The potted history of collectable Victorian pot lids

Who among readers of this weekly missive collects Staffordshire pot lids? Clearly no one who was at a sale I watched the other day because not one of 16 lots of the things, mostly with two lids in each lot, found a buyer prepared to pay the - generally - £80-120 per lot that the auctioneer was expecting.

Let’s assume the reserves were on the low estimate. Is £40 too much to pay for a colourful, ready-made (and often ready-framed) little work of art that once had collectors falling over themselves to own? Answer: a resounding yes. Fashions change and just like the Clarice Cliff vase that I know cost its owner £450 and she let go in the same sale for £260, it’s very easy to get caught out and left to count the cost.

Which I suppose means that now is the time to buy Staffordshire pot lids. They will probably never be cheaper. Read on and perhaps by the end, you’ll know what you’re looking for.

Read more »

So, farewell then wonderful Wedgwood

So, farewell then wonderful Wedgwood (at least in the form we know it today). You will be sorely missed … Last week, and with virtually the same words, this column mourned the passing of Woolworths.  Now another great institution is on the ropes.

Click here to see a Wedgwood wonderland

     Venture capitalists circle over the Barlaston works, enticed by Receivers who will be the only winners in the game, while a talented workforce of Staffordshire potters nervously awaits its fate.
    Founded by the great Josiah in 1759, Wedgwood once produced wares that everyone wanted to buy from Catherine the Great to people like my parents who just wanted a smart Sunday best teaset. Not any more it seems.
    The youngest of 12 children, Josiah was born at his parents' pottery in Burslem. He started school at the age of six, but was forced to leave on his father's death at nine.
    He then worked then for five years as apprentice in the family pot bank, but was then

Read more »

Farewell Woolworths – hello Homemaker

So, farewell then wonderful Woolworths. You’ll be sorely missed, and not just by the pick-n-mix crowd.

We drove past the shop where Mrs P was a Saturday girl on the cheese counter (remember the days when they sold food?). What remains is a cavernous white elephant on a High Street crippled by closures.

Click here to see a slideshow of Homemaker images*

Now the sales vultures have finished picking over the carcass, the detritus of the shopping giant has started to appear on eBay.

Staff T-shirts, customer service badges, rolls of “Sold By Woolworths” tape, even plastic

Read more »

Dorothy Doughty’s wonderful Worcester birds

First it was Springwatch, then it was a trip to Llyn Crafnant, the dramatic yet tranquil lake in Snowdonia National Park. We have caught the bird-watching bug - seeing three woodpeckers at the same time, presumably mum, dad and chick, was what clinched it.

Then these two characters turned up. According to the auctioneer, they are pre-production prototype figures modelled by Dorothy Doughty (1892-1962) and manufactured by Royal Worcester.

They are highly sought after by collectors, particularly those in America and with names like Mockingbird and Peach Blossom and Chickadee and Larch, that's hardly surprising.

They were issued in limited editions: 500 Mockingbirds in 1940 and 325 Chickadees in 1938 and they fetch appreciable sums. These prototypes, which exist presumably in even smaller numbers, are expected to sell for up to £3,000 apiece.

But it's Dorothy who interests me most. She was clearly a kindred spirit. She's also one of the finest modellers of birds and wildlife of all time.

She was born in Italy, daughter of the explorer and poet Charles Doughty, but came to England as a girl with her father and sister Freda. She studied at

Read more »

Why not start to collect 20th Century Ceramics?

Technorati Tags: Ceramics , Collecting , 20th century

YOU'VE SEEN them at countless car boot sales, and you've been embarrassed when you've  asked the stallholder how much he wants for the naff set of NatWest piggy banks, the SylvaC bunnies or the preserve pots shaped like onions modelled with faces on the sides.

Click here for a 20th Century Ceramics slideshow

But it's okay. Help is at hand in the shape of the latest glossy hardback to come from the stable of the Antique Collectors' Club, entitled "Starting to Collect 20th Century Ceramics". Author Andrew Casey is an acknowledged expert on the subject and his book has been produced specially with the novice collector in mind.

From the Lord of the Rings figures from the Middle Earth Series produced by Royal Doulton in 1980 to the Homemaker designs made in the 1950s for Woolworth's by Ridgway Potteries, Mr Casey's book is not just an exercise in "Do people really collect those?", but

Read more »

Highland gems

If you don’t know about “bickers”, “luggies”, “spongeware” or “hookies”, read on. Before 19th century industrialisation brought mass-produced consumer goods within the reach of everyone, communities relied on artisan craftsmen for their household tools and decorative knickknacks.

Nowhere is this more pronounced than in Scotland which has a long history of traditional crafts that are highly sought after today, particularly among tourist collectors looking to find objects related to the auld country. Perthshire dealer Becca Gauldie had all the answers.

Treen – the collective term for domestic items made from a tree – is plentiful throughout Scotland which is sometimes surprising, considering the lack of native forests.

Bickers, piggins, luggies and quaichs are all treen bowls made by tinker families, many of whom travelled around the country selling their wares from door to door. A bicker is a two-handled small, straight-sided bowl with flat handles. A piggin is similar but with upright handles, while a luggie is slightly larger and with one splayed upright handle. ll have an intricate "feathered" construction which picks them out as being Scottish.Read more »

Piggies can fly

In this, the last in a trilogy of columns about collecting Scottish antiques, I though I’d try to discover why these two pot pigs sold recently for £34,800 – each!.

It surprised even the auctioneers, who were expecting winning bids of around £10,000, not a new world record auction price. Interestingly enough, I once watched one sell for £90. Who told you antiques weren’t a good investment?

That said, you should probably not buy this stuff to make money.

Fashion being what it is, the gaudy, cabbage rose-bedecked pottery made from the late 19th century onwards at the Fife Pottery in the Gallatown district of Kirkcaldy is most definitely an acquired taste.

Buy it by all means, but only if you love it. There is no guarantee the price spiral it has enjoyed in recent years can continue.Read more »

Hunting for Bunny Money

I’m all for buying cheap collectibles and seeing them rise in value. That's why last week's column was all about Wade Whimsies. So, continuing in the same vein, this week's missive is all about another kind of whimsical figure: the durable "stoneware" models of cute little rabbits made by a company called PenDelfin.

Love them or hate them, the little things are everywhere and again like Whimsies, children love them.

Actually, although PenDelfin is best known for its rabbits, it's the rare earlier wares made by the company that are most sought after by today's collectors. But we'll come to them in a moment.

The story of how PenDelfin came into existence is a romantic one. The company was formed in 1953 in the shadow of Pendle Hill, just outside Burnley, in Lancashire.

Its founders were Jeannie Todd and Jean Walmsley Heap, who first met at an exhibition of paintings being staged by Burnley Artists' Society. The two worked together at a building society in Burnley. They became close friends and decided to go into business.

