IT is said that 100 years ago, 90 per cent of households in Britain had at least one piece of crested china on their mantlepieces or whatnots as a souvenir of a place in which they had holidayed or das a keepsake of a town that was dear to them.
It seems that even today 90 per cent of Memories readers still have at least one piece of crested china in their homes. In fact, many have display cabinets dedicated to their collections.
“We never intended to collect,” says Heather Carter who, with her partner Doreen Outhwaite, has amassed over 20 years several dozen items with Darlington’s old coat-of-arms on. “When we see one, either in Australia or in other parts of this country, we feel as if we are rescuing it and bringing it home.”
In the early 1880s, Adolphus and Victor Goss, whose father ran the Falcon pottery in Stoke, noticed how the lower classes were beginning to travel cheaply on the railways on their occasional days off, and were looking for inexpensive pocket-sized souvenirs they could take home. The brothers began producing china trinkets in classical shapes of Greek and Roman antiquities with the name and crest of a seaside location on them.
Denis Reed's City of Durham tea service
When these proved popular, they diversified, producing a bust of Captain Cook for the Whitby market, and then they moved into models of ships and cars. In all, Goss produced about 2,500 models with the names of 10,000 locations on them.
At the start of the 20th Century, several other Stoke potteries began muscling in on the fashionable market. Harold Robinson started Arcadian in about 1900 and, taking over rival potteries like Swan and Willow Art, his company became even bigger than Goss.
Connoisseurs of crested china, though, say Goss is always the best quality as it used parianware, a light, thin type of porcelain to make its products.
Other pottery names you may find on the bottom of your trinkets include Carlton, Grafton, Savoy and Shelley.
As the market expanded, so the designs became more and more unusual.
In their collection (part of which is above), Heather and Doreen have pots, candlesticks, teapots, a watering can, a clock, a toast rack, a butterdish and a model of Locomotion No 1. On its bottom, the engine has the name of the stockist who sold it: “A Lascelles, Darlington”.
“That’s the latest one,” says Heather. “We’d never seen that before, with the Darlington crest on the end of the engine. We got it at an antiques fair at Gateshead stadium.
“We haven’t paid huge amounts of money for any of them, £30 or under.
“We see them sitting there, no one really wants them, so we feel as if we are saving them.”
Even on holiday in Australia, they’ve found Darlington crested china – including the Victorian powerhouse motto “floreat industria”, or “let industry flourish” – and brought it back. “People who emigrated from this area must have taken it with them,” says Heather.
Brian Lamb has sent in this classic souvenir of an outing to the castle coast of Northumberland – a model of a First World War submarine from Warkworth.“It belonged to my mother, Martha Lamb, née Charlton, who lived at Raby Road in Ferryhill and before she married at Dean Bank,” says Brian. “I think she may have had relatives in the Warkworth area.”The conning tower has the submarine’s number on it: E5 (the navy didn’t start naming its submarines until 1942). E5 was built in Barrow and went into service on June 28, 1913. It was sunk off the Dutch coast on March 7, 1916, with the loss of its 29-man crew. Its wreck was discovered in 2016. The hull appeared undamaged, so it probably didn’t sink due to enemy action, and the hatches were open, as if the men had been trying to escape.
The First World War caused a militaryisation of the designs of crested china: as we showed a fortnight ago, you can get models of guns, tanks, shells, airplanes, petrol cans, trenchlights and even of a soldier sitting in a dug-out, all with the coat-of-arms of your favourite town on them.
If these militaristic souvenirs look rather odd then in peacetime, the potters’ models become increasingly inexplicable.
Christine Hind in Shildon sent a picture of a model lighthouse with the crest of Barnard Castle on it (above). “Why?” she asks, simply. The town is practically in the middle of the country. Only a visitor whose eyes needed a serious testing would buy a lighthouse as a souvenir of Barney.
But then Heather and Doreen have a china cat which is stuck in a china saucepan with the arms of Darlington on it. The poor puss is peering forlornly out of the saucepan as if worried that someone is going to turn up the heat.
This model says “Gemma” on the bottom, which was the trade name of Schmidt & Co of Czechoslovakia. It entered the crested china market after the First World War, when British interest was beginning to wane, and is noted for its extravagant designs.
But why would anyone put a puss in a pan?
With the novelty of travel wearing off and the tough times of the Great Depression of the 1930s forcing many working class people to stay at home, the crested china craze came to an end.
“They were rather like the selfies of the day,” says Denis Reed in Eaglescliffe. “You popped them on your mantlepiece as if to say ‘look where I’ve been’.”
Denis collected several hundred pieces with local links, and was a member of the Goss Collectors’ Club until he downsized a few years ago – the trouble with crested china is that it needs a china cabinet for display and modern houses don’t have room for such things, and it requires dusting, and modern people don’t have time for such a thing.
But Denis kept some of his favourite pieces which show how the craze stretched even into the smaller places. He has an otter from Sedgefield (above), a Toby jug from West Cornforth, and a water pump from Trimdon Colliery which has the name of the shop from which it was bought on the bottom: “M Hill, jeweller, Trimdon Colliery” (below).
In villages, the seller was often the local newsagent. There must have been crested china travelling salesmen calling in on each corner shop and sending back a bespoke order for the pottery in Stoke to make.
“They weren’t just souvenirs, but for a few pennies you could have one from your own local village,” says Denis. “These things meant a lot to people at the time.”
And that’s part of the joy of them: as well as having a local connection, you know that for the original purchaser, they were a treasured memento of a rare daytrip or holiday, or they were a piece of pride that their local place had been deemed sufficiently important to become part of the great craze of the moment.
A Bishop Auckland sugar dish and salt and pepper set belonging to Mel Holmes. The coat-of-arms is associated with then urban district council that started in 1894, and its central image is a bishop's mitre. Picture courtesy of Tom Hutchinson
A five spouted Bishop Auckland plant holder from the collection of Tom Hutchinson
A great tea service of Darlington crested china belonging to Ian Waller
A nice souvenir of a day at Redcar races – a piece of china in the shape of a horse’s hoof made by the Grafton pottery in Stoke. Sent in by MR Darbyshire of Darlington
A West Cornforth toby jug in the collection of Denis Reed. Did "Doggy" have its own coat of arms?
Many thanks to everyone who has sent in their pictures. Are there any other crested oddities out there? Please email chris.lloyd@nne.co.uk
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