There are several rooms in Buckingham Palace full of curiosities and valuable moveables, but not ranged in proper order. Among other things, I beheld with admiration a complete service of Chelsea china, rich and beautiful in fancy beyond expression. I really never saw any Dresden near so fine. Her Majesty made a present of this choice collection to the duke, her brother, a present worthy of so great a prince.
Indeed, Horace Walpole, in writing to Sir Horace Mann in 1763, had said:
I saw yesterday a magnificent service of Chelsea china, which the King and Queen are sending to the Duke of Mecklenburg. There are dishes and plates without number, an epergne, candlestick, saltcellars, sauceboats, tea and coffee equipage. In short, it is complete, and cost £1,200.
After the death of the Duke of Cumberland and that of the director of the works, Nicholas Sprimont, the porcelain of Chelsea declined. Grosley’s “Tour to London,” as we have it in Nugent’s translation, noted this. Apropos of earthenware he wrote:
The manufacturers of this sort lately set on foot in the neighborhood of London have not been able to stand their ground. That at Chelsea, the most important of all, was just fallen when I arrived at that capital.
The last proprietors had pleaded in vain for further state protection, but it was not forthcoming. It closed its doors, while the models, materials, etc., were carted off to Derby, followed by the forlorn workmen who witnessed the dissolution.
In Smith’s “Life of Nollekens” we find the following reference to the porcelain of Chelsea:
The factory stood just below the bridge upon the sight of Lord Dartery’s house. “My father worked for them at one time,” said Nollekens. “Yes,” replied Betew, “and Sir James Thornhill designed for them. Mr. Walpole has at Strawberry Hill half-a-dozen china plates by Sir James which he bought at Mr. Hogarth’s sale. Paul Ferg painted for them. The cunning rogues produced very white and delicate ware, but then they had their clay from China, which when the Chinese found out, they would not let the captains have any more for ballast, and the consequence was that the whole concern failed.”
Nevertheless, although decorated by Sir James Thornhill, these plates were probably of Dutch fabrique, and not Chelsea.
We learn from Faulkner’s “History of Chelsea” that Dr. Johnson “conceived the notion that he was capable of improving the manufacture of china. He even applied to the directors of the Chelsea China Works, and was allowed to bake his compositions in their ovens in Lawrence Street, Chelsea. He was accordingly accustomed to go down with his house-keeper, about twice a week, and stayed the whole day, she carrying a basket of provisions with her.”
One could hardly imagine the good doctor’s adventuring without the provisions! But alas! the doctor’s mixtures all yielded to the intensity of the heat, while the clays prepared by the company came forth irritatingly whole. Faulkner says:
The Doctor retired in disgust, but not in despair, for he afterwards gave a dissertation on this very subject in his works; but the overseer (who was still living in the spring of 1814) assured Mr. Stephens that he (the overseer) was still ignorant of the nature of the operation. He seemed to think that the Doctor imagined one single substance was sufficient, while he, on the other hand, asserted that he always used sixteen; and he must have had some practice, as he had nearly lost his eyesight by firing batches of Chine, Chelsea, and Derby, to which the manufacture was afterward carried.
The collector of old Chelsea will find it rare indeed. But as with so many things worth while, an occasional find will cause thrills of a quality scarcely to be compared with the ordinary excitement of coming upon a bit of commoner ware. As the Chelsea porcelain was of very soft paste, the pieces do not withstand refiring, in consequence of which it is not redecorated or patched up as often is the case with many wares. The color charm of old Chelsea is very definite. Where, for instance, in any other porcelains, will one find just its own peculiar claret color? The earliest forms were Oriental, undoubtedly, but the early forms of Chelsea within the period of its history which is clear to us were French. Under the Georges, Dresden exerted its influence in form, color, and decoration. I have seen pieces of Chelsea that appeared comparable with Royal Sèvres, whose influence was so distinctly in evidence from 1750 to 1765. Especially fine are the pieces which bear the landscape decorations painted by Beaumont.
