ships, the Middleburg, trading from the China Seas, homeward bound and laden with bullion and curios, went down in Soldanha Bay, off the South African coast, on October 18, 1714. In August 1907 the divers salvaged some of the cargo. Needless to say, the "Jappan Cabinets" had long since perished, but the little Chinese blue-and-white cups and saucers came to the surface none the worse for nearly two hundred years' immersion in salt water.

We are fortunate in still possessing at Hampton Court Palace a goodly number of Kakiyemon hexagonal covered jars and bottle-shaped vases, and tall cylindrical Chinese blue-and-white vases of the Khang Hi reign, placed there by William and Mary; but the scarcity of contemporary English furniture there is deplorable. The real beauty of old Oriental porcelain is never so apparent as when displayed on the old "Jappan Cabinets" or the sombre furniture of the Orange-Nassau dynasty.

It was fashionable to decry the craze for things Chinese, and early eighteenth-century literature teems with gibes at the china maniacs of the day. We have referred in the first chapter of the volume to Macaulay's small opinion of the merits of old Chinese porcelain. The Spectator for February 12, 1712, contains a letter from an imaginary Jack Anvil who had made a fortune, married a lady of quality, and grown into Sir John Enville. He tells how my Lady Mary Enville "next set herself to reform every room in my house, having glazed all my chimney-pieces with looking glasses, and planted every corner with such heaps of China, that I am obliged to move about my own house with the greatest caution and circumspection for fear of hurting some of our brittle furniture."

Daniel Defoe, in his "Tour of Great Britain," says: "The Queen (Mary) brought in the custom or humour, as I may call it, of furnishing houses with China ware which increased to a strange degree afterwards, piling their China upon the tops of Cabinets, scrutores and every Chymney Piece to the top of the ceilings and even setting up shelves for their China ware where they wanted such places, till it became a grivance in the expence of it and even injurious to their Families and Estates."

At Hampton Court to-day we can see the chimney-pieces in the corners of the smaller closets with the tiers of diminishing shelves reaching almost to the ceilings, and displayed thereon are the "flymy little bits of Blue" which Mr. Henley laughs at in his Villanelle. Perhaps some day our National Museum will overflow and refurnish Hampton Court Palace, which to-day in its furnishing, apart from the pictures and tapestries, is but a shadow of its old self.

Although germane to the matter, the foregoing is somewhat in the nature of a digression from the subject of the "japanned" furniture, which took such a hold of the popular fancy that the making of such things was practised as a hobby by the amateurs of the period. "A Treatise on Japanning and Varnishing" was issued by John Stalker in 1688, and, just as "painting and the use of the backboard" were essentials in the curriculum of the early Victorian seminary, so were the young ladies of the reign of William III. taught the gentle art of "Japanning." In the Verney Memoirs we find Edmund Verney, son of Sir John Verney, the Squire of East Claydon, writing to his little daughter Molly (aged about eight years) in 1682 or 1683, at Mrs. Priest's school at Great Chelsey: "I find you have a desire to learn to Jappan, as you call it, and I approve of it, and so I shall of anything that is Good and Virtuous, Therefore learn in God's name all Good Things, and I will willingly be at the Charge so farr as I am able—tho' They come from Japan and from never so farr and Look of an Indian Hue and Odour, for I admire all accomplishments that will render you considerable and Lovely in the sight of God and Man.... To learn this art costs a Guiney entrance and some 40's more to buy materials to work upon."

John Stalker's treatise is probably the earliest printed work in connection with furniture-making. We never hear of any individual name connected with the manufacture of furniture during the oak period, although there had been a guild of cofferers. The names of the makers of the superb Charles chairs are lost in oblivion, and we have to wait till the eighteenth century before any artist-craftsman or designer gives his name to a style.

