Porcelain

PLATE XLIX. 1—BRISTOL, WHITE BISCUIT

2—BRISTOL, WHITE GLAZED WARE

But Champion’s troubles were now to begin. In 1775 his petition to Parliament for a renewal of his patent was vigorously opposed by Wedgwood. Champion must have been put to great expense—he exhibited before a committee of the House some selected specimens of his porcelain. He, however, won his case, though the monopoly in the employment of the Cornish clays was restricted to their use as a material for transparent wares, a point of some importance to the Staffordshire potter. But meantime the American War was ruining his business—for Champion was in the first place a merchant trading with the West Indies and America—and it is probable that little porcelain was made by him after 1777. The next year Wedgwood, his inveterate opponent, in a letter to Bentley, says of him, ‘Poor Champion, you may have heard, is quite demolished.... I suppose we might buy some Growan-stone and Growan-clay now upon easy terms.’ In 1781, after a long negotiation, he disposed of his patent to some Staffordshire potters, and shortly after this he emigrated to America. Champion was only forty-eight years old when, in 1791, he died at his new home in South Carolina.

As Professor Church has pointed out, the paste of the Bristol porcelain is of exceptional hardness. It is, in fact, in some specimens as hard as quartz, that is, say, the hardness is equal to 7 in the scale of the mineralogist: the hardness of Oriental porcelain, it will be remembered, varies between 6 and 6·5; the glaze on the Bristol china is about 6 on the same scale. The fractured surface may be described as subconchoidal and somewhat flaky, with a greasy to vitreous lustre. On the Plymouth and Bristol wares, especially on the larger vases, may often be seen, when viewed in a favourable light, certain spiral ridges, the result of the unequal pressure of the ‘thrower’s’ hand. Similar ridges may indeed be observed at times on other hard paste wares, both Chinese and European, and this ‘wreathing’ or vissage, as Brongniart long ago pointed out, is the result of the too great plasticity of the clay,—a clay may, in fact, be too ‘fat’ to work well on the wheel. This plasticity, however, would be of advantage to the modeller, especially when working on a very small scale; indeed the delicate floral reliefs in biscuit, on the plaques we have already spoken of, could only have been made from a fine and unctuous clay. How refractory to heat this same paste is, was well proved by the fire at the Alexandra Palace in 1873, when so many fine specimens of English porcelain were destroyed. A biscuit plaque or medallion of Bristol porcelain passed uninjured (by heat at least) through this fire, while the soft porcelain alongside of it was completely melted.

The paste, then, of this Bristol ware is remarkable both for its resistance to heat and for its great plasticity. These are both qualities that point to an excess of kaolin in its composition, and this excess is confirmed by analysis. Professor Church found in a specimen of Bristol china 63 per cent. of silica, 33 per cent. of alumina, and only 4 per cent. of lime and alkalis. The percentage of alumina is about the same as that in the hard pastes of Meissen and of Sèvres, but the small amount of the other bases is quite exceptional. A paste of this composition would contain about 65 per cent. of kaolin.

And here, before ending, we may for a moment return to what is, perhaps, the crucial point of all in the composition of true porcelain—for it is one that has a radical influence both on the technical and on the artistic side. The first question we must ask when inquiring into the composition of any specimen of porcelain is this—What proportion of kaolin enters into its composition? Or if it is a matter of the primary constituents of the paste—What is the percentage of alumina that it contains? Now we may consider the composition of kaolin, after removing the water, to be silica 54 per cent. and alumina 46 per cent., and the nearer the composition of our porcelain approaches to these figures, the greater will be its hardness, its resistance to fire, and the greater also the plasticity of the paste—the greater in fact will be what we have called the ‘severity’ of the type.255

Now for the other component of porcelain, the petuntse or china-stone. The composition of this material differs widely, but let us take the mean of some analyses of Cornish stone. On this basis we may take silica 72 per cent., alumina 18 per cent., other bases 10 per cent., as our type. The result of adding such a material to our kaolin will be to increase the percentage of silica and of the ‘other bases,’ and to diminish the percentage of alumina in the resultant mixture. Our paste now becomes less plastic and the resultant porcelain more readily softened by heat, but at the same time less hard.

