FURNITURE.
Having considered those principles which are of primary importance to
the ornamentist, we may commence our notice of the various
manufactures, and try to discover what particular form of art should
be applied to each, and the special manner in which decorative
principles should be considered as applicable to various materials and
modes of working.
We shall first consider furniture, or cabinet-work, because articles
of furniture occupy a place of greater importance in a room than
carpets, wall-papers, or, perhaps, any other decorative works; and,
also, because we shall learn from a consideration of furniture those
structural principles which will be of value to us in considering the
manner in which all art-objects should be formed if they have solid,
and not simply superficial, dimensions.
In the present chapter, I shall strive to impress the fact that design
and ornamentation may be essentially different things, and that in
considering the formation of works of furniture these should be
regarded as separate and distinct. "Design," says Redgrave, "has
reference to the construction of any work both for use and beauty, and
therefore includes its ornamentation also. Ornament is merely the
decoration of a thing constructed."
The construction of furniture will form the chief theme of this
chapter, for unless such works are properly constructed they cannot
possibly be useful, and if not useful they would fail to answer the
end for which they were contrived.
But before commencing a consideration of the principles involved in
the construction of works of furniture, let me summarise what is
required in such works if they are to assume the character of
art-objects.
1. The general form, or mass form, of all constructed works must be
carefully considered. The aspect of the "sky-blotch" of an
architectural edifice is very important, for as the day wanes the
detail fades and parts become blended, till the members compose but
one whole, which, when seen from the east, appears as a solid mass
drawn in darkness on the glowing sky; this is the sky-blotch. If the
edifice _en masse_ is pleasing, a great point is gained. Indeed, the
general contour should have primary consideration. In like manner, the
general form of all works of furniture should first be cared for, and
every effort should be made at securing to the general mass beauty of
shape.
2. After having cared for the general form, the manner in which the
work shall be divided into primary and secondary parts must be
considered with reference to the laws of proportion, as stated in a
former chapter.
3. Detail and enrichment may now be considered; but while these cannot
be too excellent, they must still be subordinate in obtrusiveness to
the general mass, or to the aspect of the work as a whole.
4. The material of which the object is formed must always be worked in
the most natural and appropriate manner.
5. The most convenient or appropriate form for an object should always
be chosen, for unless this has been done, no reasonable hope can be
entertained that the work will be satisfactory; for the consideration
of utility must in all cases precede the consideration of beauty, as
we saw in our first chapter.
Having made these few general remarks, we must consider the structure
of works of furniture. The material of which we form our furniture is
wood. Wood has a "grain," and the strength of any particular piece
largely depends upon the direction of its grain. It may be strong if
its grain runs parallel with its length, or weak if the grain crosses
diagonally, or very weak if the grain crosses transversely. However
strong the wood, it becomes comparatively much weaker if the grain
crosses the piece; and however weak the wood, it becomes yet weaker if
the grain is transverse or diagonal. These considerations lead us to
see that _the grain of the wood must always be parallel with its
length whenever strength is required_.
For our guidance in the formation of works of furniture, I give the
following short table of woods arranged as to their strength:--
_Iron-wood_, from Jamaica--very strong, bearing great lateral
pressure.
_Box_ of Illawarry, New South Wales--very strong, but not so strong as
iron-wood.
_Mountain ash_, New South Wales--about two-thirds the strength of
iron-wood.
_Beech_--nearly as strong as mountain ash.
_Mahogany_, from New South Wales--not quite so strong as last.
_Black dog-wood_ of Jamaica--three-fourths as strong as the mahogany
just named.
_Box-wood_, Jamaica--not half as strong as the box of New South Wales.
_Cedar_ of Jamaica--half as strong as the mahogany of New South
Wales.[21]
[21] For full particulars on this subject see "Catalogue of the
Collection illustrating Construction and Building Material," in the
South Kensington Museum, and the manual of "Technical Drawing for
Cabinetmakers," by E. A. Davidson.