Stalker's treatise is contained in a folio volume of eighty-four pages of letterpress and twenty-four pages of copper-plate engravings. The title-page reads: "A Treatise of Japanning and Varnishing, Being a compleat discovery of those Arts. With the best way of making all sorts of Varnish for Japan, Woods, Prints, Plate or Pictures. The method of Guilding, Burnishing and Lackering with the art of Guilding, Separateing and Refining metals, and the most curios ways of painting on Glass or otherwise. Also rules for counterfeiting Tortoise Shell, and Marble and for staining or Dying Wood, Ivory, etc. Together with above an hundred distinct patterns of Japan Work, for Tables, Stands, Frames, Cabinets, Boxes &c. Curiously engraven on 24 large Copper Plates. By John Stalker September the 7th 1688. Licenced R. Midgley and entered according to order. Oxford Printed for and sold by the Author, living at the Golden Ball in St. James Market London in the year MDCLXXXVIII."

This comprehensive work is "Dedicated to the RIGHT Honourable The Countess of Darby a lady no less eminent for her quality, Beauty and Vertue, then for her incomparable Skill and Experience in the Arts that those Experiments belong to, as well as in several others."

In a page and a half of the preface the author takes us through the history of painting from early Grecian times, particularly pointing out that the art of portrait-painting alone can keep our memories green. He goes on to say: "Well then as painting has made an honourable provision for our bodies so Japanning has taught us a method, no way inferior to it, for the splendour and preservation of our Furniture and Houses. These Buildings, like our bodies, continually tending to ruin and dissolution are still in want of fresh supplies and reparations. On the one hand they are assaulted with unexpected mischances, on the other with the injuries of time and weather; but the art of Japanning has made them almost impregnable against both; no damp air, no mouldring worm, or corroding time, can possibly deface it; and, which is more wonderful, although its ingredients the Gums, which are in their own nature inflamable yet this most vigorously resists the fire, and is itself found to be incombustible. True, genuine Japan, like the Salamander, lives in the flames, and stands unalterable, when the wood which was imprison'd in it, is utterly consumed.... What can be more surprising then to have our chambers overlaid with varnish more glassy and reflecting than polisht Marble? No Amorous Nymph need entertain a Dialogue with her Glass, or Narcissus retire to a Fountain, to survey his charming countenance, when the house is one entire speculum. To this we subjoin the Golden Draught, with which Japan is so exquisitively adorned, than which nothing can be more beautiful, more rich or majestick."

In John Stalker's opinion Europe, both Ancient and Modern, must in the adornments of cities give pride of place to Japan, for "surely this Province was Nature's Darling and the Favourite of the Gods, for Jupiter has vouchsaft it a visit as formally to Danae in a Golden shower."

In an epistle to "the Reader and Practitioner" he severely censures inferior artificers who "without modesty or blush impose upon the gentry such Stuff and Trash, for Japan work, that whether it is a greater scandal to the name or artifice, I cannot determine. Might we advise such foolish pretenders, their time would be better imployed in drawing Whistles and Puppets for the Toyshops to please Children, than contriving ornaments for a room of State."

He cautions the reader against the common error of mistaking Bantam work for real Japan. "This must be alledged for the Bantam work that it is very pretty," &c. &c.; but the Japan is "more grave and majestick ... the Japan artist works most of all in Gold and other metals, and Bantam for the generality in colours with a small sprinkling of Gold here and there, like the patches on a Ladie's countenance."

He professes, in the "Cutts or Patterns," to have exactly imitated the towers, steeples, figures and rocks of Japan according to designs of such found on imported specimens. "Perhaps we have helped them a little in their proportions where they were lame or defective, and made them more pleasant, yet altogether as Antick. Had we industriously contrived the prospective, or shadowed them otherwise than they are: we should have wandered from the Design, which is only to imitate the true genuine Indian work, and perhaps in a great measure might puzzle and confound the unexperienced Practitioner."