The Chelsea figure pieces began to appear about 1750, at least the earliest mention of them extant is dated about that time. While they were influenced by the Dresden and by French figurines, they developed qualities of their own and their greater naturalness and freedom from affectation at once lends them an unmistakable distinction. Not only were gentle shepherds, demure shepherdesses, and swains and sweethearts modeled in old Chelsea porcelain, but portrait busts as well came into fashion. Field-Marshal Conway, Walpole’s friend, and others intimate with the master of Strawberry Hill “sat” to Chelsea. The George II portrait bust is one of the best of the series.
The early figure pieces were usually ungilded. On those that were gilded the gilt was sparingly used. With the advent of 1760 gorgeous coloring and a lavish use of gilding came into play. Scent-bottles, cane-handles, knife-and fork-handles, breloques, bonbonnières, and patch-boxes are a few of the many things to which Chelsea porcelain lent itself. As to the texture of the ware, it has already been said that all genuine Chelsea is of very soft paste, requiring all decoration to be done at one time, as it could not withstand a second firing. In body it is uneven, the paste having the effect of poor mixing, as one will see by holding a piece of Chelsea to the light, when the spots can be detected. The glaze of the earliest pieces is thick and was applied unevenly. Nearly all bits of Chelsea porcelain display stilt marks.
A crudely drawn triangle marks the Chelsea ware of the 1745-1751 period. From 1749 to 1753 inclusive we find the embossed anchor, a raised anchor upon an embossed oval. Then followed, through 1759, the anchor mark in red or gold painted on the glaze. Sometimes Chelsea pieces were marked with two anchors. When the Derby Works acquired the Chelsea manufactory and continued the Chelsea porcelain for a while, the mark used was a combination capital letter D and an anchor. From 1773 to 1784 the mark was a crown over an anchor, or a crown over a D, and a combination D and anchor. In the early pieces, which were copies of Oriental ones, various pseudo-oriental marks were used at Chelsea, but nearly all introduce an anchor-like mark. This anchor was probably suggested by some early Venetian workman in Chelsea’s first porcelain manufactory. Fine Chelsea is rare enough to lead one to consider a few good pieces, even four or five, a “collection.” But whether or not one is a collector, every lover of beautiful porcelain should know something of Chelsea’s interesting story.
THE mention of the name Wedgwood naturally suggests to the general reader those blue-and-white pieces which made famous England’s greatest potter—Josiah Wedgwood. We picture to ourselves the beautiful vases, flower-holders, jardinières, tea-pots, cups and saucers, cream-ewers, and the like, and are not aware, perhaps, that many other ornamental uses were served by jasper ware (as Wedgwood called this ceramic product), not only in the blue-and-white, but in yellow-and-white, green-and-white, lilac-and-white, pink-and-white, and also in some seven solid body colors. Among these the small cameos in jasper, designed mainly for settings of jewelry, and the cameo medallions and cameo plaquettes are of particular interest to the collector of English earthenware.
While the cameos were mainly of the blue-and-white jasper, there were also those in other colors and white. The same is true of the larger cameo medallions and cameo plaquettes, though the color pieces, other than the blue-and-white, are of great rarity. The cameo medallions had great vogue for ornamental decorative purposes. Jewel-boxes, writing-cases, furniture, etc., were decorated with them. An example of the sort is a drawer-and-chest cabinet in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. In this instance both small cameos and larger cameo medallions were employed in the decoration.
The cameo medallions and the cameo plaquettes were also in great demand for architectural embellishments, for setting in mantels, over-mantels, door-casings, door furniture, etc. The small cameos ranged in size from one fourth to two and a half inches in diameter. Josiah Wedgwood’s genius produced many useful and ornamental wares, among them cream ware (1761) called Queen’s ware from 1765; white stoneware (1759); black basalt ware (1766); fine white ware (1773-1775); jasper ware (1775-1795); rosso-antico ware (1776); pearl-lustre ware (1776-1779), and cane-colored jasper ware (1787). In perfection and fineness the various colored jasper wares led them all, and the jasper cameos were hardly surpassed by other pieces in this clay.
