Edward Dillon

CHAPTER XVII THE SOFT-PASTE PORCELAIN OF FRANCE SAINT-CLOUD--LILLE--CHANTILLY--MENNECY--PARIS--VINCENNES--SEVRES.

WE have now to take up the history of the soft-paste porcelain of France, and in the first place to follow the stages that intervene between the early tentative ware made by Poterat at Rouen (see page 239) and the fully developed ‘artificial’ porcelain of SÈvres. We have, then, to deal first with the wares of Saint-Cloud and Chantilly, and in part with those of Lille and Mennecy-Villeroy.

But before saying anything of the different wares we had better go back to the technical side of our subject, and give some explanation of the term soft paste,[169] artificial paste, or frit paste.

We have come across something of this sort before in the case of the Medici ware. This was essentially the combination of a glass with a fine white clay. When we come to the French soft paste we find the kaolinic element replaced by something between a calcareous clay and an impure limestone, the marne of the French, which may be rendered by our somewhat vague expression, marl.

M. Vogt (La Porcelaine, Paris, 1893) quotes from a memoir drawn up in 1753 by Hellot, a prominent member of the Academy of Science, which well illustrates the point of view of the time. Hellot knew all about kaolin and petuntse, as described by the Jesuit missionaries, but he despaired of finding the materials in France. M. de RÉaumur, he tells us, made, it is true, a greyish refractory ware from what he (RÉaumur) claimed to be the French equivalent of these materials, but the ‘firm, compact, snow-like porcelain of China, what we commonly know as Ancien Japon (sic) has yet to be imitated.’ After giving an outline of the history of French soft paste up to this time (to this important contemporary evidence we shall return shortly), Hellot claims that this soft paste is equal to the real ‘Japan,’ except that the grain is less fine, while as for ‘the Saxon ware, it is no porcelain at all except on the exterior. When broken it is easy to see that it is merely a white enamel, only harder than the ordinary enamel of painters.’ This, be it noted, is written forty years after BÖttger’s great discovery. We see by it how well the secret was kept.[170]

There is no question, therefore, but of soft-paste porcelain. It is thus that Hellot sums up his report, written at the critical period when it was proposed to remove the Vincennes works to SÈvres, and place them under more immediate royal protection, and for this verdict we have every reason to be thankful.

It is from this same memoir, Recueil de tous les procÉdÉs de la Porcelaine de la Manufacture Royale de Vincennes, that we obtain the most accurate details of the composition of the soft paste made at this time. It was a strictly private document, written expressly for the king by Hellot, who had recently been appointed to the direction of the Vincennes factory. This report was unearthed some time ago from among the archives at SÈvres.

According to Hellot, writing in 1753, just as the Chinese combine the more fusible petuntse with the kaolin—‘a kind of talc which neither calcines nor vitrifies’—so with our frit, an artificial petuntse, we must mix, not an unctuous fusible clay, but some fine white infusible substance. Such a material is found in certain marnes obtained from the gypsum quarries near Paris.

The frit employed at Vincennes at this time—and the composition seems to have varied little up to the last days of soft paste in France—was essentially an alkaline silicate, containing also some lime and alumina, as will be seen from the following recipe:—

Fused nitre,	22	per cent.
Sea salt,	7	”
Alicante soda,	3·7	”
Rock alum,	3·7	”
Montmartre gypsum,	3·7	”
Fontainebleau sand,	60	”

These ingredients, some of which are soluble in water, are fritted together—that is to say, imperfectly fused—in a part of the kiln specially reserved for them, great precautions being taken to regulate the heat. After reducing the frit to powder, the superfluous salts had to be thoroughly washed out by means of boiling water, before the substance was fit for mixing with the ‘body’ constituent of the paste.

This body is prepared from the grosse marne found at Argenteuil, by careful sifting and decantation. Six parts of the prepared frit are mixed with one part of the washed marl and with one part of a kind of chalk called blanc d’Espagne (this last substance was afterwards dispensed with), and the whole thoroughly united by a grinding process which lasted for nine days. The resulting paste was made up into balls and allowed to ‘ferment’ for seven or eight months.

Now, if we glance over the various materials that have entered into the composition of this very ‘artificial’ paste, we see that alumina, the substance which, together with silica, we regard as the essential element in all fictile materials, is present in very small quantities; what there is of it can only be derived from the marl and from the alum in the frit; and this inference is confirmed by an analysis made by SalvÉtat—he found, indeed, only 2·23 per cent. of this earth in a fragment of old SÈvres. It may safely be said that in no other fictile ware is so small a quantity of alumina present. With this poverty of alumina we may associate the want of plasticity—the extreme ‘shortness’ which distinguishes this clay, if clay it can be called. In order to throw it on the wheel it had to be worked up with a certain quantity of chimie, a mixture of black soap and fine glue; at a later time gum tragacanth was used. Most of the soft paste, indeed, was made in moulds, but even in this case the pÂte chimisÉe had to be employed. It was not till a later time that these difficulties were in part overcome by the introduction of the English process of ‘casting.’