Wood can be got of sufficient length to meet all the requirements of
furniture-making, yet we not unfrequently find the arch structurally
introduced into furniture, while it is absurd to employ it in wooden
construction of any kind. The arch is a most ingenious invention, as
it affords a means of spanning a large space with small portions of
material, as with small stones, and at the same time gives great
strength. It is, therefore, of the utmost utility in constructing
stone buildings; but in works of furniture, where we have no large
spaces to span, and where wood is of the utmost length required, and
is stronger than our requirements demand, the use of the arch becomes
structurally foolish and absurd. The folly of this mode of structure
becomes more apparent when we notice that a wooden arch is always
formed of one or two pieces, and not of very small portions, and when
we further consider that, in order to the formation of an arch, the
wood must be cut across its grain throughout the greater portion of
its length, whereby its strength is materially decreased; while if the
arch were formed of small pieces of stone great strength would be
secured. Nothing can be more absurd than the practice of imitating in
one material a mode of construction which is only legitimate in the
case of another, and of failing to avail ourselves of the particular
mode of utilising a material which secures a maximum of desirable
results.
While I protest against the arch when structurally used in furniture,
I see no objection to it if used only as a source of beauty, and when
so situated as to be free from strain or pressure.
One of the objects which we are frequently called upon to construct is
a chair. The chair is, throughout Europe and America, considered as a
necessity of every house. So largely used are chairs, that one firm at
High Wycombe employs 5,000 hands in making common cane-bottomed chairs
alone; and yet we see but few chairs in the market which are well
constructed. All chairs having curved frames--whether the curve is in
the wood of the back, in the sides of the seat, or in the legs--are
constructed on false principles. They are of necessity weak, and being
weak are not useful. As they are formed by using wood in a manner
which fails to utilise its qualities of strength, these chairs are
offensive and absurd. It is true that, through being surrounded by
such ill-formed objects from our earliest infancy, the eye often fails
to be offended with such works as would offend it were they new to it;
but this does not show that they are the less offensive, nor that they
are not constructively wrong. Besides, whenever wood is cut across the
grain, in order that we get anything approaching the requisite
strength, it has to be much thicker and more bulky than would be
required were the wood cut with the grain; hence such furniture is
unnecessarily heavy and clumsy.
Fig. 26 represents a chair which I have taken the liberty of borrowing
from Mr. Eastlake's work on household art.[22] This chair Mr. Eastlake
gives as an illustration of good taste in the construction of
furniture; but I give it as an illustration of that which is
essentially bad and wrong. The legs are weak, being cross-grained
throughout, and the mode of uniting the upper and lower portions of
the legs (the two semicircles) by a circular boss is defective in the
highest degree. Were I sitting in such a chair, I should be afraid to
lean to the right or the left, for fear of the chair giving way. Give
me a Yorkshire rocking-chair, in preference to one of these, where I
know of my insecurity, much as I hate such.
[22] The title of the work is "Hints on Household Taste." It is well
worth reading, as much may be learned from it. I think Mr. Eastlake
right in many views, yet wrong in others, but I cannot help regarding
him somewhat as an apostle of ugliness, as he appears to me to despise
finish and refinement.
A chair is a stool with a back-rest, and a stool is a board elevated
from the ground or floor by supports, the degree of elevation being
determined by the length of the legs of the person for whom the seat
is made, or by the degree of obliquity which the body and legs are
desired to take when the seat is in use. If the seat is to support the
body when in an erect sitting posture, about seventeen to eighteen
inches will be found a convenient height for the average of persons;
but if the legs of the sitter are to take an oblique forward
direction, then the seat may be lower.
[Illustration: Fig. 26.]
[Illustration: Fig. 27.]
A stool may consist of a thick piece of wood and of three legs
inserted into holes bored in this thick top. If these legs pass to the
upper surface of the seat, and are properly wedged in, a useful yet
clumsy seat results. In order that the top of the stool be thin and
light, it will be necessary that the legs be connected by frames, and
it will be well that they be connected twice, once at the top of each
leg, so that the seat may rest upon this frame, and once at least
two-thirds of the distance from the top. The frame would now stand
alone, and although the seat is formed of thin wood it will not crack,
as it is supported all round on the upper frame.
