FRENCH PORCELAIN

At the head of [Plate XLII] you will see a covered potpourri jar and a pair of 8-inch beakers, together with two mugs. I found four of these things at Folkestone, while one mug, with the coat-of-arms of the Earl of Arundel worked into the decoration, I got in Kendal. When I was in Folkestone in 1912 I was hopelessly puzzled as to what this stuff could be. In another shop I had examined a bowl of the same make bearing an imitation Chinese mark, and as up to then I had learnt that only English china was soft—which all these pieces were—I could not understand where it came from. After comparing notes with Mr. J. F. Blacker, who had previously written me very kindly when answering my queries, I felt satisfied it was made in France of a soft quality to suit the English market. The decoration is by hand, and is a mixture between Chelsea and Oriental design. Lots of this stuff has been called Lowestoft, and about that time in an up-to-date shop I saw something like it which I felt sure had not long come over from the Continent. Soon after this holiday I was asked to call at a house near home to look at two “Lowestoft” vases which had just been sent them, and I found they were similar modern Continental. I believe my specimens are about a hundred years old.

SEVENTH COURSE
Old Horse Amulets

A Poor Start—Castings—Tips—Duplicates—Photographs—A Puzzle—My only Son—Our last Tour.

I have now reached a course which I am afraid I shall not find easy-going. My attention was first drawn to horse amulets or face brasses in an article in the Connoisseur for October, 1911, but it was not until 1913, when I came in touch with the proprietor of an antique shop who had dabbled in these things for some time, and who obligingly talked to me about them, that I decided I would add a few to my collection, as they might be interesting and would occupy small space. My first purchases resulted in my bringing home on approval quite a number which I had obtained from a dealer, who informed me that the brasses were usually collected in pairs. I referred this find to the friendly antique proprietor, who, after looking them through, asked if I had paid for them, and he said it in such a way that I evaded the question by enquiring “Why?” His answer was, “Because there are several stamped pieces, and you should only buy cast ones; besides, what do you want pairs for?”

This seemed rather a poor start, but I was taught early in life to make difficulties stepping-stones to success, so I returned the amulets not approved of, and later received desirable specimens in exchange. The next step was to learn how to detect those that were cast, and I found they usually had a couple of points or studs apparent at the back corresponding with the holes in the moulds through which the molten metal had been run. Further, all stamped pieces are punched out of a sheet of brass, the same thickness throughout, the back of which is practically as smooth as the front. I have about half a dozen not cast and not stamped, but fretted by hand.

Next I had to ascertain how to tell old from modern. That can usually be arrived at by the appearance of wear, while the old type are more highly finished and better metal was used in their manufacture. I was soon made aware of the fact that new “old” pieces were being made, as they were constantly cropping up. The ambition of the collector evidently should be to get together as many varieties as possible, leaving the duplicates for other buyers; but as soon as my curiosity was aroused I bought all the old castings I came across.

To anyone who makes a special study of signs and symbols these patterns and designs must be very fascinating, and the collecting thereof should appeal forcibly to those with enquiring minds whose fancies tend in that direction.

As it was quite impossible to get together a collection by my usual method of looking out for myself, I secured the assistance of two kindly travellers who went in all directions in connection with their ordinary business. They took great interest in my requirement, and bought up all the old brass cast specimens they could find, with the result that I became possessed of many duplicates, some of which I disposed of, whilst through the courtesy of a correspondent who readily exchanged the remainder, I was able to raise the number of my different specimens to about four hundred.

I found these amulets made very interesting groups for photography, and as fast as I procured a fresh two dozen I hung them by strong pins on a bridge table, which I placed on its side on a dining-table, and so was enabled to make an easy job. I was quite keen up to a point on doing this, but the bottom seemed to drop out of the business soon after the war started, though not before I had taken quite a number of photographs. In the hope they will interest many readers, I give two plates reduced from twelve of my best negatives, which will show enough amulets for anyone to be going on with. One collector informed me he knew of over one thousand designs, and no doubt there are many more, so there is ample scope, but my experience is that old specimens are very hard to find.

I am now going to put a puzzle before you, and hope it may be somewhat entertaining. The fact is, one of the amulets is a fake. It occupies a central position on one of the twelve photographs reproduced. I conceived the idea when the spirit of mischief was upon me, and with the assistance of a mechanic and a little solder, a very common piece was made into a very rare specimen. It was specially remarked upon by another collector to whom I sent my photographs as the only one of the kind he had seen. Which is it?

I remember showing this jokingly to my son, and his characteristic comment was, “That’s jolly good; but I say, dad, is it playing the game?”

Old Horse Amulets. Group 2.

Plate XLIV.

Sheffield Plate and Old Silver.

Plate XLV.

In the spring of 1914 my son took me in his side-car for a tour which lasted one happy week, one day of which now comes forcibly to my mind. That we started back from Henley-on-Thames in pouring rain made no difference to his equable temper, and before we reached Oxford the sun was as bright as his disposition. When we turned at Whitney and passed over the Cotswolds en route for the Wye Valley, we came across the scenery in which he revelled, and here he and I found a few old amulets in a saddler’s shop while waiting for the wayside lunch. In peace and quietness his true bent lay, and only his regard for duty impelled him to join the Army when volunteers were appealed for. His commission was dated on his twenty-first birthday, and it was the irony of fate that the last two years of his clean life should have been spent in the grime and stress and turmoil of war. Thus I lost my lovable companion, who for nearly ten years had played such a charming part in assisting to make my collecting a pastime.