The kilns at this time were small, with only one hearth, in which poplar wood was burned, but the firing was sometimes continued for more than a hundred hours. Hellot tells us that after the first firing more than two-thirds of the charge had generally to be rejected. The remainder—the successful biscuitware—was now polished with grit-stone, before being dipped into the soup-like glaze slip: in the case of vessels of complicated outline, the glaze was painted on with a brush. This ‘enamel,’ as the French sometimes call it—the term must not be confused with our use of that word—was essentially a silicate of lead, soda, and potash—a flint or crystal glass, in fact, containing nearly 40 per cent. of litharge. Hellot describes its preparation as follows: the constituents of the glaze, thoroughly mingled together, were melted to a glass, which had then to be reduced to a fine powder, and mixed with water and vinegar to form the slip. The presence of vinegar hindered the deposition of the solid particles in the soup-like liquid, and at the same time promoted the adhesion of the slip to the surface of the biscuit. This biscuit, with its thick coating of glaze, was now again fired, this time at a more gentle temperature.

The plain white ware was now handed over to the painters and gilders, and it is at this stage that the advantage resulting from this thick coating of an easily fusible, lustrous glaze asserts itself. The pigments themselves, suspended in a flux of similar constitution, are at the temperature of the muffle-stove completely incorporated with the subjacent glaze, and do not, as in the case of the German and still more of the later SÈvres hard paste, lie as a dead coating on the surface.

Hellot gives in his report numerous recipes for these enamel colours—there are as many as twenty-five for the blacks alone—but from these empirical data little is to be learned. It would seem, however, that the ‘enamels of Venice,’ prepared doubtless by the Murano glassblowers, were imported for this purpose.

The muffle-firing was a long and complicated process—the preliminary heating in the case of large pieces occupied twenty-five hours. The superintendence of the firing of each batch was delegated to one of the painters—a most arduous and responsible task which often occupied as much as fifteen days, for each piece had to pass to a fresh position when a requisite degree of heat had been obtained.

The above summary will give some approximate idea of the complicated and delicate processes involved in the fabrication of the porcelaine de France at the time when the ware that is now most prized by collectors was being produced at the works. We must now give some account of the forerunners—the soft-paste porcelains made at Saint-Cloud and at Chantilly in the early part of the eighteenth century.

Saint-Cloud.—In 1695 the widow and children of Pierre Chicoineau (or Chicanaux) petitioned the king for the sole privilege of making the ‘vÉritable porcelaine de la mÊme qualitÉ, plus belle et aussi parfaite et propice aux mÊmes usages que la porcelaine des Indes et de la Chine.’ In granting the petition, the rights of the Poterat family of Rouen are reserved; but it is stated that no porcelain had been made at Rouen for several years. The earliest description, curiously enough, of the manufacture of porcelain in France, is to be found in An Account of a Journey to Paris in the year 1698, by Dr. Martin Lister. In speaking of what he saw at the ‘potterie of Saint-Clou,’ Lister declares that the painting of the ware surpassed that of the Chinese, nor was the glaze inferior in whiteness and ‘smoothness of running without bubbles.... Again, the inward Substance and the Matter of the Pots was to me the very same, firm and hard as Marble, and the self-same grain, on this side vitrification. Further, the transparency of the Pots the very same.’ After more than twenty-five years of experiment it was only, says Dr. Lister, within the last three that the process had been brought to perfection. We may therefore place the beginning of the porcelain of Saint-Cloud about the year 1695.

PLATE XXXIII.
1—ROUEN, BLUE AND WHITE
2—SAINT-CLOUD, CELADON
3—SAINT-CLOUD, BLUE AND WHITE

In the Mercure Galant of October 1700 we hear of frequent visits of princes, lords, and ambassadors to the works of ‘M. Chicanaux,’ above all of the young Duchesse de Bourgogne, who ‘stopped her carriage at the gate to see the manufacture of fine porcelain which has not its like in all Europe.’ This reads very like a modern rÉclame, but it is important as showing the interest already taken by great people in the new ware.

At a later time the Saint-Cloud works came more directly under the patronage of the Dukes of Orleans, both the regent and his son ‘Louis le DÉvot.’ It was then in the hands of Henri Trou, who had married Chicoineau’s widow. Earlier Chicoineau pieces (1702-1712) bear as a mark the sun of Louis xiv. roughly traced in blue (Pl. d. 51). At a later time, under the Trou rÉgime, we find a roughly drawn T surmounted by the letters S.-C. (Pl. d. 52). The specimens of this ware—there are plenty of them in the French museums and several at South Kensington—are seldom of any size, and the decoration is generally sparingly applied to the milk-white ground. In the earlier pieces the lambrequins borders in under-glaze blue carry on the tradition of the seventeenth century renaissance style in use at Rouen, and we find similar patterns moulded in low relief.[171] The moulded surface is often covered with a scale-like pattern (Pl. xxxiii.): with this we may probably identify ‘the quilted china of Saint-Cloud,’ of which there was a tea-service at Strawberry Hill. But it is rather the Oriental influence that is generally predominant; and the white ware of Fukien, decorated with sprigs of prunus blossom, is closely copied. Of special interest are some very successful imitations of the famille rose. On a trembleuse saucer at South Kensington[172] the rouge d’or is used with great effect; the way in which the pink is gradated with the white enamel shows full command of the materials. This saucer bears the T of the Trou family as a mark, but we unfortunately do not know the exact date when this mark was first introduced, and still less for how long it was employed.[173]

