IT is a happy fact that the memory of Benjamin Franklin, such a splendid type of the citizen of Young America and such a fond lover of blue china, is enshrined among our choicest ceramic treasures. His well-known placid and kindly face looks out upon us from many a jug and punch bowl, and his jolly rotund figure lives forever in medallions and statuettes of French and English porcelain.
"Your father's face is as well-known as that of the moon," wrote Franklin from France to his daughter in America, referring to the many prints and medallions of his face which appeared in Europe; and almost as familiar to each succeeding generation of school boys is the interesting record of the life of this early American. The story of how the Boston printer boy spent his leisure hours reading such books as Plutarch's Lives, the London Spectator and Xenophon's Memorable Things of Socrates, forming his literary style therefrom; how he ran away to Philadelphia, reaching that city with but one dollar in his pocket; and how, by his own industry, thrift and perseverance, he grew to be one of the greatest men in history, is, like the stories of Columbus, of the Pilgrim Fathers and of William Penn, one of the helpful romances of America's early years.
Franklin's home life in Philadelphia was plain and simple, and for many years he ate his breakfast of bread and milk out of an earthen porringer with a pewter spoon. "But mark," he says "how luxuries will enter families and make progress despite of principles; being called to breakfast one morning, I found it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver! They had been bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of twenty-three shillings, for which she had no other excuse or apology to make but that she thought her husband deserved a silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbors. This was the first appearance of plate and china in our house, which afterward, in the course of years as our wealth increased, augmented gradually to several hundred pounds in value." In this manner Franklin was introduced to china tableware, the fondness for which grew with his years and with his wider opportunities for acquiring it.
We cannot dig deeply into the records of any civic or national institution of America without finding somewhere near the foundation the name of Benjamin Franklin. He was interested in all projects for the good of the colonies, his active mind putting into execution the best methods for improving every condition of affairs, therefore in examining the old-china chronicle of illustrations many phases of his work are revealed. The Philadelphia Library (as pictured in another chapter) was a small plain building, but within its walls was first sheltered the little collection of books which Franklin's literary club, the Junto, gathered for the use of its members, the collection expanding into a vast public Library. The Hospital Building (illustrated in the same chapter) which afterwards grew into the great Foundation of the Pennsylvania Hospital, affords another glimpse of Franklin's many-sided activities.
Franklin organized the fire company and the police force of Philadelphia, and the Academy he helped to found is now the University of Pennsylvania. Small affairs, as well as great, claimed his thoughtful attention—smoky fireplaces gave place to the Franklin stoves of our forefathers, farmers were instructed in the use of fertilizers, and sailors were taught the value of oil to still the troubled waves of the sea.
Franklin's famous discoveries that the frightful thunderbolt of the sky is but a huge electric spark, and that it can be drawn to earth and made the servant of man, became a favorite subject of china decoration. Plates picture the learned Doctor Franklin busily flying the immortal kite, which added to the sum of human wisdom by destroying forever the superstitious fear of lightning as a weapon in the hands of an angry God. Sometimes the portrait of Franklin is accompanied by this legend,
"Benjamin Franklin, Esq. LL. D. and F. R. S., the brave defender of the country against the oppression of taxation without representation—author of the greatest discovery in Natural Philosophy since those of Sir Isaac Newton, viz., that lightning is the same with electric fire."
Franklin medallions, printed with the motto in Latin: "He snatched fire from Heaven and the scepter from tyrants," were popular in France where they sold in large numbers. Franklin strove to supply not only the physical necessities of the colonists, but he also set himself the task of moral instructor, and his sermons, sent out in his Almanack under the guise of Poor Richard's sayings, entered thousands of homes where, with the exception of the Bible, it was often the only source of helpful influence. For twenty-five years the famous Almanack was printed, the value of its teachings being incalculable. Franklin's popular sayings naturally made their way across the sea to England, and the Staffordshire artists found in them fresh pictures for the decoration of their wares, stamping drinking mugs and small plates for children with colored pictures illustrating Franklin's "Morals," "Proverbs" and "Maxims."
"Poor Richard" gave practical advice for every condition of life, some of it humorous, some caustic, all, however, laden with a salutary lesson and an intent to do good to some person, and hidden beneath the wise saws we find Franklin's disgust for all shams, his censure of evil, his firm stand for honest ideals. Franklin collected the sayings of Poor Richard and printed them in narrative form, as if told by Father Abraham, another fictitious character, at an auction. The book was printed in England and later was translated into several languages, Poor Richard thereby becoming as well known a personage as Mr. Pickwick or Dr. Syntax. The story goes that at the time Franklin was envoy of the new Republic to the Court of France, Captain Paul Jones was in Paris, unsuccessfully trying to obtain a vessel from the French Court, and that one day while reading a French translation of Poor Richard's Almanack, he paused at the line, "If you would have your business done, go; if not, send"; without delay he went himself to Versailles and obtained an order for a ship. In gratitude he named the vessel Le Bon Homme Richard, which means "Poor Richard"—and his conquest of the Serapis is one of the historic tales of the sea.