[Illustration: Fig. 28.]
A chair, I have said, is a stool with a back. There is not one chair
out of fifty that we find with the back so attached to the seat as to
give a maximum of strength. It is usual to make a back leg and one
side of the chair-back out of one piece of wood--that is, to continue
the back legs up above the seat, and cause them to become the sides of
the chair-back. When this is done the wood is almost invariably curved
so that the back legs and the chair-back both incline outwards from
the seat. There is no objection whatever to the sides of the back and
the legs being formed of the one piece, but there is a great objection
to either the supports of the back or the legs being formed of
cross-grained wood, as much of their strength is thereby sacrificed.
Our illustrations (Figs. 27 to 32) will give several modes of
constructing chairs such as I think legitimate; but I will ask the
reader to think for himself upon the construction of a chair, and
especially upon the proper means of giving due support to the back.
I have given, in an axiomatic form, those principles which should
guide us in the construction of works of furniture, and endeavoured to
impress the necessity of using wood in that manner which is most
natural--that is, "working" it with the grain (the manner in which
we can most easily work it), and in that way which shall secure
the greatest amount of strength with the least expenditure of
material. I wish to impress my readers with the importance of these
considerations, for they lie at the very root of the successful
construction of furniture. If the legs of chairs, or their
seat-frames, or the ends or backs of couches, are formed of wood cut
across the grain, they must either be thick and clumsy, or weak; but,
besides this, the rightly constituted mind can only receive pleasure
from the contemplation of works which are wisely formed. Daily
contact, as we have before said, with ill-shaped objects may have
more or less deadened our senses, so that we are not so readily
offended by deformity and error as we might be; yet, happily for us,
directly we seek to separate truth from error, the beautiful from the
deformed, reason assists the judgment, and we learn to feel when we
are in the presence of the beautiful or in contact with the degraded.
My illustrations will show how I think chairs should be constructed.
Fig. 26 is essentially bad, although it has traditional sanction,
hence I pass it over without further comment. Fig. 27 is in the manner
of an Egyptian chair. It serves to show the careful way in which the
Egyptians constructed their works. The curved rails against which the
back would rest are the only parts which are not thoroughly correct
and satisfactory in a wood structure. Were the curved back members
metal, the curvature would be desirable and legitimate. The back of
this chair, if the side members were connected by a straight rail,
would have immense strength (the backs of some of _our_ chairs are of
the very weakest), and if well made it is a seat which would endure
for centuries. Fig. 28 is a chair of my own designing, in which I have
sought to give strength to the back by connecting its upper portion
with a strong cross-rail of the frame.
[Illustration: Fig. 29.]
[Illustration: Fig. 30.]
Fig. 29 is a chair slightly altered from one in Mr. Eastlake's work on
"Household Taste;" as shown in our illustration, it is a correctly
formed work. Fig. 30 is an arm-chair in the Greek style, which I have
designed. Fig. 31 is a Lady's chair in the Gothic style; Fig. 32, a
lady's chair in early Greek. These I have prepared to show different
modes of structure; if the legs are fitted to a frame (the
seat-frame), as in the early Greek chair just alluded to, they should
be very short, as in this instance, or they must be connected by a
frame below the seat, as in Figs. 33 and 34. The best general
structure is that in which the front legs pass to the level of the
upper surface of the seat.
[Illustration: Fig. 31.]
[Illustration: Fig. 32.]
Fig. 33 is a copy of a chair shown by Messrs. Gillow and Co., of
Oxford Street, in the last Paris International Exhibition. In many
respects it is admirably constructed. The skeleton brackets holding
the back to the seat are very desirable adjuncts to light chairs; so
are the brackets connecting the legs with the seat-frame, as these
strengthen the entire chair. The manner in which the upper rail of the
back passes through the side uprights and is "pinned" is good. The
chief, and only important, fault in this chair is the bending of the
back legs, involving their being cut against the grain of the wood.
