‘Willow’ pattern Plate
We are often asked what
is the story behind the Wedgwood ‘Willow’ pattern, and if we have any details
about its history. Detailed below is an
‘interpretation’ which dates to the 1920s, and which was authored in the form
of small booklet for the Wedgwood factory, based at that time at the old
Etruria location, by Harry Barnard.
Harry Barnard (l862-l933) was born in London and left school at l5 to
work in a modelling shop of the family silversmiths in St. Martin's-le-Grand,
London. He left to enrol at the Royal
School (now Royal College) of Art where he studied drawing and modelling. In l880 he joined the Doulton Lambeth
Studios, working under the supervision of Mark Marshall. At the age of 22 he was the under-manager of
the extensive studios (which then employed 325 women and 45 men and boys). All the work produced was hand-crafted. In February l895 he left Doulton to join the
Cobridge based firm of James Macintyre.
A year later he joined the Wedgwood factory at Etruria. He was able to apply his expertise in
hand-crafted wares - for example slip decorating, jewelling, sgraffito and
pate-sur-pate to its fullest extent.
He utilised his art techniques on traditional Wedgwood Ceramic bodies,
such as Jasper and Black Basalt. He
also produced designs for production in bone china, stoneware, Majolica and
tiles. For a number of years between
l902 and l9l9 he became the Wedgwood London Manager, returning to the factory
he collaborated on special projects such as a new edition of the famed Portland
Vase. He also assisted extensively with
the factory Museum, and both wrote and
lectured on Wedgwood ware and history.
He continued to design and decorate individual art wares until his death
in l933.
Whilst some of Barnard’s interpretation in the history is
not quite accurate in the light of modern research, the story is nevertheless
so charming that we thought to reproduce it here for everyone’s enjoyment.
So
many times have I been asked “What is the Story of the ‘Willow’ pattern
plate?” that I venture to relate what I
have been taught to believe is the correct meaning of the design as it appears
upon the “Wedgwood” version of this much produced and ever popular pattern.
The
‘Willow’ pattern originated at a factory in Shropshire – Caughley – about
1780. It was quickly copied, and no
doubt distributed by migratory engravers, with alterations and modifications
throughout the earthenware factories of Staffordshire, and others in different
parts of England.
It
is, undoubtedly, merely an English adaptation of an ordinary river scene,
conventionally treated, which was a very common decoration used on porcelain
that was exported to this country by the Chinese during the eighteenth century,
and does not reproduce any particular landscape or any original Chinese design
exactly.
There
are several that it resembles, and many that are mistaken for it, but none seem
to have the same pleasing effect or so satisfactorily fill the plate.
The
border varies considerably, and has been adapted to suit various shapes of
dishes and plates – and even sauceboats, ladles and crescent, oval and leaf
shapes for pickle hors d’oeuvres dishes.
The
story has also suffered as much mutilation as the design – and indeed, it is
not known really whether the pattern was made to illustrate the story, or the
romance suggested by the design.
However,
it matters little for the pathetic and tragic elements exist, and are presented
in this artistic form.
Every
one in childhood has wondered what the mysterious people, trees, and birds
meant. Who are the three people on the
bridge and where are they going? What
is the boatman doing? Who lives on the
island? Why do the two birds fly above
all, about to kiss each other?
Whatever
sized plate or whatever shaped piece we examine these items occur – the three
people are on the bridge, the boatman, the island, and the birds fluttering
above are always there.
Look
at the plate – on the right is a Chinese House belonging to a wealthy man, for
it is two storeys high – and the outbuildings, spacious grounds, and rare trees
all indicate magnificence.
Now
for the story as was told to me in childhood, and which, of course, I have
retained because it was given to me at my mother’s knee, who also had it from
her mother in the same manner – how can it then be anything by precious and
faithfully preserved.
The
great house belonged to a Mandarin of great power whose influence was felt by
all in that Seaport. He has acquired
much wealth by serving the Emperor as a Customs House Officer.
This
work was done by his secretary named Chang – while his master received bribes
from merchants at whose smuggling he winked as long as he was paid in
proportion.
Time
came when the merchants began to talk loudly about the unfairness and
dishonesty of this Customs Manager.
As
matters had become difficult, the Mandarin whose wife had died made this an
excuse for requesting the Emperor to allow him to retire. His Imperial Majesty the Emperor signed the
necessary document.
The
Mandarin then retired to his house with his wealth untouched, taking with him
his only daughter Koong-se, and his secretary, Chang, whose services he
retained for a few months in order to put his accounts into a state that would
bear scrutiny, if for any reason he should be asked to produce them. When this was complete, he discharged Chang,
but it was too late for the secretary had seen and loved the Mandarin’s
daughter. At sunset Koong-se used to
linger on the way from the banquet room, and find an opportunity to steal away
into a distant part of the grounds where Chang was ready to meet her, and upon
the last evening of Chang’s engagement he made a promise of love and constancy.
For
many evenings after when Chang was supposed to be miles away, they met in a
place among the orange trees and huge peonies.
Koong-se’s handmaid assisted to arrange these interviews without the
knowledge of the old Mandarin, for they knew that their positions in life being
unequal, the father would never consent to the union. Yet they believed and hoped this objection would sometime be
removed. Their fancy had but two
seasons – Spring and Summer.
he forbade Koong-se to leave the house,
Chang was warned, and he ordered a high and strong palisade to be made all
round the ground to the edge of the river.
So as to keep his daughter imprisoned and to allow her exercise in the
fresh air he built a suite of apartments adjoining his banquet room, jutting
out over the river, with terraces upon which Koong-se could walk. These apartments had no exit except through
the banquet room where the old Mandarin spent most of his time, and as they
were completely surrounded by water, he felt sure he would no longer be
troubled with clandestine meetings.
