I suppose that taste, as regards furniture, was absolutely at its lowest point some seventy years ago, during which period much beautiful Queen Anne, Sheraton, and Chippendale was relegated to the attics and the servants’ hall, its place being taken by the hideous and heavy early Victorian furniture, which the upholsterers managed to foist upon a somewhat inartistic generation.
In the ’forties, it is true, some slight signs of a reaction began to be visible, one of the first of those to lead it being the late Mr. John Burgess, a fine architectural draughtsman and painter, whose talents are now hardly appreciated at their proper worth. He was a member of the old Society of Painters in Water-Colour, to which he was elected through the influence of George Cattermole. The latter, it is said, was so indignant at Mr. Burgess being rejected on the first occasion of his seeking election, that he threatened to resign if his candidate were not admitted, with the result that at the next election everything turned out as he desired.
MR. ORROCK
At Leamington Mr. Burgess lived in a house filled from top to bottom with English furniture, pictures, and drawings, all of the finest quality, and here it was that Mr. Orrock, the well-known connoisseur and collector, to whom allusion has before been made, first laid the foundation of his knowledge of English eighteenth-century art. He was a boy at the time, and accompanying his host in rambles over the surrounding country, very naturally imbibed a taste for collecting the beautiful old furniture at that time plentiful in country houses and cottages.
In the days when Mr. Orrock first became an enthusiastic searcher after fine old pieces of Sheraton and Chippendale, he brought down upon himself, as he has often been heard to say, much laughter and ridicule. His passion for “wormy” chairs in particular was a constant source of amusement to some of his friends, who wondered what on earth he could want with such rubbish. “You may laugh,” he used to say, “but I shall laugh louder than you some day when my wormy chairs shall be appreciated at their proper worth—the worm-holes can be stopped—every one to his taste—some people like high game, I like high chairs.” In the course of time his judgment was completely vindicated, and as an instance of the enormous rise in the value of really fine old furniture the story of two Elizabethan chairs which he bought in a cottage for ten shillings apiece may be given. One of these chairs was an especially fine one, having evidently drifted down into humble surroundings after having occupied an honourable place in an old country house near by. This particular chair Mr. Orrock soon sold for several pounds, a good price at that time. Some years later, however, when taste had begun to improve, he repurchased it for fifty pounds, almost immediately selling it again for one hundred and fifty. To-day it would be worth at least two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds—not a bad increase on an expenditure of ten shillings.
AN APOSTLE OF GOOD TASTE
The foundation of Mr. Orrock’s collection began in rather a curious way. Chancing many years ago to be at Coventry with a friend, his attention was arrested by a sale of old furniture which was proceeding at an old coaching inn, “The King’s Head” by name. A large quantity of chairs, tables, sideboards, and mirrors had overflowed into the street, and a quite superficial examination convinced him that here was a unique chance of acquiring some exceedingly rare and valuable specimens of Queen Anne, Chippendale, Sheraton, and Hepplewhite, for the old inn had been filled with the very finest work in several different styles, a great feature being the extraordinary sideboards. Entering the sale, Mr. Orrock, in concert with his friend, arranged to purchase the entire contents of the house from the dealers who were engaged in bidding for it, and the next day found himself in consequence possessed of a most splendid and valuable collection. Long before this time he had christened himself “the voice crying in the wilderness of British art,” on account of his love of vaunting the artistic merits of old English furniture; but after this purchase many fine judges of art, observing the furniture in his house, began to declare that they were coming round to his view. Before long, requests poured in upon him from every side for information as to where old Chippendale and Sheraton could be procured, some people, indeed, going so far as to beg him to furnish their houses at no matter what expense. So it came about that this purchase of old furniture at “The King’s Head” played a considerable part in accelerating the renaissance of artistic taste, of which Mr. Orrock was undoubtedly one of the chief originators.
Why old English furniture should have ever been discarded in favour of the heavy horsehair abominations once almost universal seems in these more enlightened days something like a profound mystery. Some of the old designs, indeed, are quite equal to the finest Gothic, whilst many examples of the time of Queen Anne—the finest period perhaps of all for English furniture—are superb in their delicacy and exquisite finish. Next to this in beauty must be placed the early Chippendale, certain specimens of which display artistic qualities of the very highest kind.
With the death of King George III. fine old English furniture ceased to be produced; it may, indeed, be said to have died with the monarch in question.
Within the last thirty years fine pieces have commanded prices which seem almost ludicrous in comparison with those of other days. A gentleman, for instance, possessing two satinwood cabinets mounted in silver, which had belonged to Nelson’s Lady Hamilton, actually obtained two thousand pounds for them—rather, let it be added, against his will. He had originally given a hundred pounds for the two—sixty for one, and forty for the other—and had no intention of parting with them again. A rich American, however, somehow heard of the cabinets in question, and after obtaining a glimpse of them in the owner’s absence, at once determined to become their possessor. With this purpose in view he despatched an emissary to the gentleman, who was then away at the seaside. The emissary, however, sought him out, went down by the newspaper train, and confronting him early one morning, said, “I have come to buy your cabinets.” “You have come to do nothing of the sort,” was the reply. “I don’t want to sell them; tell your principal that when he offers a thousand apiece I will think about it.” The man sat down at a table, pulled out his cheque-book and wrote a cheque for two thousand pounds. “There, will you take that?” he said. The offer was too tempting, and the gentleman did. In the end the American was so delighted with the cabinets that he insisted upon purchasing all the other old furniture in the house, for which he paid some seven thousand pounds. The wife of the original owner was much incensed on her return to town to find an empty house, but an explanation as well as a timely and handsome gift soon allayed her irritation.