I suspect that every collector of antique Staffordshire pottery figures has at least one Staffordshire pottery plaque adorning a wall. Plaques, like figures, range from the mundane to the extraordinary. But when superb, a plaque packs enormous punch, especially as light plays beautifully on its flat surface.
The subjects portrayed in plaques relate closely to those found in figural form. Don't you love this lady in her chariot? Note the very high relief on this plaque, but I fear a photo just does not capture it fully.
The subjects portrayed in plaques relate closely to those found in figural form. Don't you love this lady in her chariot? Note the very high relief on this plaque, but I fear a photo just does not capture it fully.
The woman reclining languidly in her lion drawn-chariot is Cybele. Don't let the regal bearing of this earth mother fool you: this lady is associated with wild music, wine, and a disorderly, ecstatic following. She is also associated with wild animals, especially lions (hence her lion-drawn chariot) and city walls (hence the mural crown atop her head.) As a figure, she is known only within chariots, like the one below.
This chariot, one of only two known examples, is attributed to John Dale and has been discussed previously on this blog. Yes, I realize the beasts pulling the chariot are tigers rather than lions, but that detail would not have been particularly significant to the potters.
I am drawn to this quirky plaque that sold recently in the UK.
I am drawn to this quirky plaque that sold recently in the UK.
The naked male figures blowing their horns flank Cybele (I think, because of the mural crown of sorts atop her head), who is holding a cornucopia and is accompanied by two lions. The inscription on the front of the plaque reads “The silver trumpet warbles forth In most melodious strains.” These words are in a hymn that I can only find published in Barton’s Hymns of 1797. An incised inscription to the verso reads, “If thou a wakes the Lyons with thy horns the three in Pieces shall be torn.” The origin of this inscription eludes me. If you know, please tell me.
The plaque recalls the figures below, warbling forth on their yellow trumpets. They represent the Archangel Gabriel, the biblical messenger. The left figure can be attributed to "Sherratt," the right figure cannot.
The plaque recalls the figures below, warbling forth on their yellow trumpets. They represent the Archangel Gabriel, the biblical messenger. The left figure can be attributed to "Sherratt," the right figure cannot.
 |  Courtesy John Howard |
Similar figures occur without the wording. Perhaps they represent Archangel Gabriel, or perhaps just a cherub.
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Again, the left figure is attributed to "Sherratt." While I suspect "Sherratt" made the right figure too, I can't be certain. The figures fall a little flat without the wording on them. It adds so much drama, doesn't it?
I have long admired plaques made in Scotland to commemorate the visit of King George IV in August 1822. This was Scotland's first visit by a reigning monarch since 1650, and the potters at Portobello made colorful plaques to mark the historic occasion. The plaque below is impressed "WELCOME KING GEORGE" in the dark green area beneath the king. The colors are typical of the Scottish potteries, and the thistles painted into the floral design are the Scottish national flower. The result could hardly be more Scottish. I suspect that in 1822 plenty of plaques like this were made, and over the years I have encountered a few. They vary enormously in their attractiveness and their condition, and a good example is, like everything else that is of any merit, difficult to find.
The man who caused all the excitement in Scotland in 1822 was king of all of Britain, yet figures of him are scarcer than hen's teeth. This little figure of King George IV is one of only two or perhaps three known examples.
Why so few figures of such an important figure in history? Well, King George was reviled by the population for reasons ranging from his debauched lifestyle to his treatment of his wife. On the day after his funeral in 1830, the Times editorialized with brutal frankness, “There never was an individual less regretted by his fellow-creatures than this deceased king.” Well, nobody is perfect! We are all a strange mélangé of good and bad. For all his faults, King George had impeccable taste, and those who have visited the stunning Royal Pavilion he built in Brighton may prefer to remember him in that way.