To
complete the lovers’ disappointment he betrothed his daughter to a wealthy
friend, a Ta-jin (duke of high degree) whom she had never seen. The Ta-jin was her equal in every way,
except age, in which he was greatly her superior. The marriage was arranged, without the lady’s consent, and was to
take place when the peach tree blossomed.
Poor Koong-se watched the buds on the peach tree that grew near her
prison. But she was cheered when a bird
came and built its nest just close to the window. She watched it bringing straws and feathers, and used to sit
gazing out over the water. As she
looked she saw a coconut shell with a little sail of paper fitted to it
floating towards her, and stretching out her parasol she reached it from the
water. In it she found a bead she had
given to her lover, and some verses, which proved from whom it had come. Chang had sent it from the other side of the
water, and upon closer examination she found a paper, on which was written:
“As this boat sails to thee, so my thoughts tend”
With
further information that, when the Willow blossom drops from the bough, and the
peach tree unfolds its buds, your faithful Chang will sink with the lotus
blooms beneath the deep waters.
Koong-se well understood this and wept over Chang’s threat to commit
suicide. She took a needle that she had
been using for embroidery and scratched upon an ivory tablet, her answer:
“Do not wise husbandmen gather the fruits they fear will
be stolen? The fruit you most prize
will be gathered when the Willow blossom droops upon the bough”
She placed the tablet in
the shell boat, and when dark launched it with an incense stick burning in it,
and little faith in her heart. Still
she followed its light till she could see it no longer, and because it had not
overturned or the light extinguished, with a lighter heart she retired to rest.
Days passed, weeks passed,
but no more little boats appeared, and Koong-se began to doubt. The blossom upon the Willow tree, as she
watched it, seemed to wither.
One morning the old
Mandarin came to her in high glee. In
his hands was a large box full of rare jewels – a present from the Ta-jin. He told her that the Duke was coming that
day to take food and drink wine in her father’s house. Koong-se’s hopes vanished – she could only
weep.
The Ta-jin arrived with a
great crowd of servants bearing lanterns on which were written his titles, and
his great performances, which were shouted out between the beating of gongs.
The old Mandarin gave him
a suitable reception, and the gentleman sat down to a feast, many “cups of
salutation” were drunk and they became noisy with merriment. During this orgy a stranger came to the
house to ask alms, and his tale being listened to he took a garment from the
porch, in which he disguised himself, and spreading a screen across the lower
part of the banquet room, he passed into Koong-se’s apartments, and in another
moment the lovers were locked in each other’s arms. Yes! It was Chang, he asked Koong-se to fly with him, “for,” said
he,
“… the Willow blossom already droops upon the bough.”
She gave him the box of
jewels, and as the Mandarin and his guests were asleep over their cups, she
passed behind the screen and out down the steps to the footbridge beside the
Willow tree. At this moment the old
Mandarin became aware of what was going on, and seeing his daughter and Chang
in the garden he raised the hue and cry and ran out after them himself. Here you have the part of the story, which
shows the three figures on the bridge (the artist has had to concentrate them
upon the bridge, so as to show them clearly, as well as to help the design).
First the lady – Koong-se
holding a distaff, the emblem of virginity – the second is Chang carrying the
box of jewels – the third, the old Mandarin showing his authority and rage as
he carries a whip.
Chang and Koong-se escaped
and got into a boat, which was in readiness, and rowed away to an unfrequented
island far away on the river, where the handmaid, who had been dismissed, found
them safety, and concealed them. Every
attempt to race them was made by the father and Ta-jin – the former, after a
short time, gave up in despair – but the latter, who was more persevering, sent
spies out to every village for miles around, he was anxious to secure Chang,
and put him to death for the theft of the jewels.
At last the old Mandarin
issued a proclamation that, if his daughter would leave Chang and return home,
he would forgive her.
This deluded Chang into
believing that he was relenting and he was so joyful that he became less
careful to conceal himself.
Thus the house was
watched, and later in the evening a soldier entered to read the proclamation to
them, and tell them the house was surrounded.
Chang managed to escape by diving into the river, and
swimming across, he fetched a boat after dark.
While the faithful handmaid kept the soldiers occupied in front of the
house Koong-se escaped by the back, and the boat was pushed off and went
rapidly down the river. They sold a jewel and brought food with the coin. They floated on for several days till they
came to an island in the broad river near its mouth at the sea, and on this
small piece of ground they decided to settle and live in peace. The jewels were
sold in secret ways so as to avoid suspicion, and with the proceeds Chang was
able to purchase a free right to the island.
Here they built a house, Koong-se helping, and Chang
brought the land into a profitable state of cultivation.
This you can see in the
design for the whole of the ground is furrowed and every scrap of it is
utilised – even narrow strips of land are reclaimed from the river.
Chang became by his
industry a man of comfortable means, and took up once more his literary
pursuits, writing a book upon gardening, which gained him reputation and the
patronage of wealthy men.
This book made him
friends, but also showed his whereabouts to his greatest enemy the Ta-jin,
whose desire for revenge had never ceased.
He did not delay but sent at once a company of soldiers to seize Koong-se
and kill Chang without mercy. Chang
resisted them but was run through the body and mortally wounded. His servants seeing him fall, threw down
their weapons and fled. Koong-se in
despair ran into the house which she set on fire, and was burnt to death.
The gods cursed the Duke, but in pity to Koong-se and
Chang they transformed them into two immortal doves (or in reality a mandarin
duck and drake), emblems of constancy – beautiful in life, and in death
unparted.
The fact in natural
history is: That if a Mandarin drake
dies, his mate also dies, and vice-versa.
This story was written by Harry Barnard.