The Centre-piece
The caster never attempted to be other than reticent. It was like a poor relation at the table in company with the magnificence of the centre-piece. The pierced work in subdued ornament pales before the elaboration in such a centre-piece as that illustrated on [page 279], with the London hall-marks for 1761. The basket is of elaborate and graceful form, and the eight branching candlesticks mark it as a sumptuous specimen. The feet are elaborate and in rococo style. It belongs to the early years of George III, of Garrick, of Macklin, and of Foote. It was contemporary with the enormous head-dresses, the subject of so many caricatures, which followed the indecorous hoop-petticoats of the dissolute days of George II. Paste and plaster and powder raised these head ornaments to a superstructure representing chariots, and a fureur des cabriolets, related by Horace Walpole. Men had them painted on their waistcoats, and women stuck a one-horse post-chaise on the top of their elaborate head-dress, which said head-dress was not changed for some weeks. Medical men of the day speak of this in terms which we will not introduce here. Sir Joshua Reynolds had commenced to paint his immortal portraits, Handel had found congenial soil under the House of Hanover to settle here, providing satirists with subjects as to his gluttonous habits, and producing music that has become English to those who like oratorio. Thomas Chippendale had published his Director in 1754, with its wonderful designs; and Robert Adam, in 1758, had put his screen and gateway across the Admiralty in Whitehall, and was translating dull London streets into classic style. These were the nights at the “Turk’s Head” with Dr. Johnson, the supporter of the Royal House, the upholder of purity and piety in an impure and irreligious age, Burke with his flashing conversation, and Goldsmith and David Garrick, and a circle of men who counted for more than the macaronis and the fops of Pall Mall and St. James’s Street. Wealth was pouring into the country from India, and with it came rapidly acquired habits of luxury—habits that quickly reflected themselves in the furniture and domestic appurtenances. This silver centre-piece of 1761, therefore, tells the story of these days of the eighteenth century, “remarkable for the great industrial revolution, which gradually transformed England from an agricultural to a manufacturing country, depending for food supplies on foreign countries.”
A second examination of the silver centre-piece, 1761, with the above notes in view, at once discloses its character—out of France and of Italy, with here a touch and there a touch from continental styles. If trivial toys such as the pantin, a pasteboard figure on strings, could take the town by storm, the craftsman in metal, with fashions streaming from over the Channel, could not and did not hold aloof. Traditional features linger or become rejuvenated, such as the sconces of the candlesticks which revert to the leaflike form of those of Charles II. The basket with interlaced work stands parallel with the similar work in porcelain from the Meissen factory with raised flowers at each intersection, just as in this silver centre-piece, and the old Saxon factory made this type of vase and basket as early as 1740 in the “Krinolinengrappen” period. But the feet might have come straight out of Chippendale’s Director, with their curves and shoulders and peculiar style. If Chippendale borrowed wisely from the cabinet-maker of France, the English silversmiths, many with French blood in their veins, found in French design something too alluring to ignore.
SUGAR BOWL.
With London hall-marks, 1773. Made by S. & J. Crespell. (Marks illustrated [p. 377].)
(At Victoria and Albert Museum.)
