Oliver Cromwell (1599-1658) was the Protestant general who overthrew England’s ruler, King Charles I (1600-1649). A deeply religious man, Cromwell believed God led him to victory, so I guess he also thought God wanted him to sign King Charles’s death warrant, and the unfortunate monarch succumbed to the executioner’s sword. The story of the rise and fall of England’s short-lived Commonwealth is well known, so I shan’t belabor it here, but Cromwell and King Charles resurfaced in English figure pottery well over a century later, standing side by side on this huge plaque. Breathtakingly beautiful, it measures almost fourteen inches across.
A plaque in a blog devoted to figures may surprise you, but plaques with relief figural forms are, to my mind, figures too. I find them particularly gorgeous because light dances across their glazed flat surfaces in a way that just is not possible on conventional figures. And when the plaque is as large as this one, the result is mesmerizing.
Each plaque, like each figure, tells a story, but this plaque is a brain teaser that raises numerous questions. Why give Cromwell a passing thought some 160 years after his death? When King Charles II reclaimed the throne his father had relinquished, he disinterred Cromwell’s body, publicly hanged and then beheaded it, and placed the head on a spike for all to see. But, as modern day protestors have yet to learn, you cannot erase history, and in time Staffordshire potters turned their attention to Cromwell and his ill-fated victim.
What probably got the potters’ creative juices flowing was this engraving of Cromwell after a drawing by Samuel Wale, the eighteenth century historical painter and book illustrator. It appeared in George Frederick Raymond’s “A New, Universal and Impartial History of England” that was first published in serial form in the late 1780s.
A plaque in a blog devoted to figures may surprise you, but plaques with relief figural forms are, to my mind, figures too. I find them particularly gorgeous because light dances across their glazed flat surfaces in a way that just is not possible on conventional figures. And when the plaque is as large as this one, the result is mesmerizing.
Each plaque, like each figure, tells a story, but this plaque is a brain teaser that raises numerous questions. Why give Cromwell a passing thought some 160 years after his death? When King Charles II reclaimed the throne his father had relinquished, he disinterred Cromwell’s body, publicly hanged and then beheaded it, and placed the head on a spike for all to see. But, as modern day protestors have yet to learn, you cannot erase history, and in time Staffordshire potters turned their attention to Cromwell and his ill-fated victim.
What probably got the potters’ creative juices flowing was this engraving of Cromwell after a drawing by Samuel Wale, the eighteenth century historical painter and book illustrator. It appeared in George Frederick Raymond’s “A New, Universal and Impartial History of England” that was first published in serial form in the late 1780s.
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Wale was probably guided by an earlier painting of Cromwell, but, to my eye, much was lost in the translation. Anyway, as it was all that potters had to go on, they made do.
Also courtesy of Samuel Wale is this engraving of King Charles, orb and scepter in his regal hands and his head still upon his shoulders. It clearly is the design source for figure of Charles on the plaque.
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What of the classical maidens to either side of the king and his persecutor? Collectors today overlook classical figures, but, to my mind, they are endlessly fascinating, and the damsels on this plaque are no exception.
The figure on the left is the sea nymph Galatea. The raised scarf is the give-away because Galatea is routinely portrayed in art with a raised scarf. Her story goes like this: Galatea, fleeing from her jealous lover, travelled on the ocean in a shell drawn by sea creatures, and her scarf caught the wind and acted as a sail. On the plaque, Galatea, balancing on her shell, taps Charles on the shoulder, signaling the need to flee.
The figure on the left is the sea nymph Galatea. The raised scarf is the give-away because Galatea is routinely portrayed in art with a raised scarf. Her story goes like this: Galatea, fleeing from her jealous lover, travelled on the ocean in a shell drawn by sea creatures, and her scarf caught the wind and acted as a sail. On the plaque, Galatea, balancing on her shell, taps Charles on the shoulder, signaling the need to flee.
On the underglaze plaque below, you see a fuller version of Galatea's tale.
The figure on the right too has a story to tell. She is the goddess Eris. In Greek her name means strife, and she was the goddess of discord. Miffed at not being invited to a wedding, Eris gate-crashed the event and tossed down an apple with the words “to the fairest one” inscribed on it. The apple—appropriately known as the Apple of Discord—resulted in a beauty contest, and Paris of Troy was left with the task of deciding whether to award the apple to Athena, Hera, or Aphrodite. Paris could not win this one! Never underestimate the fury of a woman scorned. The resulting conflict led to the legendary ten-year Trojan War. On the plaque, Eris stands with the Apple of Discord in her hand. She symbolizes the discord between Cromwell and King Charles.
The same motif also occurs on the plaque below, where Paris awards the apple to Aphrodite. It was probably inspired by a painting, perhaps Botticelli’s beautiful portrayal of the Judgment of Paris. The potter skillfully reworked the motif used for Aphrodite so that the female figure stood alone, apple in hand…and presto! she became Eris. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and the potter transformed Eris into Aphrodite.
Courtesy Andrew Dando
Sandro Botticelli's Judgment of Paris
What about the animals in the foreground of the plaque? I am somewhat stumped. Perhaps the birds are doves, signifying a hope for peace. The huge serpent surely symbolizes evil, no doubt a reference to Cromwell’s dastardly deeds. As for the dog, apparently sleeping and oblivious to all around him, I have no idea---but I shall be thinking about it. I notice that the same dog is on the plaque of the Judgment of Paris, so perhaps the potter included it simply because he had a mould at hand.
So the King, the man who usurped England’s throne, discord, and flight, all in one eyeful. This plaque packs a powerful punch.
PS:
For completeness, I add that small pair of underglaze decorated plaques in the Wolverhampton Museum & Art Gallery is illustrated in Lewis, Pratt Ware, pp. 114-115. One has a relief of Cromwell, another of King Charles. The plaques are not accessible on the museum's web site. I surmise that these little treasures, like so many others, are buried and forgotten in museum storage.
So the King, the man who usurped England’s throne, discord, and flight, all in one eyeful. This plaque packs a powerful punch.
PS:
For completeness, I add that small pair of underglaze decorated plaques in the Wolverhampton Museum & Art Gallery is illustrated in Lewis, Pratt Ware, pp. 114-115. One has a relief of Cromwell, another of King Charles. The plaques are not accessible on the museum's web site. I surmise that these little treasures, like so many others, are buried and forgotten in museum storage.
 Courtesy Brighton and Hove Museums. | Also, Samuel Wale's print of Cromwell was the design source for this rare figure of Cromwell in the Brighton and Hove Museums. It was made by Ralph Wood circa 1790, and I have recorded an example impressed "20". |
