Collecting as a Pastime

by Charles Rowed

SALT GLAZE

Readers who are familiar with salt glaze will not be surprised when I say that the four pieces shown on [Plate XXXV] are all that I have fit to be trotted out, and they will probably not be taken aback when I confess to having been absolutely bewildered for some time in distinguishing this class of pottery. I read of £50 being given at, I think, the Bemrose Sale for a little ugly group, and I felt a desire to find something of this sort, though at a somewhat less fancy price. I poked in many a dusty cupboard, and messed myself up continuously for a time, until one day in an auctioneer’s stock-room I dug out a white coffee pot with a pewter lid which I felt sure was salt glaze. When the auctioneer told me I could have it for two shillings if it was any good to me, I thought how little he knew of his business. It takes two to make a bargain, and he was not the fool. I found the coffee pot was salt glaze, but only about fifty years old, so it is again hidden away in a cupboard. I had looked at bits of salt glaze in glass cases under lock and key, so I think of presenting this piece to some museum where, owing to its comparatively small value, visitors may be allowed to touch and examine it under a magnifying glass, but I should first have it labelled, “Caution to Collectors—this is the class of salt glaze to avoid.” This dud purchase turned out to be rather fortunate than otherwise, as after winking at it for a week I went carefully through my collection and found three salt glaze pieces which had remained unidentified for two years past. They are, a jug painted and gilded over the glaze, and which I had bought in my ignorance in Wakefield; a little crudely painted lustre Staffordshire jug, which I caught busy catching the drips from a paraffin tap and secured for a trifle; and a blue painted castor-oil spoon.

Later I added a salt glaze delft dish with mark showing it was made by Petit of Lille, about 1788, which proves that the statement made in more than one book on old pottery that no delft was salt glazed is incorrect. This particular dish came from Sir J. D. Forest’s collection.

Anyone with a Castleford teapot will be struck with its likeness to salt glaze. I happened on one in a town where the manufacture of heavy chemicals is very evident in the atmosphere, and the brokeress said she had been told that the teapot was “salt-cake.” The same good old lady was once kind enough to invite me to step up to her bedroom, and a very nice room it was, its cleanliness, contents and comfort being greatly at variance with the shop and store-room below. Among the ornaments of which she offered me the choice was a fine “Cobbler’s Wife,” 12 inches high, probably Rockingham, which she had bought at a sale, and was pleased to part with at a profit. I have searched for years for the “Cobbler,” but have failed to trace him. If anyone knows his present address, and will communicate with the author, they will be suitably rewarded.

TOBY JUGS (See [Plate XXXIII])

None of these Toby jugs have any maker’s names on them, but I believe the large and small of the same design are by Davenport. “The Squire” appears to be the oldest, but whether it or the “Hearty Good Fellow” is the most valuable from a collector’s point of view I cannot say, and I will tell you why. My first impression of “The Squire,” which I obtained through a window, was “What a beauty!” I had seen a letter in the Connoisseur just before giving a photograph of one like it, so I was on the alert at once. Enquiry elicited the information that the dealer thought it was really old, that he bought it off a man who looked through the shop door, then went away and came back when the dealer was disengaged. “I didn’t know the man; apparently he was hard up—wouldn’t give any name, but he wanted a sovereign, so I gave it him, and you can have the jug for twenty-five shillings.”

I have heard of a dog having a bad name, though Toby isn’t a bad name for a dog, but I soon came up against a Toby with a bad name. On mentioning to my late friend the collector-dealer my purchase of “The Squire,” what I had given for it, and where I bought it, he said he was sorry to hear it. He had seen that Toby and would not touch it, as he had been warned against it by another dealer, and if I wished for another like it he could give me an address in the Potteries where I might get one for 3s. 11d. The next time he was at my house he was hard to convince that he was mistaken; but when I told him I had shown it to a practical potter, who cautioned me that if I filled it with water I must not carry it by the handle, as it was partly perished with age, he gave in. Not long after I chanced to meet near home a well-known dealer who had just come from Harrogate to attend a sale of antiques in our neighbourhood and who enquired of me the way. I asked him to have lunch with us and offered to drive him to the sale later. I am afraid this was rather diluted hospitality, for I was desirous of having his opinion of, among other things, “The Squire.” After careful examination he pronounced it genuine, but he seemed to fancy the “Hearty Good Fellow” more.

When I first saw the “Hearty Good Fellow” it was in a window mainly given up to the display of modern ironmongery, and on enquiring the price was disappointed to hear it was sold and that a man was calling for it later. Then I said, “Ask him what he will take for his bargain, and don’t you part with it.” I am not sure how much I slept that night, but I know I called on my way to business, and I spent a bright and happy morning with the “Hearty Good Fellow” on my desk.

I had an amusing experience when purchasing “Uncle Toby,” for when the dealer asked me 25s. I was able to say (having had a look at the bottom of the jug) that it was marked in ink 15s. When I showed him this he let himself go, and if the female assistant—who was not about at the time—had heard one tithe of the forcible expressions of opinion in which he held her business acumen, she would have gone into service straight away, for among her qualifications he considered she was more fit for cooking potatoes in their jackets. I refer to this gentleman elsewhere as having some temper, but on this occasion I waited patiently until he had come down to nearly normal, bought some other things, and got “Uncle Toby” at the price (15s.) on which he still sits.