IN spite of the considerable literature that has sprung up upon the subject, we know little of the early history of English soft-paste porcelain.

We have already spoken of the experiments made by Dr. Dwight in the seventeenth century. Dr. Lister, writing in 1699 (see above, p. 282), shows a remarkable acquaintance with the technical qualities of various kinds of porcelain: he speaks of ‘the inward Substance and Matter of the Pots’ made at Saint-Cloud as the very same as that of the Chinese, ‘hard and fine as Marble, and the self-same grain on this side vitrification. Further, the transparency of the Pots the very same.’ He had expected that at best they ‘might have arrived at the Gomron ware, which is indeed little else but a total vitrification.’[206] The man who wrote this must have been thoroughly acquainted with the physical qualities of porcelain; he must already have made some study of the subject. And yet not only at that time, but for the next forty-five years, there is a total absence of any evidence, documentary or practical, that porcelain was made anywhere in England.[207]

Meantime new porcelain works were springing up in various parts of Germany, and in France the factories of Saint-Cloud and Chantilly had long been at work. It is indeed from a French document that we get our first hint as to the existence of porcelain works in England before the year 1745. In an ‘arrest du Conseil d’État du Roy’ of that year, by which Charles Adam is authorised to establish a porcelain factory at Vincennes, a note of alarm is sounded. ‘A new establishment that has lately been founded in England for the manufacture of porcelain, which appears by the nature of its composition more beautiful than that of Saxony,’ will probably, so the document states, lead to the new English ware replacing that of French origin (Marryat, p. 371).

For one reason or another there appears to have been a great outburst of interest in porcelain about the year 1745. The works at Bow were probably started at that time. There are in existence dated pieces of that year which were almost certainly made at Chelsea, and these were no first efforts. As early as this, some porcelain figures may possibly have been made at Derby,[208] so that we may perhaps take the ten years preceding 1750 as the period during which the industry was obscurely passing through its experimental stage. After this time, those who had been first in the field reaped a good harvest, for during the next decade the china mania was at its height, and afforded much material for the satirical and comic writers of the day.

To sum up the history of English porcelain in the eighteenth century, we may take it that about the year 1740 the first attempts were made to imitate the various kinds of Oriental and Continental porcelain that were every year coming more and more into use; that by the year 1750 several factories were at work; and finally, that by 1780 the best had already been accomplished, and the decline had already begun.

Taken as a whole, our English porcelain, whether of soft or hard paste, shows little originality. From the point of view of design and decoration we may divide the ware made during the eighteenth century into two schools:—

(a) The Oriental school, the wares principally imitated being—1. The white porcelain of Fukien, with decoration in relief, often of prunus blossom. 2. ‘Blue and white,’ the blue under the glaze—this is often combined with the previous class. 3. The earlier type of Imari, that known at the time as ‘old Japan,’ or ‘partridge and wheatsheaf.’ 4. The somewhat later type of Imari with brocaded pattern, what we now call ‘old Japan.’ The enamelled wares of the great revival under Kang-he and his successors, though valued by collectors both here and in France, were less often copied.

(b) The European school, which derived its inspiration from—1. The early wares of Saint-Cloud, and later from those of Vincennes and SÈvres. Speaking generally, the influence of SÈvres became predominant after 1755, and to some extent ousted the earlier Oriental motifs. 2. Dresden, which gave the type for the statuettes and also for the elaborate painting of flowers and realistic landscapes on plates and dishes. This German influence, favouring a dullish scheme of colour and a ‘tight’ execution, was more apparent at an earlier and again at a later period; during the best time, say from 1755 to 1770, it was eclipsed by that of SÈvres.

It must be remembered that England is the only country where porcelain has been successfully made without royal or princely patronage. The various kilns were here without exception founded as commercial speculations—they were essentially the outcome of middle-class enterprise. There was, it is true, at one time some question at Chelsea of royal patronage, as represented by the Duke of Cumberland, but this came to nothing. Some interest was taken and some advice given on the artistic side by one or two great noblemen—by the third Duke of Argyll, for instance, an admirer of the ‘Kakiyemon’ decoration—but the capital to start and maintain the works came from the pockets of the more enterprising and businesslike of the designers and decorators themselves, men like Sprimont and Duesbury, assisted by local bankers, merchants, and physicians.