Pendle is perhaps best known for its famous witches. The historians among us will know that King James I, who hated witches, wrote a book about how dangerous witchcraft was and stirred up hatred among the populace to the point where no one was safe.

In Pendle, a young beggar woman accused of witchcraft had done nothing more than ask for some pins from the pedlar. He refused and she cursed him, whereupon sometime later he fell ill.

He later accused the woman of bewitching him and the ensuing investigation brought 19 more suspected witches to the courts. One was found innocent, the rest were hanged and Pendle passed into history.

The first piece made by Jeannie and Jean was a deep relief wall plaque, called the Pendle Witch, suitably modelled as an old hag complete with cat on her shoulder riding a flying broom stick across a full moon. She became the company logo.

PenDelfin was born, the name coming from Pendle and the elfin-like figures the company produced, and the two women never looked back.

Each contributed £5 as working capital and with the garden shed as company HQ, the entrepreneurs began by making Christmas gifts for friends. Jean modelled the figures from clay and Jeannie boiled rubber on the kitchen cooker to make moulds.

Soon the hobby became a full-time business. In 1954, Doreen Noel Roberts joined the company and the foundations of the design team - JWH and DNR - were in place.

The family of mischievous rabbits first appeared the following year. Father Rabbit was first and production continues to the present day creating a steady stream of attractive and highly collectable creations that were soon sitting on mantelshelves and in bedrooms around the world.

As more and more rabbits were introduced to the family, and demand increased, the company bought Cameron Mill, in Burnley, where production continues today.

The models are made from a durable stone-based compound which is the ideal medium for reproducing the sharply detailed features of the various characters.

Each rabbit figure is produced entirely by hand by skilled workers and each is hand-painted by specially trained artists capable of the shading, tinting and highlighting demanded by the designers.

A final coat of varnish is applied and only after strict quality control are the models packaged in their familiar turquoise and black boxes and dispatched internationally, more than a thousand flying out of the door every week.

Of course, it is those models that have ceased production which today's collectors crave. For example, if you can find one, the Pendle Witch plaque changes hands today for £800 or more.

Rare, early wares included nursery rhyme characters, ducks, Romeo and Juliet plaques (one of these has sold for as much as £2,200) and Manx kittens.

Interestingly, the kittens started life with a tail and were in production between 1956 and 1958. However, the tails were prone to been broken off, so the moulds were altered and the Manx kitten was created instead.

The kittens were made in only a short production run and only small numbers survive. An example coming up for auction today would have an estimate of £1,500 to £2,000.

Another rarity is the Aunt Agatha figure, produced for only two years between 1963 and 1965, which is also worth more than £1,000.

However, it is the PenDelfin rabbits that melt collectors’ hearts most. Father Rabbit appeared in 1955 and today is worth between £700 and £1,000.

He stands about eight inches in height and has large ears and the bottom to match. He wears dungarees and as a result, collectors refer to him as Dungaree Father.

His wife, Mother Rabbit, appeared in 1956 and the two began to breed, well, like rabbits! Children Robert, Margot and Midge appeared within a year but it was all too much for Dungaree Father.

He had a tendency to fall over because of his large bottom, so in 1960, he was remodelled and took the name of Kipper Tie Father. Not surprisingly, this was the result of his particularly eye-catching neckwear.

Kipper Tie Father was "retired" in 1970 and the Father figure was not seen again for another seven years. A third version of Father followed, the figure wearing a frill shirt and carrying a walking cane. He is worth up to £400 today.

Car boot sale collectors should also keep their eyes out for Cha Cha, introduced in 1959 and retired in 1961, and Aunt Agatha, introduced in 1963 and retired in 1965. Both of these can fetch £700 or more.

It is these retired, or withdrawn from production, figures that make them potential investments. The same could be said for the figures painted in varying colourways.

Like Royal Doulton collectors, buyers of PenDelfin bunnies set great store by seeking out the different and the unusual. Uncle Soames, for example, is among the most collectable of rabbits because of the numerous ways in which his outfits are painted.

In the earlier examples, his cravat and waistcoat were in brown and black respectively, but when the ladies who hand-painted him were given a free hand, he was turned out in all sorts of bright colours and various designs.

The diligent collector might enjoy searching out all the various combinations, but since he remained in production from 1959 until 1985, it might take him or her many years.

At auction, he can fetch anywhere from £80 to £250 depending on the colourway. Find an example with brown trousers and he could be an early example worth up to £500.

Megan the Harp (1961-67) and Squeezy (1960-70) are also worth picking up, given that they can fetch £100 or more.

Not surprisingly, there is an international collectors' club devoted to the figures. The so-called PenDelfin Family Circle was founded in 1992. Membership costs £20 a year and includes a free exclusive members' model and three issues of PenDelfin Times.

Few auction houses hold sales devoted entirely to PenDelfin products. One exception is Potteries Specialist Auctions who are based at 271 Waterloo Road, Cobridge, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffs (01782-286622).

antiques@chris-proudlove.co.uk

Go where the Whimsie takes you

It was a charming sight: two little girls standing at the end of the collectors' fair stall while each agonised over which "antique" they would purchase to add to their respective collections.

Each child clutched a £2 coin - either pocket money or perhaps a bribe, I thought, so their parents could spend unhurried time of their own at the fair on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Fortunately their mother was a patient woman too. The girls were spoilt for choice and the process took a good 10 minutes while each potential purchase was handled and inspected for its suitability.Read more »

Mystery antique: can you identify it and offer a valuation?

What do you do when you find an antique and need to get it identified? There used to be three choices: take it to a museum, a dealer, or an auction house and ask each in turn for an opinion.

The third choice is probably the best course of action because the first might be able to identify it but would be unable (or unwilling) to give you a value, while the second might be able to identify it but could give you a misleading price in the hope that you'll sell it cheap.

Now there's a new choice: ask online, which is what I'm doing here, because I genuinely have no idea who made this hand-painted pottery vase, or what it's worth. I bought it at a car boot sale for very little.

Clearly, it's a quality piece with some age - I'd say mid-Victorian. It's seen better days, though: one handle has been broken (not too expensive to have restored) and the gilding is badly worn. However, the flowers are beautifully painted and the foot is particularly interesting because it is decorated with a fish-scale pattern in deep pink. It measures 26 cms in height and I like it very much.

I just wish I knew which factory made it, who decorated it and what it's worth. All suggestions gratefully appreciated.

Click here for a slideshow of further images

Minton’s Secessionist Ware is an epitaph to designer Leon Solon

by Christopher Proudlove©
In the post preceding this I wrote about porcelain decorated with magical images made at the Minton factory by French émigré Louis Solon. But that’s only half the story. Louis had a son, Leon, born in Stoke-on-Trent, so he had china clay in his blood. Léon’s innovations earned him his own place in the history of English ceramics. He was responsible for producing the remarkable porcelain plaques illustrated here, but he will be remembered best for his introduction to the Minton factory of so-called Secessionist Ware.