Lille.—A manufactory of porcelain was founded at Lille as early as the year 1711. The founders, in their petition to the mayor and council of the town, acknowledge that their aim was to follow in the wake of the Chicoineau family of Saint-Cloud, the only place in Europe, they say, where porcelain was made. At the same time they seize the occasion to attack the head of the Rouen works, who, they affirm, has attempted to palm off his inferior wares at Paris, to the prejudice of the real Saint-Cloud porcelain. Some side-light is thus thrown on the rivalry of the Poterat and Chicoineau families. In fact, the porcelain made at Lille closely resembles the Saint-Cloud ware. We find this especially in the pieces with a white ground sparely decorated with lambrequins of blue. It was, however, evidently made with less care, and we do not find the milky paste which is so great a charm in the Saint-Cloud porcelain. The mark, the letter L, stands for the town of Lille. This factory of soft paste does not seem to have lasted more than twenty years. Late in the century hard porcelain was made for a short time in this town, and it is claimed that it was at Lille that coal was first used for the firing of porcelain. There is a plate in the SÈvres Museum inscribed ‘Faite À Lille en Flandre, cuite au charbon de terre.’ The manager, Leperre Durot, was unsuccessful, however, in an attempt to introduce his new fuel at Paris. In 1786 the Dauphin (he was only five years old at the time) became patron of the factory at Lille, and the mark for the few remaining years of its existence was a dolphin crowned.

Chantilly.—We have seen how close to nearly every Residenz-Stadt in Germany there sprang up a porcelain manufactory under the patronage of the prince. In somewhat similar way the fashion spread in France. Here the head of each branch of the royal house either took some already established factory under his protection, or promoted the setting up of new works. At this time, I mean at the beginning of the eighteenth century, it was the mark of a loyal subject and good citizen to send the family plate to the melting-pot and to forward the resulting bullion to the mint to be coined into money, in this following the example of the king. This was the case above all in 1709, when Louis was in great want of money. We are told that the Duc D’Antin, ‘the perfect courtier,’ after a sacrifice of this kind, ‘courut À Paris choisir force porcelaine admirable qu’il eut À grand marchÉ.’ So that, in the words of Saint-Simon, the goldsmiths were being ruined, and the makers of fayence and porcelain enriched. This fashion gave, of course, a great stimulus to the establishment of new factories. Thus the head of the great house of CondÉ became the patron of the works established in 1725 by Ciquaire Ciron at Chantilly. In the letters patent granted in 1735 we are told ‘Notre bien aimÉ Ciquaire Ciron nous a fait reprÉsenter que depuis plus de dix ans il s’est appliquÉ À la fabrique de la porcelaine pareille À celle qui se faisait anciennement au Japon.’ The prince, Louis Henri,[174] already possessed a remarkable collection of this Oriental porcelain, and some sixty examples of this ware made anciennement au Japon, what we now know as Kakiyemon, are still to be seen in the ChÂteau of Chantilly.

The earlier porcelain of Chantilly is remarkable in this, that following the example of the enamelled fayence of the day, it is coated with an opaque stanniferous glaze. On this ground, which resembles closely that of the earliest Japanese ware, the peculiar decoration of the Kakiyemon porcelain is closely copied.[175] Indeed, the delicate yet spirited handling of this decoration—I would point especially to two cylindrical vases mounted in silver in the Fitzhenry collection (Pl. xxxiv.)—is something that we are quite unaccustomed to in European porcelain. It will be noticed, however, that the over-glaze blue enamel is somewhat heavy in tone, and has evidently given trouble to the decorator.

At a later time the tin enamel gave place to a vitreous glaze similar to that used at Mennecy, and the decoration most in favour was a somewhat poor underglaze blue. On such ware, especially on plates, we find the well-known ‘Chantilly sprig,’ so often imitated on English porcelain. This pattern is distinguished by a leaf, or rather bract, of peculiar shape at the branching of the twigs, and the design would seem to be of Persian origin. It is interesting to compare it with the very similar sprigs often seen in the decoration

of the Medici porcelain. The shield of the CondÉ family is sometimes found on plates of this ware, the ‘baton of cadency’ between the lilies so reduced in size as to look like an accidental spot. The mark, a hunting-horn, is carefully painted in red on the older pieces; later on, it is found rapidly sketched in blue under the glaze[176] (Pl. d. 53).