As the old firm founded by Josiah Wedgwood has continued in business uninterruptedly from the eighteenth century, the recently revived modern Wedgwood cameos which have appeared in some of the most attractive recent jewelry awaken even a greater interest on the part of the collector in the study of the old pieces. Beautiful as are the cameos of modern Wedgwood jasper, those of Josiah’s own period (1775-1795) can readily be distinguished, not only because of the somewhat less soft-to-the-feel surface but also because all foreign wares imported since 1891 are required by the tariff law to be plainly marked with the designation of the country of their manufacture.
Josiah Wedgwood probably was inspired to experiment with his cameos and cameo medallions and plaquettes through having come in contact with James Tassie, celebrated for his copies of engraved gems in sulphur and in vitreous compositions, some of which Josiah had purchased in 1769. His fertile brain set to work on the problem of creating cameo productions from his own ceramic materials. After surmounting untold obstacles Wedgwood finally achieved complete success in his undertaking. Immediately there was a great demand for the cameos, by the manufacturing jewelers of Birmingham and Sheffield (who employed such artists to mount them as Boulton and Watt), and elsewhere. The mountings were of gold, of silver, and of cut steel. These last mountings were the most in demand. This jewelry also became much sought abroad and the demand in America was great.
The name cameo was first applied by Wedgwood in 1772. Nearly four hundred and fifty objects were catalogued by 1777. Their best period was from 1780 to 1795, 1787 being the year when Wedgwood had completely mastered the art of the jasper cameos and cameo medallions. There were then one thousand and thirty-two subjects listed—subjects drawn from Egyptian mythology, Roman and Greek mythology; sacrifices; ancient philosophers, poets, and orators; sovereigns of Macedonia, the fabulous age of Greece; the Trojan War; Roman history; masks, Chimaeras; illustrious moderns, and so on.
Even originally the small cameos were not cheap in price. In wholesale lots of ten some five shillings apiece was asked for them by Wedgwood. Unfortunately, all the cameo subjects are not now to be identified completely, even where given in the old catalogue, as no descriptions were placed on the subjects sold to the general public to identify them with the catalogue entries.
Cameos and cameo medallions and plaquettes were made both in solid jasper and in dip jasper. The former ceramic paste was colored clear through, while the latter was surface-colored only. Wedgwood employed some of the most famous designers of his day, among them John Flaxman, William Hackwood, Roubillac, James Tassie, John Bacon, Thomas Stothard, Webber, Pacetti, George Stubbs, William Greatback, Davaere, Angelini, and Dalmazzoni; and such gifted amateurs as Lady Templeton and Lady Diana Beauclerk drew for him.
The small cameos were fired but once; the large cameo medallions and the plaquettes were given a second firing. Fine old Wedgwood is as soft as satin to the touch, and most of it was left with a dull matt surface, although jasper is capable of receiving a high polish on the lapidary’s wheel. While some few pieces of Wedgwood were not marked, nearly all of it was. The collector should be told that many imitated pieces have borne the name spelled with an e after the g, thus: Wedgewood. No genuine Wedgwood, old or modern, bears other spelling of the name than “Wedgwood.”
OLD porcelain and earthenware, and even old glass, may be skilfully mended so as almost to pass as whole; and lost parts may be “restored” to a condition that will leave an object not to be a reproach to one’s collection. Of course, the collection should entrust such mending and restoring to the hand of an expert, at least where broken or damaged pieces are of particular rarity. Probably the famous Portland Vase, now in the British Museum, is the most remarkable example of mending and restoring we know of.
This celebrated vase, it will be remembered, was discovered in a sarcophagus in an ancient tomb not far from the Frascati Road, near Rome, about the middle of the seventeenth century. From its first owners, after its discovery, it was known as the Barberini Vase until it passed from the hands of Sir William Hamilton (who had purchased it for a thousand pounds) into the possession of the Duchess of Portland. Thenceforth it was known as the “Portland Vase.”