In the illustrations may be found a number of Franklin's precepts which, set before children on their plates at table, had a share in forming the character of Young America. "Success to the Plow, the Fleece and the Pail; May the Landlord ever flourish, and the Tenant never fail" are homely sentiments illustrated by a milk maid, a sheep and the implements of a farmer. Another illustration teaches a lesson of skillful labor, "Handle your tools without gloves; Remember the cat in gloves catches nothing." Again, a well dressed old lady is pictured speaking to her daughter, who stands near her with a bunch of flowers in her hand, offering this advice: "Good Humor is the greatest charm that children can possess; It makes them happy, and what's more, it gives them power to bless." This illustration is one of a series of pictured precepts entitled, "Flowers That Never Fade," and is an expression of one of Franklin's favorite theories, one which he himself was in the habit of practicing—that good humor is one of Nature's flowers of character most powerful in its influence upon men.
"Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee," "Diligence is the mother of good luck," "He that riseth late must trot all day and scarce shall overtake his business at night," are a few of the saws with which Franklin strove to drive home the lesson of diligent attention to one's affairs. Franklin was a firm believer in improving each moment of the day, as the following proverbs make plain: "One To-day is worth two To-morrows," "Lost time is never found again," and the oft-quoted "Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."
A brightly colored plate pictures within a border of fruits and flowers a busy rural scene—a farmer planting a tree, a boy engaged at his task, and a vessel made ready to set sail—intended to illustrate the terse motto printed upon the back of the plate, "No Gains Without Pains." A familiar proverb of to-day, "Constant dropping wears away stones, and little strokes fell great oaks," belongs to this group. In a series of sayings classed under the title "Poor Richard's Way to Wealth," may be found these two: "What maintains one vice will bring up two children," and "It is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow." They are illustrated by pictures of two men in a tavern, one of them lazily smoking his pipe and the other raising a foaming glass of liquor to his lips. Upon the wall of the tavern is posted this warning: "Landlord, Caution, Pay To-day and Trust To-morrow," while in the background of the picture stand a neglected wife and her two forlorn children, the sad object lessons of evil habits. Another of the "Way to Wealth" series exhibits a portly prosperous farmer who has profited by Poor Richard's advice and grown wealthy, as his fat sheep and hog bear witness. His aristocratic neighbor approaches on horseback, lifts his hat and bows in respect, while below we read the caustic lines: "Now I have a sheep and a cow, Everybody bids me good-morrow." The design on the teapot, two farmers in a field, one plowing and the other sowing seed, illustrates the maxim: "He that by the plow would thrive, himself must either hold or drive."
In the year 1757, Franklin was sent to London to settle the disputes which had arisen in the colony of Pennsylvania over taxing of the estates of the Penn brothers, land which had been bequeathed to them by their father William Penn. While Franklin was in England, the process of transfer printing upon pottery was first practiced in the potteries of Liverpool, and, like all new things, it greatly interested him, and he tried to induce the potters to print a series of chimney tiles with his Poor Richard sayings, no doubt believing in this manner to bring his moral teachings more readily before the eyes and minds of the people of the colonies. But our forefathers were spared this novel method of preaching, as the English taste preferred livelier scenes upon their chimney pieces.
Franklin went again to London for the purpose of adjusting the measures of taxation, which England had imposed upon the American colonies, for ten years remaining there trying to prevent the enactment of those laws of the mother country—the Stamp Act, Duty on Tea and Boston Port Bill—which finally kindled into flame the smoldering fires of revolution. "Depend upon it," wrote Franklin in his practical way to a friend in America, "I took every step in my power to prevent the passing of the Stamp Act. . . . We might as well have hindered the sun's setting. That we could not do. But since it is down, my friend, and it may be long before it rises again, let us make as good a night of it as we can. We can still light candles. Frugality and industry will go a great way towards indemnifying us. Idleness and pride tax with a heavier hand than kings and parliaments. If we can get rid of the former, we may easily bear the latter."
As he was leaving England for his home in America, Franklin, in conversation with a friend, compared the British Empire to a beautiful china vase which if ever broken, could never be put together again. The first shot of the Battle of Lexington was fired while Franklin was on the sea, and it was as a conciliator in public affairs that he took his place in the troubled colonies— first, as a member of the Second Continental Congress, and later, as one of the committee to draft the Declaration of Independence. When it came his turn to sign the great document, Franklin, in response to Hancock's remark, "We must be unanimous, there must be no pulling different ways; we must all hang together," made the oft-quoted reply: "Yes, we must, indeed, all hang together, or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately."
