Talking about drinking out of saucers reminds me that just occasionally you come across small flat oval or oblong dishes: these are spoon trays, used for holding the spoon while you went through that operation. They are usually very expensive, so unless you have a great stroke of luck you may have to reserve this piece for later on, when you sell some of your duplicates.

Also very pricey nowadays are the large handsome jugs, either cylindrical or barrel shaped, some of them decorated with reliefs and perhaps with a mask. Here you may have to put up with a chipped or cracked specimen. I would not worry a bit about that provided it is cheap enough : you will be surprised how little it notices when you have got it in that cabinet. But do not expect it to appreciate in value.

Much cheaper are the small sparrow-beaked cream jugs, and delightful little things they are—almost worth collecting on their own. There are also sauceboats, caddy spoons, pierced egg-drainers, pounce pots, peppers, and all those fascinating little pickle trays in the shapes of leaves and shells.

As to schemes for your collecting, you may get interested in the wares of one factory; or you may prefer to go in for a particular style of decoration. There is the “Fisherman” pattern, from Caughley, which is one of the “Chinoiseries” I mentioned just now. The plate illustrated, which has a gadrooned or scalloped rim, cost me only r os., in an old furniture store last year. It had been mixed up with some old Staffordshire printed plates, as described in Chapter 8. This same factory was also fond of the Chantilly sprig, and it favoured a rather deep violet blue, quite different from the blue of Lowestoft, for example.

Antique Collector MagazineOther chinoiseries included the “Hundred Antiques” pattern, or the Japanese “Partridge” pattern. The earliest versions of the Willow pattern appeared on this porcelain, designed and printed at Caughley. The Broseley dragon is another celebrated one which originated there.

From Worcester comes a series of engravings, many by the famous Robert Hancock who brought transfer printing from the enamel factory at Battersea and used it on this porcelain. These are the domestic and rural scenes—the ladies at tea, or in the garden, the May Day dancers.

As you see, there is no lack of interest or variety, even though one has narrowed down one’s collecting to such a small sector of china. But in fact, it is because you have limited the field that there is all the more to interest you in it. In no time at all you will find yourself getting excited about shapes of handles, different shades of blue, characteristic styles, the kind of light transmitted through the porcelain of the various factories. As you get more and more learned you will find that you know a good deal more about your subject than the average dealer.

How do you start collecting it? Well, most dealers recognise a bit of “blue and white” when they see it, even if they cannot pin it down to a particular factory, or judge the rarity of the pattern. But because they do not see as many pieces as they used to, they are not very keen to part with them—do not forget that dealers like nice pieces, quite apart from the way they improve the look of the shop. So they usually put a stiffish price on them—often more than a specialist dealer in London would ask. This is especially true if there is a mark, like the crescent of Worcester or Caughley.

But in the same way they often greatly undervalue a rarity—and this is where your knowledge comes in. If you can pick up a snip in this way, but do not particularly want it for your collection, you can sell it to a specialist and buy yourself something you desperately want.

This brings me to the question of how you acquire enough knowledge of the subject to be able to do this. Personally, I would suggest that before you start reading you buy a number of pieces as cheaply as you can, so that you can have them at home, handle them, and examine them thoroughly. Only thus will you get to know the distinctive “feel” of soft-paste procelain. Seeing pieces in museums is all very well, but you need to live with them.

One way of getting your initial pieces is to go to one of the big salerooms and buy a “lot,” either personally or through a dealer. Quite often you will see a “lot” made up of six or a dozen pieces, all “blue and white” but oddments from different factories. You might get, say, a couple of Worcester pickle trays, a Caughley tea-bowl, a pair of Liverpool coffee cans painted with Liver birds, a knife rest of unknown origin, a small Lowestoft jug painted with fruit and flowers, a globular teapot and cover again of unknown origin (a problem you may be able to solve)—in all, ten pieces—for perhaps twelve to fourteen pounds. “Lots” like this go relatively cheaply, as most of the buyers are after the rarities.

After that, and a thorough reading up of your subject, (a list of books is given on page 64), you are on your own. By all means look out for bargains, but do also take one or two dealers into your confidence, and pay them their price. You’ll be surprised what good bargains they’ll offer you when you least expect it.

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Old Blue and White Porcelain continue…