As a result, we find that a great feature in the commercial management, one that was quite peculiar to our island, was formed by the annual sales by auction, advertised beforehand in the local papers. It was by careful search through these advertisements and through the old sale catalogues that the late Mr. Nightingale was able to clear up some at least of the difficulties and misconceptions that have surrounded the history of English porcelain. The too ready acceptance of anecdotes and ‘pleasant stories,’ copied from one writer to another with occasional embellishments, has been the cause of much confusion. These have originated in many cases from the senile gossip of decayed workmen. The same may be said of the disproportionate attention given to marks, to which more care has been given than to a critical discrimination of the differences that distinguish the paste, the glaze, and the decoration of different wares.

How little was known a few years ago about the composition of our English porcelains is shown by the general acceptance of the statement that Spode, about the year 1800, introduced the use of bone-ash. It is now known that nearly fifty years before that time the use of a phosphatic paste was general in England, and, according to Professor Church, in ninety per cent. of the specimens in our collections bone-ash is an essential constituent. Thus the one original discovery that we can claim for our country was either forgotten or ignored.

Apart from the hard porcelain of Plymouth and Bristol, our English pastes may be divided into three classes. That first used was probably copied as closely as possible from the pastes of Saint-Cloud and Chantilly. It was a mixture of sand from Alum Bay and pipeclay from Dorsetshire, with an amount of glass, in the form of a frit, sufficient to ensure translucency. Before long the sand and clay were replaced in great measure by bone-ash, and we get the ‘natural soft paste’ especially characteristic of English eighteenth century porcelain. Finally, at the beginning of the next century Spode replaced the glassy frit by a mixture of kaolin and china-stone, retaining the bone-ash. A paste of this type has been in use ever since. Thus, in the year 1840, the ordinary commercial porcelain of Staffordshire, which in its origin was a development of the artistic wares of the eighteenth century, was made from Cornish kaolin 31 parts, Cornish china-stone 26 per cent., flint 2·5 per cent., and ‘prepared bones’ 40·5 per cent.[209] The last material is made from the roasted bones of oxen, now largely imported for this purpose from South America. The glaze on the earlier wares was essentially a silicate of lead and potash, compounded from white lead, nitre, and salt. But at present a harder glaze is used for the Staffordshire porcelain: it contains, in addition to the above substances, a considerable quantity of china-stone and china-clay, together with a little borax.

Our English porcelain of the eighteenth century may be divided roughly into five periods:—

1. The early or primitive period, very often characterised by Chinese, and especially Japanese, schemes of decoration. Oriental wares are closely copied, sometimes perhaps with the object of deception. The paste, containing no bone-ash, is soft and very waxy in appearance. Much of the ground is left unpainted, and there is no gilding. There is a great uncertainty as to the place of manufacture of many of these early pieces.

2. The fine period—approximately 1755 to 1768—especially associated with the name of Sprimont, at Chelsea. The influence of the contemporary production at SÈvres is very marked.

3. The Duesbury period, 1768 to 1786. Simple classical forms are predominant at Chelsea and Derby. The rich decoration previously in use at Chelsea is continued at Worcester, but applied to pieces of simpler outline, the vases often copying Chinese forms.

4. The early commercial period. The business firms at Derby and Worcester almost monopolise the market. Somewhat later the factories in the Severn valley form a link with the next period.

5. The Staffordshire commercial period, equally commercial and essentially eclectic. Everything is copied, and there is a constant tendency to hark back to older types.

It is possible that some such historical arrangement, combined with a division according to types of decoration, might be made the basis of an account of English porcelain; but it will be a safer course to follow the usual topographical division, treating the different factories more or less in the order of the date of their foundation.

Chelsea.—The year 1745 is the earliest date to which any piece of Chelsea ware can with certainty be assigned. The factory ceased to exist as an independent seat of manufacture before 1770. In this short interval there were apparently some years during which very little china was made. It is thus essentially an early ware, and Horace Walpole in his catalogue already speaks of ‘old Chelsea.’

