It had an inscription on the back which gave us enough clues to find the original sitter, and we were delighted to discover the signature in the top right corner:
Pernooeau’s signature & the date 1751, signed in lead.
There was a modern label to the back covering, with a few details – probably copied from the previous covering. From this we can identify her: Jeanne-Marie Mallès, later Mme Tobie Clarke (1733–1821).
Jeanne-Marie Mallès was from a seafaring family, her father being a Captain in the East Indies Company. However, he died in 1744; Jean-Marie was fatherless when this portrait was done in 1751, and it was 7 years later she was married to Toby Clarke (1733–1821), merchant of Nantes. They had several children, and a daughter, Marie, married François-Claude de Karuel de Merey, capitaine d’infanterie, who died in 1804 – the year Napoleon crowned himself Emperor – probably no coincidence, with the war with England and Spain raging.
Correspondence with Mr Jeffares has resulted in the authentication of the signature, making it a ‘signature piece’, and it is now added to the online ‘catalogue resonné’ of Perronneau, listing of every example authenticated, part of the amazing record freely accessible on Mr Jeffares site, www.pastellists.com/ . You’ll find it as part of the following document:
An interesting note in Jeffares’ comments is that he sometimes dropped – or added – an ‘n’ to his name. Our example is the shortened version, Perroneau. There are also several other examples of his sitters ‘as Dianna’ , obviously an interesting option to choose when having your portrait done. How fascinating, this beautiful young lady who had lost her father aged 11, had this portrait done showing her as the strong Goddess of the Hunt in 1751, and only married 7 years later. You can see her character in the twinkle of her eye..
In today’s world-wide situation, ‘Armchair Travel’ is a necessity. The difficulty in heading off on a grand tour is huge, and the likelihood of being marooned somewhere due to closed borders is high. Stick to google street view exploration for the moment!
A recent discovery at Moorabool reveals the idea has been around a long time. Finely detailed and depicting an ancient ruin in a dramatic landscape, the work is signed Copley Fielding.
Copley Fielding watercolour, Ruins at Delphi, circa 1820
Copley Fielding (1787-1855) was a very talented artist of the Georgian period. Born in the Midlands in 1787, he was the son of a portrait painter (Nathan Theodore Fielding), who gave him the inspirational ‘Vandyke’ name as tribute to the famous artist. The inspiration worked, as he showed strong talent at an early age. In 1810, he entered the Royal Academy schools, being taught by John Varley and becoming a close friend of William Blake. The same year he was an associate exhibitor of the Royal Society of Watercolours (RWS), later serving as President. In 1824 he won a gold medal at the Paris Salon, alongside Constable. He exhibited constantly in the RWS exhibitions, and a smaller number of his oil paintings at the Royal Academy.
Copley Fielding ‘Delphi Ruins’
Anthony Vandyke Copley Fielding (1787-1855) National Portrait Gallery, London -by Sir William Boxall
Best known for his atmospheric ‘Romantic’ landscape views in the British Isles, and windswept seascapes, there are a small number of works in his repertoire depicting exotic overseas locations: Rome, Naples, and this example, the temples of Delphi in Greece. They are all imaginative – he never travelled out of Britain!
The scene in this work is the famous temple complex at Delphi, Greece. His direct inspiration would have been an artist’s sketch – it was a ‘top-10 destination’ for anyone with artistic ability on the ‘Grand Tour’, and in his RWS position he would have constantly come across people who had been there with their sketchbook. However, he has enhanced it to make it more impressive; the ruins are less ‘ruined’, the rounded form of the Tholos being remarkably intact, and the rectangular Temple of Apollo apparently still having its roof!
Copley Fielding’s ‘View of Delphi’ at Moorabool Antiques, Australia
The title on the old mount it is in is most confusing, and perhaps illustrates the nature of Copley Fielding’s inspiration: there is no ‘Temple of Juno’ at Delphi, although the mountainous scene is clearly meant to be Delphi. Several temples of Juno elsewhere in the Classical world survived and were sketched, but all are standard rectangular constructions. Clearly something got lost in translation between sketchbook and watercolour brush, by either the original artist, or the mount-maker of this work.
