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Lot Essay
Exquisitely stitched with silk and metallic threads, housed in its original frame and signed by its maker, this embroidered coat-of-arms is a masterpiece of American eighteenth-century needlework. The shield design exemplifies the Rococo style with a central cartouche defined by opposing C-scrolls and surrounded by flowing leafy stems and flowers. From bookplates to trade cards and cartouche finials on furniture, a similar combination of motifs was expressed in a variety of media by mid- to late-eighteenth century artisans. Seen here in a colorful palette that has survived with much of its original vibrancy, this work is an especially delightful expression of the fashionable aesthetic of the era.
The only two coats-of-arms known to have survived from eighteenth-century Philadelphia, this example and that of Elizabeth's sister, Ann (fig. 1), are significantly different from the large body of surviving New England armorials. These coat-of-arms needleworks were typically executed in a square piece of black silk set on a diagonal, otherwise known as a "hatchment" design. Armorials worked in "filigree" are the earliest examples, appearing in Boston between 1720 and 1740; those in silk and metal threads, as in this example, were popular in Boston from 1740. Though many from eighteenth-century Boston survive, no schoolmistress is known to have advertised instruction in the working of coats-of-arms until 1755.
Embroidered coats-of-arms presented their makers with the opportunity for pictorial representation while at the same time an occasion to pay tribute to a European tradition, which the elite adopted as a signifier of their own prominence in pre-Revolutionary America. According to Betty Ring, there is no evidence that these elegant status symbols were particularly favored by Tories, as they appear to have been worked in equal number by the daughters of American patriots and Loyalists alike. Ring points out that very few American families were entitled to bear arms and that embroidered arms seldom adhere to the rigid rules of heraldry, though they were typically fashioned after recognized heraldic sources. She further states that armorial needleworks were almost exclusively the domain of the daughters of the wealthiest famlies, who could afford their costly materials, an observation that is in keeping with what is known of the Flower family of Philadelphia (see below; Betty Ring, Girlhood Embroidery, vol. I, p. 75).
In addition to retaining its blue, green, red, cream and black hues, the embroidery is in a remarkable state of preservation. The coarse stitching attaching the moiré ground to its backing is undisturbed and remains in its first and only frame, an elaborate model with a gilt, sand-finished fascia, complete with its original glass and backboard. No doubt proud of her accomplishment, the maker, Elizabeth Flower (1742-1781) included the double cipher of her initials in gold threads in the base beneath the shield and signed her name along with the date on the back. Several surviving works made by Elizabeth's sisters when they were in their early twenties indicate that the art of embroidery was a family pursuit and that the Flower sisters were particularly skillful practitioners. In 1763, two years before her older sister, Ann Flower (1743-1778) wrought a virtually identical coat-of-arms (fig. 1). She also made a prayerbook cover that like her coat-of-arms is now at Winterthur Museum and a sampler in nine compartments whose present owner is unknown. If Elizabeth and Ann's younger sister, Mary (1744-1788) also fashioned a similar coat-of-arms, it is not known, but her talents are evident in two needlework pictures, one depicting a fox hunt (see Christie's New York, The Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Eddy Nicholson, January 27-28, 1995, lots 1075 and 1076). Furthermore, the two coats-of-arms and Mary's pictorials have closely related frames that indicate the work of the same craftsman. Though speculative, as he was also a successful entrepreneur, their father, Enoch Flower (1705-1773) described his occupation as a joiner in his will, and it is possible that he constructed the frames for his daughters' embroideries.
Made of expensive materials, silk moiré, gold and silver threads and gilt frames, these works convey the affluence and prominence of the Flower family in Philadelphia society. The sisters' great-grandfather, Enoch Flower (1635-1684) was appointed by William Penn as the City's first schoolmaster and the inventory of their father's estate reveals a well-to-do household. Their parents, Enoch and Ann (Jones) were married in Philadelphia's Quaker Meeting House in 1736, and though he was later disowned by the Society, he was buried in the Friends' burial ground (Betty Ring, Girlhood Embroidery, vol. II, p. 356). Their father had ties to Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) and participated in the statesman's civic ventures, including the Library Company and the Philadelphia hospital, and along with other leading citizens, such as John Cadwalader, he was a founding member of the Gloucester Foxhunting Club in New Jersey. At the time of his death, in 1773, he resided in Southwark in Philadelphia County.
In 1777, Elizabeth Flower married Christopher Marshall (1740-1807), a wealthy druggist, in the Friend's Meeting House in Gwynedd, now in Montgomery County. According to a Marshall family descendant, they were forced to wed outside of the City as it was occupied by the British and at the time of her marriage, Elizabeth, who had inherited part of her father's estate, was worth over $100,000. Four years later, she died giving birth to her daughter, Elizabeth Flower Marshall (1781-1835), and the sad event was recorded by her brother-in-law, Charles in a letter to his father:
Esteemed Father, Brother Christopher wrote to thee a few days past advising thee of the safe delivery of Sister Betsy of a daughter, now I have to convey to thee the awfull tidings of her departure, she having expired yesterday about 20 minutes past 12 o'clock...The child seems bravely and has a good breast of milk so that we have hopes it may do well. (cited in ancestry.com, ID no. I26)
The daughter survived and became the country's first female pharmacist, continuing the business of her father's family. She also inherited this needlework as her married initials, EMS, are written in chalk on the reverse of the frame. In 1806, she married Christopher Marshall Slocum (1776-1842), a hardware merchant from Newport who, indicating previous family ties, had been named after her father. Further revealing the close-knit community of wealthy Quakers, the mother and daughter married into families who owned other renowned examples of American craftsmanship. Christopher Marshall was the brother of Benjamin Marshall (1737-1778), whose high chest sold at Christie's New York, May 19, 2005, lot 109 and Christopher Marshall Slocum was the brother of Sarah Slocum (1771-1859), the owner of the John Townsend block-and-shell chest-of-drawers that sold at Christie's New York, June 18, 1998, lot 151. Elizabeth Flower's coat-of-arms descended in the family until it sold at auction in 1989.