So far every one would be agreed. But the question now arises, are we to attribute this increased fusibility to the higher percentage of the other bases (these are, in the case of European porcelain, practically lime and potash), or in a measure at least to the increased amount of silica in the paste? We have here three variants, the silica, the alumina, and the ‘other bases,’ and the case is therefore somewhat complicated. I think, however, that the careful examination of any table giving the composition of various types of porcelain would show that up to a certain point an increase in the amount of silica promotes a lower softening-point in the paste, and this in cases where there is no important change in the proportion of the ‘other bases.’ I will illustrate this by comparing the composition of the severe hard paste of Sèvres on the one hand with an analysis of a mild type of Chinese porcelain on the other:—

No doubt, if the percentage of silica is further increased, say beyond 78 or 80 per cent., we get again a practically infusible body. But with a paste of this composition the resultant ware is no longer translucent—we pass from the region of porcelain to a true stoneware.

Thus we see that in composition a mild porcelain forms a middle term between stoneware on the one hand, and a severe porcelain on the other. In other words, stoneware cannot be regarded as an extreme type of a refractory porcelain.

CHAPTER   XXIII

CONTEMPORARY EUROPEAN PORCELAIN

WE have seen that in England the new aims and the new schemes of decoration that have so profoundly affected most of our industrial arts have so far had little influence upon the porcelain manufactured by the large Staffordshire firms. Here and there, as by Mr. Bernard Moore of Longton, an attempt has been made to take up the problem of the flambé glazes, which has so fascinated the French potters. Mr. Moore has succeeded in making some sang de bœuf vases which in outline and colour closely follow the Chinese models. Otherwise the many skilful artists—more than one of them, I think, are Frenchmen—employed by our porcelain manufacturers have been content to follow in the main the old traditions, nor has any occasional attempt that has been made to imitate, not the latest but rather the work of the last generation at Sèvres, produced any very satisfactory results. It cannot be denied that both in the design and in the decoration our English porcelain has, for some time, remained outside the art movement of the day.

Indeed at the present time, and for the last twenty years, whatever of interest we can find in the contemporary production of porcelain, centres in two factories—Sèvres and Copenhagen. To the latter works we must now return for a moment.

The royal factory, of which we have already spoken, was closed after the disastrous war of 1864. But during the eighties a number of able men, both artists and men of science, occupied themselves with the new porcelain problems, and in 1888 a fresh company was formed, the ‘Alumina.’ These men—I will only mention Philip Schou—were much impressed by the technical and artistic merits of the porcelain lately sent from Japan, highly finished ware decorated under the glaze with great delicacy and generally in subdued colours. They were influenced above all by the work of the Japanese potter Miyagawa Kozan, called Makudzo. The Danish porcelain produced during the nineties is distinguished as a whole by its cool, subdued colours, with a prevalence of various pearly tints approaching more or less to celadon. In the carefully executed but boldly designed decoration, we see the influence both of the Japanese naturalists and of the impressionist painters of the day. The snow scenes, the rocks, the dancing waves and the sea birds have been suggested by the stormy coasts of the Baltic and the North Sea. It is from the primitive rocks of this coast that the pure felspar, which plays so large a part both in the paste and in the glaze, has been obtained.

It was at Copenhagen probably that the crystalline glazes, derived from salts of bismuth, were first made—this was by Engelhart, about 1884.

At a rival Danish factory—that of Bing and Gröndhal—many clever artists, some of them ladies, have modelled in porcelain figures of animals either in the round or in relief on the sides of vases: we find dogs, cats, and even seals (but not the human figure). Indeed in this kind of work something in the nature of a school has grown up.

Fresh life has lately been given to the old works at Rörstrand, near Stockholm. Here in the underglaze decoration the same cool, pearly colours that we find in favour at Copenhagen are predominant. Great care has lately been devoted to the modelling of flowers.

At the Rozenburg works, near the Hague, a new paste has been invented by Juriann Kok. The extraordinary tenacity and plasticity of this material allows of its being worked into the strangest forms—some of the vases, with long, thin, angular handles, suggest work in hammered metal. By means of a fantastic decoration—quaint, elongated figures, and forms of marine life, such as the long-clawed Japanese lobster—a certain original cachet has been given to this ware.

The Charlottenburg works, near Berlin, have lately felt the influence both of Copenhagen and of the new school of Sèvres. Everything has been lately tried—sculpturesque developments in various directions, and again the decoration of large wall surfaces with porcelain plaques enamelled so as to resemble oil pictures; but as in former days, so now, the technical and scientific side of this industry tends to prevail over the artistic.

