CHAPTER XVII
THE DECORATION OF CHINA
Next morning bright and early Theo and Mr. Croyden were off to the factory, and once more the boy found himself consigned to the care of Mr. Marwood. This was no hardship, however, for the two got on excellently together, and Theo was only too glad to coöperate in any way he could with Mr. Croyden, whom he knew to be very busy. Therefore with this new friend as pilot the pilgrimage through the china works was resumed at precisely the point where it had been left the preceding day.
"This morning," Mr. Marwood said, "we will turn our attention to the decoration of porcelain, which I think you will find quite as interesting as was its making. There are almost as many different processes to decorate the ware as there were methods of shaping it."
"Which one are we to begin with?" questioned Theo eagerly.
"I think we'd better start with printed designs. Were you ever in Washington, Theo?"
Theo glanced up in surprise at the irrelevance of the inquiry.
"Yes, sir."
"Good! What were some of the places you visited?"
Again the lad regarded his conductor curiously.
What had his trip to Washington to do with the decoration of china, he wondered.
"Oh, I went to the Capitol, of course," he answered, "and to the White House, and the Congressional Library; then Dad took me to the Smithsonian Institute and to the Bureau of Printing and Engraving, and ——"
"Stop!" cried Mr. Marwood. "I now have found out exactly what I wished to know. So you have seen bank notes engraved?"
"Yes, sir."
"You remember then how the design is cut on a copper or steel plate?"
"Yes, indeed," came promptly from Theo.
"I am very glad of that, for it is precisely this method we use when we print designs on china. The difference is that the designs on our money are printed in ink, and those we transfer to our porcelain are done with mineral colors; nor are our plates so finely made. However, the idea underlying the processes is identical. The color is applied to the metal plate, and what is not retained in the engraved depressions of the design is carefully scraped away. Then on a kind of paper expressly prepared for the purpose the picture is made, and while it is moist it is placed against the ware and rubbed in with a piece of soft flannel. When it is awkward to handle the design as a whole it is cut into sections and pieced together on the china itself."
"Does one person do the whole thing?
"No. It is the duty of one worker to arrange the design and see that it is in the right place; and the task of the next one to rub it in with the flannel and soap. Then after the china has stood for some time it is put into water and the paper sticking to it is floated off, leaving the colored print on the porcelain."
"Is it done before the ware is fired?" asked Theo.
"Sometimes it is done on the biscuit ware before it is glazed, and sometimes on the glaze itself. It all depends on the result the decorators wish to obtain. If printed before the porcelain is glazed it is called under-glaze printed ware, and must be put through a kiln, which will take the oils out of the print; if done on the glaze it is fired in order to burn the colors in and blend them with the frit."
"It must be hard always to get the designs where you want them," observed Theo meditatively. "I used to trace patterns at school sometimes, and often they slipped and made the spacing wrong.
"That is one of the difficulties our designers encounter, too," replied Mr. Marwood. "Sometimes you will see pieces where the spacing is not equal, or where a border does not join. That indicates inaccurate placing of the pattern, or an incorrect estimate of the space."
"I don't wonder they get it wrong sometimes," declared Theo. "It isn't so easy. I remember once decorating a card for Mother with some decalcomania pictures. It was mighty hard to get them where I wanted them."
"Decalcomania?" exclaimed Mr. Marwood. "We do that kind of work here too. In fact, a great many of our most beautiful gold borders are transferred to the ware by that method. I see you will be quite at home, Theo, in our decorating department."
"I guess you would find me a pretty poor hand at it," laughed the lad. "My fingers would be all thumbs."
"Possibly at first. It is very fussy work, I must admit. But the processes are at least easy for you to understand. Another type of decoration that will interest you is that employed when we wish to put bands of solid color around the edges of plates or dishes; also when we wish to color their entire surface. We call it ground-laying. Now how do you suppose we do that?"
Theo thought a moment.
"I can't imagine," he said at last. "Of course you could not get the color even with a brush."
"No," answered Mr. Marwood. "We must first apply to the space we wish to color a peculiar kind of oil, and afterward dust over this moistened surface a finely ground metallic color."