Copley Fielding’s Signature
The rare Copley Fielding depictions of foreign lands include Rome, Naples, Greece (such as ours) and exotic Middle-Eastern landscapes. They are all ‘flights of imagination’: he was a true ‘Armchair Travelling-Artist’. How interesting that this work depicts the Temples at Delphi, regarded as the very center of the world by the ancient Greeks, the start and finish of all journeys.
Copley Fielding’s background landscape.
His works are represented in a large number of major collections around the world, including the V&A and the Tate, London, The Met NY, The Art Gallery of NSW, and our very own National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne.
Three early 19th century Wedgwood Pearlware pieces bearing the ‘Water Lily’ pattern, sometimes known as ‘Darwin’s Lily’.
A collection of a scarce Wedgwood pattern has recently come to Moorabool. What a fascinating tale this pattern has to tell…..
Commonly called ‘Darwin’s Water Lilly’ , or just ‘Darwin’, it is one of the few Wedgwood printed patterns of the first decade of the 19th century that was not Oriental in inspiration, and in fact an original creation.
The source prints for the Wedgwood pattern, from ‘Curtis’s Botanical Magazine’ and ‘The Botanist’s Repository’, dating to 1803-6
The inspiration for the design was pulled from several different engravings in Botanical magazines of 1803-6, and shows specimens of three types of the ‘Nymphaeaceae’ family, commonly called ‘water lily’ – left to right they are: 1 -‘nymphaea stellata’, or starry water lily, 2 -‘nelumbium speciosum’, or sacred Lotus of India, 3 -‘nymphaea lotus’, or Lotus of Egypt.
The original version designed in 1806 was printed in brown as a basis for enamel decoration; this is said to be the earliest instance of printing in brown that can be accurately dated.
The British Museum’s plate from the Darwin Family, delivered 1808.
The extra leaf in the 1815+ versions.
The difference between this earliest example and those slightly later is very subtle; a half-submerged leaf at 5 o’clock is the best indicator, not appearing in the 1807 version, but there by the circa 1815 examples.
Onglaze red was used from late 1809. In 1811 blue was introduced and become a favourite. Underglaze red appears in 1828. A later 19th century version was named ‘Old Water Lily’.
But why is it so often called the ‘Darwin’ pattern? It turns out it’s a family affair. In the British Museum is a plate, very similar to our brown printed example, and another is in the Victoria & Albert, both from the same source: the family of Charles Darwin. In older literature, there is a story about them being from a service made by Josiah I Wedgwood for his friend Dr. Erasmus Darwin, on occasion of his marriage in 1781. However, this date is far too early for the pieces we are examining. The present conclusion is it was designed by John Wedgwood – the eldest son of Josiah Wedgwood, a noted horticulturist who was co-founder of the Royal Horticultural Society, Kew.
Eramus Darwin, 1792-3, by Joseph Wright of Derby, now in the Derby Art Gallery.
It was ordered in 1807 by Dr. Robert Darwin, son of Erasmus Darwin, and father of the famous Charles Darwin. He received it in 1808.
Robert Darwin, from an oil painting by James Pardon (1811-1829) (source:wikicommons)
The Darwin family and the Wedgwood family were intimately linked. Josiah Wedgwood and Erasmus Darwin were both part of the ‘Lunar Society’, the incredibly forward-thinking group of scientists and engineers that regularly met to discuss the exciting new world of science & technology – and botany – that was emerging in the late 18th/ early 19th century. A friendship was obviously formed, and several generations of inter-marriages followed. Erasmus’s son Robert married Josiah’s daughter Susannah, and their son, Charles Darwin, married his cousin – Emma Wedgwood, daughter of the second Josiah Wedgwood and his wife Elizabeth. She was therefore the daughter of his mother’s brother, and genetic problems are obvious in the generations that followed… Much has been written about the irony of Darwin’s fascination with aspects of genetics and evolution in nature – including how in-breeding caused a species to be fragile – and he himself wrote of his genetic concern for his own family….