M. Édouard Garnier, the late director of the Museum at Sèvres, in a report upon the porcelain exhibited at Paris in 1900, has ably summed up his impressions of the wares now being manufactured in various parts of Europe, and I cannot do better than follow so excellent an authority in his ‘appreciations’ of this modern porcelain.

M. Garnier dates the latest renaissance of European porcelain from the new ground struck out in the seventies, not only at Sèvres, by Deck and others, but also in many private kilns, as by Bracquemont in Paris and by Haviland in the Limoges district. What specially distinguishes the latest work is the advantage taken of the new colours that can now be employed with the grand feu so as to participate in the brilliancy and purity of the glaze. A delicacy of tone, a transparency and a harmony are now obtainable which contrasts favourably with the dry and dull colours of the old methods of painting. On the other hand, says M. Garnier, the progress in chemical knowledge has been so rapid that the new processes and colours have tended to become the masters of the artists who employ them, instead of remaining subtle tools in their hands.

This tendency is especially noticeable at Copenhagen, and the crystalline glazes, derived from bismuth, that have spread thence all over Europe, are a case in point. So again, starting from the flambé glaze of the Chinese, the modern potter is inclined to run riot with the numerous new materials at his command.

At Sèvres—I follow M. Garnier’s report—advantage has been taken of the new porcelain paste (that of the ‘milder’ Chinese type) to revive in the biscuit ware the reproductions of works of sculpture for which the factory was so renowned in the days of the pâte tendre. The pureness and softness of the material and the skill of the manipulation are noteworthy apart from the artistic merit of the work. (Let me here call attention to the fifteen figures by Léonard, ‘Le Jeu de l’Écharpe,’ in the new biscuit ware.) This revolution in the style of decoration has now spread to other parts of France, and has affected the great commercial factories of the south-west, especially the ware made by the firm of Haviland.

English porcelain was but poorly represented at Paris in 1900; besides, as we have said, it is in other branches of the potter’s art that we have to look for a reflection of our new native school of decoration. It is indeed a curious fact that many of the designs that we associate with Morris and his followers may be found rather upon the wares of Copenhagen and Sèvres than on our English porcelain. I cannot, however, pass over some criticisms of M. Garnier, in which he falls foul of certain tendencies in the fashioning and decoration of the wares turned out by our big Staffordshire firms. As to how far these criticisms are merited, any one may form an opinion for himself by a glance at the shop-windows of London. ‘The English paste,’ says M. Garnier, ‘is of a special nature which lends itself admirably both to the shaping and to the decoration; the execution is hors ligne, but this is accompanied by an overloading of detail, a heaviness in the decoration, and a want of harmony and proportion between the different parts of the piece that cause one to regret that so much talent and care have been employed only to arrive at so very unsatisfactory a result. Besides this, we notice in the English céramiste a want of sincerity, with the result that at first sight you cannot tell what manner of substance you are looking at, whether it is porcelain or dirty ivory, or again a gilt ceramic ware rather than a bronze with a poor patina.’ A curious point in connection with this criticism is that, if I am not mistaken, a good deal of the work thus severely dealt with has been designed, if not executed, by French artists. It is made, however, to satisfy the demand of our great unleavened middle-class.

Turning to the porcelain from the royal works at Charlottenburg, M. Garnier finds fault with the exuberance and overloading of the sculptures and reliefs. But certain large architectural pieces and some frames in rococo style, in pure white ware, excite his admiration, for the beauty of the paste, the purity and the limpidity of the glaze, and the marvellous way in which the technical difficulties of the execution have been surmounted; so, too, for the brilliancy of the colouring and the way in which the enamel colours combine with and form one material with the glaze, as if one were looking at a soft-paste ware. Above all, in some pieces of the ‘new porcelain’—for the milder paste is now in use at Berlin to some extent—the colours of the grand feu and the purity of the enamel are remarkable.

At Meissen, says M. Garnier, they are still working on the old lines: reproductions of the models made a century and a half ago by Kändler are as much as ever in demand. Certain ambitious attempts in a newer style have resulted in errors that will add nothing to the fame of the works. (Dr. Heintze, the present director, has especially devoted himself to the development of the new colours under the glaze. But the porcelain now produced, apart from the copies of the old wares, follows in the lines either of the Copenhagen porcelain, or again, at times, of the coloured pastes of Sèvres.)