FINAL COURSE
Sheffield Plate and Old Silver Told by the Plateau

I have been asked to act as spokesman for this group and as it is in the customary order of things, not only for every group but for each individual, to have a grievance and air it, I must first of all protest against the indignity of placing my companions and myself at the rear of the book, when our value and appearance justify our occupying the premier position, and we consider it a great slight on the estimation in which we are held by real connoisseurs that we have been allotted a back setting while things like old pewter, for which we have the utmost contempt, have been allocated to the forefront. Now that I am on my feet I will say a few words respecting my associates and myself, and considering that my age and reflections extend over a century, I hope they will be followed with some regard. I get on very well with the Tankard, but there are times when he gets out of hand. On one of these unruly outbursts he addressed me as “Centrepiece,” but I metaphorically put his lid on by calling him “a mug.” Taking him all round, he is not a bad specimen, and undoubtedly has sprung from a good family, although I have heard that he latterly came out of a pawnshop for half a sovereign.

My friends the candlesticks might assist me considerably in my reflections, but their glory has been snuffed out since coming here, and on no occasion have they served any useful purpose, whereas if their telescopic action was brought into play and their proper office as candle-bearers to a distinguished specimen bearing the aristocratic title of “Tableau” was allotted to them, they would undoubtedly throw more light on this subject.

The cake-basket is the silent member of our select clique, but I learnt that it had served a fine family for some generations, when it was presented to a church bazaar. From there it passed into the warm hands of the late donor to our present owner. In my opinion this is a case of overfretting.

The sugar-tongs and butter-knife are quite unobtrusive, but are of sterling worth. They often indulge in punctilious conversation which usually becomes more animated in the afternoon about tea-time, when they often refer to a family of Spoons—the Tea Spoons, I believe. On these occasions Mr. Knife lays the butter on rather thickly, which Miss Tongs in her sweet way appears to look upon as quite the correct thing. Only on her arrival here in company with the Cream Jug have I seen them upset, and I gathered that they had all their lives been accustomed to the troy weight which jewellers use, but owing to the vicissitudes of their recent experience they had fallen into the hands of a broker, who, when he parted with them, dumped them into the scales which were guaranteed to weigh correctly up to 14 lb. avoirdupois, and which had just been used for dirty pewter and called them “half a crown an ounce.”

The Cream Jug keeps himself to himself, and is taciturn, at times turning to sourness. He suffers from swelled head occasionally, and then says things about “hall-marks” and “helmet shape,” but he always carries himself well. We call the Toddy ladle “Euclid,” because he is length without breadth, but he doesn’t mind. He has had jovial times in the past, and says if he were to tell me some of the tales he has heard when he was kept busy at nights that I should crack my mirror. He loves to lie on me with his face downwards, as then he can see it in the glass, and I will say I have seldom seen a nicer.

As regards myself, I could fill a volume with the interesting events I have witnessed and the conversations I have heard, but the space placed at my disposal is so meagre I will limit my disclosures to the last few years of my existence. Owing to circumstances over which I had no control, after a lengthy period of neglect I was condemned to occupy an undignified position in a broker’s window, where the odour of paraffin was most repulsive to my susceptibilities. I was dozing in the dark one evening when I heard a voice inquiring, “Have you any pewter?” and the reply, “There is a thing in the window, but I think it has some copper about it.” Some money changed hands, I was wrapped in soiled paper and carried to this home, where I was shocked to see a lot of horrid pewter in the hall and elsewhere, and I was introduced to the family in this way, “I don’t know what it is, but it is juicy heavy.”

These people treated me with an attention I had not been accustomed to for many years, and after giving my frame a bath and a polish, refitting my mirror top and screwing my mahogany back, promoted me to the drawing-room, where no pewter was permitted to enter, and here I have since remained. I am convinced I never looked better, and they went into ecstasies over my grape and vine leaves border decoration, and I then had my photograph taken for the first time in my life. Being a great advocate of cleanliness, and as the same care was bestowed on my appearance in my early days as now, I was quite in accord with the lady who remarked, “She thought that in all well-managed houses the carpets ought to be taken up and beaten at least once a year.”

Do you know I love old furniture, and on occasions when there is a general dust up in the drawing-room I am walked past an elm dresser on which I have caught sight of a pair of Sheffield plate snuffers. I have cut them dead, as I notice they have so far demeaned themselves as to form an unholy alliance with a despicable pewter tray.

I had an uneventful period until the leaves were falling in 1918, when a young captain in khaki arrived straight from the firing line in France on leave for a fortnight. The next few days I am proud to say I had to bear the weight of a large wedding cake, and on the eventful day I trembled when the bride began to cut it with the captain assisting her, but my old back, which is as strong as ever, bore up bravely. There was much talking on that occasion, but the words which most impressed me—and which, in order that I may apply them to my patient readers, shall be my last—were

“Health, Wealth, and Happiness.”

Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C.4

F.30.320

Transcriber’s Note:

The use of small capitals for the names of the plates has been regularised throughout the text.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as in the original unless noted below.

Original scans of this book can be found [here].