We know absolutely nothing about the origin of the works. The Duke of Buckingham, in the time of Charles ii., is said to have been interested in some glass-works in this neighbourhood, and to have brought over workmen from Venice. The duke’s glass-houses were, however, more probably at Lambeth. At any rate, at that time, the ‘cones,’ as the glass-houses were called, appear to have been regarded as places suitable equally for the making of glass or the firing of pottery—so at least I glean from the terms of an advertisement in which some of these ‘cones’ are offered for sale. The origin of the well-known anchor-mark of Chelsea has been sought in Venice, but, as far as porcelain is concerned, it was probably in use at Chelsea at an earlier date than in the latter town.

Our knowledge of the existence of a factory at Chelsea before 1749 rests on the survival of two little cream-jugs of white ware moulded in the so-called ‘goat and bee’ pattern. Like some other pieces to which an early date may be assigned, these little jugs bear as a mark a rough triangle scratched in the paste (Pl. e. 68), but they stand alone in the fact that beneath the triangle has been added, before baking, in a scrawly hand, ‘Chelsea, 1745.’[210] Thanks to them we are able, upon material evidence, to put back the origin of English porcelain for five years at least.[211]

In the year 1747, we are told in the London Tradesman, that at a house at Greenwich, and at another at Chelsea, the undertakers had been for some time trying to imitate the porcelain of China and Dresden, and in the same year a number of Staffordshire potters migrated to London to find work in the Chelsea factory (Shaw’s Rise and Progress of the Staffordshire Potteries). In a London paper of December 1749 there is an advertisement of the sale of a freehold messuage in ‘Great China Row, Chelsea.’ This was no mere misprint—China for Cheyne—(the two words were pronounced alike at that time), for we come across the same spelling in more than one instance at a later date.[212] There is a real confusion of the two names, arising probably from the interest taken in the porcelain factory lately established in the neighbourhood; and this very confusion is good evidence of the extent to which the china question was occupying people’s minds at the time.

Two months later, in January 1750, we hear for the first time of Mr. Charles Gouyn, but he is already, at that date, the late proprietor and chief manager of the ‘Chelsea House.’ Of this Gouyn, presumably the founder of the works, we know nothing. He was probably of French or Belgian origin.[213] Of Gouyn’s successor, Nicholas Sprimont, we know something more. Like his contemporary Duplessis, at SÈvres, he was a silversmith, working at one time in Soho. Sprimont entered his name at Goldsmith Hall in 1742, and his mark is found on a pair of silver dishes ornamented with shells and corals now at Windsor.

For twenty years (1749-69) the factory at Chelsea was dependent upon Sprimont’s efforts. He was financier, director, and designer. When he was ill the kilns were not lighted. When finally, in 1764, he had to go in search of health to ‘the German Spau,’ the stock and plant were offered for sale. At an early period—soon after 1753, it would seem, but possibly somewhat later—he appealed to the Government against the connivance of the custom-house officials at the smuggling in of Dresden china. In this ‘Case of the Undertaker of the Chelsea Manufacture of Porcelain,’ Sprimont points out that ‘as the law stands, painted Earthenware[214] other than that from India is not enterable at the Custom House, otherwise than for private use.’ ‘The regulation,’ says Sprimont, ‘is, however, evaded, especially by a certain foreign minister whose official residence has become a warehouse for this commerce. What chance had a private person in a match with a crowned head?’

From this ‘Case’ we learn that no porcelain or other ware, apart from the importations of the East India Company, was allowed to enter the country, but that an exception was made in the case of plain white ware suitable for subsequent decoration in England.[215] Private individuals, however, might import a certain amount of European porcelain for their own use on payment of a small duty. ‘This concession,’ says Sprimont, ‘was greatly abused.’ Who, however, is the ‘crowned head’ who is so anxious to push the sale of his own goods in the English market? The Elector of Saxony, it is usually said; but if we could put the date of the ‘undertaker’s case’ a few years later, between 1759 and 1761 (there are, I allow, some difficulties in so doing), this charge would fit in well with the efforts of Frederick the Great to convert the stock of porcelain he found at Meissen into the much-needed cash.[216]

The factory at Chelsea was situated beyond the west extremity of the original Cheyne Row, just before you come to the old church. The works extended for some distance along the west side of Lawrence Street. Nothing is left of them now, but during some excavations made near at hand, in 1843, many fragments of porcelain were found. These pieces belong, it would seem, to an early period of the manufacture.

