White House China of the Lincoln Administration in the Museum of History and Technology

In Short

This brief, meticulously researched study documents the specific china services purchased for the White House during the Lincoln administration. Drawing upon primary records from the National Archives and contemporary journalistic accounts, the text chronicles the selection of the famous "Solferino" and gold set, the controversies surrounding its funding, and the subsequent acquisition of a second service. By stripping away the layers of romanticized legend, the book provides a grounded, factual look at the material culture of the Executive Mansion during one of the most turbulent periods in American history.

The Story

When Mary Todd Lincoln arrived at the White House in 1861, she found the pantry lacking enough cohesive, elegant tableware to host formal state functions. The existing "red edge" set from the Pierce administration was insufficient in both quantity and grandeur for the social demands of a president. Leveraging the standard congressional appropriation of $20,000 intended for refurnishing the Executive Mansion, Mrs. Lincoln traveled to New York City to modernize the White House interiors. At the establishment of E. V. Haughwout and Co., she encountered a specimen plate previously displayed at the 1853 New York Crystal Palace Exhibition. Captivated by the design, she ordered a complete service for official entertaining, customized with a distinctive "Solferino" border—a vibrant, fashionable purplish-red hue—and emblazoned with the American eagle and the national shield.

The resulting service was a massive undertaking, comprising hundreds of pieces for dining, dessert, and breakfast. The design was rich in symbolism, featuring a gold cable border meant to represent the strength of the Union. However, the purchase was not without incident. Mrs. Lincoln also ordered a similar, personal set of china for her private use, and political rivals soon weaponized this decision. During the 1864 reelection campaign, opposition newspapers accused her of padding the bill for the state china to hide the cost of her personal set, a charge that the documentary evidence of the period refutes.

The strain of the Civil War and the public scrutiny surrounding her spending choices did not diminish Mrs. Lincoln’s desire for appropriate furnishings. As the war drew to a close, she commissioned a second, more understated set from a Philadelphia firm, featuring a buff-colored border and burnished gold lines. This set arrived just months before the President’s assassination. Following that tragedy, the settlement of these accounts became a point of bureaucratic negotiation for the incoming administration of Andrew Johnson.

Over the years, the "Solferino" set suffered from heavy use and frequent breakage. While later administrations attempted to order replacement pieces, the original set slowly dwindled. By the time of the Grant administration, it was largely depleted, leading to a persistent, if superstitious, belief among staff that the china itself was cursed with bad luck. In the decades that followed, the fascination with Lincoln led to a surge in commemorative reproductions, many of which were sold as souvenirs during the 1876 Centennial Exposition. These reproductions, often bearing marks that the originals lacked, have frequently confused collectors. Today, the few surviving pieces of the genuine sets—including a cup and saucer used by the President on the night of his death—are preserved within the Smithsonian’s collections, serving as tangible remnants of a presidency defined by both monumental tragedy and the quiet, domestic habits of a family in the spotlight.

How It Unfolds

The search for state regalia The narrative begins by establishing the domestic deficiency of the White House in 1861, where the existing china was deemed inadequate for the needs of a modern presidency. The author details the initial shopping trips to Philadelphia and New York, framing these acquisitions as a necessary component of the First Lady’s duty to elevate the dignity of the office.

The controversy of the Solferino set The middle section pivots to the procurement of the famous purple-bordered set, detailing the specific items ordered and the symbolic weight attributed to the design. This portion addresses the 1864 political scandal regarding the personal service, using financial vouchers and newspaper editorials to evaluate the veracity of the corruption claims.

The final acquisitions and legacy The concluding arc covers the 1865 purchase of the buff-and-gold service and the administrative difficulties of paying for these goods following the President's death. The final beats transition from the immediate post-war inventory to the later rise of commemorative reproductions, distinguishing between the original, unmarked pieces and the later souvenirs sold to the public.

The People

Mary Todd Lincoln is the central figure, acting as the primary force behind the acquisition of the china. Her motivation is to bring elegance to a White House she finds wanting, yet she is constantly hampered by the political climate of the Civil War. Though she succeeds in her aesthetic goals, she ends the narrative as a target of partisan gossip and a widow struggling to finalize the household accounts.

Theodore R. Davis appears as a pivotal observer and connector. As a designer and friend to manufacturers, his writings bridge the gap between the mid-century creation of the china and the late-century historical interest in it. He provides the link that identifies the Haviland factory as the source of the blank porcelain, acting as a bridge between the objects and their manufacturing origin.

B. B. French, the Commissioner of Public Buildings and Grounds, represents the administrative machinery of the White House. He is tasked with the messy work of reconciling the accounts after the President’s death. His interactions with President Johnson regarding the unpaid bills highlight the transition between the Lincoln era and the subsequent administration, grounding the story in the cold reality of post-war governance.

In Its Own Voice

When Mrs. Lincoln arrived at the White House in 1861 she found the pantry sadly deficient in elegant tableware to set a State dinner. The author sets the stage for the narrative by describing the state of the White House kitchen upon the arrival of the Lincoln family.

It is well for collectors of White House china to remember that the original pieces of the Lincoln service did not bear any mark on the reverse. The author provides a crucial piece of advice for those attempting to distinguish between authentic nineteenth-century presidential porcelain and later souvenir reproductions.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the way objects act as silent witnesses to history. It examines the tension between the public persona of the presidency and the private reality of domestic management, highlighting how a dinner service can become a lightning rod for political anxiety. The author argues that history is often obscured by myth-making—whether through the attribution of symbolic meaning to floral patterns or the creation of false scandals about public funds. By focusing on the "paper trail" of invoices, vouchers, and shipping manifests, the book strips away the sentimental facade of the White House to reveal the mundane, bureaucratic, and often messy logistics of maintaining a national institution in the midst of a fractured country.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a penchant for material culture and the small, human details of historical record-keeping will find this book deeply rewarding. It reads with the quiet authority of a curator guiding a guest through a display case, prioritizing the "how" and "why" of acquisition over empty historical drama. You will find no attempt to romanticize the era; instead, you get a clear-eyed look at the economic reality of the 1860s, complete with original bill heads and shipping costs.

The reading experience is precise and occasionally dry, grounded firmly in the archival documents of the Smithsonian and the National Archives. It does not shy away from the friction between the Lincolns and the public, nor does it hide the reality that these items were often fragile, prone to breakage, and subject to the vagaries of political oversight. What stays with you is the contrast between the grandeur of the "Solferino" set and the tragic, hurried circumstances under which it was used. This is a book for the reader who values truth over legend and who understands that the history of a nation is often best told through the objects it leaves behind in its cupboards and pantries.