Pottery and Porcelain: 2010

Chapter C: The Willow Pattern And Other Important Blue China Series—Story Of The Willow Pattern

THE Willow Pattern has been perhaps more popular and more universally familiar ever since the first use of the color blue in English potteries than any other design put upon tableware, but in spite of this fact a surprising amount of ignorance or of half-knowledge concerning it still persists. The Chinese story which inspired the English potter-apprentice Thomas Minton, about the year 1780, to compose and engrave the design to illustrate it may best be given in the form of one of the many delightful bits of verse which formerly were taught to children along with their nursery rhymes:

"So she tells me a legend centuries old
Of a Mandarin rich in lands and gold,
Of Koong-Shee fair and Chang the good,
Who loved each other as lovers should.
How they hid in the gardener's hut awhile,
Then fled away to the beautiful isle.
Though a cruel father pursued them there,
And would have killed the hopeless pair,
But kindly power, by pity stirred,
Changed each into a beautiful bird.

Here is the orange tree where they talked,
Here they are running away,
And over all at the top you see
The birds making love alway."

The large pagoda at the right of the design, as reproduced from an old platter, is the palace of the wealthy Mandarin, while upon the terrace stands the summer house where Koong-Shee, the lovely daughter of the Mandarin, was kept a prisoner in order that she might be concealed from Chang, her father's secretary, who loved her and whom she wished to marry. But, as the story runs in "Old China," Chang was poor and the Mandarin had selected a wealthy suitor for his daughter's hand. From her chamber in the prison the unhappy maiden watched the willow tree blossom while yet the peach tree was only in bud, and she wrote verses in which she voiced the hope that before the peach blossoms appeared, she might be free. Chang, however, found means to communicate with Koong-Shee, once by sending a note in a tiny cocoanut shell, which by the aid of a small sail made its way to the captive maiden. Koong-Shee replied by scratching on an ivory tablet the challenge, "Do not wise husbandmen gather the fruits they fear will be stolen?" and, putting the tablet in the boat, she sent it back to her lover.

Chang received the message, entered the Mandarin's garden in spite of the barricades which had been erected to keep him away, and eloped with Koong-Shee. The father gave chase, and there on the bridge the three may be seen—Chang carrying a box of jewels, Koong-Shee with a distaff in her hand, and the angry Mandarin with a whip. The lovers escaped, however, entered the little boat, and sailed away to Chang's house on the island, where they lived happily until the rejected suitor discovered them and burned their home. Then, from out the ashes of Chang and Koong-Shee, who perished in their bamboo grove, there arose two spirits in the form of white doves—the lovers, who forever hover over the scenes of their earthly happiness.

Nearly all of the Staffordshire potters at one time or another made use of the Willow Pattern, or of variants of it. Some of the English designs, erroneously called Willow, have but two men on the bridge, or one man, or they have no boat or birds, being in reality merely arrangements of oriental motifs—trees, pagodas, fences, bridges, etc.—to suit the fancy of individual potters. The borders, too, vary with the pattern in the center, the butterfly, Joo-e dagger, fish-roe, fret, etc., etc., with their own adaptations, offering a separate subject for speculation and identification. The scope of this volume, however, forbids an extended review of this very interesting study of Oriental influence upon the early ceramic art of Europe.

Doctor Syntax Designs

A very interesting series of dark blue prints on pottery was published by James Clews, after the original designs of the English caricaturist T. Rowlandson. Contrary to the usual method of procedure, rhymes were composed to fit the pictures, the combined product becoming very popular in London. William Combe, an eccentric author who was at the time an inmate of a debtors' prison, pinned the cartoons upon the wall of his cell and penned the verses for them. Blue pottery manufacture being at this time at its height in Staffordshire, the well-known Doctor Syntax was made to cater to the sales of pictured tableware in America. The story goes that the learned Doctor, a poorly paid curate of a small English town, sets out upon his gray mare Grizzle on a "Tour in Search of the Picturesque." In his farewell to his wife Dolly, he explains his purpose:

"You charm my heart; you quite delight it;
I'll make a tour — and then I'll write it,
You well know what my pen can do,
And I'll employ my pencil too;
I'll ride and write, and sketch and print,
And thus create a real mint;
I'll prose it here, I'll verse it there,
And picturesque it everywhere."

Then, as the print here presented pictures:

"At length the ling'ring moment came
That gave the dawn of wealth and fame.
Incurious Ralph, exact at four,
Led Grizzle, saddled, to the door,
And soon, with more than common state,
The Doctor stood before the gate.
Behind him was his faithful wife:
'One more embrace, my dearest life;'
Then his gray palfrey he bestrode,
And gave a nod and off he rode.
'Good luck! Good luck!' she loudly cried,
'Vale! O Vale!' he replied."

According to the illustrated rhymes, a long series of adventures await the traveler—he is attacked by ruffians and tied to a tree; he is rescued by two women who appear on "trotting palfreys"; he loses Grizzle, finding him at last with cropped ears and tail, as he thereafter appears in the illustrations; he visits Oxford, loses his money at races, etc., etc. Finally, he reaches London and arranges with a bookseller for the publishing of his Tour. Then, having created his "mint," he returns to Dolly, who, learning of his success:

" . . . . started up in joy's alarms
And clasped the Doctor in her arms."

After several years of happiness, Dolly dies. Doctor Syntax then goes upon a "Tour in Search of Consolation," accompanied by his valet Pat. So successful was this supplementary series that it was quickly followed by a third " Tour in Search of a Wife," wherein after many experiences the sorrowing Doctor secures a mate the equal of his lamented Dolly. His end is an anticlimax—he tumbles into a pond, takes a cold, and dies. A stone is raised to his memory . . .

"And, as the sculpture meets the eye,
'Alas, poor Syntax!' with a sigh,

Is read by every passer by;
And wakes the pensive thought, sincere,
Forever sad! . . . forever dear!"

At least 30 of these prints have been found upon pieces of tableware, the ceramic specimens at the present day almost equaling in value the wonderful old editions of the poem illustrated with the colored engravings.

Don Quixote Designs

A set of at least 21 excellent blue-china prints have been found in this country, reproduced from the engravings of the English artist Robert Smirke, illustrating the adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha. These also come from the Clews pottery works, and are framed in a handsome deep border composed of a widespreading six-scalloped star within the rounded points of which flowers and birds appear.

Transplanted from the barren, sun-scorched hills and plains of their native southland, and set in fresh English landscapes, amid English flowers and trees and English castles, beneath overclouded English skies, may be found our familiar Spanish friends—the Knight of the Rueful Countenance, the Peasant Maid, Sancho Panza and Teresa his spouse, Rozinante (whose sides "stuck out like the corners of a Spanish real") and Dapple, the Priest, the Barber, the Shepherd boy, the Duke and Duchess, and the alluring Shepherdesses of the Wood. The "enchanted bark" here floats upon a shaded English stream; the wild boar roams a British forest; and the famous windmills sweep their arms through English skies.

Like Doctor Syntax, Don Quixote adventures three times into the world of experience, but, in place of seeking his own personal gain, the dear old Spanish knight has won his way into the hearts of succeeding generations through his generous efforts to teach the ridiculousness of sham and the worth of honesty. The most widely known incident in his travels through an unsympathetic world is that which is pictured in the accompanying illustration— "The Attack Upon the Windmills." Here may be seen Don Quixote and his steed Rozinante prone upon the ground, decidedly worsted in their encounter with the supposed giants of the plain. Coming to their rescue is Sancho Panza, his squire, who accompanies his knight and shares many of his experiences. Sancho's mount is a beloved ass named Dapple, who appears in a number of the pictures. But the knight's chosen lady, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, for whose favor all is attempted, remains throughout the series of illustrations, as throughout Cervantes' fascinating pages, a creature of the imagination only, a luring phantom to her deluded lover.