We have already pointed out that neither the Chelsea works, nor indeed any other English porcelain factory, at any time received direct financial support either from the royal family or from the Government. Sir Everard Fawkner, however, secretary to the Duke of Cumberland, was a collector of china, and took some interest in the works. It was through his influence, perhaps, that the ‘butcher of Culloden’ appears at one time to have been brought, in some way, into connection with the Chelsea factory.[217] Again, soon after his accession, the young King George iii. sent to the Duke of Mecklenburg a complete service of Chelsea porcelain which cost £1200. This is, I think, our first known instance in England of royal patronage, even in this restricted sense.

In common with the other porcelain made at the time, the decoration, and even the shapes, of much of the early ware of Chelsea were derived from Oriental models. Of these Eastern types, the ‘wheatsheaf and partridge’ (more properly quail) was most in favour. The Chelsea imitations of the old Japanese ware are distinguished by the abundant use of a heavy iron-red enamel. There are several specimens of this ware at South Kensington, but I would call attention, above all, to a very curious compotier in the Jermyn Street collection.[218] This dish has a brown rim, and round the margin a quaint decoration of foxes amid clusters of red grapes. This is a very old Chinese motif, only we should have squirrels in place of foxes. But the Chelsea ‘Kakiyemon’ never equalled that of Chantilly, or perhaps even the copies made at Bow. On the other hand, the Chelsea plates made in imitation of the brocaded ‘old Japan’ are unsurpassed among European wares (Pl. xlv). Equally early, perhaps, are the plates and dishes with decorations of flowers and birds on a large scale sprawling over the surface. In these last examples the colours are poor and heavy, and the general execution very rough. Many of the plain white pieces also belong to this early period.[219]

In the year 1754 Sprimont introduced the system of periodic sales by auction;[220] and we can in some measure trace the progress of the manufacture in the advertisements and in the rare catalogues that have been preserved. Thus in the advertisement of the first sale of 1754 we already find mention of groups of figures. The next sale, a few months later, was made up of ‘the entire Stock of Porcelain toys ... Snuff-boxes, Smelling-Bottles, Etwees, and Trinkets for Watches (mounted in Gold and unmounted) in various beautiful Shapes of an elegant Design and curiously painted in Enamel.’ There was also in this sale a large parcel of porcelain hafts for table and dessert knives and forks.

This is the first mention that we have of these fascinating little ‘toys and trinkets.’ They often bear inscriptions in a somewhat lame French, which we might have looked for rather on the rival wares of ‘Stratford-atte-Bowe’ than at a factory where we have reason to believe more than one Frenchman was employed. Of these toys a representative collection was made by Lady Charlotte Schreiber, and there are many charming specimens in the British Museum. We must remember that about this time, and perhaps earlier (1740-50), Saint-Cloud and, above all, Mennecy, were turning out a similar class of objects.

The Chelsea sale of 1756 is the earliest of which a catalogue has been preserved, and in it we find the first mention of the ‘mazareen’ blue, a colour after this time largely used as a ground for the more elaborate vases, both at Chelsea and at other English factories. The rage for porcelain was then at its height, and we see traces of this in the advertisements of the time; but in 1757 Sprimont fell ill, and little was made at Chelsea. In 1759 the collection of Chelsea porcelain made by the already-mentioned Sir Everard Fawkner, lately deceased, was sold by auction. The sale occupied several days, and in the advertisement we come across the earliest reference to the use of green en camaÏeu—‘a tea and coffee equipage, exquisitely painted in green landscapes.’

It was about this time, Professor Church thinks, that the artificial frit-paste was replaced at Chelsea by one containing a large quantity of bone-ash (as much as fifty per cent. in some cases). The earlier material of the French type must have been very difficult to work, and it softened so readily in the kiln that many specimens were spoiled in the firing. It had, however, a certain mellow charm given by its translucency and by the close unison of paste and glaze, that was never equalled in the later material.