Analysing the image source reveals the draftsman who created the ‘Water Lily’ design used multiple images, combined. Four source botanical images have been identified in the literature, one of which is a double – the following diagram shows which part comes from which publication. (Slide the divide for the arrows. )
SWIPE LEFT & RIGHT TO ENGAGE THE LOCATION ARROWS
The use of five different prints, from two of the botanical journals of the time, shows the designer was well aware of ‘botanical correctness’. They keep the leaf type of all three specimens separated and correct, and by combining the two prints of the Nymphaea lotus – no. 3 below – they show their scientific interest in the accurate description of species the botanists were striving for. The suggestion that it was John Wedgwood, co-founder of the Royal Horticultural Society (along with Sir Joseph Banks) makes perfect sense.
John Wedgwood (1766-1844)
In the Wedgwood archives, a letter written to John’s brother Josiah Wedgwood II by the manager Thomas Byerley, states:
Onglaze red, c. 1815
‘Your brother is extremely active and intelligent, and is fast paving the way for a radical form, and will greatly benefit the concern ’.
Unfortunately, John retired from the firm in 1812, leaving just a handful of fascinating precise botanical statements as his ceramic legacy.
We’re pleased to have a selection from the earliest products of Wedgwood in this mesmerising pattern – a chamberpot and dish in the blue of the 1820’s, three red plates from around 1820, and an example of the earliest short-lived brown print. The final piece is a 20th century Wedgwood re-creation, limited edition for the Wedgwood Collectors…… enjoy!
Moorabool’s Wedgwood ‘Water Lily’ offerings, midyear exhibition 2021. All 1815-25 except for the tankard, which is 20th century.
Moorabool is often a place of meeting, both for people who enjoy Antiques – and for the Antiques themselves! We have occasionally been guilty of ‘match-making’ in the Antique world, discovering pieces that were quite literally made to be together…. but somehow became separated. It’s a thrill to re-unite pieces.
Ready for the harvest…..?
In today’s ‘Premium Fresh’ there is a rather sweet Vienna figure of a lady. Very early, she is circa 1755, and her costume is very distinct – very well dressed – and yet she carries a sickle and bundle of wheat. There’s more wheat behind her waiting to be cut; clearly she is a ‘Harvester’ off to sickle the wheat crop – but take a look at her shoes! How would they be practical in the fields…?
Vienna figure c.1755 Fresh to Moorabool’s stock
Vienna ‘Lady with Squirrel’ c.1755
While today we tend to place these lovely pieces in cabinets or a mantel shelf, in the 1750’s in Europe they were intended for the table. A scene would be set up along the length of a grand table, to entertain the guests with depictions of the gods, the Greek myths, a hunt, or in the case of a group of one group of interesting Vienna figures, “Pastoral Pursuits’.
The definitive book on these early figures helps us understand their purpose. ‘Ceremonies Feasts Costumes : Viennese Porcelain Figures during the reign of Maria Theresia’ is a splendid 2007 publication with large clear illustrations, detailing hundreds of Vienna figures from the 1740’s until the 1780’s. A private businessman, Du Paquier, had started the porcelain works in Vienna as early as 1719 ( making it the second true porcelain manufacturer in Europe, after Meissen), but by 1744 he was financially struggling, and the Viennese State purchased the works. This was of course ruled by Maria Theresia, the Empress of Austria, and she loved a good party… the porcelain works were an excellent source of the needed table wares, and this included table figures.
Vienna ‘Pastoral Pursuits’ figures, 1755-60
We find a series of well-dressed ladies & gents going about various occupations such as picking grapes, making wine, collecting milk…. and our lovely lady harvesting wheat. They’re an example of the idealisation and romantic notion that prevailed in the courts of 18th century Europe that the peasant lifestyle was an idyllic, carefree one. France of course excelled in this – think Mary Antionette and her role-playing as a milkmaid – and other courts tended to follow the fashions of France. Dinner parties could have an ‘Arcadian’ theme, meaning everyone would be dressed as a ‘commoner’ of some sort, but in silk and satin instead of the rough cotton the authentic garb would have been made of! These fancy-dress banquets had a curious way of dispersing the guests along the table – a lottery game would decide – giving the evening a sparkle of uncertainty in what was otherwise a very formalised environment.
A Vienna Porcelain ‘Shepherd’s House’, circa 1755
Some rare survivors are model buildings for a table setting – also recorded in parallel in Meissen productions – suggesting the appearance of the table, with this banquet’s theme being Wirtschaft, meaning ‘Economy’ or ‘Workplace’ . This is the perfect fit for our lovely lady with the sickle. She’s actually a Princess, pretending to be a Harvester for the evening…..!
