Chapter XIII: General Lafayette's Visit to America

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.

Chapter XII: Naval Heroes of the War of 1812

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.

Chapter XI: Benjamin Franklin and His Precepts

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.”

Chapter IX: Scenes of the Revolutionary War

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.)