CHAPTER X
HOW THE ITALIANS MADE CHINA
For the next few days Theo was in no frame of mind to talk porcelain or any other serious subject, for his new crutches came, and after Dr. Swift had adjusted them the boy was like a bird freed from its cage. He could not, to be sure, go far from the house; but even to clump up and down the veranda and the plank walks that connected the cabins was a joy. How good it was to get about once more! But, alas, the pace at which the convalescent moved was a constant source of alarm to all who beheld it. Before the expiration of the first day Theo had acquired such skill and speed that he hopped about like a sparrow. There was no such thing as stopping him. He felt bound, however, on his father's account to use some caution, and the realization that he had already caused trouble enough was a potent factor in restraining his fearlessness. Each day saw a gain in his condition, and it was evident that before long the injured leg would be as good as new.
Yet the exasperating hardship of having still to remain a captive in the camp had to be endured. In the meantime the date for the return home drew nearer and as the hours of the vacation shortened Theo's determination that his father should enjoy every possible moment of the time increased. So he was plucky enough to be as careful as he could, and while the Doctor and Mr. Croyden fished he invented for himself such amusements as were practical within his own more limited confines.
Perhaps, although he did not appear to notice this, Mr. Croyden fathomed the lad's unselfish intention more completely than did any one else. However this may be, certain it was that in spite of his sorties from the camp the merchant contrived to devote a part of every evening to Theo, whose father was occupied in writing a medical paper to be read before some convention on his return to the city. To these evenings with Mr. Croyden the lad looked forward eagerly. They were the bright spot in the day. The talks the two had together usually took place in Mr. Croyden's cabin before the open fire where the china-makers could converse freely and not disturb Dr. Swift. Such a genuine friendship between the boy and the elder man had sprung up that it would have been difficult to tell which of them anticipated this bedtime hour the more.
"Do you realize, Theo, that we shall not be having many more of these talks?" observed Mr. Croyden one evening as they sat cozily ensconced before a roaring blaze. "The last of the week we shall be starting back to civilization—to starched collars and cuffs, and the rush and hubbub of city life. For you I suppose it will mean school again; and for me it will be a matter of wading through a mountain of business correspondence that has been accumulating while I have been away. We shall miss these cozy evenings together, shan't we?"
"I certainly shall, Mr. Croyden," answered Theo earnestly.
"Well, I do not mean they shall die out altogether," Mr. Croyden affirmed cheerfully. "My plan is to have you come over to Trenton and make us a little visit when you get stronger. Would you like to? We'd go all over the china factories, and you could see porcelain made at first hand. What do you think of the scheme?"
"I'd like it better than anything else," cried Theo instantly.
"It's settled, then," replied Mr. Croyden. "I fancy your father and mother will be willing to lend you to me for a little while. You see, Mrs. Croyden and I both enjoy young people very much and we have none at home. We are particularly fond of boys, and like nothing better than to borrow one now and then. If you come you run the risk of our forgetting to return you; but I guess your parents will see to that," he concluded with a merry laugh.
"I rather think they will," replied Theo with a smile.
"Trust them for that," said Mr. Croyden. "You'd make no mistake to go back, either, for you have a mighty fine father, sonny."
"Father's—well, he's all right!" declared Theo tersely but emphatically. "So is Mother! You must meet Mother some time. She's a peach!"
"The vacation has done your father a world of good, Theo," reflected Mr. Croyden, looking into the embers. "Do you realize how much better he looks? He is much less nervous and tired."
"I hope so, sir," came heartily from Theo. "I have wanted so much not to spoil his vacation, for he needed it badly."
"I am sure you have not spoiled it," put in Mr. Croyden quickly. "You can consider that in sending a doctor back to his job in A 1 condition you have done your bit to help the war. Doctors are among our most useful and necessary men."
"I know it," Theo returned. "Mother and I are tremendously proud of Father. We feel he is doing a lot of good in the world. I guess now I'll feel that way more than ever for I never knew what it was to be sick before."
There was a long pause, broken only by the velvety rustle of the logs burning in the chimney; then Theo remarked abruptly:
"Aren't you going to tell me anything about china to-night?"
"Do you wish me to?"
"Of course I do; that is, unless you are too tired."
"I'm not tired at all," responded Mr. Croyden. "I thought you might be the tired one."
"I!"
"Not bored?"
"Not so you'd notice it."
"All right, then; only you'll have to let me think a minute," said Mr. Croyden. "Where did we leave off?"
"You had been telling me about Sèvres ware and other French porcelains."
"Oh, yes! Now I remember. Well, as you can imagine, after kaolin was discovered the secret gradually leaked out, and everybody went to work at making china. Kings, emperors, and princes; nobles of high birth, all took up the art with zest, spending great sums of money on fabriques, as the porcelain factories came to be called. In Florence Francis, one of the Dukes of the Medici, built a tiny laboratory in the garden of the Boboli palace and there made a rude ware, some of it hard paste and some of it soft. This was even before the St. Cloud works were opened, and certain historians say that this was the first true porcelain made in Europe. At a much later period (about 1735, to be exact) the Ginori family, another titled Italian household of wealth and position, owning estates just outside Florence, took up porcelain-making, even sending ships to China for the necessary clay. Fancy it! And to show you how highly this industry was esteemed I will add that the Marquise himself superintended his workmen and helped in manufacturing this Doccia ware, as they styled their output."