You will recall that Solon the elder had trained at the Sèvres factory in France, where he perfected the pâte-sur-pâte technique. Literally “paste on paste”, this involved building up layer after layer of white slip clay to produce decoration with a unique cameo-effect on objects such as vases, tiles and wall plaques. His arrival at Minton revived the company’s fortunes. Louis also married wisely, choosing Maria, the daughter of Leon Arnoux, Minton’s art director and regarded by many as “the man who made Minton”. The couple had eight sons and one daughter.

The first born, Léon Albert Victor Solon (1872-1957) was no less gifted than his father, the objects illustrated here bearing testament to his genius. Solon the younger trained at the Hanley and Kensington Schools of Art and joined Minton in 1895, rising to become head of the firm’s Art Nouveau department. Minton was quick to adopt the Art Nouveau style and when Léon’s designs were published by the design magazine The Studio while he was still a student, Minton were equally quick to offer him a job.

The development of the Art Nouveau movement as it spread across Europe was shaped in part by a group of rebel Viennese artists who had turned their backs on the Establishment. Vienna in the last quarter of the 19th century was a city of divisions: the rich enjoyed a lavish lifestyle of society balls and extravagance, while the poor struggled with a housing shortage, hunger and misery. The city's young intellectuals, the artists, writers and scientists, looked to the new century for a new beginning.

For its artists, it came with the founding of a new society - the Secession - which, unlike Vienna's long standing traditional Society of Artists, was intended to raise concern for art in the city and promote contact with artists abroad. It was founded by Gustav Klimt, Kolo Moser, Josef Hoffmann and Joseph Maria Olbrich. They decided to form their own exhibiting society and to publish a magazine called Ver Sacrum - the Sacred Spring. The first exhibition was held in the spring of 1898 with already a sizeable contribution from foreign artists, including some from Britain - "corresponding members of the Secession" as they were called. In 1900, for example, Scottish designer Charles Rennie Mackintosh and members of his circle exhibited at the society's eighth show.

At the same time Minton was casting around for new ideas and with this European roots, Léon was eager to contribute. His first designs in 1898 were based on the principles of the Viennese movement and named Secessionist ware, underlining the Secession Movement’s impact even in North Staffordshire.

In 1901, Léon was joined at Minton by John Wadsworth and together they introduced many highly original designs to the Secessionist range. Shapes for the ornamental range of vases included inverted trumpets, elongated cylinders and exaggerated bottle forms, although tableware shapes remained conventional.

The complete Secessionist range comprised useful as well as ornamental wares including cheese dishes, plates, teapots, jugs and comports. Collectors today covet in particular the large jardinières, specially if their matching pedestal stands are complete and undamaged.

Initially patterns were accurate portrayals of themes from nature - flowers, birds and figures - but under the joint influence of Solon and Wadsworth, the natural sources were exaggerated and even distorted when the convoluted plant forms and floral motifs reach a peak of fantasy around the turn of the century.

Léon left Minton in 1905 and emigrated to America. The subsequent designs, the work of John Wadsworth alone, were well-defined, yet simplified abstract forms with the occasional use of classical motifs.

The body of the ware was made in cane-coloured earthenware and the surface decoration outlined in relief, either when each piece was cast from the mould or tube-lined. The latter technique involved squeezing a thin layer of liquid clay (slip) through a glass tube by hand on to biscuit (unglazed) ware in a fashion similar to icing a cake. The brightly coloured lead glazes were then painted within these outlines. Occasionally, a block-print would be used to produce a background effect, usually taking the form of foliage, and would form an integral part of the design.

One of the most visually stunning patterns on Secessionist ware features the so-called "Glasgow rose". This stylised, angular representation of the flower is probably one of the best known Charles Rennie Mackintosh motifs and it is fascinating to speculate on how Minton brought together Vienna, Glasgow and Stoke in a single piece. The final Minton catalogue for Secessionist ware was produced in 1920 but despite this relatively short production run, considerable quantities were produced. However, its individual hand-made appearance was largely retained and because of the instability of the coloured glazes in use at the time and the methods by which they were applied, firing produced somewhat unpredictable results. The effect of colours intermingling is often seen and imparts a distinctive character to the ware.

Most Secessionist ware is marked "Minton Ltd." with a distinctive black or green printed backstamp in swirling Art Nouveau style. When unmarked, "Mintons" can usually be found impressed into the clay. Impressed cyphers correspond to a year code by which a piece can be dated. Incised numbers of four digits identify the Minton shapes, while printed numbers denote the design sequence. Painted letters denote the various colour combinations used.

Pictures show, top: An extremely fine Minton porcelain plaque in multi colours depicting a bonneted lady in a long dress semi-kneeling at a shrine with a young seated angelic girl on a pillar and with an imaginary riverside townscape in the background, signed by Leon V. Solon. It sold for £1700. Below that is a Minton porcelain plaque depicting a lady in a long flowing dress kneeling at prayer, signed by Leon V Solon, 10.5 x 8 ins in a gilt frame. It sold for £1300

Below, left: These two Secessionist circular pottery plates, together with a similar square shallow dish sold for £240 in a recent auction of Minton ceramics

Right: The cover of Minton’s 1902 catalogue of Secessionist Ware

19679-060510-113930-90 Rate content:

© 2006 All Rights Reserved.

Royal Doulton Bunnykins figures - the perfect collectable Easter gifts

by Christopher Proudlove©

Ever eager to keep these columns current, I felt compelled to find something to do with Easter. Inspiration came following a local auction sale in which this trio of pottery Bunnykins figures were offered. In the event, they were knocked down for a staggering total of £2,810. If nothing else, the sale proved there is no upper limit to the prices some hard-bitten collectors are prepared to pay for Royal Doulton rarities.

The bunny rabbit, whose propensity for breeding is legendary, has long served as a fertility symbol for the Spring. Bunnykins figures came from the fertile imagination of a young woman whose father, Cuthbert Bailey, happened to be the managing director of Royal Doulton. As a child, Barbara Vernon Bailey had filled sketchbooks with drawings of the countryside, and of the animals kept by her four brothers and two sisters including pigs, cows, horses and ferrets, as well as the more cuddly dogs, cats and guinea-pigs. But it was the wild rabbits, brought to life by her father's exciting and sometimes frightening bedtime stories, that really delighted her. When, in 1934, Cuthbert Bailey hit on a new line of children's nurseryware, he turned to Barbara for illustrations rather than a professional artist.