Certain districts of Northern Bohemia have become of late centres of ceramic industry. The predominant bad taste and over-decoration of the porcelain made there (I still follow M. Garnier) is above all exemplified in certain coloured statuettes, ‘articles de bazar which corrupt the taste of the public and whose sale ought to be prohibited.’ An exception must be made for the produce of the Pirkenhausen works, near Carlsbad. The marvellous plasticity of the paste, made from the rich deposits of kaolin near Zottlitz, has been taken full advantage of, not only on the wheel and in the mould; it has allowed also of the free modelling of the superadded reliefs by the artist’s hand.

The factory at Herend, in Hungary, founded in 1839, no longer turns out the ware of Oriental style, so much admired by Brongniart, by Humboldt, and by Thiers. Herr Fischer, the director and principal artist, has lately made good imitations of the coloured pastes of Sèvres, with leaves and branches in relief.

At St. Petersburg the imitation of the over-decorated hard paste of Sèvres has been abandoned in favour of the soft and harmonious colours and the pure and limpid glazes of Copenhagen. The vases with designs of white paste, in relief upon coloured grounds, in a manner now little in favour at Sèvres, are less happy. At the Kousnetzoff factory, at Moscow, a polychrome decoration, in imitation of Byzantine embroideries and enamels, has been applied to tea-services of somewhat geometrical forms, while the French porcelain of the time of Louis Philippe continues to be imitated.

At Copenhagen, says M. Garnier, the new porcelain, which since its introduction in 1889 has been praised and exalted in all the art journals of Europe, is still produced on the same lines. Not to speak of the new and strange results already obtained from coloured and enamelled glazes, greater experience in the use of the extended palette at the command of the decorator has produced results in which we find an admirable delicacy and restraint. It was, however, from Sèvres that the impulse first came. We can trace it in the work turned out of late years by Messrs. Bing and Gröndhal. But in place of the amiable and gracious art of France we find here a severe, sometimes we might almost say a rude, style, but one not without character and elevation.

At Rörstrand, near Stockholm (see above, p. 388), the work still continues on the lines of the older porcelain of Copenhagen (i.e. in the style in favour ten or twelve years ago), with the same simplicity and charm in the decoration and delicacy in the modelled relief. Perhaps we may attribute to a special quality in the felspar of the north the pure and refined quality so noticeable in the pastes and glazes.

At Rozenburg, continues M. Garnier, a factory already well known for its fayence, a very original kind of porcelain has lately been made. The composition of the paste, though based on kaolin, presents some peculiarities. The ware is of an incredible thinness and lightness, and the strange decoration, based in part upon Japanese motives, is not without charm and originality. The shapes of the vases, however, go too far in the direction of eccentricity. (Cf. p. 389.)

As at Meissen, so in the porcelain now made in Italy there is a total absence of all personality and novelty, and the old, well-beaten road is still followed. At Florence this is carried so far that the old moulds acquired so many years ago from the Capo di Monte works are still in use. ‘Ce sont des choses,’ says M. Garnier, ‘qui prêtent trop au “truquage” et qu’il faut laisser aux fabricants de vieuxneuf.’

EXPLANATION OF THE MARKS ON THE FOLLOWING PLATES (A. TO E.)

CHINESE MARKS

1. Ta Ming Yung-lo, 1402-1424. Mark of Yung-lo, engraved under the glaze in early seal or ‘tadpole’ characters.

2. Ta Ming Hsuan-te nien chi, 1425-1435.

3. Cheng-hua nien chi, 1464-1487.

4. Ta Ming Cheng-te nien chi, 1505-1521.

5. Ta Ming Kia-Tsing nien chi, 1521-1566.

6. Ta Ming Lung-king nien chi, 1566-1572.

7. Ta Ming Wan-li nien chi, 1572-1619.

8. Ta Tsing Kang-he nien chi, 1661-1722.

9. Ta Tsing Yung-cheng nien chi, 1722-1735.

10. Do. do., in seal characters.

11. Ta Tsing Kien-lung nien chi, 1735-1795. Seal characters.

12. Ta Tsing Kia-king nien chi, 1795-1820. Seal characters.

13. Ta Tsing Tao-kwang nien chi, 1820-1850. Seal characters.

14. Ta Tsing Tung-chi nien chi, 1861-1874. Seal characters.

15. Wan chang shan tu. ‘Scholarship lofty as the Hills and the Great Bear.’

16. Ki yuh pao ting chi chin. ‘A gem among precious vessels of rare jade.’

17. Shun-ti tang chi. ‘Made at the Shun-ti (cultivation of virtue) Hall.’

18. Tsae chuan chi lo. ‘Enjoying themselves in the waters.’

19. Conventionalised seal character for Sho—longevity.

19A. Fu, a bat, a synonym of fu—happiness.