The Wilkie Series

The art of the painter as well as that of the caricaturist and of the illustrator contributed to the decoration of early Staffordshire pottery, the work of no less an artist than Sir David Wilkie being put to that humble use, and thereby introduced into American homes. Seven of Wilkie's best known canvases were reproduced in the pot-works of the enterprising James Clews, all in rich deep blue prints of excellent workmanship. The subjects chosen by the potters are the lowly scenes of country life which the "raw, tall, pale, queer Scotchman" originally loved to observe, and which he depicted in the precise and sober manner of Teniers and of Rembrandt, the two artists whom he at first followed. They exhibit the homely pastimes and customs of the friends and neighbors with whom Wilkie passed his early years, and in them one may learn not a little of the popular English tastes of that day. Later on, after he had made London his home, and after his genius, like Goethe's, had ripened under the influence of the life and art of Italy and Spain, the subjects of his brush became broader in scope, and his manner of expression richer and more free.

The painting which is here presented is entitled, "The Escape of the Mouse." In it may be seen an excited family group of humble station in life, in pursuit of the little intruder who has taken refuge under the chair of the young woman at the spinning wheel. She has turned to watch the dog who heads the chase. One brother pokes under the chair with a broom, while another stands laughing at the spectacle. The mother is seen looking in at the partly opened door. "The Escape of the Mouse" was the artist's diploma picture upon his entrance into the Royal Academy in the year 1811, and upon the walls of that Institution it may still be seen.

(From The Blue-China Book by Ada Walker Camehl, 1916.)

Chapter B: Checking List Of American Views Found Upon English Old Pottery

Reprinted from "Anglo-American Pottery" by permission of the author, Dr. Edwin Atlee Barber.

FOLLOWING the titles of the American views in the list below, names or initials frequently appear in brackets. These, sometimes together with the title of the decoration on the face, the collector will find either printed or impressed upon the back of many pieces of Staffordshire pottery; and they are the surest means of identification.

Wood refers to Enoch Wood, who began potting in Burslem in 1783, the firm name being at various times Wood and Caldwell, Enoch Wood & Co., and Enoch Wood & Sons. The great bulk of their output has the name Enoch, or E. Wood & Sons, either impressed or stamped on the back. Sometimes the name is accompanied with a wreath, scroll, or eagle, and the motto, E Pluribus Unum. The most characteristic Wood border on American views is the Sea-Shell Pattern. The scroll-medallion design containing inscriptions, which frames the Landing of the Pilgrims engraving, is also by Wood; and the one composed of a beautiful flower and foliage combination which circles the various views upon Lafayette's estate in France. At a later date, the firm used colors other than deep blue—brown, red, light blue, green, etc.—for American views. They also produced much scenery of countries other than America: England, Italy, Africa, India, etc., as well as a series of Scriptural designs.

The potter A. Stevenson made many beautiful sets, some of his American views being painted from nature by the artist W. G. Wall, whose name frequently appears upon the back. His borders are flower wreaths and scrolls.

Chapter A: The White House Collection of Presidential China

FOREMOST perhaps among the numerous historical attractions which lure the American pilgrim to Washington is the stately old Mansion which, with one exception, has been the home of all the presidents of the United States. And among the mementos of bygone administrations which the White House shelters at the present time, not the least in popular interest is the collection of specimens of porcelain and glassware which from the earliest days of the Republic graced the table of the Chief Executive. Twenty-four groups, of from one to ten pieces in each group, at the present writing make up the exhibit, the President Johnson administration alone being as yet without representation in the collection; while the President Taft and the President Wilson administrations have continued in use the porcelain selected by Mrs. Roosevelt. The collection is a growing one, however, and in time it is hoped that each administration will, through loan or gift, be adequately represented. The articles are arranged in cabinets upon either side of the Lower Corridor of the White House; while accompanying them hang upon the walls the portraits of six of the former Mistresses of the Mansion—Mrs. Van Buren, a daughter-in-law of President Van Buren, Mrs. Tyler, Mrs. Polk, Mrs. Hayes, Mrs. Harrison, and Mrs. Roosevelt, that of the present Mrs. Wilson being soon to be added to the number. Martha Washington's portrait hangs in the Red Room above, near to that of our first president. A plan is now on foot to place the collection of porcelains and glass in one of the rooms adjoining the Lower Corridor where it now is, building for it permanent and commodious wall cabinets, thereby ensuring greater security for the exhibit as well as, for the visitor, a more satisfactory opportunity for observation and study.

Like many another enterprise, the idea of forming a collection of china belonging to past presidents long preceded its actual undertaking. Mrs. Hayes and Mrs. Benjamin Harrison, while presiding over the Mansion, each conceived a plan somewhat similar to the one which later on was inaugurated and carried to nearly its present state of completion by Mrs. Roosevelt—to gather together by means of patriotic loan or gift specimens of presidential china which had come into the possession of descendants of the original owners. For, with the revival of interest in all things pertaining to the past history of our country, upon search it was discovered with surprise and dismay that very little of the older pieces of porcelain remained upon the White House pantry shelves, and that a knowledge of their characteristics was therefore in danger of being entirely lost. The cause of this state of things, by the way, may be directly traced to the time of George Washington, for, when he removed the seat of Government from New York to Philadelphia in 1790, Congress enacted a law whereby "the decayed furnishings of the President's House should be sold for refurnishing the new house in Philadelphia." Thereafter, when the city of Washington became the permanent home of the Government, with each incoming administration Congress voted a sum of money (frequently twenty thousand dollars) for fresh furnishings for the President's House, the amount to be expended under the direction and according to the taste of the new Chief Executive and his family. And any of the old furnishings which they might be pleased to consider "decayed" were promptly sold at public sale—carpets, tables, chairs, windowhangings, beds, linen, tableware, etc., etc. This practice led to greater or less alterations in the character of the interior of the mansion with almost every administration, and twice in its history—under President Monroe, after its partial destruction by the fire of the British soldiers in 1814, and under President Roosevelt, who, in his message to Congress submitting the architects' report, declared that it "had become disfigured by incongruous additions and changes"—the White House interior has undergone complete remodeling and refurnishing. At the present time, restored to the plan of James Hoban, its original architect, and made consistent with modern ideas of sanitation, the home of our presidents is one of appropriate dignity and utility. And, in place of the careless and haphazard manner in which it formerly was looked after by the Government, the White House has been put under the direct supervision of the Bureau of Buildings and Grounds.

The White House collection of presidential china, although far from as complete as it eventually will be, is noteworthy in that perhaps to a greater degree than most other displays of historical relics in this country it bears interesting and intimate witness to the progress, halting and varying as it has been, in luxury and in taste of the American people throughout the century and more of national life. For, unlike the existing specimens of Anglo-American pottery which form the special subject of this volume, and which in early years found a place upon the humble tables of the mass of American citizens, the White House collection almost uniformly presents examples of fine and costly porcelains, the choicest output of French, Dutch, English, and Oriental potteries which was brought overseas to grace the boards of our forefathers of wealth and fashion. Exquisite design, color, and form characterize several of the groups belonging to those administrations which were co-temporary with the vogue of French taste in America, due to the close relations with that country growing out of its attitude toward the American struggle for independence, as, for example, some of the Washington, the Madison, and the Monroe pieces. The Polk china, too, with its dainty bird design, displays the same characteristics; while the Pierce and Lincoln groups attract the eye for the broad bands of rich color and the graceful forms which they display. The showy Hayes and Arthur specimens, challenging the beholder to pause and examine, are a reminder of the current styles of interior decoration which were popular in that flamboyant era we have come to designate as mid-Victorian; the Cleveland and Benjamin Harrison groups, on the other hand, claiming attention for the quiet elegance of their decoration, portraying the prevailing taste of the succeeding decade as well as that of their sponsors. And one will pause, as the writer did, before the Roosevelt exhibit, appreciating how distinctly its simple elegance accords with the recognized trend of to-day's thought. Indeed, so expressive not only of the popular inclination of the moment but also of that patriotic ideal which the America of to-day has developed, is the Roosevelt china, that the suggestion has been offered to perpetuate the design for the official White House table, the Taft and Wilson administrations having already signified their approval by merely supplying breakages from it in place of introducing other styles. A piece of china which belonged with every properly planned set in our early Republican times, and one which a later-day mode seems to have relegated to disuse, is the fruit-compote, a number of examples of which may be seen in the collection. This dish consists of a bowl, sometimes round but more often oblong or diamond-shaped, generally of openwork lattice pattern, and set upon a standard from six to ten inches high. Decorated with the same design as the remainder of the set, the compote is an imposing piece, an excellent specimen being the beautiful one illustrated with the Lincoln china. Another piece, which by the way present day fashion is returning to favor, is the pretty little covered custard-cup, an example of which the Lincoln group likewise presents. Also, a punch bowl, decorated to match the other pieces, was oft-times included in old-time sets of porcelain. The Coat of Arms of the United States has been several times fittingly incorporated in the pattern adopted for state sets, the number of stars it displays equaling the number of states in the Union at the time of printing.