This vase, which was of a deep, blue-black glass, decorated with semi-translucent cameo figures of white, cut in relief upon a dark ground in a truly marvelous manner, was one day dashed to pieces in 1845 by a crank named Lloyd, a visitor to the museum. Fortunately the hundreds of fragments were immediately gathered up and placed in the hands of the official restorer, a Mr. Doubleday, who accomplished the remarkable feat, aided by an engraving of the vase by Cipriani and Bartolozzi in 1786, and especially by a remarkable copy of the vase which Josiah Wedgwood had made.
Fifty such copies were originally made for subscribers at fifty guineas each, and all were disposed of. These first copies are among the rarest and loveliest examples of Wedgwood’s wares. As the original molds survived, recent copies have been made, with black and also with dark-blue grounds. While Wedgwood’s copies were remarkable ceramic achievements, they may seem to lack the intrinsic beauty of the original material, but they are pleasing and fine in themselves.
At the sale, in 1786, of the antiques and curios collected by the Duchess of Portland, her son, then duke, was present in the auction room as a bidder. Wedgwood was bidding on the Portland Vase and the price went soaring up. Finally the duke discovered that Wedgwood’s sole reason for desiring the vase was to reproduce it. On condition that he was to have one of the copies, free of charge, the duke offered to lend Wedgwood the treasure if Wedgwood would withdraw from the competition and allow the duke to bid it in. The matter was amicably arranged, and the vase was handed to Wedgwood for the purpose stipulated. He himself wrote:
I cannot sufficiently express my obligation to his Grace, the Duke of Portland, for his entrusting this inestimable jewel to my care, and continuing it so long—more than twelve months—in my hands, without which it would have been impossible to do any tolerate justice to this rare work of art. I have now some reason to flatter myself with the hope of producing in a short time a copy which will not be unworthy the public notice.
Wedgwood is said to have looked upon his copy of the Portland Vase as his masterpiece.
Those who have been fortunate enough to see the original vase in the British Museum—where, restored, it is now safely guarded in the Gem Room—will appreciate how much can be accomplished in the hands of a skilful mender and restorer, and will realize, too, the value of “saving the pieces” when accident appears to have destroyed a rare specimen of pottery, porcelain, or glass.
SHOULD any one with a taste for antique furniture also find interest in old-fashioned verse, he might some day come across Cowper’s lay which elegantly hints at the evolution of lounging-furniture, culminating in the development of the delectable sofa. I suppose few read old Cowper nowadays. I myself confess to no propensity in this direction beyond a liking for the ballad of “John Gilpin.” Poor, gentle, melancholy Cowper, who tamed hares for diversion and gave to English poetry of the late eighteenth century a cast more earnest and more simple than had come to be its wont before his pen expressed his gift! But Cowper, mild and quiet though he was, had yet a keen sense of humor. This crept into certain lines that the lover of antique furniture may enjoy having brought to his notice:
The couch has an ancient and classical ancestry. The Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans utilized it extensively. The settee evolved from the double chair—love-seat, it was often called—while the “accomplished” sofa combined, or was supposed to combine, all the advantages and virtues of couch and settee, not omitting the attractiveness of the love-seat! An understanding of these relationship adds not a little to the interest of collecting.
The collector will not concern himself with the couches of the ancients, but will come within the early English forms of this article of furniture. The name “day-bed” was earlier used for English couch furniture of the Jacobean period (1603-1688). The seventeenth-century day-bed allowed a person to recline comfortably at full length. It was either laced or caned for cushioning. At one end the head-piece sloped back. At first this head-piece appears to have been stationary, but no doubt comfort soon suggested the later movable head-piece—a device more popular with the English than with the continental makers of day-beds or couches, as far as I have been able to discover.
In height the best day-beds were slightly lower than chair seats. The Jacobean pieces have the characteristic carved or turned legs. Undoubtedly many of these couches found their way to the colonies during the early period of American history. Captain William Tinge (1653) had inventoried such a couch, and a cane-bottomed one belonged to the Bulkelys and is now in the Antiquarian Society, Concord, Massachusetts. John Cotton (1652) was another early colonial couch-owner, and one might call attention to many others who made mention of such household objects in their carefully drawn inventories now preserved to us by the various antiquarian societies throughout the country.