However, by then Barbara had joined the Augustine Order and become Sister Mary Barbara in an enclosed Sussex convent. The prioress was far from happy with the idea. Fortunately, permission was granted, albeit reluctantly and on condition that no profit should be made from the project for either the artist or the convent. It was an unfortunate demand, denying the Order considerable royalties which could have been put to good use.

Nevertheless, in a scene lovingly lampooned in the figurine Sister Mary Barbara Bunnykins, Barbara worked late into the night from the light of a candle, churning out dozens of whimsical sketches drawing on her childhood memories and centred on Mr Rabbit who bore a distinct likeness to her father with his round glasses and puffing a pipe. Barbara's illustrations of rabbits gardening, bathing, dancing and cooking were an instant success and within a year, Doulton's Bunnykins pottery was in nurseries around the world. By the time of the Second World War, there were 66 different Bunnykins scenes decorating plates, cups, sugar bowls, jam pots and other crockery.

Six figures were modelled by Charles Noke

Barbara ceased drawing when her convent teaching duties meant she was too busy to continue and her designs had been withdrawn by1952, but other designers continued in the growing Bunnykins tradition. Doulton's Hubert Light and later Walter Hayward adapted her drawings and then the latter began to create his own busier version of the Bunnykins world. Colin Twinn subsequently designed Bunnykins scenes from 1987 until the mid-1990s and Frank Endersby took over in 1995. Barbara Vernon died in 2003 aged 92.

Bunnykins figurines were added to the traditional tableware in 1939 with six figures being produced for a very brief time. They were modelled by Charles Noke, Doulton's most important artist and are so rare today that only the most serious collector seeks them out. However, in 1972, soon after Doulton took over the Beswick factory, a second generation of nine Bunnykins figurines were produced and for the first 10 years, they reflected Walter Hayward's tableware designs, ranging from Artist Bunnykins to Sleeptime Bunnykins. They were modelled by Albert Hallam. In 1980, Harry Sales, the design manager at Beswick, took over the Bunnykins range and realised the potential of appealing to the adult collector. Suddenly the bunnies were jogging, playing the guitar, blasting off for the moon and in the late 1980s various limited edition colourways and specially commissioned Bunnykins models were produced.

It is the pre-1950s Bunnykins designs, especially those that carry Barbara Vernon's signature, that are in most demand today. Values of many of these early pieces are now in the £50 to £100 bracket, but rarer pieces such as large jugs or teapots can fetch £200 or £300 or more. The vast majority of more recent Bunnykins ware is more affordable and can be picked up at fleamarkets and car boot sales in the £10 to £35 price range. There is an international collectors' club which offers priority notice of new issues to Royal Doulton enthusiasts.
For further reading, the definitive guide to collecting Bunnykins figures is Royal Doulton Collectables (formerly Royal Doulton Bunnykins) by Jean Dale and Louise Irvine, the fourth edition of which was published in January this year. It contains information on 36 new shape/pattern combinations which have been added to the pricing tables and 20 new pattern combinations, several in the "rare" pattern category. The guide is available from all good booksellers.

Pictures show, top:
Auction pricebusters, left to right: Mother Bunnykins, sold for £900; Reggie Bunnykins, sold for £1350 and Farmer Bunnykins, which sold for £560 despite having a broken and re-stuck right ear

Below, left to right:
Rare early Bunnykins figures produced in 1939, clockwise, top: Mother, Farmer, Mary, Reggie Freddie and Billy. The teapot in the centre of the picture is particularly rare and is worth £400-600

Sister Mary Barbara Bunnykins. Barbara worked late into the night from the light of a candle, churning out dozens of whimsical sketches drawing on her childhood memories

Recognising the gift potential of the figurines, Royal Doulton make a range of Bunnykins modeled to reflect their professions. Picture here, left to right are Plumber, Chef and Teacher

Click here for a slideshow of more Royal Doulton Bunnykins pictures

Collect antique ointment pots - the instant hangover cure

by Christopher Proudlove©
Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português

As the nation recovers from the kind of hangover that happens only once a year, the Royal Society of Chemistry has come up with the answer: apparently the best treatment for the morning after is toast and honey.

I have another answer. Get hold of a copy of a new book, Historical Guide to Delftware and Victorian Ointment Pots, and two things will quickly have you back on your feet: studying the extensive list of ailments that quack Victorian "chemists" claimed they could cure ... and the prices some of these pots now command among today's collectors. It is sobering reading, to say the least.

The book and associated price guide is the work of Liverpool man Bob Houghton and his colleague Mark Priestley, who spent five years researching their subject. The result is a fascinating work which is sure to become the definitive guide to anyone with an interest in collecting.

It is the latter section which I found particularly fascinating. This relates to the Victorian and Edwardian era and is primarily focused on ceramic medical pots that were specifically sold to cure a range of common ailments - some mentionable, others less so!

Historical Guide to Delftware and Victorian Ointment Pots costs £20.00 (plus £5.00 P&P). It can be ordered on the Internet here; by email at ointment.pots@virgin.net or by contacting Bob Houghton directly on 07969 785350.

Medical science was still at a comparatively early stage in its development and many people still held strong beliefs in old cures, handed down through generations, which would provide instant and miraculous remedies for their illnesses.

Some of the makers and manufacturers tried to offer what they believed to be a genuine cure. Others sadly exploited the naivety and ignorance of much of the population and offered instant cure-all remedies with no substance other than alcohol or narcotics.

Ointment pots that broadly date to the Victorian and Edwardian period are very collectable because of their seemingly wild claims, their relatively small size and the significant variety that are now known. The pots also hold fascination for the general public and provide a view of a simplistic past era that existed just 100 years ago.

The Victorian era saw the rapid development of an urban industrial economy with high concentrations of population in major cities and a subsequent rise in the transmission of diseases. The time was right however for many to exploit the ignorance of many workers of the age.

The proliferation of cheaper mass production methods as well as increasingly sophisticated advertising helped to support the growth of many new industries to serve and target this lucrative market.

Thomas Holloway was amongst the first to recognise the power and potential of advertising and spent large sums on worldwide adverts for his ointment and pills. In 1851, UK patent medicine firms had a combined turnover of some £250,000 that grew spectacularly throughout the remainder of the century.

I met Bob Houghton in 2000 when I wrote about his schoolboy hobby of collecting ginger beer bottles which he dug from Victorian rubbish tips. At the time, he told me he had about 140 different examples but he also collected many relatable collectables such as toothpaste and cold cream pot lids which were used and retailed by Liverpool chemists.

He now lives in Marlow, Buckinghamshire, where he is group marketing manager for one of Europe's biggest packaging companies. He met Mark Priestly, who is head of tax for the same company, 14 years ago and has one of the largest collections of Victorian ointment pots in the country,

The book project was born out of a meeting with another great collector, Dr Anne Young, who has a great collection of Delftware pots which presented the opportunity to also include these fabulous early pots.,

By going through library archives, old Kelly's and Post Office directories, and with help from the Royal Pharmaceutical Society, the Welcome Institute and the Science Museum, it was possible to date the pots and when their makers were active. No-one has ever done this before.