Although George Washington died before the completion of the Executive Mansion, in the erection of which he was deeply interested, the story of presidential china properly begins with mention of the wares once used by him, a small number of pieces of which stand at the head of the White House collection. The years of Washington's life spanned the periods between pewter and porcelain as articles of table use in America, the close of the War of the Revolution rather definitely marking the transition.

THE stories of Colonial America embodied in the decorations of old blue-china conclude with a review of the new modes of travel introduced by our forefathers, for, although theirs was the leisurely day of the stage coach and the sailing vessel, it was their good fortune to witness the dawn of the Age of Steam.

Many persons are familiar with the engraving, frequently found upon old-time parlor walls, of the small boy sitting at a tea-table pressing a spoon over the nose of the kettle and watching the steam lift the lid. The boy was James Watt, who in the year 1774 inaugurated in England trial tests of the strange power he had thus discovered. Half a century later, the people of America were gazing in wonder and awe upon the sight of boats moving up the Hudson River, and of coaches passing over the land, by means of this same magic power.

Success in steam experiment was attained with watervehicles at a period earlier than with coaches operated upon land, the clumsy little vessels pictured upon the dinner plates sailing the American rivers and lakes a number of years before the whistle of primitive locomotives waked the sleeping echoes in our valleys. The last quarter of the eighteenth century, a number of European and American inventors, mindful of the ancient prophecy that "a steam carriage would one day go almost as fast as birds fly," experimented with the newfound power and turned out eccentric vehicles. In the year 1788, John Fitch, a Philadelphia clock maker, launched a steamboat with a row of propelling paddles on either side (the idea of wheels not occurring to him), and with three ranges of chains, suggested by his trade, along the sides. Failure to interest the public in his experiment brought him but the popular verdict, "Poor fellow! What a pity he is crazy." Another Philadelphian, Oliver Evans, fitted a sort of scow with a steam engine, added paddle wheels to the stern and set it on wheels. He ran this contrivance through the streets of Philadelphia out to the Schulykill River, where he launched it and propelled it down the stream and up the Delaware to the city. About the same time, Colonel Stevens and his son were constructing such marvelous engines in their shops in Hoboken that the fame of the family crossed the seas, and a view of the Stevens mansion, which was considered one of the handsomest homes in America, found its way upon English pottery. The illustration portrays a large Colonial house set in a spacious lawn, shaded with tall pine trees.

But it remained for Robert Fulton, with the aid of Chancellor Livingston, to carry to success the experiments of those who had paved the way in steam navigation. Fulton first made trials of steam engines upon the rivers of France, before bringing, in the year 1806, an English engine to New York, where he ordered a hull built for it in the East River shipyards. There the new fangled thing was jeered at and dubbed "Fulton's Folly." And indeed the Clermont, as he named the boat for the country home of Chancellor Livingston, was a novel sight—the engine in plain view of the passengers, the boiler set in masonry and covered with a little house like that on a canal boat, the rudder resembling the rudder of a sailing vessel, and huge uncovered paddle wheels revolving heavily upon either side.

Upon a beautiful Sabbath morning in August in the year 1807, the Clermont made her trial trip up the Hudson River, her decks filled with Fulton's guests. The ride was a thrilling experience, the passengers all the time fearful for their lives, and the inventor by no means certain that his vessel would move in the water. The Clermont started bravely, went a short distance, then stopped. "I told you so," might have been heard among the passengers, but Fulton adjusted the parts and on they went, the machinery groaning and creaking, and the water splashing the deck and mingling with the clouds of cinders from the engine. Soon another trouble presented itself—the captains of sailing vessels, jealous of this new rival in their field, ran into the Clermont and then made the accident appear the fault of the new vessel's clumsiness. The fiery object moving up the river struck such terror to the folk along the bank that some of the more ignorant among them fell upon their knees and prayed to be delivered from the monster, while those less timid long looked upon the power obtained from fire and water as of the Evil One. The vessel reached Albany in safety. "I ran it up in thirty-two hours and down in thirty hours. The power of propelling boats by steam is now fully proved," wrote Fulton to a friend, after the accomplishment of the journey.

ALMOST as great in number as the cities which disputed the honor of Homer's birthplace, were the claimants of the original idea of the Erie Canal. George Washington, making a tour of New York State shortly after the close of the Revolutionary War, was perhaps the first one to suggest a waterway as a means of more ready communication between the Eastern States and the vast rich lands of the little known West; but actual work was not begun, however, until many years later, after much heated debate over the subject of routes and the manner of building. Finally, the Erie Canal, as brought to a successful construction through the enterprise of Governor DeWitt Clinton and at the expense of New York State alone, astonished the world, for it was an undertaking of such magnitude that the like of it had hitherto been accomplished only by the greatest empires of the Old World and by means of the labor of slaves.

It is but natural, therefore, that the unique spectacle of the celebration of the opening of the great waterway, upon a stage stretching from Buffalo to New York, before an audience composed of a large part of the population of the State, should appeal to English artists in search of American views, and that their sketches should be used to decorate the pottery of Staffordshire. It is with pride mingled with wonder and no little amusement that one reviews the story of the opening celebration, as it is recorded in the old-china illustrations.

The celebration began at Buffalo, the junction of the canal and Lake Erie, continued at each little hamlet and city along the banks, culminating at last in a blaze of glory and patriotism as the waters from the Great Lakes were mingled with the Atlantic in New York harbor. No resplendent Doge of Venice standing upon the prow of his gayly bedecked Bucentaur and casting the jeweled ring into the waters of the Adriatic, thereby symbolizing the marriage of Venice to the sea, was ever more proud than was Governor Clinton as, standing upon a primitive canal boat draped with the Stars and Stripes, he poured a barrel of Lake Erie water into the Atlantic Ocean, thereby accomplishing the union of our West and East.

The first illustration presents a view of the harbor entrance of the canal at Buffalo, with sail boats in the bay, low warehouses on the dock, and a packet boat upon the canal, which sailors are tying to the warf. The study of this scene kindles one's imagination, and in fancy he hears the pealing of the bells at nine o'clock upon that beautiful morning of October 26, 1825, and he beholds the throngs of people gathering at the Courthouse. After prayer has been offered and speeches have been made, the procession marches to the dock where the flotilla is in waiting, ready to make the long voyage down the canal. With something akin to awe one listens to the sound of that reverberating cannonshot, which, fired at Buffalo and repeated in succession by cannon stationed along the entire length of the canal, proclaims in one hour and twenty minutes to the people of New York City that the little fleet is under way. Four gayly bedecked horses then proudly prance along the tow-path drawing the canal boat Seneca Chief, which bears Governor Clinton and his associates, followed by the canal boats Superior, Commodore Perry, and Buffalo. At the end of the procession is Noah's Ark, from the "unbuilt city of Ararat," having on board a bear, two eagles, two fawns, birds and fish, besides two Indian boys in native costume—all taken along to gratify the curiosity of the effete New Yorkers in regard to the wild West.

NO event in the early history of the United States stirred such depths of popular affection as the famous visit of General Lafayette-for, was he not the friend of the first President, the adopted son of America, as well as, in many minds, the savior of the country? His life had been tilled with stirring romance -the years of early manhood spent in defense of the freedom of the American colonies, in forwarding the cause of liberty in his own land and as a prisoner of state in the dungeons of Austria. Then, at the age of sixty-seven, after an absence of nearly half a century, upon the invitation of the young republic of the United States he crossed the ocean once more to look upon the land of his youthful affection.