Mennecy-Villeroy.—This time it is not a prince of the blood, but a trÈs grand seigneur, whose name we find associated with a group of French porcelain. It was on the estate of the Duc de Villeroy, the son of Louis xiv.’s notorious marshal, at Les Petites Maisons, near Mennecy,[177] that Barbin began to make porcelain in the year 1735. The ware he turned out is remarkable for a translucent body covered by a brilliant and uniform glaze. Many kinds of decoration were tried by Barbin and his successors during the forty years of the existence of these works. This period of time well covers the culminating period of soft-paste porcelain in France, and the Mennecy ware fairly represents the school as a whole in its more modest efforts. The decoration with scattered flowers (bouquets de style franÇais) is perhaps the most characteristic design on this ware, but more ambitious work in imitation of SÈvres was attempted later. As at Saint-Cloud and at Chantilly, much attention was given to the little daintily painted ‘toys’—patch-boxes, cane-heads, and knife-handles—many of which were copied a little later at Chelsea.

But the reputation of Mennecy rests above all upon its figurines—little statuettes, generally brilliantly painted, though some are covered with the plain white glaze only (Pl. xxxv.). Others, again, are in a biscuit of peculiar quality, and these last are at times remarkably well modelled. The mark D. V. (Pl. d. 54), doubtless referring to the patron, was maintained up to the time of the removal of the works to Bourg-la-Reine, near Sceaux, in 1773.

We have taken up the porcelain of Mennecy at this point, as the date of its foundation is earlier than that of Vincennes. From its general character, however, we might rather class it as a ‘younger sister’ of SÈvres, while the other wares we have described, Saint-Cloud, Chantilly, and Lille, form a distinct and earlier group by themselves. These latter are distinguished from the later soft pastes of France, on the one hand, by the predominance of designs either of Oriental origin or derived from the French enamelled fayence of the seventeenth century; on the other, by the restrained way in which the coloured decoration is applied, or even by the total absence of colour, so that, as a whole, these wares form an essentially white group of porcelain.

Smaller Factories of Soft Paste.—There were already, in Paris, during the early or Saint-Cloud period, some small private works where soft-paste porcelain was made. We hear of one in the Faubourg St. HonorÉ as early as 1722, belonging to the Veuve Chicoineau. De RÉaumur, in 1739, mentions a factory in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Some other porcelain works under the patronage of princes of the blood were erected at a later date. The Duc de PenthiÈvre took a keen interest in the porcelain made near to his chÂteau at Sceaux, and this ware, first made in 1751, is distinguished by its high finish and careful decoration. So much cannot be said of the produce of the ducal kilns at Orleans, where both fayence and soft-paste porcelain were made about the middle of the century. Not long after, hard-paste porcelain was made at Orleans by

GÉrault, but it is doubtful whether all the pieces marked with the Orleans label (of three points) (Pl. d. 60) can be attributed to these works rather than to the factory at Clignancourt. The works at Arras, probably the last started with the object of making a soft-paste ware, cannot be traced further back than 1771. Here the Demoiselles Delesseux, with the support of M. de Calonne, manufactured blue and white ware in competition with the neighbouring factory at Tournai.

Tournai.—Soft-paste porcelain was first made at Tournai in 1750, and although the town is now in Belgium, the ware there manufactured in the last century forms, with that made at Lille and Arras, a distinct group. The mark of two swords in saltire and four small crosses (Pl. d. 48) is derived from the arms of Peterinck of Lille, the founder of the works. At first a tower (Pl. d. 47), from the town arms, was also used. Many varieties of decoration were employed here both for blue and white and enamelled ware. But before long the commercial spirit prevailed, and a common ware was turned out in large quantities.

Vincennes and SÈvres.—‘La porcelaine de SÈvres est sans contredit la plus belle qui existe.’ This is the dictum of no less an authority than the late Baron Davillier, and we may doubtless accept it if we limit ourselves to the porcelain of Europe. There can be no doubt but that the work turned out by the royal porcelain works during the first fifteen or twenty years of their existence takes an important, if not an essential, place in the decorative art of the eighteenth century, and that, too, at the best period of that art. As to the intrinsic artistic merit, if such a thing exists, or even to the general decorative value of this ware, compared, for instance, with the fayence of the Saracenic East or with the porcelain of China and Japan, these are questions which we are fortunately not called upon to answer here.

The Porcelaines de France, for that is the name given in the eighteenth century to the ware produced under royal patronage, were first made in the factory established in the riding-school at Vincennes, and at the present day the works are within the confines of the park of Saint-Cloud. It will, however, be convenient to include the whole series under the name of SÈvres.[178]

Our knowledge of the technical side of the subject is derived, as we have seen, from the report that Hellot presented to the king in 1753. For the history of the foundation of the works and the selection of the artists, we are chiefly dependent upon a memoir, written in 1781 for the information of the Government, by Bachelier, an artist who had been attached to the works as painter on porcelain since the year 1748.[179] In this memoir we can trace the troubled history of the years of ill-success and financial difficulties that preceded the final establishment of the royal works at SÈvres—TantÆ molis erat! ...

