Old oak furniture

There are possibly almost as many fallacies on the subject of old oak as there are connected with family portraits. The cicerone who gravely assures you that the gaze of a certain portrait will follow the beholder in his passage round the room is not lacking in a similar display of imagination when affecting to give you the history of chest and chair and cabinet. The value of tradition must be admitted; but in the science of archeology the unaided eye of faith is insufficient.

The object which the writer has aimed at in the present work is to classify the various examples of each article of furniture as near as may be in chronological order. I have in the great majority of cases, and wherever it has been possible, based my descriptions and theories on personal investigation of the articles discussed, whether English or Continental, occasionally supporting conjectures as to dates by the external evidence of contemporary writers or manuscript illustrators. In studying the history of furniture, it should always be remembered that the restoration of rare or unusual objects in one's mind's eye, though an intensely fascinating occupation, is one which is apt to lead astray. Viollet le Due, while giving a most astounding series of details from personal research, obviously romances at times through this love of elaboration. While admiring the greatness of his master-mind, I have endeavored to withstand the insidious temptation of reconstruction.

If any apology is needed for what may be termed old oak worship, I may say that the final aim of art is or ought to be beauty, and that the cult of old oak is really only one aspect of the pursuit of beauty.

As regards the collecting proclivity, it is singular to remark how the remains of the old Viking spirit crops up in the English of to-day. It is shown in an intense desire to 'get about' the 'travel hunger' which seizes on no inconsiderable proportion of our fellow country men. The desire to sack and burn may be lacking, but it has been replaced by the acquisitive instinct, which prompts men to plunder more peacefully. This sense has caused the temporary disappearance of many articles of profound public interest into private collections. On the other hand, it has been responsible for the rescue of innumerable antiquities from oblivion and destruction. Many priceless coffers and early heaumes and bassinettes which had descended to such base uses as receptacles for vestry coals or well-pitchers have, by the efforts of collectors, been once more appreciated at their proper value. We must also remember that these treasures acquired by collectors often find their way, by a natural process of progressive elevation of taste, into some national museum, where they can be seen and studied for all time.

No many years ago 'oak-collecting' was considered to be a form of eccentricity. Then came a period when the taste became more general, and many people imagined themselves to be adepts in the art simply from the fact that they possessed a chest or two of rough-and-ready design and workmanship, or perchance an arm-chair with a panelled back. Occasionally a specimen of more than ordinary beauty and value was acquired, but the chances are that its peculiar merits were unseen or not properly understood, the piece being looked upon as genuine with the rest of the collection. Chance collectors have in stray instances done the most valuable service possible by preserving, with simple love, types of the rarest kind. Unfortunately this medal has a reverse. The passion for collecting, when associated with a love for practical wood-carving, has, alas ! only too often proved the ruin of really fine specimens by manifesting itself in attempts at their further embellishment. It cannot be insisted upon too strongly that to work on a piece, be it ever so plain, for any object but reparation, actually necessitated by age and wear, is at once to depreciate, if not destroy, its value in the eyes of a connoisseur.

One result of the Waverley romances was to arouse a keen interest in antiquities, but this, being to a great extent unaccompanied by any proper knowledge, led frequently to the production and acquisition of bastard imitations of the furniture of our forefathers. It can be no difficult matter for many of us to recollect what may be termed without error an old-fashioned home amongst the residences of our acquaintances, and recall the ghastly perpetrations for domestic use which the unrestrained relish for romance brought into existence during the first half of the nineteenth century. Even the great Sir Walter Scott himself, to whom posterity cannot be sufficiently thankful for creating an interest in objects of antiquity, seems to have possessed no special knowledge of furniture, and in his descriptions the details are often far from being reliable. Illustrated books of Sir Walter's day and still later times often display the most glaring anachronisms. And yet some years ago, before the art of steel and wood engraving became practically extinct, a great many very careful works on such antiquities were published which contain illustrations of articles we should be only too glad to trace now. Amongst these, here and there, one may incidentally remark some beautiful early coffers existing at the date of publication in private collections, of which little or nothing is usually said, although what can be seen in the illustrations creates a desire to know more of such interesting examples. In most cases it would be nearly impossible to discover their ownership at the present time, and reference can consequently be made only to the well-executed plates. Shaw and Scott, while affording some very excellent illustrations of ancient woodwork, give practically no descriptions at all.

A French chest, of Gothic design, exhibiting armed figures under canopies, is depicted in Jacquemart's book on ancient furniture, published in 1876. The text of this work, which shows the usual paucity of reference to early methods and examples, says nothing whatever about the chest in question, but the underline briefly indicates it as being in the collection of Monsieur A. Querroy. If genuine, this chest would probably date from the latter end of the fifteenth century, but there are not wanting some curious indications which seem to suggest that its complete authenticity might be open to doubt. It would be a matter of the greatest interest to examine this chest personally, if its whereabouts could be ascertained.