It may interest readers to know the market prices of some of the materials used in 1688. Seed-lac, 14s. to 18s. per lb.; gum sandrack, 1s. to 1s. 2d. per lb.; gum animæ, 3s. to 5s. per lb.; Venice turpentine, 1s. 6d. to 1s. 8d. per lb.; white rosin, 4d. to 6d. per lb.; shell-lac, 1s. 6d. to 2s. per lb.; gum arabic, 1s. per lb.; gum copall, 1s. to 1s. 6d. per lb.; gum elemni, 4d. to 5d. per oz.; benjamin or benzoine, 4d. to 8d. per oz.; dragon's blood, 8d. to 1s. per oz. "Brass dust," Stalker says, cannot be made in England, though it has often been tried. The best, we learn, comes from Germany! He goes on to describe various metal-dusts, such as "Silver dust," "Green Gold," "Dirty Gold," "Powder tinn," and "Copper." Of the makers of "speckles" of divers sorts—gold, silver, copper—"I shall only mention two, viz. a Goldbeater, at the hand and hammer in Long Acre; and another of the same trade over against Mercers Chappel in Cheapside."

The twenty-four pages of "Cutts" include designs for "Powder Boxes," "Looking glass frames," "For Drauers for Cabbinets to be placed according to your fancy," and "For a Standish for Pen Inke and paper which may also serve for a comb box." The drawings include "An Embassy," "A Pagod Worshipp in ye Indies," and another sketch in which the central figure would appear to be a hybrid Red Indian before whom several devotees are grovelling.

We have quoted John Stalker at some length as giving interesting sidelights on an industry occupying the attentions of a numerous class in his own day. For the actual carrying out of the methods employed we must refer the reader to the book itself—a book which is invaluable to any one who has a piece of Old English lac in want of repair. There is an old-world charm about the work of the Stalker and contemporary schools, but in point of real beauty it is as far removed from the Japanese lacquer as the "Oriental" porcelain of the eighteenth-century European factories is from its Chinese or Japanese prototype. The complaint has often been made of the lack of perspective in the Oriental decorations. This may be said, to use a hackneyed phrase, to be the defect of its qualities. We have by this time come to see things to a certain extent through Japanese eyes, and have learnt to love the defect.

The artist of Old Japan—be he painter, potter, metal-worker, or lacquerer—was an artist to his finger-tips, and his work was full of a symbolism utterly incomprehensible to the Western mind. Those in Japan who know will tell you that a master lacquerer of the seventeenth century would spend many years on the decoration of a simple, small box. In the initial stage—the preparation of the background—it has been calculated that 530 hours are required in the aggregate for drying the various layers; but the young ladies at Mrs. Priest's school at Great Chelsey in the seventeenth century expect, by the aid of Stalker's instructions, to learn the art in twelve lessons! Honest John Stalker thinks he can improve upon his Japanese models, with the result that, whilst we may have a little less of the "defect," we have scarcely any of the "qualities." It is ever thus when West attempts to copy East.

We may mention in passing that the French furniture-makers of the eighteenth century utilised, in the production of some of their finest commodes, drawer-fronts and panels of genuine Japanese lacquer which must have been manufactured specially for the French market, exhibiting, as they do, shapes quite foreign to anything in use in Japan. It is highly probable that these serpentine and bow-shaped drawer-fronts were sent out to Japan to receive their decoration. In the "Jones Bequest" at the Victoria and Albert Museum, we can see superb examples of such belonging to the period of Louis XV. It is said that Madame Pompadour expended 110,000 livres on Japanese lacquer. Marie Antoinette's collection in the Louvre is considerable; but it is quite certain that the finest examples of the art never left Japan. Mr. Huish, to whose book we have above referred, gives some interesting statistics pointing to the scarcity of fine old lacquer in this country during the early days of trade with the East. In one year during the eighteenth century eleven ships sailed, and, whilst carrying 16,580 pieces of porcelain, they brought only twelve pieces of lac.

To-day Old English lacquered furniture is much sought after, and prices are advancing rapidly. The coloured varieties include red, blue, green, violet, and occasionally buff.

The red in particular is highly prized. Black lac, which was made in great quantities in every shape of furniture, is still comparatively plentiful. An early eighteenth-century grandfather's clock, which might fetch anything from five to ten pounds if the case were of plain oak, would have a selling value of from ten to twenty pounds if lacquered.

Evidence points to the fact that, in the majority of cases, the lacquer was an afterthought. The furniture of the day was turned out, in the ordinary course of trade, quite innocent of lacquer, and afterwards treated by professional japanners—sometimes maltreated by amateurs. Not long since, in our own day, there was a similar craze for covering furniture with enamel paints.