"Which sticks only to the oiled part!" Theo exclaimed, quickly.
"You have the idea. Then the superfluous powder is blown off, and when fired the dust fuses into a solid liquid color, giving us a smoothly laid band of red, blue, green, or what you will; or perhaps a dish of solid tone if that has been the intent. We do not use this method for every type of flat color work, however, because when the powdered color blows about the workers are apt to inhale it, and it is very bad for their health. Therefore when it is possible we tint the china by hand, which can be done if the color is a delicate one and spreads smoothly; or we color the clay itself."
All this time Theo and Mr. Marwood had been passing through the factory and going from one building to another; now they entered the decorating department.
"First I want you to see our air-brush process," Mr. Marwood said.
He led the way to an ingenious machine which by means of compressed air was spraying a fine jet of color over the surface of a porcelain plate. In some places this color rippled away into a faint tint; in others it settled into an area of a deep rich tone. By the aid of stencils the effect produced was of an exquisitely shaded ware, and Theo watched the work with delight.
"I think this air-brush process is the most interesting one I have seen," the boy cried.
"It certainly is fascinating to watch, isn't it?" agreed Mr. Marwood. "I could stand here all day; but I fear we must go on, for we still have much to see. Let us go over to where those girls are gilding. Some of them are putting a fine gold line on the china, and others are doing elaborate designs in gold. The work of the next group is to gild the handles of cups and dishes."
They passed on and stood beside the workers.
"That does not look like gold!" exclaimed Theo, who viewed in astonishment the chocolate brown pigment that the girls were using.
Mr. Marwood laughed.
"All gold looks like that," he said, "before it is fired and burnished. In fact, all the mineral colors used to decorate glass, pottery, and porcelain look very different when they are put on from what they do after they have been subjected to the heat. That is the wonderful part of working in oxides and metallic colors. The beautiful hues we see on china or glass are the result of years of experiment. Never forget that. All china decorators have constantly to bear in mind the effect of a high temperature upon their colors. What would be attractive on the unfired clay might emerge from the kiln a very ugly product indeed. We must reckon on this fact."
Theo nodded.
"It must make the decoration of china a great problem," he said.
"It does. However, decorators have now learned pretty well what to expect. A certain carmine, for example, fires out violet. Many other shades fire lighter or darker than when applied, and allowance must be made for them. The girls who paint china become very skilful in estimating the changes in colors. These who are working beside us are doing the finest sort of porcelain decoration—faces, figures, and flowers. Those across the aisle are doing a vastly different type of work. They are putting coarse, sketchy flowers on the cheaper ware. Some of them, you will observe, are filling in designs that have either first been printed, or transferred by the decalcomania process, and must afterward be finished by hand. The girls supply the dabs of color that are needed to complete the pattern."
"It is not highly skilled work," answered Mr. Marwood. "Some of our methods, however, are far less skilled than this one. What would you say, for instance, to decorating china with a sponge?"
"A sponge? Painting with a sponge?"
"Not exactly painting," protested Mr. Marwood. "It is not quite that. We do, nevertheless, for our cheapest ware use a fine-grained sponge cut in the shape of the desired design. This we dip in color and with it impress a pattern on the clay as we would with a rubber stamp."
"I should think you would use a rubber stamp and be done with it," replied Theo.
"It would not hold the color satisfactorily," explained Mr. Marwood. "But we do use the stamping method for inexpensive gold ware. We also imprint the firm name or trade-mark on the bottom of our porcelain that way before it is glazed; so we do some stamping, you see. Of course stamping is only for the cheap wares. The finest porcelain is hand-decorated—or at least the major part of it is.
Theo was silent; then he said:
"Suppose after all the work of preparing the clay, and shaping and decorating it, the piece is broken when the final glaze is put on?"
"That tragedy sometimes occurs," responded Mr. Marwood. "Often, too, a piece with many colors and much gold work on it has to be fired several times, and is therefore in jeopardy more than once. In addition to these risks you must remember the number of hands through which an article passes from the time of its moulding to its final arrival from the glost-kiln. A delicate piece of ware is in peril every second. It may be dropped and broken; chipped in handling; its clay body may crack when exposed to the heat; the colors in the decoration may fire out unsatisfactorily; or at the very end there may be a defect in the glaze."