From one limit of our territory to another he went, passing through each of the twenty-four States. He visited all of the principal cities; he was the guest of two presidents in the White House; he took part in three anniversaries of the Revolutionary War, in every place such crowds thronging to see him that few persons failed to catch a glimpse of his face.

Many souvenirs in honor of Lafayette’s visit made their appearance--the ladies wearing Lafayette buckles upon their slippers and his portrait upon their scarfs and their gloves; his features also appeared upon buttons and upon the material of which men’s waistcoats were made. And, as blue china decorated with American views was then at the height of its popularity, numerous dinner and tea sets bearing the pictured story of his visit came to America from over the sea. “W elcome, Lafayette, the Nation’s Guest and our Country’s Glory" and “As Brave and Disinterested as Washington” were among the sentiments printed upon china with which the English potters honored their one-time foe. Lafayette’s visit was coincident with the completion of the Erie Canal, therefore his portrait (as the following chapter relates) graced also the pottery produced in honor of that occasion.

The first illustration is of the Cadmus, the sailing vessel in which Lafayette, accompanied by his son George Washington Lafayette, and his secretary, came to America. This picture is of special value, for it preserves a sketch of an American merchantman, a type of vessel in common use upon the seas for many years after the colonies had become a republic. The Cadmus was placed at the disposal of General Lafayette and his party by its New York owners after the offer of President Monroe to send a Government vessel to fetch them had been refused. No other passengers were allowed on board, no cargo was shipped, nor would the owners accept any reward for their services, deeming the honor of conveying the distinguished guest a sumcient return. As it appears in the illustration, framed in an appropriate border of sea shells and mosses, the little vessel seems to float upon as calm and sunlit a sea as that which bore the hero to our shores.

A GROUP of pitchers, tall, yellow and melon-shaped, record in the illustrations on their sides stories of the heroes and engagements of the infant navy of the Republic. The Liverpool potters, when the new frigates of the United States began to visit their harbor, turned their attention to "Sailor Pitchers," decorating them with pictures of British and American sailor lads grasping hands in friendship, or with sketches of full-rigged vessels flying the American flag, and inscribing them with appropriate legends, such as: "May They Ever Be United," "The True Blooded Yankee," "Success to the Infant Navy of America," etc.; or, with jingles of which the following are typical:

From Rocks and Sands
And every ill,
May God preserve
The Sailor still.

No more I'll roam,
I'll stay at home,
To sail no more
From shore to shore;
But with my wife
Lead a happy, peaceful life.

Lonely Jack, strolling the streets of Liverpool in search of a gift to carry home to sweetheart or wife in some far-away New England village, was pleased to find the attractive souvenirs and gave his hard-earned shillings for them. One such pitcher, carefully preserved since that time, is entitled "The Sailor's Return," and presents a young sailor husband come home from the sea, his happy wife beside him and their infant in his arms; the lines underneath the sketch doubtless are intended to voice his sentiments:

I now the joys of life renew,
From care and trouble free,
And find a wife who's kind and true,
To drive life's cares away.

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.

Chapter X: Emblems of the New Republic and States

IN the decoration of a number of Staffordshire pieces, either in the border or as a detail of the design it frames, is the figure of an eagle. Oft-times a flag, bearing stars and stripes numbering either thirteen or fifteen, flutters from a vessel's mast, frames a hero's portrait or drapes his tomb; and a rare and valuable series of plates illustrate the Arms of the original thirteen States.

Emblems have always played an interesting part in the history of nations. It may be recalled how in ancient times the Roman legions marched to conquest under eagle-adorned banners, how wars were waged for the red and the white roses, and how the Turk fought always under the figure of the crescent. Familiar today, among the many devices of kingdoms and of empires, are the lilies of France, the lion and crosses of England, the eagles of Germany and of Austria. Many and varied, too, were the emblems which in the course of the centuries floated over the land of America. Previous illustrations have shown Columbus bringing the banner of Spain, and the Pilgrim Fathers the colors of England; Canada long flew the lilies of France; and the old fort on Manhattan, before it spread to the breeze the Stars and Stripes, bore aloft Brst the Dutch and then the English ensign.

During the Colonial and Revolutionary periods, flags of various colors displaying devices other than the English emblem to which the colonists owed allegiance were made use of. The colors blue, red, and yellow and white were combined in patterns or stripes, the sketch of a pine tree together with the motto “LR>erty” or the legend “An Appeal to Heaven” appeared upon several of the Bags, while others bore the Liberty-tree in the center of the field and the words, “An Appeal to God.” In one of the great historical mural paintings to be seen upon the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington the Colonial troops are represented marching under a red flag emblazoned with a cross and a pine tree. Another Colonial flag is elsewhere pictured dying an anchor and the word “HOPE,” while still others, the words “Liberty and Union.” Upon the “Map” Liverpool pitcher which is presented in a previous chapter may be seen a sketch of a pine tree flag. The most popular device, however, to be displayed upon Colonial flags was a rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike, together with the waming, “Don’t Tread On Me,” the rattles numbering thirteen, the number of the colonies, and, likewise typical of the colonies, each rattle distinct and at the same time joined to the others in defensive union. Upon one rattlesnake flag the tongue of the serpent was represented about to strike at the English emblems, the crosses of Saint George and Saint Andrew, while still another banner Haunted the challenge, “Liberty or Death.”

EXHIBITING the same curious lack of patriotism in their zeal for establishing commercial relations that inspired the reproduction of portraits of great Americans, the English potters made use of scenes of battle, surrender and memorial in that War of the Revolution which was of such fatal consequence to British arms. Bunker Hill, Quebec, Brooklyn Heights, Brandywine, the Treason at West Point, the Surrender at Yorktown—thrilling incidents the recital calls to mind! each one being either suggested or told in full upon the printed china.

Very clearly, from the brilliantly lighted and spirited scene upon the surface of the blue gravy-tray, may be read the familiar story of Bunker Hill. At the right rises Breed's Hill which the patriots determined to seize from the English, in the belief that their cannon once placed upon its summit would drive the English out of Boston. Upon the sides of the hill may be traced the breastworks and the rail fences banked with earth and brushwood which they hurriedly and quietly threw up in the silence of the night, fearful that some sound of pick or shovel might arouse the enemy watching in the ships of the nearby harbor. Upon the summit of the hill is the redoubt, and at its base, in three divisions, the "Thin Red Line of England" is seen marching under General Gage to attack the raw patriot troops—"country boys," General Gage derisively dubbed them—who upon this spot first measured strength with the trained militia of Great Britain:

"Why, if our army had a mind to sup,
They might have eat that schoolboy army up,"

being at the beginning of the struggle for independence the popular British notion of the American recruits. Certain of victory, gay in their white breeches, scarlet coats and cocked hats, carrying shining muskets, the British advanced upon that June day in '75, to face the schoolboy army lying concealed behind the redoubt, the haystacks, the fences and the stone wall, patiently waiting for them with such deadly fire that three attempts with overwhelming forces and ammunition were necessary to dislodge them. It was such a costly victory that General Gage in his report to the English Governor wrote: ". . . the rebels are not the despicable rabble too many have supposed them to be; and I find it owing to a military spirit encouraged among them for a few years past, joined with an uncommon degree of zeal and enthusiasm, that they are otherwise." In the background of the illustration, beyond the hill, the vessels in the harbor may be faintly discerned, and the flames of burning Charlestown, and, farther away still, the spires and roof-tops of Boston—vessel-rigging, spires and roof-tops, we read, all crowded upon that day with anxious spectators of the opening tragedy of the War of the Revolution.