While exploring this fascinating topic, I came across a colourful ‘Cavalier as reaper’ group illustrated in the before mentioned book. Our lovely lass isn’t illustrated, but a comparison with the ‘Cavalier’ figure leads us to an exciting conclusion: this is surely a long-lost partner figure.
Introducing…. Vienna ‘Cavalier & Companion as Reapers’ , circa 1755
Moorabool Antiques 2020
Together at last… virtually, thanks to Photoshop!
Reunion…. the figure on the left is Vienna, circa 1755-60, in stock at Moorabool. To the right is a ‘Harvester’ circa 1755-60, illustrated in ‘Ceremonies Feasts Costumes : Viennese Porcelain Figures during the reign of Maria Theresia’ (Appendix #2) from the Umeleckoprumyslové Museum, Prague {86.269} . The two share numerous similarities, including size, decorative ’embroidery’ moulding to the clothing – and even the same shoes! – the only difference being the Prague figure is painted, the Moorabool left white. Their complementing poses and similar detailing lead us to propose they were originally conceived as a pair.
Us Rosenbergs always joked about having Scandinavian Royal blood – my Grandfather came from Sweden, and in the heart of Copenhagen there’s ‘Rosenborg Castle’, full of wonderful treasures such as the Crown Jewels and lots of Meissen porcelain. On visiting a few years ago, my father John enquired if family members got free entry; no humour was detected in reply!
Perhaps the closest we will get was found in Geelong recently, a small silver case of Swedish silver, with a series of Swedish inscriptions that pinpoint it to the Swedish royal family!
The engraved clues begin with a 5-pointed coronet crown, an arm with sword beneath, then the date 10/8/1941, with an the inscription beneath the arms reading “fran syrelse kamrater i Usala lans Jaktvardsforening” – roughly ‘From the Comrades of the Upsala Hunting Guard Association’.
The title ‘Count of Wisborg’ is an interesting one. Wisborg (or Visborg) is a town on Gotland, off the coast of Sweden. In 1892 , Prince Oscar of Sweden, Duke of Gotland and second in line to the Swedish throne, married against the wishes of the King – a shocking thing in the European Royal Circles of the period. He lost his claim to the throne, and all other titles – but was given the title ‘Count of Wisborg’, created just for him by his uncle Adolfe, Grand Duke of Luxembourg. Since this first awarding, it has been awarded three other times, all to the male-line descendants of Princes of Sweden who had married without permission from the King.
Prince Oscar Bernadotte 1859-1953
Prince Oscar’s marriage in 1888 caused shock in the Royal family, and a document was drawn up to ensure the remaining 3 princes didn’t follow suite – the comment was the King had lost one son and didn’t want to ‘lose’ any more…. this had the opposite effect on the population, who were quite taken by the prince who gave up everything for love. He actually headed over to England to be married, and tied the knot in a church in Bournemouth!
His wife Ebba was of noble birth – and had been a Lady-in-waiting to the Crown Princess, Victoria – but was just not titled enough to marry the second-in-line to the throne. Fortunately, Oscar had the full support of his mother, and on their wedding day, with his mother present, they were given the title of ‘Prince and Princess Bernadotte’. This comes down through the subsequent generations as their family name. Four years later, in the court of Luxembourg, they received the title ‘Count and Countess of Wisborg’.
Oscar & Ebba, Prince & Princess Bernadotte.
They lived a quiet life in Stockholm, away from the court, taking great interest in improving the lot of the poor. Both were religious and involved in numerous charity organisations. Oscar had served in the Navy, attaining the rank of Vice Admiral – achieving a voyage around the world and several trips to America. Later, he was involved in the YMCA of Sweden, and chaired the ‘Friends of Mission to the Laps’ for several years. They had five children, and enjoyed holidaying in summer on the island of Gotland: this was also the place their ‘countship’ originated, Wisby being the name of a ruined fortress nearby. Here, they stayed at ‘Villa Fridhem’, an interesting swiss-style building erected in 1860-61 for Princess Eugenie. She left it to Oscar in 1889, and in 1927 he gave it to the YMCA.