There were two names that we must always associate with this long struggle: during the earlier period, at Vincennes, Orry de Fulvi, the brother of the contrÔleur gÉnÉral de finance; and after his death, Madame de Pompadour. It is rather a shady story upon the whole, and at the opening we are reminded of the adventures of the arcanist Ringler at the various German courts. M. de Fulvi, who had long been interested in experiments on the manufacture of porcelain, started at Vincennes with the assistance of two worthless and drunken ‘experts’ (the equivalent of the German ‘arcanists’) who had been tempted away from Chantilly.[180] After repeated failures and much loss of money, the recipes were stolen from one of those men by an astute and sober assistant, one Gravant, to whom the whole charge of the mixing of the materials was now confided.[181] Other workmen, and further secrets relating to the preparation of the enamels were obtained from Chantilly by means of a free expenditure of money, and a certain success was the result. But meantime the funds of M. de Fulvi are exhausted, and resort must be had to his brother, Philibert Orry, the finance minister. This was in 1745, and we see in this step the first definite intervention of the Government. A company was now formed, with important privileges for thirty years, and by the influence of the minister, Hellot, from whose report we have already quoted, was appointed chemical adviser, Duplessis, the kings goldsmith (or rather silversmith—argentier) was placed at the head of the mechanical department, and a few years later, in 1748, Bachelier, to whom we are chiefly indebted for the history of the works, became inspector of painting and gilding. Bachelier was not of much note as an artist.[182] It was to his organising power and energy, however, that the group of artists and sculptors who have given such fame to the porcelain of SÈvres was first brought together.

On his appointment, says Bachelier, his first care was to abandon ‘la grossiÈre imitation du Japon’, and to furnish the ateliers with pictures, models, and prints, ‘dans tous les genres, pour remplacer les productions chinoises qu’on y copiait encore.’[183]

Both M. de Fulvi and his brother died in 1751, the company was broken up, and but for the energy and influence of a certain M. Hultz, of whom nothing further is known, the manufacture would have come to an end. We must remember that on the death of the finance minister, his former enemy, Madame de Pompadour, practically took his place. Her power was at that time at its height (she ‘reigned’ from 1745 to her death in 1764), so that we may perhaps regard the M. Hultz of Bacheliers memoir as one of the favourite’s ‘ghosts.’

It was certainly the influence of the Marquise de Pompadour that induced Louis xv., in 1753, to sign the arrÊt by which the title of Manufacture Royale de Porcelaine was conferred on the establishment. At the same time many important privileges were granted. The establishment was now removed to SÈvres, where a plot of ground containing some glass-works, the property of the favourite, was bought for 66,000 livres, and the new factory set up in an adjacent domain that had formerly belonged to the musician Lully. The king subscribed for a quarter of the new capital. The troubles, however, were not yet ended: the workshops were badly built and badly arranged. Finally, in 1759, Louis took over all the shares of the company, which was at that time in liquidation. A yearly grant of 96,000 livres secured the financial position. In all these arrangements we see the hand of the Pompadour, and still more in the keen way in which the business side of the establishment was pushed. At the New Year a sale took place at Versailles, in the palace. The king presided, and fixed the prices of the porcelain. A large purchase of china on these occasions was a sure way to royal favour and promotion.[184]

A good deal of uncertainty hangs over the nature of the early work produced at Vincennes, and no definite mark has been assigned to the factory, before the time when the permission to use the double L was granted, in 1751 or 1753. When, however, the royal cipher occurs without a year letter, there is some presumption in favour of a date previous to the latter year (Pl. d. 55).

We should infer from what Bachelier tells us that up to 1748 the designs were chiefly derived from Oriental china. But in addition the following forms and styles were in use in the pre-royal period at Vincennes:—

1. A rage for the production of artificial flowers, especially in plain white ware, existed at one time, and when the Vincennes artists were able to rival the Dresden flowers that had previously been imported, from this department alone was a steady source of income obtained. The flowers first produced were confined merely to small detached blossoms, but in 1748 M. de Fulvi presented to the queen a trophy of white porcelain which surpassed anything yet manufactured. On a base or pedestal of white ware, mounted in gilt bronze, rises a small tree completely covered with blossom of white porcelain, under which stand three female figures of the same material. The whole trophy is about three feet in height.[185] So again in 1750 we hear that the king had ordered similar bouquets of flowers, ‘peintes au naturel,’ which were to cost 800,000 livres! This for the famous ChÂteau de Bellevue, and for Madame de Pompadour.[186]

2. Much of the porcelain made at Vincennes at this time (1740-50) was decorated with scattered groups of flowers on a white ground, a style then known as fleurs de Saxe. These flowers were often in high relief, and in this case they formed a passage to the first group.

3. There exist certain small pieces, chiefly cups and saucers (of the trembleuse type, as usual at this time), with a ground of a deep blue. A great vigour and depth is given to the colour (known later as bleu du roi) by its somewhat irregular or mottled texture, a result, it is said, of the manner in which it was painted on to the biscuit (it is an underglaze colour) with a brush. We may note that the use of a dark ground for porcelain was exceptional at this time in France. This bleu de Vincennes was imitated with some success by Sprimont at Chelsea.