"Great Scott!" gasped Theo. "Why, I never should expect to get a single perfect piece of porcelain."
"On the contrary, we get a great many," smiled Mr. Marwood. "They are almost all perfect. The imperfect piece is the exception. But each piece represents untold care. We sometimes laugh at the old adage of a bull in the china-shop, but let me assure you that a poor workman can do almost as much damage in a porcelain factory."
Mr. Marwood drew out his watch.
"I believe we shall now have just about time before luncheon to go down to the kilns," he observed presently. "Should you like to?"
"Indeed I should."
"There is not much that we can see, I am afraid. However, we may be able to catch a glimpse of some of the ware being packed in the saggers."
"What is a sagger?"
"It is a large clay container in which unfired pottery or porcelain is packed while it is passing through the firing process. These large clay vessels have come into general use as the best thing for the purpose. They stand the heat and at the same time are less liable to break or chip the goods than are containers of any other material. We make them ourselves here in the mills. In fact, there is an entire section in the clay-shop devoted to nothing but sagger making. Special machinery grinds and mixes the clay; special men fashion by hand the great containers; while other men do nothing but work in the wad-mills where rolls of clay to cover the top of the saggers and protect the unfired ware from smoke are made."
"Don't the clay saggers ever break?" questioned Theo.
"Sometimes, alas!" admitted Mr. Marwood. "When they do the china in them must be rescued from the kilns and put into new saggers. The old saggers are then broken up; the clay in them ground and sifted; and after being moistened again and mixed with fresh clay other saggers are modeled."
"Is the same sort of clay sagger used for the glazed as well as for the unglazed wares?"
"No. For the glazed china we generally use glost saggers that have been covered on the inner side with a coating of enamel."
All this time as they talked they had been passing through the mill and they now entered a low hot building where a series of brick ovens with arching tops covered the floor.
"Here," said Mr. Marwood, "are the firing kilns. After the ware has been brought here in baskets it is very carefully packed in the saggers, and the saggers in turn packed in these great brick ovens. Before they are put in the kilns have to be cooled so the heat to which the ware is subjected may increase gradually."
"But it must take forever to pack all the saggers into the kiln," declared Theo as he viewed in consternation the interior of one of the waiting ovens.
"It takes a long time—about five hours," answered Mr. Marwood. "Porcelain requiring a shorter firing is placed near the front of the kiln, so it can be removed if necessary before the rest is taken out. After the kiln is filled the men brick up the door of the oven and start the fire. There the china bakes from forty to sixty hours. The length of time required depends on the sort of ware being fired and the temperature of the kiln. Then the opening is unsealed and the cooling process begins.
"Do they wait until the saggers and their contents are cold before they take them out?" asked Theo.
"No, indeed," was Mr. Marwood's reply. "That would take too long. Often we are in a hurry to get the goods out and the ovens cooled for the next lot of porcelain; frequently, too, we want the ware so that we may continue work upon it. Therefore we begin the drawing while the oven is still very hot—so hot that the men are stripped to the waist and wear only overalls, shoes, and thick gloves. The kiln drawers are never forced to draw out the saggers, however, when they are intensely hot unless they wish to do so. The law protects such workers and specifies at just what degree of temperature the work is to become optional. Not only do these men draw the ware, but they also empty it from the saggers as well as put it into the baskets in which it is carried back to the factory and inspected, further decorated, or packed for shipping."
Mr. Marwood waited a moment, then added:
"In some foreign countries a tunnel kiln is used instead of an oven like this. It is supposed to require less fuel. It is a long tunnel with a track through the centre over which little cars laden with ware are propelled by machinery. The heat is graded in such a way that it is most intense in the middle of the kiln. The ware starts at one end of this tunnel where the temperature is quite low, travels toward the centre where the heat is highest, and then comes out at the other end of the tunnel through a diminishing heat. In this way it cools gradually. They say, however, that such a method is more successful for biscuit (the unglazed china) than for the glost. Here in America where fuel has always been plenty we have stuck to our old-fashioned brick ovens in spite of their expense. I am afraid we are not a saving nation."