Back to our silver box; the inscription states it was dedicated in Upsala – which we take as being present day Uppsala, not far north of Stockholm. What the Upsala Hunting Guard Association was, I could not find out – or what they were hunting – but he was a military man, and this was in the middle of World War Two.
Sweden in 1941 was of course neutral; they had built up their own military as they nervously eyed-off both Russia and Germany heading towards war in the Baltic, and when hostilities inevitably broke out, managed to keep both at arms length. August 1941 was a particularly concerning time, as Germany had just invaded Russia with great success – using iron ore purchased from Sweden to build up their military – and in turn causing the union of the ‘Allies’ of England, USA and Russia, in the fight against Germany. Sweden allowed German troop trains through their country on their way to the front with Russia in Finland. Fast-forward a few years and Sweden was allowing the Allies to send troops and supplies through their territory to beat Germany into submission; ‘neutrality’ with careful concessions got them through the war.
Somewhere in the middle of this, the 82-year old Prince Bernadotte, Count of Wisborg, had an event in Upsala, along with 5 companions; as a souvenir, they had silver cases with everyone’s signatures carefully inscribed on them. As the Count’s is the first on the list, could we say this was his?
The inscriptions are beautifully done, no doubt from a calling-card bearing the originals. The skill of the engraver is very evident, and brings to mind the ease at which this person could have forged such signatures. This opens up a world of possibilities, when we consider the other aspect of Sweden’s neutrality; Spycraft! As the neutral territory between Germany and Allied countries, all sorts of interactions took place via Sweden – leading to a need for forged ‘official’ documents, useful in crossing borders. An engraver of skill such as the person who did these signatures would have been well placed and in demand…
I wonder who this interesting piece of Swedish silver was presented to… and how did it make its way to Australia? perhaps like Grandpa Rosenberg, it came with the influx of people looking for a new life in this new land of promise…
We had a fine couple of Imari pieces put out in a recent ‘Fresh Stock Tuesday’ release, catalogued as Ridgway. Thanks to a keen collector online, and their nicely worded email (“I think there might be a mistake….”) – we now have a re-attribution, and an interesting story to go with it.
Our attribution came via the jug, which shares the pattern & pattern number mark with a sucrier. Slight differences in the pattern suggest different hands – probably different years – but both collected by the same Australian collector, who had an eye for lush Imari.
Coalport examples in ‘Cabinet of Creamers’
The jug was found in Berthoud’s ‘Cabinet of Creamers’ (p102 – pl. 609) where it conforms nicely to Ridgway circa 1812, the lower handle spur being distinctive, and having a flare to the top thumb rest. If we look at the Coalport example a few pages before (592 & 594) we see they have weak little spurs, and a flatter thumb rest….. another John Rose Coalport, pl 588, has the same issues. Ridgway seems a good attribution – and as the pattern number is the same on the sucrier, Ridgway seems good for both.
And then along comes the email…. stimulating a re-evaluation. Our lovely contact has given a reference to Geoffrey Godden’s ‘Coalport & Coalbrookdale Porcelains’, and there the mystery deepens. Illustration 69 is the same pattern – and he illustrates examples of it alongside the original John Rose Coalport pattern book, from which the painters sourced their designs…. irrefutable proof, as each of our pieces has the correct pattern number, ‘597’.
Pattern no. 597 – John Rose Coalport!
But we still have a non-conforming jug handle, according to Berthoud – and the sucrier to explain. On the next page of Godden is an illustration of a Anstice, Horton & Rose teaset – with the exact handle profile! Tis the other Rose…. in an interesting twist, while John Rose had a porcelain factory on one bank of the canal at Coalport, his younger brother Thomas ran one on the opposite side ( partnered with Anstice & Horton) for several years! Much confusion results, with patterns and shapes being copied by both…. so a piece without a number can be impossible to place. Both of ours have John’s numbers, meaning they have to be John’s production – and yet, here it is, on a piece considered to be Thomas’s variation of handle shape.
The Sucrier is perfect for John Rose, and bears his pattern number. Why is the same number on the jug? Perhaps the simplest answer is the correct one – John decorated a piece of Thomas’s production with his own numbered pattern. Was he one jug short for a tea service, and sent a boy over the canal to obtain one from his brother?