In 1884, according to the Chemist and Druggist magazine, there were between 800 and 1,000 makers of patent remedies in Great Britain producing up to 5,000 different medicines with some 19,000 people who were employed by the industry in manufacture and distribution.

Many ointments were based on old remedies or at least attempted to engender the feeling that a successful recipe had been passed down through the generations. Brand names such as Mother Ashton, Mrs Croft, Mrs Hulse and Mrs Gares were used to personalise and reinforce the belief that each generation had a secret herbal recipe that could cure all ills.

Without any restrictions on the medical properties of ointments and cures, and together with the ease of manufacture of transfer printed pots on which the claims could be stated, the growth of the quack cure exploded. This is reflected in the vast range of people's occupations that sold ointment or salves and the fact that the sale of ointment was not limited to chemists or druggists.

Bicycle manufacturers, drapers, newsagents and even a school master are now known to have sold ointment over this relatively short period.

The trade directories are full of similar examples from 'unknown' proprietors such as William Spencer, who ran the Butchers' Arms in Lydiard Millicent, Swindon, in 1889 and also advertised "'Spencer's' ointment for burns, scalds & every description of sores & skin disease". Another, Mrs Sarah Ann Andrew, is listed in 1879 as a salve and ointment maker but also a coal dealer at 64 Broad Lane, Sheffield.

A growing number of potteries helped to support this potentially lucrative industry and ensured that high quality mass produced containers were available to all. Potteries were located throughout the UK and many produced ointment pots.

The demolition of the Maling Pottery buildings at Newcastle-Upon-Tyne uncovered examples of many of the items produced by this significant supplier, including, not surprisingly, ointment pots for the local business of George Handyside.

Similarly, when Buchan's Portobello Pottery buildings in Edinburgh were demolished in the early 1970s, hundreds of Singleton's Golden Eye Ointment pots were discovered.

Port Dundas, based in Glasgow, was another leading Scottish pottery that advertised it produced ointment pots as well as virtually every type of stoneware container imaginable.

Although there was initially no legislation to control the claims made by manufacturers about the powers of their medicines, all medicines in the UK were subject to tax. A government duty of 1½d was levied on all ointments retailing at 1/- (five pence) hence the vast majority of them sold for 1/1½d.

As medicine advanced, so the medical profession began to understand how damaging many of the false claims were affecting the profession as a whole. Most ointments contained little in the way of healing ingredients and many could also have done more harm than good.

The main constituent for most ointments was animal fat such as hogs lard or beef fat as well as bees wax and petroleum jelly which was used as a carrier for herbs or a range of active chemical based ingredients.

The analysis of one of the most popular ointments of the Victorian era, Dr. Roberts' original Poor Man's Friend ointment, showed that it consisted chiefly of Paraffin Molle, while Brown's Herbal Ointment was essentially just petroleum jelly.

Significant advances were made in medicine towards the end of the 19th Century. These were both scientific and also, importantly, in the regulation of medicine, principally by the British Medical Association (BMA) which began to take a leading role in influencing legislation on public health matters.

The exposure of quack medicine with the BMA campaign in 1909 resulted in many proprietors moderating the often exaggerated claims once attributed to their cures while increased scrutiny ultimately caused the demise of many patent medicines and several proprietors were actually prosecuted for fraudulent statements.

The First World War was a watershed for many manufactured products, and pottery containers were quickly replaced by cheaper forms of packaging, such as tins. A few companies continued to use traditional style ointment pots into the 1920s but further efficiency improvements in glass, labels and collapsible metal tubes ended their use by the 1930s.

Incredibly, it was not until the 1941 Pharmacy and Medicines Act that manufacturers were required to disclose the active ingredients on a products' label.

Pictures show, top: The Reekie ointment pot dates to the late Victorian period. The Reekie family were one of many during this period to sell ointment based on family recipes, which were handed down through the generations. This pot is very rare and commands a value of £350.

Below, left to right: Queen's Dentifrice. This early tin-glaze Delftware pot dates to circa 1770 and was possibly used by Jacob Hemet, Dentist to Queen Anne and George II. The pot is very rare and valued at £1,500

The Lees Paisley ointment pot is one of the most desirable Victorian ointment pots due to its sepia, pictorial transfer. The value of this small pot which claims to cure a plethora of illnesses is valued at £500+.

The cover of Bob Haughton and Mark Priestley's book

This attractive blue print transferred pot was sold by William Jones & Co., who had a number of shops in Liverpool and Bootle. The pot dates to circa 1870-80 and is very desirable. It's worth £250

The Johnson pot is very appealing due to the vast range of medical conditions it claims to cure. There are two sizes known - the smaller pot selling for 1s/3d and larger for 2s/9d. Value £350+

Clarice Cliff: doyenne of ceramic designers whose work is still fresh

by Christopher Proudlove�
Espa�ol | Deutsche | Fran�ais | Italiano | Portugu�s

We tend not to think about it but given time, antiques collectors will look back on the first few decades of the 21st Century and marvel at how life was then, probably in much the same way that we do today about the 1920s Art Deco period. What they will be collecting is anyone's guess, and if I knew, I'd be stockpiling now.

If I was clever, I'd be trying to come up with a catchy term that best sums up the mood of the era. "Nouveau Elizabethan", perhaps, or "Deco Revival" or, God forbid, "eBayian", so-called after all the people who buy and sell "eBayiana" on the Internet.

What will be interesting, from an historical point of view, is whether or not today's collecting trends stand the test of time. Will people still be going daft about Doulton, bonkers about Beswick and crazy about Clarice Cliff?

The cynics say the price spiral cannot continue. Hard-bitten collectors have a foot in two camps: on the one hand, as supply of the best stuff continues to dwindle, they hope beyond hope that they can continue to afford to add to their respective collections. On the other hand, if prices decline, so their investments become ever less sound.

It's a brave man who makes a prediction, and I ain't. But a conversation with a local auctioneer this week added another dimension to the conundrum: the popularity of Deco antiques looks set to continue for at least as long as the fashion to make our homes unfussy, uncluttered and unique.

Adrian Byrne, of Chester fine art and antiques auctioneers Byrne's, was in the middle of cataloguing a single-owner collection of Clarice Cliff ceramics. They had been sent for sale by an owner living on the North Wales coast.

Almost 60 lots of the pottery is about to come back on to the market for the first time in years after being in the private collection of someone who spared no effort to seek out and own the best.

He said: �This is some of the best Clarice Cliff I�ve been asked to sell for as long I can remember. The collection was assembled by a local man who really did appreciate just how important a figure Clarice was in the field of 1920s ceramic design. After years of collecting, however, he has run out of space in his home to display the museum-quality pieces to their full potential, so he has decided the time is right to give other collectors the opportunity to enjoy them as much as he has."