Fig. 74 is an interesting china cabinet in black lacquer of William and Mary period, 7 ft. 5 in. high and 5 ft. wide, priced at £30. A first-class modern mahogany or walnut-wood cabinet of the size could scarcely be made for the money, whilst the old lac, apart from its intrinsic charm, has an additional sentimental value as marking a phase in the history of furniture—a phase in decoration. In this cabinet we have also a development in form; it is palpably the product of a period when the rage for collecting porcelain was prevalent, and in the same connection it is no less useful to-day. The modern designer scarcely invents anything more appropriate. It is interesting to note this cabinet as an example of the afterthought in decoration. The owners—Messrs. Story and Triggs Ltd., of Queen Victoria Street, London—have discovered that the lacquer is superimposed on walnut veneer! It tells its own tale.

Fig. 75 is an early example of red lacquer, a cabinet with boldly arched cornice; the repetition of the arch at either end gives a fine architectural finish to the top. The upper part encloses shelves, and there are four drawers in the base. The decoration consists of various Chinese views of ladies in a garden, a temple with a man and children, trees, rocks and lakes. It was probably made about 1690; 75 in. high, 31 in. wide, and 23 in. deep.

Fig. 76 is somewhat later—about 1710—with typical Queen Anne period cabriole legs and claw-and-ball feet. The doors, which enclose five drawers, are decorated with figures, buildings, birds and flowers, and are furnished with finely chased ormolu lock-plates and hinges. It is of black lacquer with red and gold reliefs, measures 67 in. by 39 in. by 19 in, and is valued at about £45.

Fig. 77 is still later—about 1730—a cabinet surmounted on plain cabriole legs. On the front is a view of a lake with Oriental figures, cocks, and vegetation. Inside the doors are studies of the lotus-flower in vases. The hinges and lock-plates are fine examples of English metal-work in the Chinese taste. This piece is 56 in. high and 36 in. wide, and is valued at £35.

For comparison we give an example (Fig. 78) of a piece of lacquered furniture made in China about 1740. This dressing-table, built of camphor-wood, and still exhaling a delicate fragrance, was evidently made for England and copied, as to shape, from an English table. It is inlaid with mother-of-pearl designs of landscape, birds, and flowers; and the interior is fitted with a mirror, writing-desk, and numerous boxes.

During the English "japanning" period, every imaginable shape of furniture received this Oriental treatment. Besides the various forms of cabinet, we find lacquered mirror-frames, dressing-tables, corner cupboards, hanging cupboards, chests and chests of drawers, chairs, work-boxes, writing-desks, coffee-tables, card-tables, pole-screens, trays, barometer-cases, and even bellows-cases.

We give an example of a simple mirror in red lacquered frame with arched top (Fig. 79). It measures 39 in. by 19 in. This and the three preceding examples are the property of Mr. F. W. Phillips, of The Manor House, Hitchin.

Fig. 80 is a barometer in lacquered case of about 1700.

Fig. 81, at the Victoria and Albert Museum, is of Dutch make of the early eighteenth century—a dressing-glass suspended between two uprights, which are supported on a cabinet with sloping front. Inside the cabinet is a compartment with a hinged door, flanked on either side by an open compartment, one long and two short drawers. The lower part has seventeen compartments fitted with boxes, brushes, and various toilet requisites. The lacquer is raised and gilt on a red ground, showing groups of figures in Chinese costumes, buildings, landscapes and floral designs with birds.

Fig. 82 is a somewhat similar glass but of English make. The woods composing it are poplar, pine and oak, and it is decorated with blue and gold lacquer, the effect of which is the reverse of pleasing.

We have said that the European lacquer will not bear close comparison with the Old Japanese. The methods of the Chinese were simpler, and the English "japanner" (it is, of course, a misleading term) was more successful in his attempts to copy the Chinese cabinets. His best examples, if indeed they fell far short in technique, did in method to a large-extent approximate to the work of the Celestial.

English lacquer as a mere investment is worth buying at reasonable prices, and in choosing pieces the collector will do well to look, as much as possible, for the real Oriental feeling.