The other possibility revolves around the origins of the Coalport works, and the short life of the Anstice, Horton & Rose partnership.
John Rose is best know, beginning as an apprentice at the 18th century softpaste works of Caughley, not far as the crow flies from the Iron Bridge Gorge location of the Coalport works. He left (and later bought it up!) and set up the first Coalport works in 1792, alongside the newly opened Coalport Canal. This canal was a part of the huge network, the preferred method for industry to transport both raw products and the finished goods throughout England. The Coalport Canal was perfect for bringing in the clay and coal, and then safely transporting the fragile products to the markets in the big cities.
Coalport works depicted in 1862, Iron Bridge Gorge
The Coalport Canal, opened c.1792
A few years later, his younger brother Thomas sets up a porcelain factory on the opposite side of the canal. This is running by 1800, and made porcelains in exactly the same manner, and of the same quality as his brother. It must have been an interesting situation separated only by the canal….! While Thomas remains, there were a couple of partner changes – ie the money behind the costly business of porcelain manufacturing comes & goes – then in 1814, during the economic turmoil of the Napoleonic Wars, it all collapsed, debts were called in and his works is offered for sale. Unsurprisingly, his brother John – just over the canal – is the purchaser.
So the other solution to our mysterious jug revolves around the absorption of Thomas’s works by John. The jug was probably an undecorated white piece in 1814, and shortly after Thomas closed his works, made its way across the canal to be decorated by John’s artists. How does ‘Circa 1815’ sound? Perfect!
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While I have called this post the ‘War of the Roses’, there is no indication there was outright conflict; rather, the market seems to have been big enough for both brothers to provide very similar goods: perhaps sharing the workload for big orders. When economic uncertainty caused a drop in sales, only John survived. They did use different ‘pattern books’, and while Thomas’s has disappeared, we do have one of John’s, full of wonderful patterns to be painted onto porcelain. Amongst these designs are some contemporary notes, referring the reader to the ‘other Rose’: pattern 319 in John Rose’s book for example bears the note “No. 696 at Mr. T. Roses’.
We do try to be as accurate as possible – but as shown above, things can slip through. If you notice something, please send us a note!
A serious piece of British History has surfaced in Australia…. or has it?
In our current Exhibition is a remarkable discovery: a ‘Nottingham Alabaster’ carved figure of a Lady at prayer, a small dog at her side. The costume is superbly detailed, and allows us to date it firmly within the Elizabethan period, mid-16th century. A colleague joked ‘it’s Mary, Queen of Scots – with her dog’ – and so, a chain of research was started, with a startling conclusion.
Mary, Queen of Scots was one of English history’s great tragedies. Imprisoned by her half sister, her story is full of intrigue and mystery until her beheadal in 1587.
A quick google of ‘Mary Queen of Scots Portrait Bust’ came up with multiple examples of her, mostly originating with the funerary image placed on her memorial in Westminster Abbey (by William and Cornelius Cure, 1606-16). Comparison with our example is remarkable -they depict the same face! We have the usual high-forehead that was fashionable in the Elizabethan era – and a squared temple, eyes at slightly varied level, long thin nose, and chin with central dimple. Even her mouth conforms nicely. It’s the Queen!
left – our stone example – right- a plaster cast in the National Portrait Gallery, London.
When we include the small dog off to one side, the idea that this is depicting Mary, Queen of Scots, suddenly becomes real. The tragic tale of her execution includes the discovery of her small Skye Terrier ‘lap dog’ beneath her dress, covered in blood and refusing to leave the Queen’s headless corpse…..
There is no known ‘devotional’ figure of this nature of the Queen known, although it is just the sort of thing she may have commissioned. We could go through her sad tale and find the time in which she would have been able to do such a commission, in the mid 16th century, for a private chapel in one of her residences, perhaps? And then, naturally we start thinking of where a piece this important should be now: the National Portrait Gallery , London springs to mind…..
But first, it’s a bit grubby and needs a clean: and suddenly, the statue of the Queen takes a completely different path….
As the layers of dirt are washed away, several areas of restoration become evident, masked by plaster; the plaster is what has stained dark. Once it is off…. we have three areas of great concern.
her head
the dog
the cushion
The reason these appear different is because they are a completly different stone – white, instead of honey-toned. They are added to the carving.