So who was Clarice Cliff?
She was born on January 20, 1899, in Tunstall, one the five towns of Arnold Bennett's Potteries. Father was an iron moulder, and she was one of seven children who, like most youngsters in the Potteries in those days, started work as an apprentice at the age of 13 in the local pot bank, Lingard, Webster and Co.
She had shown an aptitude for drawing while at elementary school, so it was a natural progression to learn freehand painting on pottery without the aid of printed or drawn outlines to follow.
After the customary three-year apprenticeship as an enameller, she left to learn lithography with Hollinshead and Kirkham and at the same time enrolled on a study course at Tunstall School of Art. On her 17th birthday she again changed her job, joining A.J. Wilkinson and Co. as a lithographer.
Her career with Wilkinson's Royal Staffordshire Pottery at Burslem was to last a lifetime and its managing director, Colley Shorter, was later to become her husband.
Clarice�s artistic ability was first noticed by Shorter's brother-in-law, Jack Walker, who was decorating manager at the Wilkinson pot bank. By chance he saw one of her drawings of a butterfly on a piece of lustreware and from then on, she was allowed to experiment.
In 1927, she was accepted by the Royal College of of Art in London to study sculpture, but she returned to Burslem after only a few months away and set up a studio in the Newport Pottery showrooms which had been acquired by Wilkinson.
Within a few months she had added original and extravagant decoration to the firm's traditional wares which were so popular that new lines had to be hidden away for fear industrial spies would steal them and sell them to rival companies.
With a handful of girls working for her, she hand-painted 60 dozen pieces of existing stock and sent them out for market testing in 1928. Clarice called this early ware "Bizarre" and after a cautious reception from the trade, the market testing was an enormous success, selling out instantly. A year later, in 1929, the entire Newport factory was given over to producing Bizarre pottery.
Output between 1929 and 1935 was prodigious and the ware was being shown at most of the big exhibitions. For the big occasions, Clarice would take a group of her Bizarre Girls, as she called them, to bedeck the display and promote sales.
They would be dressed in smocks, large neck bows and artists' berets, accompanied by a "pantomime" horse called Bizooka, from which hung examples of the ware.
In 1940, Colley Shorter's first wife died after a long illness and he and Clarice married that same year at Staffordshire Register Office.
By 1941, however, the Bizarre shop was forced to close when output from the Newport factory was given over war work for the Ministry of Supply. After the war, a combination of diminished appeal, dearer raw materials and shortage of trained labour led to the demise of the ware.

He would say that wouldn't he. But it was another remark that made me stop and think. Adrian added: �Clarice Cliff pottery is an investment which is always going to give a good return. Its perennial appeal is based on its timelessness in terms of design and aesthetics. For a home with modern interiors or based on an Art Deco theme, it�s the perfect accompaniment."

And there you have it. Could this be the answer? And could this be the reason why Clarice Cliff will only ever get more expensive? Who knows, in 2105 all the best stuff might well be in museums.

The answer then might well be to buy now while stocks last. They're not everyone's cup of tea, of course, but Clarice's crocks were always expensive and were aimed at the Harrods market, not Woolworth�s.

But they were good fun. What makes them so appropriate today is their angular designs and bright, gay, hand-painted decoration. There's something very cool and chic about laminate floors, plate glass and chrome furniture and leather chairs. Light, neutral colours are demanded by interior designers, but it's easy to fall into the trap of characterless uniformity.

Introduce half a dozen examples of Clarice Cliff into an interior and no one could accuse you of being characterless.

Go back 30 years and the world had forgotten Clarice Cliff. Her weird, brightly coloured pottery was consigned to the top shelves of junk shops and if anyone was mad enough to want to buy it, it was theirs for a few shillings. Today, all that has changed. In these minimalist times when d�cor is pruned back to bare essentials and sleek, clean lines are de rigueur, Clarice�s so-called Bizarre pottery is totally at home.

Clarice�s gaudy Bizarre pottery was once derided by the purists. Then in 1972 the directors of Brighton Museum and Art Gallery organised the first Clarice Cliff exhibition.

Clarice provided notes for the accompanying catalogue and also donated some pieces from her own collection, but she never attended and shied away from the publicity. The exhibition wowed visitors who were intrigued to learn this doyenne of Staffordshire's Pottery Ladies was still alive. Her death the same year served only to heighten their interest

In the following year, the London gallery, L'Odeon, staged a major exhibition of Clarice Cliff which was attended by many of the Bizarre Girls. They were an intensely proud and loyal band of paintresses who were considered among the elite of their day in the Potteries.

Blockbusting London sales of her ceramics followed, the first at Christie�s in June 1983, which put Clarice�s name back on the lips of collectors worldwide, particularly among the younger generation looking to invest in antiques.

Today she is lauded as one of the most influential ceramic artists of the 20th Century.

Pictures show, top: Clarice�s crocks, left to right: a Wilkinson Meiping vase, in the Melon pattern, circa 1930-32, (Estimate �700-1,000); a Newport Meiping vase, decorated in the Whisper pattern (�1,500-2000); a Newport conical sugar sifter, in the Blue Autumn pattern, circa 1931, (�800-1,200); a Newport vase in the Sunray pattern, circa 1929-30 (�600-900)

Below, left to right:
Plate glass, chrome and black ash furniture makes the perfect backdrop for Clarice�s crocks. Left to right, top: a Newport Lotus jug, decorated with the Sliced Fruit pattern, circa 1930, (estimate �700-1,000); a Newport Meiping vase, decorated in the Whisper pattern (estimate �1,500-2,000). Middle a Newport biscuit barrel decorated in the football pattern, circa 1929-30, (�1,000-1,500); a Newport Coronet jug, in the Orange Picasso Flower pattern, circa 1930, (�500-800). Bottom: a Wilkinson vase in the Melons pattern, circa 1930-32 (�800-1,000).

Centuries collide: left, Clarice�s Newport Meiping vase, decorated in the Whisper pattern (estimate �1,500-2,000); right, a Wilkinson vase in the Melons pattern, circa 1930-32, (�800-1,000),

Prices are going up for investors with ultra modern homes. From bottom: a Newport Lotus jug, decorated with the Sliced Fruit pattern, circa 1930, (Estimate �700-1,000); a Newport Meiping vase, decorated in the Whisper pattern (�15,00-2,000); a Wilkinson vase in the Melons pattern, circa 1930-32, (�800-1,000). Furniture from Chattels The Furnishers, 42 City Road, Chester

History in an antique: every collector jug tells a story

by Christopher Proudlove�
Espa�ol | Deutsche | Fran�ais | Italiano | Portugu�s

One of the joys of collecting is talking to other collectors, so it was a pleasure to receive an e-mail this week from someone in Bala who wanted advice about a rather smart antique pottery jug. That's Bala, Ontario, not the lakeside village in North Wales, which is one of the joys of the Internet (see panel). Never has there been a better way to exchange knowledge and trade with collectors, wherever they might live.