"Father says that after this war is over we shall have to be more saving," said Theo.
"I believe that too," confessed Mr. Marwood. "We never have learned to figure things down to the lowest cent. We shall have to do it; and it won't hurt us, either. On the contrary, it will be a good lesson. If each of us would use the least possible material in the home, the factory, and the office we should save an amazing amount in a year."
"I think we ought to do it," affirmed Theo soberly.
"So do I," rejoined the elder man. "Many manufacturers have already come to finding uses for stuff they previously considered waste. They are using up their by-products, thereby not only enriching themselves but giving to the world things that are needed. It is an interesting and ingenious problem. If we were to employ the same principle everywhere we should find it well worthy of our brain power. Now shall we go back and hunt up Mr. Croyden, or have you still questions to ask?"
"I have a thousand questions," laughed Theo, "but I don't think you'd better stop now to answer them. Mother says I always do have questions; she says no sooner am I through with one than I am ready with another."
"So long as they are intelligent, thoughtful questions I am sure no one minds answering them," Mr. Marwood replied. "How else are we to learn? The man who is ashamed to ask questions and confess he does not know is worth little in the world. When I spoke of questions, however, I meant questions about china-making."
"Oh!" exclaimed Theo. "No, I don't think I have any more questions about porcelain except to ask you how the glaze is put on the biscuit ware."
"That certainly is an intelligent question, and one I shall be only too happy to answer," Mr. Marwood said. "We could go down into the dipping sheds if we had more time. But perhaps since there is not I can tell you about them and it will do almost as well. To begin with, these sheds have cement floors because the glaze, or slip, spatters all about and dries upon them. It is therefore practically impossible to keep wooden floors clean, and we do not wish our workmen to inhale any more of the dried flint dust than is absolutely necessary."
"I remember hearing about that," Theo said.
"The glaze material is ground up while dry and very carefully sifted," went on Mr. Marwood. "Afterward it is mixed with water; colored, if a tinted glaze is required; and then pumped into tanks where it is kept well stirred. When ready the ware is dipped into this glaze and again fired. This time, however, it is a more difficult matter to pack it into the saggers since it must neither touch the sides of the sagger nor come in contact with any other piece."
"I never thought of that," owned Theo. "Of course, now that you speak of it, I can see that when the glaze melts and fuses with the clay it would show any mark."
"Exactly."
"It must be an awful job to keep each piece separate."
"It demands extreme care," returned Mr. Marwood. "We use all sorts of little clay devices to support the ware, and keep it in place while it is in the saggers."
"Does it take about the same length of time to fire the glazed porcelain as for the biscuit?" inquired Theo.
"No. The glost firing usually takes only from twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Afterward any bits of glaze projecting from the china or clinging to it are chipped away with a steel tool and the piece is examined. If free from flaws it goes either to the packing room to be shipped, or back to the factory, in case additional decoration is to be put on over the glaze. You may recall that I told you that there was an over-glaze and an under-glaze method of decoration."
"Yes, sir."
"Are your questions answered now?"
"I believe they are, thank you."
"And you can now make china without trouble—whatever kind you like best?"
"I shouldn't want to start doing it to-morrow," chuckled Theo. "I think I should rather begin on earthenware."
"You would have to go to some other mills, then," smiled Mr. Marwood. "We make no C. C. ware here."
"What is C. C. ware?"
"Ask Mr. Croyden," replied Mr. Marwood. "You see, we have a little joke about it. His name is Charles Croyden and sometimes in jest we call him C. C. Now C. C. ware (an abbreviation for cream-colored) is one of the cheapest of the white earthenwares. When first manufactured it used to be of a pale yellowish tint, but now it is made in white. Nevertheless its quality has not been materially improved. As Mr. Croyden manufactures only the finer grades of chinas it is a favorite quip of ours to call him C. C."
Theo laughed heartily.
"I will ask him about the C. C. ware some time," grinned the boy.