In a twist of fate, the Queen who so tragically lost her head… has found a body! It becomes clear from the different stone used that what we are looking at is a Victorian ‘Restoration’, where a head, a cushion, and a dog have been added to an earlier sculpture. In other words, the very details that made it into a super-rare, unheard of sculpture of Mary Queen of Scots are actually all from the fertile imagination of a Victorian trickster. They created something that probably never existed!
We do wonder when it came to Australia: certainly a long time ago…. and so, it enters the list of ‘magnificent frauds’ that made their way to Australia, sold to some gullible wealthy squatter on a trip to London, probably back in the 19th or early 20th century. We have seen a lot of other examples – the fabulous ‘Sevres’ pieces we featured a few years back are exactly the same, partially original period pieces, but doctored up to make them impressive, rare, and saleable.
The origin of the head can be traced back to her memorial in Westminster Abbey. Her body was brought here by Charles I in 1612, and a magnificent marble construction with a depiction of the queen was created by the sculptors William and Cornelius Cure, 20 years after her execution and based on a small portrait miniature painted from life. This cast in turn inspired all the busts and statues of the Queen which appear in the Victorian era, when she became so popular – and when this well carved head was most likely to have been spliced onto a genuine Elizabethan relic….
Mary has been the subject of numerous films and books, and has quite a following on the web. One of the problems with the nature of information on the web is ‘anything goes’…. and in the case of Mary, we have misconception of the various plaster casts of her head as ‘death masks’. This is not the case, the plaster casts were all taken from the Cure creation, which was a re-construction from a miniature portrait of her painted from life. Calling these busts ‘death-masks’ would be as accurate as calling this wonderful Victorian Fraud an Elizabethan Devotional Statue of Mary, Queen of Scots…. it’s not quite right.
There are two pottery jugs in this week’s ‘Fresh’, sourced from the same amazing collection of early 19th Century pottery & porcelain as all the similar pieces we have released recently. Our research team had been working overtime (thanks John!) and poured through every book in the library to help identify the vast number of items that have come in.
This jug has a very similar example illustrated in the book ‘British Jugs’, marked for a Staffordshire company called Goodwin. Bridgewood & Harris. Case closed, maker identified…? not so fast!
There’s another example, in our collection, which bears an uncanny resemblance, although in porcelain rather than in pottery. Many manufacturers made the same shape in both bodies, the pottery being much cheaper to make, and therefore to sell, than the porcelain. This other example is from the small firm of Machin & Potts, which has until recently had very little documentation. Fortunately two collectors, Bill Thom and Phillip Miller, spent a good deal of time collecting and researching the firm, and published the definitive book in 2008. This exact same porcelain jug is in the book, identified by the unique dedication to a certain ‘R.W. KIRKBY of THRENTHAM HALL’.
Machin and Potts mark
This leads to an interesting detective trail of identification, involving a ladder, a beehive, a basket, several farm implements and a hen & rooster!
In the above image, you see the first clue; the porcelain jug. The illustration above reveals it to be the exact same piece of marked Machin. Below this (hidden by our jug) is another example with a pattern no. that conforms with known Machin teawares. You can see the tip of the handle though the handle-hole of our jug – it is an exact version of the smaller jug we have, shown to the right in the above photo. This jug has the amazing ‘scrap’ printed decoration, and a distinct pink lustre rim – both appear on the illustrated jug, giving us a close linkage; the small jug we have is also now attributable to Machin.
Then comes the ‘big one’ – the large jug with ‘scrap’ decoration. Its form is the ‘Dutch shape’ , a perfectly normal & popular shape that is very difficult to identify… usually. In this case, we have the prints, and a side-by-side comparison of the same items proves most interesting…. basically, they’re not just ‘similar’, they are identical, right down to the little flaws in the printing plate that have been replicated. Note- in the photos there is some distortion due to the curved surface of the jugs.
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The person who printed the smaller jug used the exact same printing plate as the larger jug, therefore most probably worked at the same factory:
Machin!
Footnote: Thom & Miller note “other makers including Goodwin, Bridgwood and Harris … made very close versions to this shape” – we trust the above identification of the prints used justifies our attribution!
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Then comes the ‘big one’ – 