The couches of the William and Mary period (1688-1702) conformed to the simpler forms that succeeded the Jacobean carved furniture. Not only
were the rarer woods employed in their manufacture, but as the couch had come to be looked upon as a necessity in the cottage as well as in the mansion, the more ordinary woods were utilized also. Many of these couches were exported to the American colonies, which, in their turn copied their forms and otherwise adopted them. Upholstered couches now began to come more commonly into use than the earlier couches, which were designed to be fitted with cushioned seats.
During the period of Queen Anne (1702-1714) the houses of the rich were, as a rule, beset by ultra-decorative fashions and in them luxury was expressed in much of the furniture as well as in other furnishings. However, such delightful specimens of the walnut furniture of the period exist—simple, elegant, and truly beautiful in line—that we may rest assured that good taste was enjoyed in the homes of the middle classes. Couches of this period will therefore be found to reflect the extremes.
The cabriole leg, the leading characteristic of Queen Anne furniture, soon made its appearance in the couch support.
Upholstery became more popular than ever, as enormous quantities of silks and velvets were being produced during Anne’s reign. Chintzes, and printed cottons, too, were in demand for couch covers. Lacquered couches and marqueterie couches were also in vogue during this reign, but few of these appear to have survived, and such as have are treasured accordingly.
About 1720—two years after Anne’s death—mahogany came into general use in furniture-making. Cabinet-makers lost no time in employing this wood in the making of couches. Seven years after this, Thomas Chippendale and his father were established in London. In 1749 Chippendale opened his conduit Street shop in the Longacre section. Here he worked until his removal to St. Martin’s Lane. A year after, in 1754, he brought out his famous book, “The Gentleman and Cabinet-Makers’ Director.”
The couches were being supplanted to great extent by the sofa during the time of the Georges, in which Chippendale lived, but such couches as remain show the various Chippendale lines. The brothers Adam (1672-1792), following their taste for Italian things, and designing for lighter woods and forms, gave more attention to the couch, perhaps, than Chippendale had done. Unlike the Chippendale couches, the Adam couches were without the end supports. George Hepplewhite, who died in 1786, gave to English furniture a well-defined style. The first edition of “The Cabinet Maker and Upholsterer’s Guide” was published by his widow, Alice Hepplewhite, in 1788. Hepplewhite, as had the brothers Adam, came strongly under the influence of the classic. Hepplewhite couches employ an end such as that which upholstered sofas had suggested. They also received inspiration from the French furniture of the time. In his book Hepplewhite gives on Plate XXXII, “Two designs of couches or what the French call Péché Mortel.” It has not been my good fortune to come across a Sheraton couch in the strict sense of the word, though I presume such were made by Thomas Sheraton (1750-1806). His “Cabinet-maker and Upholsterer’s Drawing Book” first appeared in 1791; but it concerned itself more with settees than with dwelling particularly on true couch designs.
The couches of the French periods—Louis XIV (1643-1715), Louis XV (1715-1774), Louis XVI (1774-1793), and the Empire (1792-1830)—all follow the well-known lines of these Louis Quatorze, Louis Quinze, Louis Seize, and Empire styles, and it will not be necessary here to go into detail concerning them. The English and American cabinet-makers of the years 1792 to 1830 adapted French Empire styles and as a result produced furniture which we may designate as English Empire or American Empire, as the case may be.
The settee of the Jacobean period was a development of the double chair or love-seat. It followed the general styles of the period in legs and stretchers. The back usually was upholstered. It was not in general use until walnut had come to supersede oak. For this reason the Jacobean settees are for greater part of walnut.
The William and Mary period settees found the double chair back in favor, and comfortable indeed were these settees, many of them being provided with squab cushions in addition to their upholstered seats, backs, and ends. The William and Mary settees were somewhat shorter than the generously long settees of the Jacobean period.