Although the scene of the Battle of Bunker Hill records a British victory, the illustration of Bunker Hill Monument, which 50 years later was erected upon the site of the battle, is a memorial of the final triumph of the patriot cause. General Lafayette, as a later chapter records, was present upon the occasion of the dedication of the monument, and, as one of the survivors of the War, he was the hero of the day. Upon Bunker Hill the patriots lost their brave leader, General Warren, and the autumn of the same year witnessed the death of another officer, General Montgomery, as he was making an attack upon Quebec, he and Arnold having heroically led a company of soldiers across the country and into Canada. Imaginary death and battle scenes in which these officers figure were printed as memorials upon Liverpool pitchers, one being inscribed, "The Death of Warren," and the other, "The Death of Montgomery." A large punch bowl in the Museum of Gloucester, Massachusetts, links their memories in the following lines,

"As he fills your rich glebs (glass)
The old peasant shall tell,
While his bosom with liberty glow,
How Warren expired,
How Montgomery fell,
And how Washington humbled your foe."

The view of New York City from Brooklyn Heights, which may be found illustrated in a previous chapter, calls to mind an important episode of the Revolutionary War which took place in the summer of 1776, a short time after the colonies had declared their independence of British rule. It was upon those wooded heights that Washington's army vainly attempted to oppose the entrance of the British forces under General Howe into New York City. In small vessels, such as those pictured floating in the harbor, Washington in the very face of the enemy took his army across the bay on a moonlight night, and entered the city just as Lord Howe and his troops were seen to occupy their former position on the heights of the Brooklyn side of the harbor. Then, northward to the heights of Harlem and farther still to the country about White Plains the patriot army marched, leaving the English officers and soldiers to settle themselves for a comfortable winter in New York.

The attractive country scene, white mill buildings and drooping trees mirrored in the quiet Brandy wine stream —a design of Enoch Wood, known by the border of shells and mosses—was found not far from the spot where, in the year 1777, was fought the historic battle which stained the still water with patriot blood. Washington's army was drawn up along the bank of the Brandywine engaged with a portion of the British forces, when of a sudden Howe and Cornwallis appeared upon the right flank, having led their main army far up stream, crossed it, and come down with such force upon Washington's army that Lord Howe's plans of spending another comfortable winter in America, this time in the city of Philadelphia, were assured; the gayety of the English officers that winter in the city contrasting strongly with the privations and sufferings of the patriot army at Valley Forge. The paper mill in the illustration stood on the farm of Gideon Gilpin, to whose home Lafayette was carried wounded from the field of Brandywine. It is recorded that in this mill the first machine to take the place of hand labor in the making of paper was introduced.

The same autumn the surrender of Burgoyne took place at Saratoga, a victory for the patriots which proved to be the decisive turning point in the war, as it brought France officially to the side of the colonies—an alliance commemorated in the field of ceramics by an exquisite porcelain statuette of Louis XVI and Benjamin Franklin, which is presented and described in the chapter upon Benjamin Franklin. After a disastrous defeat at Bemis Heights, General Burgoyne had retreated to Saratoga, where he was followed and surrounded by a superior army under General Gates, and, finding himself in a hostile and wilderness country far from his base of supplies, there remained nothing for him but surrender.

Then occurred the great Treason of the War, the attempt of its commanding officer, Benedict Arnold, to deliver to the enemy West Point, the key to the line of forts situated along the Hudson River, and thus to end forever the chances of independence for the colonies. The excellent view of the old fortress presents it as it appeared not many years after 1780, when Arnold had command—low stone buildings forming a line along the ridge of the mountain, taller hills rising beyond, and the Hudson flowing below. Upon the river bank may be distinguished the very spot where, in the darkness of a September night, Major Andre came ashore, met the traitor by appointment, and received from him the incriminating papers which later on were found upon him as he was attempting to pass to the English lines; their evidence sending the spy to his death, and Arnold to a more congenial home in England.

Again, one marvels at the nineteenth century English artists' lack of patriotic sensibility as he examines the evidence upon the jug of glowing luster which portrays the final scene of humiliation to British arms—the surrender of the sword of Charles, Earl Cornwallis, at Yorktown on October 19, 1781. This surrender, one of the famous surrenders which History records, was an event of world importance, putting an end, by its disheartening effect upon English opinion, to the Revolutionary War and paving the way to peace. In his use of military tactics which resulted in the surrender, Washington is said to have equaled Napoleon in his famous Ulm campaign. Marching his army all the way from the Hudson River to Virginia—a distance of 400 miles —in twenty-eight days, Washington joined the army under General Lafayette which had recently suffered defeat at Cornwallis' hands, thus massing about twice the number of the enemy's forces who had gone into Yorktown. At once the patriot army surrounded the city, for three weeks laid siege to it, until at last, the lookedfor reinforcements not being able to reach Cornwallis, the English surrendered—soldiers, seamen, cannon, muskets, ammunition, supplies and clothing, besides frigates and transports; the army, it is recorded marching out to the humiliating notes of the old English tune, "The World Turned Upside Down." In the illustration, two groups of officers appear face to face, Washington and Lafayette at the head of the patriots, Washington receiving the sword from the hand of General O'Hara, as Lord Cornwallis refused to be present and take his part in the scene of humiliation. Old records say that at the time of the surrender the band struck up "Yankee Doodle," so angering the British soldiers that, as they laid down their swords they broke them in pieces. The reverse of the jug, which is reproduced in another chapter, bears a medallion portrait of General Lafayette, crowned with laurel.

During the night following the eventful scene recorded upon the luster pitcher, a messenger rode out from the city of Yorktown bearing the stirring news of surrender. At sunrise, he reached the city of Philadelphia—and not many minutes thereafter, a German watchman on his rounds of the quiet streets might have been heard calling to the sleeping citizens: "Past three o'clock—and Lord Cornwallis is taken!"

With the assurance of independence came the establishment throughout the Union of a number of companies of militia, one of them, known as the Boston Fusileers, becoming of such widespread fame as to be noticed by the English potters, who printed a reproduction of one of its members upon a set of commemorative pitchers. There he stands arrayed in the uniform of his company, a flag of Massachusetts in his hand, while above his head is the motto, presumably of the Order, "Aut Vincere aut Mori"; below may be read the inscription, "Success to the Independent Fusileer, Incorporated July 4, 1789, America Forever." The reverse of the pitcher presents Liberty, Justice and Peace, and the motto, "United We Stand, Divided We Fall," together with other figures emblematic of Agriculture, Trade and Commerce—the design as a whole typifying the happy results which were achieved by the long struggle for independence in the great War of the Revolution under the leadership of General Washington.

(From The Blue-China Book by Ada Walker Camehl, 1916.)

Chapter VIII: George Washington

SCARCELY a person in Europe or America a century and more ago was unfamiliar with the features of George Washington, or unacquainted with the principles and actions of his life. Therefore, in their efforts for trade put forth by appealing to the patriotic pride of the Americans, the potters could have selected no more popular subject of design than the beloved features of "Liberty's Favorite Son"; of him who in the hearts of loyal Americans, as a Liverpool pitcher affirms, was "A Man without Example, a Patriot without Reproach"; or, as an old punch-bowl declares, "First in War, First in Peace" and "First in Fame, First in Virtue."

The list of pieces of pottery and porcelain which exhibit the name or portrait of Washington is longer than that of ceramics bearing any other American design, and includes specimens both of the deep blue pottery of Staffordshire manufacture and of the black-printed yellow wares of Liverpool. Numerous prints of his face, some seemingly imaginary, others copies of well-known paintings, are reproduced; his home at Mount Vernon is pictured; his monument; his tomb and funeral urn; the names of the States which he called into being are festooned with stars about his portrait; the dates of his birth and death are intertwined with symbols of his patriotic warfare and with emblems of the glorious reward hereafter, to which his deeds entitled him. Indeed, judging from the number and variety of Washington views, the English potters took pleasure in honoring the gallant and successful foe of their own Empire.