The Abbotsford impetus had no lasting effect, and ended in the relegation of antiques in the way of domestic furniture to the garrets and kitchens. I can myself remember as a boy that, in a home where mahogany and horsehair were plentiful, the finest piece of furniture in the whole house was abandoned to the housekeeper's room, as an out-of-date thing and of no particular interest. The piece in question happened to be a superb English buffet, inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, bearing the date 1661 on its front. We can, however, congratulate ourselves on the fact that, owing to its special situation, this buffet received more care and attention than the rest of the household's belongings, and remains to this day one of the most carefully-preserved specimens of the art of the period.

We know very little of the earliest methods of the construction and decoration of wooden furniture and domestic appliances. England, perhaps from the corroding nature of her climate, possesses fewer archaic rarities of this kind than most other countries. Some fragmentary specimens of Anglo- Saxon workmanship that survive give us a fair, though imperfect, insight into the arts and crafts that were practiced before the Norman Conquest. The earliest of these is probably the coffin of St. Cuthbert, which is to be seen in the Cathedral Library at Durham. The history of this coffin is an interesting one. It is known that the Northern saint was buried in A.D. 688, and his body disinterred eleven years afterwards, in order that the remains might be deposited in a wooden coffin to be placed in a shrine within view of the public. In later times the Anglo-Saxon church in which the shrine stood was superseded by a Norman structure of greater pretension, and in 1104 the coffin and remains were translated thither. This building was the earliest stage of what we now know as Durham

Cathedral. Several particular descriptions by Norman writers of the coffin and its appearance have been preserved. From the day in which these accounts were written until the time of Henry VIII. the bones of the saint lay undisturbed, and were worshipped reverentially by thousands of pilgrims.

Medieval furniture down to the time of the Renaissance falls naturally into three periods: the first, Pointed, or Early English, dating approximately from the commencement of the thirteenth century to the end of Henry III.'s reign, 1272 ; the second, Pointed, or 'Decorated,' dating from Edward I., 1272, to the death of Edward III., 1377; and the third, Pointed, or ' Perpendicular dating from the accession of Richard II., in 1377. In each of these periods the styles overlapped and intermingled, but with the Perpendicular style a curious circumstance is observable. This style continued in its purity till the reign of Henry VII., and then the French invasions across the Alps began to revive the traditions of pagan architecture from Rome. While, however, the Renaissance was superseding the Gothic tradition in the big cities and towns, it not infrequently happened that large buildings and works of debased Gothic character were being carried out side by side with the more fashionable style from Italy. Even at Oxford that great seat of learning the staircase of Christchurch College, leading to the great hall, erected as late as 1640, was a Gothic structure showing not a trace of classic influence. Something may be allowed for the architect's or craftsman's individual taste, but it is a singular fact that this was the first birth of such independence. Thus it might happen that stalls, chairs, chests, or other objects of furniture would be produced in one town which exhibited the very essence of the new style, whilst not ten miles off such articles were being made as though the Renaissance had never taken place. This sometimes renders it very difficult for those who are not absolute masters of the science to assign a correct date to individual examples. To understand and classify properly various styles of furniture, especially those which were made during what may be termed the Gothic period, a careful study of domestic architecture is not only an excellent preparation, but also of the greatest assistance, even to those who are skilled connoisseurs of furniture. Many of the old timber houses which have dates carved upon them show how an opinion ought not to be rashly hazarded as to their age. The overlapping of the various periods and lingering of older styles were such that buildings may be assigned to a later, or more probably to an earlier, period than that to which they actually belong, if the evidence of style alone is taken into account. Many buildings at Shrewsbury might be mentioned, for instance, where the Gothic style seems to have lingered to an unconscionably late date. The buildings at first sight appear to have been erected during the latter part of the fifteenth century, but a closer inspection, confirmed in many cases by actual dates, proves them to belong to the post-Gothic period, some being as late as the middle of the seventeenth.

One of the causes of our paucity of knowledge respecting furniture of the Middle Ages is the free, not to say fantastic, manner in which objects of domestic use were often rendered by the early artists. It is not until the latter end of the fourteenth century is reached that we can form any comprehensive idea as regards structural form from illustrations. We can trace the likeness of such fifteenth-century furniture as we possess to representations of similar pieces abundantly illustrated in manuscripts of this period. These indeed, are generally depicted with scrupulous care and fidelity, but it would be difficult to imagine actual examples corresponding with some of the extraordinary anomalies appearing in early artistic efforts.