So, in the never-ending quest, we resolved to identify the maker of the jug and learn all about it. The first part was easy. As can be seen in the accompanying illustration, the base of the jug carries and impressed mark which reads "Published by W. Ridgway & Co Hanley, October 1, 1835.

What makes this jug particularly interesting is that it is decorated with the famous story of Tam O'Shanter, based on scenes from the poem by Robert Burns (1759-96).

But first things first. The famous Ridgway family of potters have a complicated history. In simple terms, brothers John and William succeeded their father, Job, who trained at Swansea and Leeds before returning home to Hanley in 1781 to found a pottery company of his own.

He built the Cauldon Place Works in Shelton in 1802 and the two boys joined him in 1808. Job died in 1813 and the brothers continued trading as partners until 1830 when they went their separate ways.

John retained the factory where he produced porcelain fine enough to receive Royal assent as Potter to Queen Victoria.

William, meanwhile, concentrated on fine quality domestic earthenware and was clearly successful -- he went on to own six factories in the Potteries.

How it got to Canada is unclear, but the fine relief moulded jug is a William Ridgway speciality, one of more than 25 with different designs, made over a period of almost 30 years at his Church Works in Hanley.

Fortunately for today's collectors, the varying designs or either published or registered and many bear impressed marks,which means they can be dated with some certainty.

Interestingly, the Tam O'Shanter jug is the earliest Ridgeway jug to carry a date mark.

It tells the story based loosely on Douglas Graham of Shanter, Ayrshire (1739-1811), whose wife Helen was a superstitious shrew.

He was prone to drunkenness and womanising on market day and on one such occasion the local wags clipped his horse's tail - a fact he explained away with a scary tale of witches which his wife was naive enough to believe.

On one side of the jug we can see Tam carousing away the evening of market day in the local hostelry:

Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi reaming sAats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnie,
His ancient, trusty, drougthy crony:

However, "the minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure", the clock on a wall showing almost midnight, Tam must quickly make his way home.

But in his inebriated and confused state, he claims he is waylaid by a couple of warlocks and witches and is forced to run for his life.

Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin!
In hell, they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!

The witches give chase and Tam heads for the river, knowing that they are unable to cross running water.

But before his grey mare Meg, or Maggie, reaches the bridge:

For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie's mettle!

Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

The other side of the jug shows the chase. One of the two witches in the seen is shown clinging on to the horse's tail just as Tam reaches the bridge over the stream, while the jug handle is modelled with a hand clutching the tail.

The designs are almost certainly copies of contemporary prints taken from pictures in circulation at the time. Most notable among them are illustrations by the eminent engraver Thomas Landseer ARA (1795-1880) brother of the famous Sir Edwin Landseer, which were published in an edition of Burns's poem by Marsh & Miller of London in 1830.

The email from Canada asking for information about Ridgway jugs in fact began: "Hello from the Moon"!
Its sender went on to explain that his home was situated where the Moon River flows into Lake Muskoka in Bala, Ontario. "We live on the Moon River. And so, we live on the Moon!"
Bala was founded in 1868 by Thomas Burgess, a settler born in Scotland who had visited North Wales prior to emigrating. On his arrival he said the area and its lake reminded him of Bala and he decided to adopt the name.
Burgess built a sawmill, opened a general store, bakeshop, blacksmith's shop and post office and in 1917, the family helped establish a hydroelectric plant on the site of the original sawmill.
In 1922, Lucy Maud Montgomery, author of Anne of Green Gables, vacationed at Bala and was inspired to write The Blue Castle. The boarding house she stayed in is now home to the Bala Museum and has become a shrine to her.
The town is officially twinned with our own Bala in Gwynedd.

Interestingly, the scene inside the inn and the handle formed by a witch's hand clutching the horse's tail can also be seen on a Burns jug manufactured by another potter which appeared a year before the Ridgway version.

The coincidence is too great and it can be safely assumed that Ridgway copied the idea from the other potter. At the time, the laws of copyright were but a twinkle in a lawyer's eye.

It was common practice in the middle of the 19th century for potters to take their inspiration for events going on around them. Modellers of Staffordshire flatback figures depicting famous politicians, soldiers and actors copied the illustrations in the broadsheets, penny dreadfuls and playbills and printers made a good living by publishing prints of engraved illustrations specifically for the pottery industry.

Another charming Ridgway jug is modelled with the story of John Gilpin's ride, while others are similarly decorated in relief with classical motifs, arabesques, fruiting vines and other naturalistic elements.

Oddly, such crisply modelled examples of the potter's skill, whilst becoming less common, remain surprisingly affordable. It is more than possible to pick up an extremely fine and undamaged example for under �200, while �80 to �120 is the going rate for most at auction. Of course, replacement value for insurance purposes is somewhat more.

As a result, it is eminently possible to build a collection of Ridgway jugs picking up an examples of the many different designs available without breaking the bank. They make a fascinating documentary of middle-class aspirations during the course of the Industrial Revolution that brought great wealth to a relative few.

Pictures show, top:
The Ridgway jug showing poor Maggie in full gallop but with a witch hanging on to her tail

Below: left to right: The reverse of the jug decorated with the scene inside the tavern showing Tam enjoying a foaming quart being poured by the landlord�s wife

The illustrations of the same scenes by Thomas Landseer from an edition of the Robert Burns poem Tam O�Shanter published in 1830

The jug handle formed by a witch�s hand grasping the horse�s tail

The impressed mark on the base of the jug, It reads: Published by W Ridgway & Co Hanley October 1, 1835

The man who brought marble sculpture down to size

Español | Deutsche | Français | Italiano | Português

by Christopher Proudlove©
Remember the pantograph from your childhood? I recall using one to copy maps from atlas to geography exercise book at school.

One arm acts as a small pointer while the other holds a drawing implement such as a pencil. By moving the pointer over a diagram, a copy of it was drawn on another piece of paper.

By changing the positions of the arms in the linkage between the pointer and pencil, the scale of the image produced can be reduced or enlarged.

Since its principals are based upon Euclidean geometry, it is possible that that the pantograph has been around for thousands of years.

Artists soon adopted its use to duplicate drawings and it is believed that Leonardo da Vinci used one to duplicate his drawings on to canvas.

Sculptors and carvers also adapted the pantograph to trace the outlines of drawings on to blocks of marble or wood as guides for carving.

Towards the end of the 18th century, pantographs were used to cut wooden letter blocks for use in typeset printed material and later still, pantographs were invaluable in the engraving of gold and silver objects, especially those not flat.