"Did this happen during the Renaissance?" inquired Theo timidly. "It sounds as if it might have.
Mr. Croyden nodded, cordially, much gratified by the lad's understanding.
"That was just when it happened," he said. "In the meantime, at about the same period, a beautiful soft paste called Capo di Monte was being made down in Naples under the patronage of Charles IV—the Charles who afterward became Charles III of Spain. Like the rest of royalty this King became absorbed in china-making—so absorbed that he went frequently to work in his factories himself, and each year held a sale of his products at the gates of his palace; whenever a piece was sold a record of it was made and later the name of the purchaser was reported to the King."
"I suppose he, too, made the nobles buy his china," laughed Theo.
"I am afraid he did," agreed Mr. Croyden. "At least it was a fact that he showed especial favor to those who did buy it, which was practically the same thing. I think I forgot to tell you that the French kings also forced, or perhaps I should say expected, their courtiers and ladies to purchase Sèvres ware. It was a custom of the time."
"I think it was a rotten custom!" ejaculated Theo wrathfully.
"Certainly it was not a desirable thing. In our day we should call it graft. Still at that time there were plenty of people who were only too anxious to keep their heads on their shoulders, and who would have been glad to buy almost anything in order to do so. Doubtless they considered a little porcelain a small price for their lives, and were glad to win the favor of a capricious monarch by purchasing it. King Charles was no worse than all the rest. Later, when he became ruler of Spain, he took many of his Italian workmen there with him, and as a consequence in 1821 the Naples fabrique was closed; many of the moulds, as well as much of the outfitting, was sold to the Doccia works. As a result Capo di Monte was afterward imitated in Doccia hard and soft paste; but the original ware which is of value to collectors was that made at Naples. It is very difficult to distinguish this variety, for the Doccia people even copied the King's trade-mark."
"I suppose people could do that then," ventured Theo.
"Oh, yes. There was nothing to protect an invention as there is now," replied Mr. Croyden.
"Did King Charles continue to make porcelain in Spain?"
"Yes, he had a palace called Buen Retiro and here he established fabriques that continued to thrive even up to the time of King Ferdinand in 1780, and would probably have prospered much longer had not the Napoleonic wars come and the French destroyed the factories."
"And what became of the Doccia works in the meantime?" queried Theo.
"I am glad you asked that question," answered Mr. Croyden, "for I had not finished speaking about the Doccia fabrique. It was unique in its management. You know in our day how much we hear of proper factory conditions? Doubtless you have seen mills where there are neatly graded lawns, flower-beds, and perhaps a recreation ground. We consider such mill-owners very progressive and speak of them with keenest approval. Yet in our enlightened times such things are none too common. Now it is interesting to know that this Ginori family who founded the Doccia porcelain works were far in advance of anything we yet have done for our employees. Not only did they have lawns and gardens for their workmen, but they also had a park; a farm where vegetables were raised for the common good; a school for the workmen's children; an academy of music where all could go to concerts; and a savings-bank in which earnings could be deposited. What do you think of that for progressiveness?"
The boy's eyes opened wide.
"I guess we're not so civilized as we think we are," he remarked soberly.
"We are not the only people who ever lived—that's sure!" retorted the Trenton man grimly. "As you can well imagine, the men under the Ginori were very appreciative, and as a mark of their gratitude for all this kindness they set to work and made for the Ginori chapel beautiful porcelain monuments as a tribute to the dead and gone Ginori nobles. They also made a marvelous high altar all of porcelain, with magnificent candlesticks, fonts, and statues—a wonderful embodiment of their skill as well as their devotion."
"It must have taken some clay!" exclaimed Theo.
"I guess it did," Mr. Croyden assented. "Aside from this work the output of the Doccia fabrique was largely imitative. They made so many copies of Sèvres, Capo di Monte, and Majolica that it soon became a great problem to tell the real from the imitation, and this has caused collectors no end of trouble."
"Was no other porcelain made in Italy?"
"Yes, as far back as 1515 pottery, as I told you, was made in Venice; and with the discovery of kaolin Venetian merchants imported the true clay which did not exist in Italy, and manufactured both hard and soft paste. But the industry was never a success because the expense of getting the material was so great. In 1753 the Germans, because of the cheapness of Italian labor, tried making porcelain there, thinking that they could furnish their own clays at slight cost. But the scheme was a failure. There was, however, some imitative work done later by a potter named Cozzi which was very good. But Italy has never excelled in china-making as she did in the making of glass because she had not the material to do any very extensive work. There has, to be sure, been a scattering of porcelains turned out—some from Turin; some from Treviso; and some from other cities. But aside from the Majolica pottery, and Delia Robbia's terra-cottas, Italy has not made any distinctive contribution to the china-making art. Still she has done so much in almost every other art that she should rest content. One cannot excel in everything."
"Some of us never excel in anything," laughed Theo.
"Some of us excel in falling off roofs and breaking our legs," chuckled Mr. Croyden teasingly. "And some of us excel in being very patient about it afterward," he added, patting the boy's shoulder affectionately.