The first illustration is from the sugar bowl belonging to a deep blue tea-service, and presents Washington in Continental uniform standing upon the lawn of his estate at Mount Vernon, his favorite mount nearby held by a groom. Upon a similarly shaped tea-set of Staffordshire, Washington is presented upon the same lawn with an open scroll, doubtless the Declaration of Independence, in his hand, the columned veranda of the old mansion in the background of both sketches appearing the same as at the present day. The fact that the features of Washington accompany the portraits of Jefferson, Clinton and Lafayette upon specimens of ware made to commemorate the opening of the Erie Canal is judged by some persons proof that the potters held vague and oft-times incorrect notions of American affairs, another proof offered being "Boston" and "Tenasee" among the number of early States. But George Washington was the idol of young America, so it would seem but natural to link his memory with the others upon memorials of the nation's greatest enterprise.

Another Washington design which originated in the potteries of Staffordshire is known as the "States" pattern, and from the number of important circumstances it records this may be said, as was remarked of the first flag of Stars and Stripes, "to embody a whole national history." The eye is attracted first to the charming bit of landscape in the center, set in a graceful frame of scrolls, the beholder seeming to gaze out of a window upon the brilliantly illumined scene—a dignified mansion said to represent the President's House at Washington, with its well-kept lawn shaded by beautiful trees sloping, as in l'Enfant's original plan of the capital city, to the shore of the Potomac River. Two figures, a man and woman, stand upon the bank of a stream, and a small boat flying a very large flag rests upon the water. Supporting the frame upon the right hand side and gazing upon the scene it encircles, kneels a female figure crowned with a many-plumed head-dress and bearing aloft a Liberty cap, the word "Independence" appearing upon the platform beneath her. At the left stands blindfolded Justice, the decoration of the Order of the Cincinnati upon her skirt being in honor of George Washington, whose medallion portrait hangs suspended from her right hand. Flowers and fruits complete the design, and, enclosing all, a ribbon is festooned, each loop of which bears the name of one of the fifteen States of the Union, Kentucky and Vermont having joined the sisterhood of the original thirteen at the time the device was made; fifteen stars mark the intervening spaces of the festoons.

An illustration from a Staffordshire specimen which is reproduced in the chapter upon Lafayette presents a fanciful Tomb marked "Washington," set in a brilliant sunset-lighted landscape, and before it, in an attitude of sorrow, reclines the figure of Washington's devoted French friend.

"IF you are fond of romance, read history,”--the counsel of the learned Frenchman applies with special force to the stories of America’s pioneers, for the true record of their adventures surpasses in marvels the fanciful imaginings of the weavers of romance. Out of the long list of achievements of those adventurous spirits of many lands who, from motives of conquest, exploration or home-making, braved the perils of unknown seas and came to America, the English potters selected but three incidents to illustrate and reproduce upon the sets of tableware destined for this young Republic--the Landing of Christopher Columbus, the Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, and the Treaty of William Penn with the Indians.

The first series of views, numbering nine or more from the pottery works of Adams in Tunstall, Staffordshire, are fanciful sketches of the Landing of Christopher Columbus in America. Printed in red, green, purple, or black, upon plates and platters, the designs portray a wilderness inlet, with two, sometimes three, caravels at anchor in the bay, and small boats coming from them to the shore. Columbus is represented upon the beach, together with one or more of his Spanish companions; and native redmen in picturesque costumes are in hiding behind clumps of trees and shrubs. Tents and dogs are also in evidence, and upon one plate, here presented, an Indian is shooting at a wild goose. The border of the series consists of a pattern of roses, alternating with scrolls framing tiny landscape scenes, wherein roam wild deer and moose--animals native to the Western Continent. The trees and foliage of the Columbus series are tropical--tall cocoanut palms with fruit among the leaves, broad-leaved banana plants and other growths of the southland which Columbus found; for the English potters, like Columbus, long imagined the entire length of the Western Hemisphere one stretch of tropic or Oriental wilderness.

Indeed, the beliefs of European peoples of the fifteenth century, in which Columbus lived, in regard to the earth seem at the present time extremely curious. The marvelous tales which Marco Polo and his father had brought to Europe a century before from their journey into the Far East, and the glitter of the diamonds, emeralds, rubies and pearls which fell from out their coats when the seams were opened at a famous dinner party in Venice, still dazzled the minds of men. To find a shorter and less dangerous route to that kingdom which Marco had discovered in Cathay, ruled over by a Tartar Khan who dwelt in a palace roofed with plates of gold, was the dream of every seaman. Wise men were saying, as some of the ancient 'Greeks had done, that the earth was a sphere or a pear-shaped object rather than the flat surface they had been taught to believe it--why not, then, to the west instead of to the east, might lie the shore of India where dwelt the lordly Khan? Thus Columbus argued, and his tina] doubt was removed when a learned man of Florence sent him a globe and a chart, both plainly marked with the western route to the eastern shores “where the spices grow.”

LIKE Philadelphia, Washington was carefully planned; unlike Philadelphia or any other city of the Union, Washington was built for a special purpose. The youthful Government of the United States was in need of a fitting home of its own, a city wherein its President and other officers of government might reside, and where Congress might meet and make the laws. The first President of the new Republic had taken the oath of office in New York, and for some time Congress had assembled in the State House in Philadelphia; but those cities, together with the others which the Union considered, were situated along the north Atlantic seacoast out of ready touch with the States of the South, and for the most part, they were centers of growing commercial activity, with interests inclining towards trade and therefore unsuited to the business of government.

Where should the future Capital be located? The discussion aroused bitter controversy, the Northern States not wishing it placed too far south, and the South fearing it might be situated too far north to be mindful of the interests of the growing States of its own section. At last, as a compromise, a plot of ground on the bank of the Potomac River was settled upon as being "as near as possible to the center of wealth, of population and of territory," and President Washington was chosen to select the site and to arrange for the building of the future Capitol. He called to his aid Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, and together the three settled upon the attractive situation with which we are familiar, an interesting view of which is presented upon a plate—the Vshaped rolling plain lying between the junction of the Potomac and its eastern branch.

The next step was to plan the new city, and the proposed design became such a widely debated topic that a drawing of it was carried over seas to the English potteries, and may be found to-day upon a yellow jug of Liverpool. Washington chose for the task of planning the new city a French resident of this country, Major l'Enfant, who carefully examined the site from all points, and, realizing the fact that he was creating a capitol not alone for thirteen States and three millions of people, but for a future mighty republic, he studied the plans of several of the beautiful cities of Europe—Rome, Paris, London, Venice. Jefferson told him that in his opinion none equaled the design of Philadelphia, "old Babylon revived"; but l'Enfant considered the chessboard effect of Philadelphia's streets too monotonous, his idea embracing three or four wide avenues running obliquely across the city in order to introduce pleasing curves and angles, as well as to render communication more ready.

L'Enfant's design, substantially as it appears in the illustration, was the one finally adopted. This charmingly executed drawing, full of significant details, is worthy of careful attention. Two graceful figures of women stand under the spreading branches of a tree holding aloft a scroll unrolled to view, above which is inscribed, "Plan of the City of Washington." The figure at the left, matronly and commanding, with the British emblem upon a shield at her feet, is supposedly Britannia; the other figure, designated America by a nearby eagle-adorned standard, is gazing interestedly upon the circular spot in the center of the design, presumably the site of the future Capitol of the new Republic, to which her elder sister is pointing with her finger as if in the act of explanation—or, possibly, considering the source of the production, may it not be admonition ? The Capitol-site is upon the summit of a hill, with the President's house one mile away, down a broad avenue, or mall. Running east and west across the design are the many parallel streets which were named for the letters of the alphabet, A, B, C, and so on; while running north and south, at right angles to them, laid out in the drawing in prospective blocks, are other streets numbered i, 2, 3, etc. Radiating from the Capitol and from the Executive Mansion, start sixteen wide avenues, named for the sixteen States which comprised the Republic in the year 1800. The avenues, as may be seen, cut the checkerboard at every variety of angle and form the squares, triangles and circles which render so beautiful the Washington of to-day. In the background of the illustration several sailing vessels appear upon a placid expanse of sea, while the foreground shows a bit of the "mille fleurs" pattern so popular in early decorative art.