The only two coats-of-arms known to have survived from eighteenth-century Philadelphia, this example and that of Elizabeth's sister, Ann (fig. 1), are significantly different from the large body of surviving New England armorials. These coat-of-arms needleworks were typically executed in a square piece of black silk set on a diagonal, otherwise known as a "hatchment" design. Armorials worked in "filigree" are the earliest examples, appearing in Boston between 1720 and 1740; those in silk and metal threads, as in this example, were popular in Boston from 1740. Though many from eighteenth-century Boston survive, no schoolmistress is known to have advertised instruction in the working of coats-of-arms until 1755.
Embroidered coats-of-arms presented their makers with the opportunity for pictorial representation while at the same time an occasion to pay tribute to a European tradition, which the elite adopted as a signifier of their own prominence in pre-Revolutionary America. According to Betty Ring, there is no evidence that these elegant status symbols were particularly favored by Tories, as they appear to have been worked in equal number by the daughters of American patriots and Loyalists alike. Ring points out that very few American families were entitled to bear arms and that embroidered arms seldom adhere to the rigid rules of heraldry, though they were typically fashioned after recognized heraldic sources. She further states that armorial needleworks were almost exclusively the domain of the daughters of the wealthiest famlies, who could afford their costly materials, an observation that is in keeping with what is known of the Flower family of Philadelphia (see below; Betty Ring, Girlhood Embroidery, vol. I, p. 75).
In addition to retaining its blue, green, red, cream and black hues, the embroidery is in a remarkable state of preservation. The coarse stitching attaching the moiré ground to its backing is undisturbed and remains in its first and only frame, an elaborate model with a gilt, sand-finished fascia, complete with its original glass and backboard. No doubt proud of her accomplishment, the maker, Elizabeth Flower (1742-1781) included the double cipher of her initials in gold threads in the base beneath the shield and signed her name along with the date on the back. Several surviving works made by Elizabeth's sisters when they were in their early twenties indicate that the art of embroidery was a family pursuit and that the Flower sisters were particularly skillful practitioners. In 1763, two years before her older sister, Ann Flower (1743-1778) wrought a virtually identical coat-of-arms (fig. 1). She also made a prayerbook cover that like her coat-of-arms is now at Winterthur Museum and a sampler in nine compartments whose present owner is unknown. If Elizabeth and Ann's younger sister, Mary (1744-1788) also fashioned a similar coat-of-arms, it is not known, but her talents are evident in two needlework pictures, one depicting a fox hunt (see Christie's New York, The Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Eddy Nicholson, January 27-28, 1995, lots 1075 and 1076). Furthermore, the two coats-of-arms and Mary's pictorials have closely related frames that indicate the work of the same craftsman. Though speculative, as he was also a successful entrepreneur, their father, Enoch Flower (1705-1773) described his occupation as a joiner in his will, and it is possible that he constructed the frames for his daughters' embroideries.
Made of expensive materials, silk moiré, gold and silver threads and gilt frames, these works convey the affluence and prominence of the Flower family in Philadelphia society. The sisters' great-grandfather, Enoch Flower (1635-1684) was appointed by William Penn as the City's first schoolmaster and the inventory of their father's estate reveals a well-to-do household. Their parents, Enoch and Ann (Jones) were married in Philadelphia's Quaker Meeting House in 1736, and though he was later disowned by the Society, he was buried in the Friends' burial ground (Betty Ring, Girlhood Embroidery, vol. II, p. 356). Their father had ties to Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) and participated in the statesman's civic ventures, including the Library Company and the Philadelphia hospital, and along with other leading citizens, such as John Cadwalader, he was a founding member of the Gloucester Foxhunting Club in New Jersey. At the time of his death, in 1773, he resided in Southwark in Philadelphia County.
In 1777, Elizabeth Flower married Christopher Marshall (1740-1807), a wealthy druggist, in the Friend's Meeting House in Gwynedd, now in Montgomery County. According to a Marshall family descendant, they were forced to wed outside of the City as it was occupied by the British and at the time of her marriage, Elizabeth, who had inherited part of her father's estate, was worth over $100,000. Four years later, she died giving birth to her daughter, Elizabeth Flower Marshall (1781-1835), and the sad event was recorded by her brother-in-law, Charles in a letter to his father:
Esteemed Father, Brother Christopher wrote to thee a few days past advising thee of the safe delivery of Sister Betsy of a daughter, now I have to convey to thee the awfull tidings of her departure, she having expired yesterday about 20 minutes past 12 o'clock...The child seems bravely and has a good breast of milk so that we have hopes it may do well. (cited in ancestry.com, ID no. I26)
The daughter survived and became the country's first female pharmacist, continuing the business of her father's family. She also inherited this needlework as her married initials, EMS, are written in chalk on the reverse of the frame. In 1806, she married Christopher Marshall Slocum (1776-1842), a hardware merchant from Newport who, indicating previous family ties, had been named after her father. Further revealing the close-knit community of wealthy Quakers, the mother and daughter married into families who owned other renowned examples of American craftsmanship. Christopher Marshall was the brother of Benjamin Marshall (1737-1778), whose high chest sold at Christie's New York, May 19, 2005, lot 109 and Christopher Marshall Slocum was the brother of Sarah Slocum (1771-1859), the owner of the John Townsend block-and-shell chest-of-drawers that sold at Christie's New York, June 18, 1998, lot 151. Elizabeth Flower's coat-of-arms descended in the family until it sold at auction in 1989.