Queen Anne settees were designed with straight backs, these backs doing away with the double-hoop backs of the settees of the reign that preceded Anne’s. These backs were considerably lower, and, as with the couches, the cabriole leg formed a distinctive characteristic. In the Queen Anne settees of a later time the double back without upholstery came in again. The seats of these settees were depended upon for occasional use at the back.
Chippendale’s settees followed the lines of his designs for chairs. His window-seats did likewise. Colonel Wentworth’s “Chinese Settee” of the Chippendale style is now in the Ladd House at Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
Very elegant indeed were the settees and the window-seats of the brothers Adam. Both coincided in lines with Adam chairs. The window-seats, though so often following Chippendale forms, were a refinement of these latter. They were supported by four or by six legs, usually, though several window-seats of Adam style have eight legs. These settees bear the characteristic fluting on the front rail.
The Hepplewhite settees are, for the most part, double backs or triple backs and follow in design the chair styles of this type. A Hepplewhite settee of 1780 upholstered in silk brocade has the vase detail in the arm-post and the legs are turned and reeded. Other Hepplewhite settees were cane-seated and cushioned, and with these squab cushions were used.
Sheraton himself tells us that cane-work as applied to furniture again came into favor with cabinet-makers about the year 1773. A very fine Sheraton two-back settee painted with medallions by Angelica Kauffmann is extant to test the skill of the eighteenth-century furniture-maker in the reintroduction of the use of cane for seating, and for the backs. Some of the Sheraton settees were upholstered and some were designed for cushion coverings.
The settees of the various French periods followed the general chair-furniture lines in their styles, as did the settees of the English and the American Empire styles.
“Ingenious fancy” now brings us again to the “accomplished sofa.” The settees and love-seats of the Jacobeans, and the couches that had long preceded even them, united in the achievement that Cowper immortalizes and which no early Victorian novelist could have dispensed with in creating his “atmosphere.” The sofas of William and Mary and of Queen Anne were expanded and upholstered settees in effect. Chippendale devoted much attention to the sofa and came to use rolled-over arms in the larger one. Several of these are illustrated in his “Gentleman and Cabinet-Makers’ Director,” already referred to. Plate XXX shows two such sofas, and that on Plate XXXI is described by him as follows:
A Design of a Sofa for a grand Apartment, and will require a great Care in the Execution, to make the several Parts come in such a Manner, that all the Ornaments join without the least Fault; and if the Embossments all along are rightly managed, and gilt with burnished Gold, the whole will have a noble Appearance. The Carving at the Toe is the Emblem of Watchfulness, Assiduity, and Rest. The Pillows and Cushions must not be omitted, though they are not in the Design. The Dimensions are nine Feet long without the Scrolls; the broadest Part of the Seat, from Front to Back, two Feet, six Inches; the Height of the Back from the Seat, three Feet, six Inches; and the Height of the Seat one Foot, two Inches, without Casters. I would advise workmen to make a Model of it at large, before he begins to execute it.
The Adam sofas closely fall in with the general features of the Adam style, and the same may be said of the sofas of Hepplewhite and Sheraton. Hepplewhite in his book tells us that the dimensions of sofas “should vary according to the size of the room, but the proportion in general use is, length between 6 and 7 feet; depth about 30 inches; heighth of the seat frame 14 inches; total in the back, 3 feet 1 inch. The woodwork should be either Mahogany or japanned to suit the chairs in the room, and the covering must match that of the chairs.” Four designs of sofas appear in Hepplewhite’s book. Plate 27 therein shows a confidante. Of this he says:
This piece of furniture is of French origin, and is in pretty general request for large and spacious suites of apartments. An elegant drawing-room with modern furniture is scarce complete without a confidante; the extent of which may be about 9 feet, subject to the same regulations as sofas. This piece of furniture is sometimes so constructed that the ends take away and leave a regular sofa; the ends may be used as Barjier chairs.
Of the Duchesse sofa Hepplewhite says:
This piece of furniture is also derived from the French. Two Barjier chairs of proper construction, with a stool in the middle, form the Duchesse, which is allotted to large and spacious ante-rooms; the covering may be various as also the framework, and made from six to eight feet long. The stuffing may be of the round manner as shown in the drawing, or low-stuffed with a loose squab or bordered cushion fitted to each part; with a duplicate linen cover to cover the whole, or each part separately. Confidantes, sofas and chairs may be stuffed in the same manner.