LESS than a dozen views of early Baltimore are preserved upon blue china. The first one here presented is a harbor scene known to collectors as the harbor of Baltimore, but it is of disputed authenticity and resembles in its minaret-like spires some city of the Orient rather than a settlement of the young American Republic. The second harbor sketch is more probably taken from the original scene. In it two flagstaffs rise from a small wharf in the foreground, from which banners float —one of them displaying an anchor, and the other, the letter B. The water front of the city may be seen, with sailing vessels and small steamboats passing to and fro, and rows of low regular buildings lining the streets that run down to the river. Here and there a church spire or a monument towers above the roof line, those "spires and grove of vessels" which Lafayette remarked when he visited Baltimore in the year 1824. The French guest considered Baltimore one of the handsomest cities in the Union, with its streets so broad and regular, but without the monotony of the streets of Philadelphia. He was impressed with the elegance and delicacy of manners of Baltimore's citizens, naturally ascribing the fact to the influence of their French blood; likewise, he was impressed with the beautiful buildings of the city, many of which had been designed by French architects. At the time of Lafayette's visit, Baltimore numbered about sixty thousand inhabitants.

Baltimore is younger than the other cities of the United States which have already been considered. To be sure, fourteen years before the Pilgrim Fathers landed on the New England coast Captain John Smith had sailed up the Patapsco River and looked upon the site of the future city of Baltimore; and fifty-three years later, Lord Baltimore, who afterwards gave his name to the settlement, had come into the region; but not until the year 1730, was the city laid out. Originally, Baltimore consisted only of a group of plantations whose owners were engaged in tobacco raising for the English market—the Horn of Plenty and the full rigged vessel in Maryland's Coat of Arms (presented in a later chapter) symbolizing her agriculture and her commerce. For many years the taxes of Baltimore were paid in tobacco.

A sketch of Baltimore which was made in the year 1752 shows that the city then contained but twenty-five houses, four of them only being of brick. In the year 1756, there came to Baltimore from Nova Scotia that little band of French exiles of whom the poet Longfellow sings, "Friendless, homeless and hopeless, they wandered from city to city." Here many of them found a refuge and settled, a number of the old French names lingering in the present city. Of Colonial and early Republican Baltimore, Staffordshire pottery illustrations present the Court House, Exchange, Battle Monument, Hospital, Almshouse, University of Maryland and Masonic Hall, several of them framed in borders of unusual attractiveness. The Court House, which is not standing at the present time, a view of which could not be procured, was a large, square, dingy gray-stone pile built above a basement, with arches for openings, the structure resembling, an old citizen remarked, "a house perched upon a great stool." In the basement there stood during the strict Colonial years a whipping-post, stocks and pillory—instruments for the serving of the sentences imposed in the Hall of Justice above.

AS children resemble parents, so cities grow up in the likeness of their founders. The streets of Boston still follow the circuitous paths worn by the cows of the city’s Fathers to the pastures on the Common, and the marked regard for learning manifested by the early establishment of Harvard College is conceded to the Boston of to-day; likewise, are New York’s boasted Broadway and Wall Street, her extensive docks and shipping facilities, other than glorified Manhattan trading-posts of the Dutch and the English settlers. So, too, the city of Philadelphia, enveloped in an atmosphere of harmony and quiet, bears to the present day in the character of her buildings, her streets, and her citizens, the impress of the formative touch of her founders-Penn’s peace-loving English Quakers, who dreamed of a city of Brotherly Love in the far-off “woods of Penn;” and Benjamin Franklin, whose sound teachings in the form of “week-day sermons” (which will be recited in a subsequent chapter), and whose example of industry and thrift, were its corner stones.

Philadelphia was later than either Boston or New York in its inception, its site, before the city was definitely planned, having been settled by successive companies of the Dutch, the Swedes and the English. In the year 165 5, Peter Stuyvesant, with half a dozen vessels and 700 men, came over from New Amsterdam to subdue the Swedes in the Delaware Valley; both Dutch and Swedes, however, being soon afterward, through the territorial rights of the Duke of York, brought under English rule. Several years later, King Charles II, in lieu of claims which Admiral Penn owned against the crown, granted to his son, William Penn, the tract of land 150 by 300 miles in size which lies west of the Delaware River, and which Penn wished to call “Sylvania,” or Land of Woods, but the king added to it the name of Penn, in honor of his friend, the Admiral. Thereupon William Penn, in order to induoe settlers to cross the sea, offered such generous terms of payment for land that several vessels soon set sail, bringing hundreds of colonizers. This was in the year 1681.

Unlike Boston and New York and the immortal Topsy, however, Philadelphia did not “just grow ;” she was carefully planned, the site selected and the new city laid out with deliberate and painstaking forethought. “Of all the many places I have seen in the world,” wrote William Penn after his first visit to his infant city, “I remember not one better seated; so that it seems to me to have been appointed for a town, whether we regard the two rivers, or the conveniency of the coves, docks, springs, the loftiness and soundness of the land and the air." And Philadelphia is delightfully seated—in a well-chosen, wooded plot of ground in the spacious angle made by the junction of the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers, the harbor well adapted for shipping, the rivers natural roads for trade with the interior as well as an outlet to the sea, and the "soundness" of her climate a perpetual joy. The interesting view of young Philadelphia which the potters utilized for decoration of plates clearly defines the junction of the two rivers, the point of high land between them being filled with a massed group of square-built houses, their roofs topped with a lofty steeple.

AS one makes his way at the present time from the Battery through the rambling, canyon-like and crowded streets of lower New York, his mind filled with visions of the city of the Past, he searches almost in vain for a sight of its most ancient landmarks. Where, in the confusion of sight and sound, was located the inclosure within which stood the "mighty and impregnable fort," sheltering under its protecting walls the neat brick-fronted and tiled-roofed homes, set in luxuriant cabbage gardens, of the Dutch settlers of New Amsterdam? Where were their "bouweries," or farms, "sloping down to the river," which left the old Dutch name an inheritance to the Present? Where was the Bowling Green, and where stood Peter Stuyvesant's wall, with its gate through which the cows of the burghers went daily to pasture upon the Commons,—and, where was the famous Commons? Strolling up Broadway, one looks about for the more pretentious structures— churches, taverns, theaters and municipal buildings— erected by the English occupants under whom the city became New York; and his search is rewarded by a glimpse now and then of an historic structure hidden away in a corner of the valley-like thoroughfares or crouching modestly in the shadow of some towering modern pile.

Next to Boston, New York was the most important city of early America, and the English artists naturally were at pains to secure sketches of its most imposing structures, views of its streets, its harbor, and of the life of its people. A study of these prints as reproduced upon pottery reveals to us, therefore, a very comprehensive idea of the topography and the customs of the old city.

The harbor itself as one views its shores to-day from Battery Point is little changed since the time, over three centuries ago, when Hendrick Hudson turned the prow of the Half Moon into its unknown waters, little doubting that it was the much-looked-for passage to China; or when, about one hundred years ago, the sketches of the spot upon which, the Dutch navigator said, "the eye might revel forever in ever-new and neverending beauties" were printed upon the blue platters entitled, "New York from Brooklyn Heights" and "New York from Weehawk"—the platters which to-day bring the almost fabulous prices. Nowhere can there be found a more interesting commentary upon the growth of the city during the past century than is presented by the first two illustrations, one a view from Brooklyn and the other from the shores of New Jersey. In place of the massed group of towers whose outlines call forcibly to mind the silhouettes of the towered cities of mediaeval Italy, together with the vast and varied shipping of the world, which at the present time meets the gaze of one approaching New York from the sea, here may be seen a collection of low buildings loosely filling the point of Manhattan Island, with about a dozen church spires rising from the level of the roofs. Several varieties of vessels, all sailing craft, are upon the waters of the bay; a windmill, no doubt a relic of Dutch times, appears in the view from Brooklyn Heights; while, looking from the Jersey shore, the distant Narrows may be discerned, the rolling shores of Long Island, and, nearer still, a fair-sized island intended perhaps for Staten Island. In the left foreground of the view from "Weehawk," as the name is printed upon the back of the platter, a Dutch homestead is pictured, with sloping-roofed farm buildings snugly nestled within the shelter of a grove of tall pine trees, a circular driveway bordered with a neat fence leading to them through the grounds. We are indebted for these interesting views of old New York to W. G. Wall, Esq., the Irish artist, who came to the United States in the year 1818, set up his easel in these sightly places, painted what he saw and sent his sketches to the Stevenson potteries in Cobridge, Staffordshire, for reproduction. The same border of roses and scrolls encircles the two views, but the blue in which they are printed is less intense and more transparent than the blue of the Enoch Wood potteries. At the time of his visit to New York, Wall also executed views of Fort Gansevoort, Columbia College and City Hall; the "Troy from Mt. Ida," which is presented in a previous chapter, as well as the imaginative "Temple of Fame" in honor of Commodore Perry, reproduced in a later chapter, being likewise from his hand.