A beautiful French statuette of pure white porcelain illustrates the distinguished part which Franklin took in the affairs of the Revolution, in winning the recognition of the countries of Europe for the young Republic. He crossed the sea for the third time, now as Ambassador of the infant Republic of the United States to the French Court of Louis XVI and the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. The statuette was designed to commemorate the treaty of the United States with France, made largely through Franlclin's influence, after the news of the surrender of Burg-oyne had opened the eyes of the world to the strength of the American cause.
We are told that upon the occasion of the formal recognition of the Treaty, Franklin intended to put off his plain dress and to appear before the King in Court costume, but the costume did not arrive in time, and the wig which the hairdresser brought refused to sit upon the Doctor's head. Franklin suggested that it might be too small. "Monsieur, it is impossible," cried the perruquier, and then dashing the wig to the floor, he exclaimed, "No, Monsieur, it is not the wig which is too small; it is your head which is too large." In the statuette, Franklin is modeled in his simple republican dress, a suit of striped silk which is now in the possession of the Historical Society of Massachusetts, with wigless head, in striking contrast to the King in his sumptuous royal garments. The face of Franklin is very fine, with much nobility and intelligence added to the benignancy and sweetness of expression with which his other portraits make us familiar. The attitudes of both King Louis and Franklin are full of dignity. Upon the scroll which the King holds out to his companion are inscribed in golden letters the words "Independence de l'Amerique," and "Liberte des Mers." Indeed, Franklin's plain large features, oft-times topped with the fur cap which he loved to wear, were almost always truthfully represented by the French and English potters, but his sober garb must have seemed to them scarce suited to one of his exalted station, for the gray garments are sometimes transformed in their kilns into yellow waistcoat, pink breeches and cocked hat; in one porcelain figure an ermine cape flows jauntily from his ample republican shoulders!
While in France at this time, Franklin enjoyed the greatest popularity with all classes of people. His "antique simplicity of dress and appearance" charmed the Court; his wide learning made him the intimate of scholars; shopkeepers ran to their doors to look upon this unique representative of a new people as he passed down the street. His picture was everywhere to be seen, porcelain medallions of his face being plentiful in Paris. "A variety of other medallions," writes Franklin at this time to his daughter, in the letter already quoted, "have been made since of various sizes; some to be set in the lids of snuff-boxes, and some so small as to be worn in rings; and the numbers sold are incredible. These, with the pictures and prints (of which copies upon copies are spread everywhere) have made your father's face as well known as that of the moon, so that he durst not do anything that would oblige him to run away, as his phiz would discover him wherever he should venture to show it. It is said by learned etymologists that the name of doll for the image children play with is derived from the word idol. From the number of dolls now made of him he may be truly said, in that sense, to be idolized in this country."
Franklin's friendship with Lafayette began at the time of this sojourn in France, through the young French officer's application to him for a commission in the American army—a friendship not overlooked by the potters, for in consequence numerous Staffordshire tea, breakfast and dinner sets picture a man in foreign dress, supposed to represent Lafayette, seated before a tomb inscribed "Franklin." An illustration of one of these designs is shown in the chapter on Lafayette's Visit to America. The English potters also produced Franklin medallions and placques, Wedgwood designing a blue and white jasper medallion of Franklin for his series of "Illustrious Moderns."
Like George Washington, Franklin was fond of having blue china upon his table, and while he was in London he sent quantities of it home to his wife, at the same time writing her that letter which contains the oft-quoted lines: "I also forgot to mention among the china a large fine jug for beer to stand in the cooler. I fell in love with it at first sight; for I thought it looked like a fat jolly dame, clean and tidy, with a neat blue and white calico gown on, good-natured and lovely, and put me in mind of—somebody."
Not only did the potters of France and England immortalize Franklin in their clay, but his fame spread to the Orient, and the artists of China and Japan also pictured this strange representative of a new world. The result, no doubt intended for flattery, is for us an occasion for smiles, for they have made him one of their own almond-eyed selves and have transformed his familiar fur cap into a close crop of woolly curls! The early American potters of Bennington, Vermont, about the middle of the nineteenth century likewise fashioned in clay the figure of this great American, as the Franklin cider jug or toby in the rich browns of their manufacture bears witness.
The following amusing epitaph, composed by Franklin during his early life as a printer in Philadelphia, deserves a place in this story of his life:
The Body(From The Blue-China Book by Ada Walker Camehl, 1916.)
of
Benjamin Franklin
Printer
(Like the cover of an old Book
Its contents torn out
And stript of its lettering and gilding)
Lies here, food for worms.
But the work shall not be lost
For it will (as he believed)
Appear once more
In a new and more elegant edition
Revised and Corrected by
The Author
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