In the rooms of the Antiquarian Society, Concord, Massachusetts, is a sofa which once belonged to Samuel Barron and which shows mixed Hepplewhite and Sheraton characteristics.
In Girard College, Philadelphia, one may see a Sheraton sofa that once belonged to Stephen Girard, the founder. Sheraton himself describes one of his own sofas as follows:
A sofa done in white and gold, or japanned. Four loose cushions are placed at the back. They serve at times for bolsters, being placed against the arms to loll against. The seat is stuffed up in front about three inches high above the rail, denoted by the figure of a sprig running lengthwise; all above that is a squab, which may be taken off occasionally.
Sheraton also tells of the Turkey sofa “introduced into the most fashionable homes as a novelty, an invention of the Turkish mode of sitting. They are, therefore, made very low, scarcely exceeding a foot to the upper side of the cushion. The frame may be made of beach, and must be webbed and strained with canvas to support the cushions.”
It would be interesting to go on dwelling upon a subject so rich in lore, but I fear, so little studied. The author has generously refrained from the harrowing mention of haircloth, as he imagines there is little he could add to a subject that all readers are probably too familiar with already.
EVERY one is familiar with the name “Sheffield Plate,” and many have a vague idea as to what, superficially, marks its distinction; there are fewer, however, who know its story. It is interesting. A few years prior to the middle of the eighteenth century—1742 is the generally accepted date—there lived in a little house on Sycamore Hill in the English town of Sheffield an ingenious mechanic, Thomas Bolsover by name. His knife, which had a handle made partly of silver and partly of copper, had been broken, and one day in a leisure moment Bolsover took it to his attic room to repair it at the little work-bench he had fixed up there. In the course of this operation an unusual accident brought about the fusing of the copper and silver parts of the knife-handle. To Bolsover’s surprise he found the metals had cohered, forming a copper basis with a surface of silver.
To a stupid mechanic this would have given rise to no reflection, or only to futile and passing curiosity. To Bolsover it at once brought the reflection that a process developed by experiment from the results of this accident would be of definite utility. In view of the fact that the value of silver at that time was three times what it is to-day, the discovery of a substitute for the solid precious metal was of great commercial importance.
Bolsover was a cutler by trade and steel-working was Sheffield’s chief industry. So little silver-working had been attempted in the town that there was not even an assay office there; in fact, one was not established until some thirty years subsequent to Bolsover’s discovery and inventions. Although Bolsover was only a struggling workman, he had the good fortune of interesting a Mr. Pegge of Beauchief, who furnished him with the capital to set up a manufactory of articles produced by the new process. Buttons, buckles, snuff-boxes, and knife-handles were turned out from the new shops on Baker’s Hill. This business Bolsover conducted in conjunction with one, Joseph Wilson. During this period Bolsover was probably so concerned with his work and the manufacture of the small articles mentioned that it never occurred to him that his process was capable of greater developments. Changing conditions open new channels that are to be anticipated only by imaginative minds. Bolsover’s mind was, I think, less imaginative than of a generally intelligent and practical turn. It was sufficient for him, in all probability, that he had stumbled on material which would replace silver in the manufacture of the small articles that appealed to his commercial instinct.
The middle of the eighteenth century was a period in which only the very well-to-do could afford articles of silver for household use. The middle class still contented itself with pewter. It apparently remained for Joseph Hancock, a brazier who had been in Bolsover’s employ, to realize the possibilities of Bolsover’s copper rolled-plate process (as it was then and for a long time afterward called), as a suitable material for silverware. Hancock produced tea-pots, coffee-pots, candlesticks, tankards, waiters, and so on.