Bordering upon the harbor at the foot of the settlement which comprised New York in Colonial times was an open piece of ground known as The Battery, two excellent views of which are presented. The Battery, as its military name suggests, was originally the outworks to Fort Manhattan, known later under Dutch rule as Fort Amsterdam (the English destroying it in 1789), which Peter Stuyvesant erected to protect the seaboard at the point of the island—formidable mud batteries solidly faced, "after the manner of Dutch ovens common in his day, with clam shells." As time went on, the bulwarks became overrun with a carpet of grass and the embankment shaded with spreading trees. Here the old burghers in times of peace would repair of an afternoon to smoke their pipes under the branches, while for the young men and maidens the embankment became a favorite haunt for moonlight strolls; and so, from a place of war-like defense, the Battery Walk became renowned as a rendezvous for the delights of peace—the fashionable promenade, or "Esplanade," whereon of a Sunday afternoon the Dutch housewives and the English matrons were wont to walk up and down in the shade of the trees, enjoy the Seabreeze and flaunt their bravest finery for all their world to admire. In the illustrations, several of the old-time ladies and gentlemen may be seen strolling along the paths, sitting upon the benches or stopping to chat with their neighbors, the ladies in large poke bonnets, pointed shawls and narrow, high-waisted skirts, with tiny sun-shades in their hands; while their escorts appear every whit as fine as they, arrayed in long full-skirted coats, broad brimmed hats and white trousers, sporting slender walking sticks—a valuable record of the topography, the customs and the fashions of Colonial New York. Plying the waters of the harbor many pleasure boats may be seen, in the distance Governor's Island is faintly outlined, and, nearer by, is Fort Clinton, connected with the mainland by a foot-bridge. The strollers upon the Esplanade were accustomed to repair to the nearby ornamental structure built around the historic flagstaff, where luncheon and music were to be found, the view of the Flagstaff Pavilion which is here given being, it has been said, the only existing record of that popular resort which until the time Fort Clinton was turned into Castle Garden was the sole amusement place thereabout.

Chapter II: The Crooked but Interesting Town of Boston

IT has been said that in order to understand America of the present one must know Boston of the Fathers, and by what more delightful means may one acquire a knowledge of early Boston than from a study of the pictured china handed down from the Fathers themselves? For, upon the blue plates and platters, tea-pots and cream jugs which once graced the tables of our New England forefathers, the greater part of the early city is spread out to view—the harbor; the streets and the Common; the State House and the Court House in which the Fathers made the laws; several of the mansions in which they dwelt, and two of the churches in which they worshiped; the warehouses of commerce; the Hospital and Almshouse for retreat in illness and poverty, and the pleasure resort of leisure hours; finally, the Library and College which bred and fostered that leadership in letters upon which the citizens of Boston long justly plumed themselves.

Boston was settled by some of the earliest homemakers to come to the American shores. About the year 1634, John Winthrop being Governor of Massachusetts Colony, the settlers upon the shores of the Bay purchased of William Blackstone, the hermit who lived on the sunny slope of one of the three hills which bordered the Bay, his estate "lying within the said Neck called Boston," every inhabitant agreeing to pay six shillings, "none less and some more." This sum was collected and paid to Mr. Blackstone, "to his full satisfaction for his whole right, reserving only about six acres on the point commonly called Blackstone's Point, on part whereof his then dwelling house stood." Two views present Boston harbor as it appeared nearly two centuries after the original purchase, sketches made from the heights of Dorchester and Chelsea. In them may be seen the Bay and shores in a very primitive condition. In the Chelsea view is the bridge which connected that township with the main city, spanning "the River that renders their attendance on Town-Meetings very difficult," as the preamble of the Act of Separation of Chelsea from Boston in the year 1737 reads, adding, "and whereas they have a long time since erected a Meeting House in that District." Sailing craft rest upon the water, and in the distance may be dimly discerned the three hills (now but a memory) which gave the settlement its original name, Tri-Mountain, an echo of which lingers still in "Tremont" Street. Above the summit of the center hill, named Beacon, soars the dome of the new State House, while the spires of numerous churches tower above the housetops. A group of early Bostonians occupy the foreground of the picture, gowned in the fashion of the early nineteenth century, a style of dress which prevails in all of the old-china prints.

"I CAN never tire my eyes in looking at such lovely vegetation, so different from ours . . . the herbage like April in Andalusia . . . the trees are as unlike ours as night from day, as are the fruits, the herbs, the stones, and everything, . . . and I feel the most unhappy man in the world not to know them. The mountains and islands seem to be second to none in the world; . . . there is much gold, the Indians wear it as bracelets on the arms, on the legs, in the ears and nose, and round the neck, . . . flocks of parrots conceal the sun." These are among the expressions with which Columbus sought to make known to the Spanish sovereigns the beauty, the richness, and the strangeness of the land he had taken possession of in their name. Americus Vespucius, who visited the new world a few years later than Columbus, and whose name by strange chance remained with it, noted its "altogether delightful" climate, its many hills, lakes, rivers and forests, as well as the various species of wild animals and the numerous parrots with which it abounded, together with the gold which the natives told him was so abundant it was little esteemed. "In short," he concludes his narrative, "if there is an earthly paradise in the world, without doubt it must be not far from this place."

True to these conceptions of primitive America, which long continued to color the imaginations of Europeans, are the fanciful scenes (illustrated in a later chapter) wherewith the Staffordshire potters sought to picture pioneer incidents of American history. In them, unfamiliar trees and shrubs are introduced, together with Indians gowned in paint and feathers and adorned with golden ornaments, against backgrounds of imaginary forest or mountain scenery. Parrots appear in a border device, another border presenting flowers and animals supposed to be native to the little known wilderness regions.

With the passing of the years and the increase of ocean travel, a truer and somewhat more extended knowledge of the new world became diffused throughout the countries of Europe. Many people, for one cause or another of discontent, abandoned their homes in order to adventure others in America; until the seventeenth century saw the Atlantic seacoast from Canada to Florida dotted with Old-World settlements. French adventurers and missionaries came into the region of the Saint Lawrence River; English Puritans settled the shores of Massachusetts Bay; traders from Holland made homes upon Manhattan Island; English planters sought the fertile hillsides of Virginia; and Spain sent her knights to Florida in quest of the Fountain of Eternal Youth.

Pottery and Porcelain

Pages

Chapter C: The Willow Pattern And Other Important Blue China Series—Story Of The Willow Pattern

Doctor Syntax Designs

Don Quixote Designs

The Wilkie Series

Chapter B: Checking List Of American Views Found Upon English Old Pottery

Chapter A: The White House Collection of Presidential China

Chapter XV: Introduction of New Modes of Travel

Chapter XIV: Opening of the Erie Canal

Chapter XIII: General Lafayette's Visit to America

Chapter XII: Naval Heroes of the War of 1812

Chapter XI: Benjamin Franklin and His Precepts

Chapter X: Emblems of the New Republic and States

Chapter IX: Scenes of the Revolutionary War

Chapter VIII: George Washington

Chapter VII: Pioneers of America

Chapter VI: Washington, The New Capital

Chapter V: Early Baltimore

Chapter IV: The Philadelphia of Penn and Franklin

Chapter III: Old New York

Chapter II: The Crooked but Interesting Town of Boston

Chapter I: A Tour of the Land

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