Sculptors subsequently developed the pantograph to duplicate low-relief carvings and by the 19th century, the so-called swing-arm pantograph was capable of duplicating complex pieces much faster and more accurately than by hand.

Michelangelo's "David" was one of the most popular statues copied by this method as the Victorian era experienced an explosion of interest in reproductions of statuary from antiquity.

Portrait busts of famous figures in literature, politics and music of the day also became popular and the duplicating pantograph made actual marble busts affordable.

Enter one Benjamin Cheverton (1796-1876) artist craftsman, technician and entrepreneur who invented the Cheverton Reducing machine in 1836.

The great inventor and steam pioneer James Watt (1736-1819) had developed a machine to produce scaled-down copies of original works and Cheverton perfected the machine for commercial use.

Cheverton was himself a sculptor but also an engineer. His machine, not unlike an old treadle dentist's drill, used parallel arms, one terminating in a probe and the other in a rotating cutting bit.

As the probe was moved over the full sized version of the sculpture, gearing caused its shape to be duplicated by the cutting arm.

Thus, a soft material such as ivory, plaster or alabaster anchored beneath the cutting bit would be carved with the precisely the same details but on a smaller scale.

Where multiple copies of the sculpture were required, the plaster model could then be used to produce a mould.

The success of the Cheverton Reducing Machine was the key to leading artists of the day accepting the idea of their work being copied and duplicated as many times as their was demand for it.

Patented in 1844, the machine was the toast of the Great Exhibition of 1851. Cheverton displayed its capabilities by making a reduced copy in alabaster of Theseus from the Elgin collection in the British Museum, for which he was awarded a coveted exhibition gold medal.

At about the same time - the history books plump for 1845, although the exact date is uncertain - a new highly vitrified, translucent, creamy-white ceramic body appeared on the scene which the Minton ceramic company christened Parian.

This had excellent moulding qualities which enabled modellers to capture the finest of detail.

When fired, the unglazed biscuit porcelain produced a finished article closely resembling marble ... hence its name, after the marble from the mines on the Greek island of Paros.

Originally called Statuary Porcelain, the combination of Cheverton's Reducing Machine and Parian brought classical sculpture within the reach of the masses. Soon just about every pottery company in the country was producing Parian ware.

However, Minton, together with Copeland and Garret, also of Stoke, were among the most productive and possibly proficient.

Christmas present for Queen Victoria

Both had displays at the Great Exhibition and when Queen Victoria visited the former's stand, she purchased various Parian figures.

Also displayed was a parian figure of the Prince of Wales, a copy of an original by the sculptor Winterhalter. This was purchased by the Prince Consort as a Christmas present for Queen Victoria.

Many new models came into production, mainly through Herbert Minton's association with Sir Henry Cole, who ran Summerly's Art Manufacturers.

This was a marketing organisation founded in 1847 to encourage well known artists to design everyday goods for industrial production.

John Bell, Richard Redgrave and Richard Westmacott were among the designers who spent time at Minton supervising their work being made up in Parian.

The result today is an extensive array of statues and busts of characters from classical mythology, sport, politics, the arts, religion, royalty, business and industry, none of which could have been possible without Cheverton's Reducing Machine.

Wisely, Cheverton appears to have resisted the temptation to sell his rights to it, choosing instead to control its output personally.

After his death in 1876, various other similar machines appeared, notably the Profilometre made by Frederic Sauvage.

However, being first, it is Cheverton who is regarded most highly by today's collectors.

When biggest isn't always best

Sometimes biggest isn't always best. In 1992, a life-size Scottish marble bust of an unknown female sitter sold in a London auction for £825. In their last sale, Chester fine art auctioneers Byrne's sold a five-inch version of the same bust - by now identified as Lady Sophia Frances Rutherfurd - for a staggering £14,950.
The price is believed to be an auction record for a bust by Benjamin Cheverton whose Reducing Machine enabled miniature copies of a sculpture to be produced as an exact copy down to every tiny facial feature and fold of clothing.
The miniature ivory bust was sent for sale by a couple who had owned it for many years, aware that it was made by Cheverton (it was inscribed with the fact on the base) but unaware of who he was or the identity of the sitter.
Byrne's were able to shed light on both issues: Adrian Byrne studied Cheverton's work at university and wrote his dissertation on the inventor and innovator, while research by partner Jo Boucher revealed the sitter to be the daughter of Sir James Stewart of County Donegal, Ireland and wife of Scotland's Lord Advocate Andrew Rutherfurd.
Given her husband's prominent position, Lady Rutherfurd was a noted Edinburgh hostess and the family's close friends included Lord Jeffrey, Lord Cockburn, and the architect William Playfair.
The full-sized bust was the work of Sir John Steell (1804-1891) who was appointed Queen Victoria's Sculptor in Scotland, and created many of the public statues in Edinburgh. They include the equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington outside Register House and that of Sir Walter Scott at the centre of the Scott Monument
On Lady Rutherfurd's death in October 1852, Steell was commissioned by her husband to sculpt her portrait bust in marble and Steell made a death mask to assist in the process.
Steell had recently completed portrait busts of Lord Cockburn (1851) and Lord Jeffrey (1852) and during 1853, Steell also executed a bronze bas-relief panel featuring both Lord and Lady Rutherfurd in profile for their red granite funerary pyramid designed by William Playfair in Dean Cemetery, Edinburgh.
Steell's depiction of Lady Rutherfurd as a Roman matron was probably in view of her husband's erudition and love of the antique. Lord Rutherfurd's first design for his wife's tomb was for a marble copy of an antique funerary urn on an altar.

Pictures show, top:
Benjamin Cheverton's finely carved ivory miniature bust of Lady Rutherfurd after an original sculpture by John Steell. The ivory bust measures around four inches and is mounted on a five-inch black marble column, inscribed 'J Steell, Fec.t/Cheverton Sc.'. It sold last week for £14,950. The full-size model for it fetched £825 in a London sale in 1992. (Photo: Byrne's, Chester)

Above, left:
The Scottish marble bust of Lady Rutherfurd, sold in a London auction for £825 in 1992. (Photo: Christie's Images)

Right:
A contemporary marble bust of Benjamin Cheverton, inventor of the Reducing Machine. (Photo:Science Museum, London)

Below, left:
A Copeland Parian figure of Clytie, in Greek mythology the mistress of the sun god Helios. Her jealousy of her sister Leucothea, who shared his affection, led Clytie to plot her sister's death. Losing Helios' love as a result, she died of despair and her body gradually took root and she metamorphosed into a plant, the heliotrope which always turns its head to the sun. The Victorians loved the myth and Clytie was in popular countless middle class drawing rooms. She's worth £400-600

Right: Benjamin Cheverton's reducing machine ... think of a 3D pantograph