It may seem strange that neither Bolsover nor Hancock followed the new industry for long. As astute business men, they might be expected to have anticipated the vogue that the copper rolled plate was later to enjoy. On the other hand, I think one should take into consideration the fact that the well-to-do of the day sought no silver substitutes, and that on the tables of the middle class such things as epergnes, bread-baskets, and cake-baskets were hardly to be found before 1750, while coffee-pots and milk-jugs were rare even in silver, and tea-kettles and tea-urns even more so. As these various articles came into more extended use in silver form, they suggested to the immediate followers of Bolsover and Hancock the greater commercial field that would open to their manufacture in copper rolled plate. Still the old Tudor & Leader firm, founded by Dr. Sherburn in 1758 and existing till 1814, a firm advertising “the best wrought silver plate,” devoted most of its attention to the making of buttons and snuff-boxes.
Authorities generally assign to about 1760 the earliest table pieces, except those (and they were very few) which Hancock produced. After this time the copper rolled plate, the manufacture of which Bolsover and Hancock found less remunerative than the metal rolling business they entered, developed rapidly. By 1774 there were some sixteen firms engaged in the hollow-ware making in Sheffield alone, and Boulton had established a factory for copper rolled plate in Birmingham. We may assume that Sheffield plate, as the ware came to be called then, became widely popular, for Ashworth, Ellis, Wilson, and Hawksly opened branches away from Sheffield—in Paris and in Dublin. There were, of course, many improvements in Sheffield plate, such as the method of preparing for and applying the ornamental silver edges which was under the patents of Mr. Roberts of Roberts & Cadman in 1824.
To another discovery we may credit the decline of the fine copper rolled plate after 1840. It seems that a medical student, Wright by name, studying with Dr. Shearman of Rotherham, near Sheffield, discovered a process of depositing silver on copper by electro-decomposition. He sold his discovery to Messrs. Elkington in Birmingham, who took out patents, March 25, 1840. Those who have not studied the matter usually rest under the impression that Sheffield plate, as collectors know it, is an electroplated ware. On the contrary, although many of the beautiful original Sheffield-plate forms have been imitated in electroplated articles, it is not the latter that hold a collector’s interest. Moreover, the true Sheffield plate so treasured to-day has the silver rolled on copper and not on nickel or white metal. I suppose tons of machine-made copper articles, electroplated, pass to-day with the unknowing as true Sheffield plate. Such of these as imitate the fine old forms that have been unsurpassed are certainly preferable to other modern wares that lack the beauty of form and the traditions of design. However, the electroplated wares should be declared such, and should not be fabricated to deceive.
Another point is that the cost of making copper rolled plate is twice the cost of making electroplate. It is, I think, better for the home furnisher to pay twice as much for a few excellent things than to have twice as many inferior ones at the same price. Modern Sheffield plate—that is to say, the rolled plate of to-day—is nearly all worth having. The old Sheffield pattern-books and many of the dies for the forms survived the capricious fortune that for so many years led the older art to give way to the commercial aspect of electroplate. Now, electroplating does not wear well unless it is done on nickel; a hard copper basis, moreover, enhances the beauty of the silver coating, and brings out a quality which nickel and white metal do not.
As it was not until 1784 that Parliament repealed the act that prohibited marking plated ware, no Sheffield plate that is genuine is found with a mark antedating 1784. From 1784, to, say, 1880, Sheffield plate may bear mark and maker’s name beside it. The firm of W. Green & Co. was the first to have its mark and name registered for Sheffield plate; this was September 8, 1784. However, the collector finds pieces bearing names and marks together very rare. Marks are generally so inconspicuously placed as often to be missed even when they do occur. Careful examination is necessary to discover them.
It should be borne in mind that the genuine Sheffield-plate metal consisted of silver and copper sheets inseparably joined and pressed out to the required thinness by being run cold through rollers. The metal was then cut and shaped by hand-hammering into the forms desired. Electroplated ware consists of a baser metal form already shaped before being coated with silver in galvanic solution. The possessor of any pieces of genuine Sheffield plate will subject them to ruin if he is, at any time, so ill-advised as to have them replated. Such a renovation will utterly destroy the beauty that intrinsically resides with even worn pieces of Sheffield plate that show copper traces.