Gravant (he who had the secret of the paste) had before 1753, so Hellot tells us in his report, succeeded in making a paste much whiter than that of Chantilly, so as to allow of a ‘couverte crystalline et parfaitement diaphane’ in place of the opaque ‘vernix de Fayance’ (sic) used by Ciron at that factory. It is indeed important to remember that before the works were removed from Vincennes, the soft paste that we know as SÈvres had already reached its highest development both as regards the materials and the decoration. The most

beautiful and characteristic colours were already used with complete mastery, and (certainly by the year 1753) the paintings of the cartels had attained a delicacy and finish never surpassed in later times,—this is at least true of certain classes of subjects, the amorini and wreaths of flowers, for instance. In proof of this I need only point to certain pieces of turquoise in the Wallace collection (Gallery xv., Case A.), above all to the soupiÈre (No. 7), modelled, no doubt, after a silversmith’s design. If we compare such pieces to the porcelain of Saint-Cloud and Chantilly, or to the somewhat tentative work turned out at Vincennes itself but a few years earlier, it is difficult to account for this rapid advance, especially at a time of change and financial difficulties. This is certainly the most interesting period—(I mean the years just at the middle of the century)—in the whole history of French porcelain, and we must remember that the change came about precisely at the time (1751) when Madame de Pompadour’s influence became predominant.

The free access to the royal factory—the workshops seem to have been regarded at one time as a fashionable lounge—made the preservation of any secret processes very difficult. Bachelier says that ‘on vient s’y promener comme dans les maisons royales,’ and he complains bitterly of the loss of time, the dirt, and the accidents caused by the throng of people. A succession of edicts, one as early as the year 1747, was issued, restricting the access of visitors.

When the difficulties connected with the paste and the decoration had been surmounted, a demand arose for protection against the competition of outside works. With this object a whole series of edicts, many of them of a contradictory nature, was issued between the years 1750 and 1780. Of these the special aim was to prevent or hamper the production of porcelain in other works, above all in those within a certain radius of Paris, or failing that, at least to restrict the use of colour, and especially of gilding, by such works as had to be tolerated.

At the time of the removal to SÈvres the staff consisted of more than a hundred workmen. Duplessis, the silversmith of the king, was intrusted with the modelling and with the general artistic direction, and Hellot, as we have seen, was what we should now call ‘scientific adviser.’[187]

Bachelier complains that the nature of the paste and glaze was unfavourable to the production of small figures, ‘luisantes et colorÉes,’ like those of Saxony. He claims to have been the first—this was as early as 1748—to recommend the use of white biscuit to reproduce in porcelain, among other things, ‘some of the pastoral ideas of M. Boucher,’ and this style, he tells us, ‘had a great success up to the time when M. Falconet, to whom the department was intrusted in 1757, introduced a more noble style, one more generalised and less subject to the evolution of fashion.’ Falconet was carried off to Russia in 1766, to execute for Catherine ii. the great statue of Peter the Great, and Bachelier then took his place. It was under Falconet that the best work was produced in this department, although at a later date such well-known names as Robert le Lorrain, Pajou, Clodion, Pigalle, and Houdon are found upon the books of the SÈvres works. No biscuit statuettes of pÂte tendre were made after the year 1777.

The models after which the vases and other objects were designed—and each year some fresh form was introduced—are still preserved at SÈvres. We can trace in them, as in the mountings of the contemporary

furniture, the passage from the haute rocaille of the fifties to the simpler forms in favour at the beginning of the reign of Louis xvi.

The fashion of encasing the porcelain of China in metal mounts—for this the large monochrome pieces were preferred—had come in at an earlier period. The contorted forms of the gilt metal undoubtedly bring out by contrast the simple outlines and smooth surfaces of the crackle and celadon vases. In the Jones collection at South Kensington there are some superbly fine examples of this collocation of French and Chinese work. During the sixties and later it became the fashion to combine the ormolu and other kinds of metal-work with the SÈvres porcelain in many new ways, and the pendules of the time show ingenious combinations of the two materials in endless variety. It must be borne in mind that the simpler forms that we associate with the reign of Louis xvi. were already asserting themselves several years before the death of his predecessor.

If we examine the choicer pieces in any collection of SÈvres china, we find that the date-marks range within a very small interval of time—a few years on either side of 1760. This narrow limit for the best work is well exemplified both in the Jones collection and at Hertford House. We shall return to this point when describing the turquoise and rose grounds of this time.

