Whilst in the Wallace Collection England possesses a superlatively excellent collection of French furniture, the finest English furniture of the eighteenth-century period is only to be found in the hands of private collectors. It is much to be deplored that the Victoria and Albert Museum contains no thoroughly representative collection of old English furniture. True is it that a certain number of good examples are to be seen there, but these are more or less scattered about, no special section existing to show the evolution of style from Elizabethan times to the end of the eighteenth century. This is the more to be regretted, as an assemblage of the best work of English cabinetmakers such as Chippendale, Sheraton, Hepplewhite, and others, could not fail to have an admirable educational effect upon public taste, especially were it displayed in rooms decorated in the style of their epoch. Mr. James Orrock, so well known as a fine judge of old English furniture, once attacked Mr. Gladstone upon this subject. He had long been anxious to place before that great statesman a scheme to erect a National Gallery of British Art on a site behind the great collection in Trafalgar Square, in a position quite secure from all danger of fire, his idea being that such a building should contain selected pictures from the National Gallery, from the Victoria and Albert Museum, the British Museum—in fact, from each of the National Collections. In addition to this, adequate space was to be allotted to a permanent exhibition of Elizabethan, Jacobean, and Queen Anne furniture, and rooms set aside to contain the best work of Chippendale, Sheraton, and other great English cabinetmakers. Introduced to Mr. Gladstone by Sir William Agnew, Mr. Orrock at once commenced his attack, pointing out the extreme desirability, and even the necessity, of the creation of what would be a temple of British art. He added that the encouragement to collectors to give and bequeath valuable works to such an institution could not fail to have its effect, whilst the historical and educational value of the collection must obviously be enormous.
Mr. Gladstone listened to all this in the most earnest manner, and cordially agreed that the idea was in every way most admirable. His opportunity appearing to have now really come, Mr. Orrock went on to point out that the cost of a building such as he proposed would most certainly be not more than half the sum expended upon the construction of a battleship. In reply to which Mr. Gladstone, after a remark as to the deplorable necessity of expending money upon such dreadful engines of destruction, said, “But, Mr. Orrock, you forget I am not now in power”; to which the latter very cleverly replied, “Mr. Gladstone, you are always in power.”
Though the veteran leader of the Liberal Party promised at the end of this interview that he would see what he could do to help forward the suggested scheme, political strife must have obliterated it from his recollection, for in spite of his assurance he never made any move in the matter at all; and so it comes about that there is still no National Collection of fine old English furniture. Most of the best pieces are in private hands; for to-day the work of Chippendale and Sheraton is eagerly sought for, and never fails to command huge prices when put up to auction. Furniture after the designs of Hepplewhite has also many admirers, but Dutch pieces are often passed off as being his work; these, however, may be known on account of their being of a somewhat heavier style of construction.
Sheraton and Hepplewhite chairs are of very much the same design—the Prince of Wales’s feather ornament, so often found in the work of both, was, it may be added, no mere piece of fancy decoration, but the badge of the young Court party which was led by George IV. when Prince of Wales.
Sheraton himself appears to have held Chippendale in but very small esteem as a cabinetmaker, for in one of his books he speaks of the designs of the latter as being “wholly antiquated and laid aside.” Possibly Chippendale’s somewhat ornate designs may have appeared frivolous to the austere Sheraton, who was an ardent Baptist and wrote a good deal in furtherance of his religious views.
A great deal of wood was used in genuine Chippendale chairs, and an infallible sign of a copy is when the carving seems cramped and flat owing to the shallowness of the frame out of which it has been scooped. Much so-called Chippendale furniture has not even a semblance of being the work of that cabinetmaker.
SHERATON AND CHIPPENDALE
One of the most ridiculous things possible, from an artistic point of view, for instance, is a Chippendale overmantel—that is to say, an overmantel constructed in the modern Chippendale style. Nothing of this sort was even made in the eighteenth century, though of course mirrors to go over mantelpieces were, and occasionally the decorative woodwork surrounding them was very elaborate and graceful. Really old work, however, is generally much more simple and dignified in style than the so-called reproductions. A great quantity of good old furniture, especially bureaus and book-cases, has been completely spoilt by additional inlay and superfluous carving, in order to render it more attractive to the unskilled buyer. As a rule, the sole ornamentation originally lavished on such things was a more or less elaborate moulding. It should always be borne in mind that in all really good pieces ornamentation is strictly subordinate to use. Chairs and settees were not made to exhibit eccentricity and flamboyant design, but to be sat upon, though, of course, in many specimen pieces the carving, whilst in no way flimsy or weak, is flowing and elaborate. Chippendale and other great cabinetmakers invariably started with plenty of material to work upon, and a sure sign of a spurious piece is a shallow frame, upon which the carving is cramped and flat.
Modern cabinetmakers delight in producing marqueterie furniture embellished with elaborate vases, trophies, scrolls, and bouquets. Sheraton and his contemporaries, on the other hand, produced their effects by relying upon the nice, graduated, and artistic tones of their veneers, rigorously excluding all over-elaboration of design. As for modern painting on furniture, it is as a rule so feeble in execution as hardly to deceive the most unskilled amateur—most of it, indeed, is nothing but a bad caricature compared with beautiful old work.
As a matter of fact, it is extremely difficult to come across good old English-painted furniture in first-class condition; as a rule, it has been scratched or otherwise damaged in the course of moving, and the restorations which this has necessitated are generally only too apparent.