Indeed the high-water mark of the Chelsea factory was reached in the years that succeeded Sprimont’s first illness of 1757. It was then that the use of gilding became more general.[221] The gold was laid on by means of an amalgam, the mercury being expelled by the heat of the muffle. The result, after burnishing, was to give a brilliant surface of pure gold unlike the solid chiselled lines and bands of dullish surface seen on SÈvres china. But from an artistic point of view this result is not very satisfactory—indeed, nothing has helped more to give a certain garish and vulgar air to much of the English porcelain made at this time.

In the notice of the spring sale of 1760, Sprimont sings the praises of ‘a few pieces of some new colours that have been found this year at a very large expense, incredible labour and close application.’ Among these new colours we must probably reckon the beautiful claret or deep purplish crimson, the one colour of our English porcelain that has never been surpassed or even equalled on the Continent. It differs from the contemporary rose Pompadour not only by the greater intensity of its hue, but by being a transparent colour. This claret is, of course, derived from the purple of Cassius, and the peculiar tint is said to be due to the addition to the gold of a small amount of silver. Among the other colours introduced at this time was probably a blue made in imitation of the famous turquoise of SÈvres. This blue is very rare as a ground colour at Chelsea, and the tint is generally greenish and opaque. It is found at its best on a large vase in the British Museum with open-work cover and handles. In a diluted form the turquoise blue is often found as a wash upon the drapery of statuettes. The rose Pompadour of SÈvres was also imitated at a later date, but not very successfully.

This is the time of the more ambitious vases, with a monochrome ground generally of deep blue and reserved panels painted with pastoral or mythological subjects, or with fantastic ‘exotic’ birds and flowers. The painting, even in the finest examples, never attained the delicacy of the SÈvres prototype, and it is often lamentably inefficient, but at the same time this very rudeness of execution sometimes adds to the decorative effect of the ensemble. These vases are above all distinguished by the strangely contorted shapes that Sprimont so loved to give to the handles, covers, and feet. All these points are well illustrated in the vases (made in the years 1762 and 1763) that Dr. Garnier gave to the Foundling Hospital and to the British Museum. The painting on these specimens is particularly bad and heavy. The mythological subjects, in the style of Boucher, on the famous garniture with claret ground, now belonging to Lord Burton, show a greater delicacy—in execution at least. This exaggerated rococo treatment—in the extreme forms even the bilateral symmetry is abandoned—was doubtless suggested by the forms of the ormolu mountings (for handles and feet especially) then much in vogue.[222]

To a somewhat earlier date belong the moulded reproductions of animals, vegetables, and fruit so well represented in the Schreiber collection. In the case of some of the models of birds, the plumage is admirably reproduced, and in a sufficiently bold style. Notice especially some covered dishes in the form of partridges and doves. There was a sale of these ‘Chelsea Tureens in the shape of hen and chickens, swans, rabbits, carp, etc.,’ in 1756.

How brilliant and decorative in general effect was some of the ware made by Sprimont in his later days may be well seen in the collection presented to South Kensington by Miss Emily Thomson. It consists chiefly of plates and cups with grounds of deep Mazarin blue, and more especially of the rich claret or maroon of Chelsea (Pl. xliii.). Technically, however, many of these pieces are very imperfect—the thick glaze accumulated in pools and fissured by cracks, the painting rude—and yet for all this a plate of this ware which has found its way by some accident into an adjacent case, full of the finest SÈvres of the best period, shines out from its surroundings like a jewel.

The single figures and groups are mentioned in the earliest advertisements—some of the plain white statuettes date back probably to the first days of the works. Here the English potters, in applying the soft paste covered with a thick, brilliant glaze to such a purpose, were breaking fresh ground. The crispness and the finish of the Dresden statuettes they could never attain to with these materials. The English figures and groups, whether made at Chelsea or elsewhere, are generally wanting in sharpness and precision of outline, a consequence in great measure of the thick-flowing glaze. In the kiln they had to be supported by an elaborate system of struts to prevent the fusible material from collapsing, and this alone must have hampered the modeller in the selection of the design. Many of these

PLATE XLIII. CHELSEA