Once established at SÈvres under direct royal patronage, the principal efforts of the staff were directed to the designing and the execution of elaborate dinner-services, destined to be presented in turn to the various crowned heads of Europe. As early as 1754 a service was made for Maria Theresa, la Reine-ImpÉratrice. In 1758 a service with a green ground and figures, flowers, and birds in cartels was commanded by Louis xv. for presentation to the King of Denmark; in 1760 a service de table of two hundred and eighty-one pieces is presented to the Elector-Palatine Karl Theodor, the porcelain enthusiast of Frankenthal. In 1764, and again in 1772 and 1779, the Ministre d’État Bertin forwarded to the Chinese Emperor Kien-lung, through the medium of the Jesuit missionaries, presents of SÈvres porcelain.[188] In 1768 and 1769 a further grand service de table, fond lapis cailloutÉ[189] is presented to the Danish king; in 1775 it is the turn of a Spanish princess, and in 1777 of the emperor. In 1778 the king sends to the Sultan of Morocco a tea-service, and at the same time presents other pieces of china to the Moorish ambassador. In the same year the Empress Catherine ordered at SÈvres the famous service of seven hundred and forty-four pieces, bleu cÉleste (i.e. turquoise) ground, decorated with camÉes incrustÉs. The flowers in this set were painted by Taillandier, and the gilding executed by Vincent and Le Guay. There is a plate from this service at South Kensington: on the centre the letter E, formed of minute flowers, and the Roman numeral II, stand for Ekaterina the Second. To this set belong also the three large brÛle-parfums vases at Hertford House, and there are other pieces in private hands.[190] The empress disputed the price (328,188 livres) demanded for the service, and a long diplomatic correspondence on the point has been preserved. M. Davillier gives some details of eight other royal services made between this time and the end of the century, among them one with green ground, for Prince Henry of Prussia (1784), of which

several of the pieces were jewelled (ornÉes d’Émaux), and in 1788 a grand service de table with vases, cups, pictures, and busts sent to Tippoo Saib, Sultan of Mysore.

It is usual to distinguish the different services, cabarets or garnitures, by the colour of the ground which is maintained throughout the set. Thus we find the fond lapis mentioned above and the fond vert, a peculiar shade of green very much admired at the time and often repeated in the lacquered furniture and even in the panels of a whole apartment.

We have already spoken of the Turquoise Blue, but the colour is so important that we will quote more fully the somewhat enigmatical account of it given by Hellot. ‘The bleu du roi ground, called before the Christmas fÊtes of 1753 bleu ancien (Oriental turquoise by daylight, emerald or malachite by artificial light), with which his majesty has been so satisfied, is composed as follows....’ We are then told that we should purchase at the Sieur Moniac, in the Rue Quincampoise, opposite to, etc.;—but it is needless to follow these details—in fact I only quote a few words as a sample of Hellot’s innumerable recipes for colours. This blue enamel, for it is an enamel, and not painted sous couverte like the old Vincennes blue, is composed of ‘aigue-marine’ (some preparation of copper) three parts, Gravant’s glaze one part, and of minium one and a third parts. The ingredients are melted together, À trÈs grand feu, and the resultant glass finely powdered. ‘This powder is dusted through a silk sieve, upon the mordant that has been applied to the surface of the already glazed porcelain. The piece is then heated in the “painter’s stove” (the muffle). The first layer of colour comes out sometimes crackled, and always irregular (mal unie). To make the enamel uniform, the piece is again coated and again passed through the painter’s stove.’ Not only the strength and quality of the enamel, but its tint also, vary much, even in pieces dating from the best period; some examples tend more to green than others. In the more brilliant and intense examples of the bleu cÉleste, to give the colour its old or one of its old names, the ground on close examination appears to be more or less mottled, darker clots, as it were, floating about in a lighter medium. Indeed some such ‘texture’ seems to be necessary to bring out the full effect and brilliancy in the case of other glazes and transparent enamels on porcelain, and to its absence the dull and ‘uninteresting’ aspect of much of our modern porcelain may be attributed.

Rose Pompadour.—We have seen that the various shades of pink derived from gold (see the note on p. 284) had for some time been used in the decoration of porcelain, but that the recipes for them were regarded as precious trade secrets. The rose carnÉe, or Pompadour[191] (often wrongly called rose du Barry), belongs to this class. The credit of its first successful employment as a uniform ground-colour is probably due to the chemist Hellot.[192] This colour was in use at SÈvres for only a short period of years, say between 1753 and 1763. The dated specimens in the Wallace collection range between 1754 and 1759. One is almost tempted to associate its sudden disappearance with some whim of Madame de Pompadour; perhaps having in her possession nearly all that had been made, she wished to ‘corner the market.’ The manufacture seems to have ceased before her death (1764), and afterwards the

secret was lost. The rose carnÉe ground is often associated with one of apple-green, but the combination is not a very pleasing one.

Great attention has always been paid to the Gilding at SÈvres. When applied heavily to the handles and feet of vases, it replaces, in some measure, the ormolu mounts. So, when surrounding the little pictures painted on the cartels of vases and bowls, or on the centre of plates, this gilding represents in position and design the gold frame of the period. At the time of the reorganisation of the works in 1753 we find, along with Bachelier and Duplessis, a certain FrÈre Hippolyte, a Benedictine monk, mentioned as the possessor of secret processes of gilding, and he was well paid for his periodical visits to the works. Bachelier, writing in 1781, has a note protesting against the excessive employment of gold. The prohibition of its use at other porcelain factories at this time was based, he says, on ‘economic grounds,’ that the metal might not be lost for commerce. ‘This enormous expenditure of gold,’ he protests, ‘is the more revolting, inasmuch as it is in bad taste.’ Bachelier distinguishes the ‘or bruni en effet’ from the ‘or bruni en totalitÉ.’ By the use of the first, in opposition both to the unburnished and to the plain polished gold, it was intended to imitate chiselled metal (the ormolu mounts), and this method of burnishing, we are told, should be confined to large vases which are not subjected to any wear and tear by cleaning or otherwise. The gold, in all cases, was simply sprinkled on without the admixture of any flux, and the burnishing was carried out chiefly by women in a special department of the works. This burnishing was effected au clou, that is, by means of a stump of iron inserted at the end of a stick. Agate burnishers were not introduced till a later period. Great pressure was required in the earlier method, resulting in deeply incised lines, and there is less uniformity of surface than where the agate is used.