JAPANESE MARKS

20. Kai-raku yen sei. ‘Made at the Kai-raku house.’

21. Ken-zan. The maker’s name.

22. Yei-raku. The seal granted to Zengoro. Seal character.

23. Fuku. Happiness. (Chinese, Fu.) Seal character.

24. Hopin chi liu. (Japanese, Ka hin shi riu). See p. 199 note.

GERMAN MARKS

25. Meissen. The rod of Æsculapius.

26. Meissen. Monogram of Augustus ii., King of Poland.

27. Meissen. Crossed swords and letter (for painter or director).

28. Vienna. The shield of Austria.

29. Höchst. The wheel of the Mainz archbishops, surmounted by a cross.

30. Fürstenberg. The initial letter of the town.

31. Berlin. The sceptre carried by the Brandenburg elector as grand chamberlain of the empire.

32. Frankenthal. Crowned lion of the palatinate; the monogram J. A. H., probably for Joseph Adam Hannong.

33. Frankenthal. The monogram of Karl Theodor, surmounted by a crown.

34. Nymphenburg. Quarter of shield with arms of Bavaria.

35. Ludwigsburg. Arms of Würtemberg. Three stag horns.

36. Ludwigsburg. Monogram of Duke Charles, surmounted by ducal crown.

37. Fulda. Double F, for ‘Fürstliche Fuldaische.’

38. Fulda. Cross from the arms of the prince bishop.

39. Herend. Below—the arms of Hungary.

DUTCH, DANISH, SWEDISH, AND RUSSIAN MARKS

40. Weesp. Crossed swords and three dots. Similar mark used elsewhere.

41. Oude Loosdrecht. The ‘M:’ stands for manufactuur.’

42. The Hague. The arms of the town.

43. Copenhagen. The wavy lines represent the ‘three Belts.’

44. Sweden; Marieberg. The three crowns from the arms of Sweden.

45. Moscow. St. George surrounded by band, with inscription. Above, the Russian eagle.

46. St. Petersburg. Monogram of Catherine ii. (Ekaterina).

BELGIAN AND SWISS MARKS

47. Tournay. A tower, the arms of the town.

48. Tournay. Crossed swords and four crosses.

49. Zurich. German Z and two dots.

50. Nyon. A fish.

FRENCH MARKS

51. Saint-Cloud. The sun, emblem of Louis xiv.

52. Saint-Cloud. Initials of town and of director of factory—Trou.

53. Chantilly. A hunter’s horn.

54. Mennecy. D. V., for the Duc de Villeroy.

55. Vincennes. The initials of Louis xv. crossed, without year-mark.

56. Vincennes. Initials of Louis xv.; year-mark for 1753, and decorator’s mark (H.).

57. Sèvres. Time of First Empire. The 7 stands for 1807.

58. Sèvres. Double C, enclosing X, for Charles x. 24 for 1824.

59. Paris; Courtille. Two crossed arrows.

60. Orleans (?). Label with three points from ducal arms.

61. Paris; Clignancourt. The windmill of Montmartre.

62. Paris; Rue Thiroux. A, for Marie Antoinette, under a crown.

ITALIAN AND SPANISH MARKS

63. Venice. Incised. Probably of Vezzi family.

64. Venice. Anchor of Cozzi factory.

65. Le Nove. Star of eight points.

66. Vinovo. Cross of Savoy above letter V, for the town.

67. Madrid, Buen Retiro. The fleur-de-lis from the royal arms.

ENGLISH MARKS

68. Chelsea. Triangle, incised.

69. Chelsea. Anchor, in relief.

70. Chelsea. Anchor.

71. Bow. Anchor and dagger.

72. Bow. Monogram of Thomas Frye. (?) Perhaps sometimes a Worcester mark.

73. Chelsea-Derby. Anchor and letter D.

74. Derby. Jewelled crown, crossed batons, with dots and letter D.