The Jewelled SÈvres has never found much favour in France, and the only name the French have for this decoration—porcelaine ornÉe d’Émaux—is not very distinctive. A transparent, glassy, or sometimes an opaque enamel of very brilliant tint is applied in the form of little beads standing out in relief and set in gold mountings. This application of ‘appliquÉs gems in chased gold setting,’ unless used with great delicacy and moderation, produces a tawdry and overloaded effect, above all when applied upon coloured grounds. But when these little ‘paste-jewels’ are set upon the soft white of the SÈvres pÂte tendre the result is sometimes very pleasing. On a cup and saucer belonging to Mr. Currie, now at South Kensington, the ruby and turquoise jewels are connected by branches of gold overlaid with a transparent green enamel (Pl. xl.). On the other hand, on a large ewer and basin of turquoise, with a decoration of gold, in the ‘Londonderry Cabinet’ at Hertford House, which has the date-letter for 1768, the original design is capriciously overlaid by a series of jewelled chains which (if we are to trust the date-mark on the ewer) must certainly have been added at a later time. Indeed the manufacture of this jewelled ware seems to have been confined to the years 1780-86.

When a school of painting was first established at SÈvres, it was to the fan-painters and to the miniature-painters in enamel that Bachelier turned for assistance, and we can detect the mannerisms peculiar to these two schools in the decoration of some of the earlier pieces made at SÈvres.

Marks.—By the royal decree of 1753, from which

we have already quoted, it was ordered that all pieces should be marked with the well-known royal cipher, the double L, and that a letter-mark indicating the year should be added (Pl. d. 56). The single letters of the alphabet carry us from 1753 to 1776; after that double letters were used till 1793, when the king’s initial was replaced by the letters R. F., with the addition of the word SÈvres. A mark of this latter kind was in use till the end of the century, after which time no more soft paste was made.

Each artist marked his work with a monogram or a private sign, often suggested by a play upon the syllables of his name, as in the case of the canting arms of heraldry. For example, ‘2000’ (vingtcents) was adopted by Vincent, the famous gilder; a branch of a tree by Dubois; and, more strangely still, a triangle, the sign of the Trinity, by an artist named Dieu. These marks were placed underneath, or by the side of, the royal cipher. The marks of more than a hundred artists have been identified from the records kept at SÈvres—painters of flowers, garlands, landscapes, marines, genre-subjects, and finally gilders. A complete list of these men, with their marks, may be found in Garnier, Chaffers, and other writers on the subject.

The manufacture of true kaolinic porcelain was begun in 1769, but the soft paste continued to be made for another thirty years, side by side with the new ware. It was not till the year 1804 that it was finally abandoned by Brongniart, the new director. He found the soft-paste ware unsuitable for the big pieces now ordered by the Imperial Government. The paste was difficult to work, the preparation was expensive, and the dust formed both from the paste and from the lead glaze was injurious to the health of the workmen. One or two attempts have since been made at SÈvres to revive the old ware, but they have fallen through in every case.

Brongniart, in 1804, to provide funds for the impoverished works and to pay the arrears of wages to the workmen, threw on the market the large stock of plain white soft paste that had accumulated in the magazine. Now at that time there were in Paris many skilled porcelain painters, some of them ex-employÉs at SÈvres, and others, men who made a living by painting on the plain ware sent from Limoges and other factories. These ‘chambrelans’ (they painted at home, en chambre, and corresponded to our English ‘chamberers’) were now employed by the dealers who had eagerly bought up the ware that Brongniart had parted with.[193] They painted and gilt this white ware in imitation of the SÈvres porcelain of the best period so successfully that the services they turned out have found their way into royal collections. This ware, in fact, forms a group by itself, quite apart from the later imitations of the pÂte tendre, which, in every degree of merit and demerit, are now found in the china-shops of Europe and America. M. Garnier points out three signs by which this pseudo-SÈvres may be recognised: 1. The green prepared from the newly introduced chromium is of a warm yellowish tint, and displays none of the submetallic tints so often to be seen in enamels coloured by copper, as in the famille verte of China. 2. The gold on this bastard ware, burnished with an agate polisher, differs in quality of surface from the old gilding worked au clou. 3. The date-marks and painters’ monograms were copied at hazard from the old pieces—at that time no list of these marks had been made public—so that, for example, the monogram of a gilder may be found on a piece decorated in colours only.