Fig. 31 is a chair from Mr. Talbert's very excellent work on "Gothic
Furniture." It shows an admirable method of supporting the back. Fig.
35 I have designed as a high-backed lounging chair. With the view of
giving strength to the back, I have extended the seat, and arranged a
support from this extension to the upper back-rail, and this extension
of the seat I have supported by a fifth leg. There is no reason
whatever why a chair should have four legs. If three would be better,
or five, or any other number, let us use what would be best.[23]
[23] In my drawing, the stuffing of the back has been accidentally
shown too much rounded.
I have now given several illustrations of modes of forming chairs. I
might have given many more, but it is not my duty to try and exhaust a
subject. What I have to do is simply point out principles, and call
attention to facts. It is the reader who must think for
himself--first, of the principles and facts which I adduce; secondly,
of the illustrations which I give; thirdly, of other works which he
may meet with; and fourthly, of further means of producing desirable
and satisfactory results than those set forth in my illustrations.
[Illustration: Fig. 33.]
[Illustration: Fig. 34.]
As it cannot be doubted that a well-constructed work, however plain or
simple it may be, gives satisfaction to those who behold it--while a
work of the most elaborate character fails to satisfy if badly
constructed--we shall give a few further illustrations of structure
for other articles of furniture, besides chairs, which have become
necessary to our mode of life.
Fig. 36 is one of my sketches for Greek furniture, designed for a
wealthy client. It was formed of black wood. Here the frame of the
seat is first formed, and the legs are inserted beneath it, and let
into it, while the wood-work of the end of the couch stands upon it,
being inserted into it. This appears to have been the general method
with the Greeks of forming their furniture, yet it is not so correct
structurally as Fig. 37, another of my sketches, where the end and the
leg are formed of one piece of wood. The first formation (that of Fig.
36) would bear any amount of pressure from above, but it is not well
calculated for resisting lateral pressure; while the latter would
resist this lateral pressure, but would not bear quite the same amount
of pressure from above. The latter, however, could bear more weight
than would ever be required of it, and would be the more durable piece
of furniture.
[Illustration: Fig. 35.]
Fig. 38 gives a legitimate formation for a settee; the cutting-out, or
hollowing, of the sides of the legs is not carried to an extreme, but
leaves a sufficiency of strong wood with an upright grain to resist
all the pressure that would be placed on the seat, and the lower and
upper thickened portions of the legs act as the brackets beneath the
seat in Fig. 33. The arch here introduced is not used structurally,
but for the sake of a curved line, and acts simply as a pair of
brackets. This illustration is also from Mr. Talbert's work. Fig. 39
is a table such as we occasionally meet with. I see no objection to
the legs leaning inwards at the top; indeed, we have here a
picturesque and useful table of legitimate formation. Fig. 40 is the
end elevation of a sideboard from Mr. Talbert's work. Mark the
simplicity of the structure. The leading or structural lines are
straight and obvious. Although Mr. Talbert is not always right, yet
his book is well worthy of the most careful consideration and study;
and this I can truly say, that it compares favourably with all other
works on furniture with which I am acquainted.
The general want which we perceive in modern furniture is simplicity
of structure and truthfulness of construction. If persons would but
think out the easiest mode of constructing a work before they commence
to design it, and would be content with this simplicity of structure,
we should have very different furniture from what we have. Think first
of what is wanted, then of the material at command.
I fear that I have very feebly enforced and very inefficiently
illustrated the true principles on which works of furniture should be
constructed; and yet I feel that the structure of such works is of
importance beyond all other considerations. Space is limited, however,
and I must pass on; hence I only hope that I have induced the reader
to think for himself, and if I have done so I shall have fulfilled my
desire, for his progress will then be sure.
[Illustration: Fig. 36.]
[Illustration: Fig. 37.]
Respecting structure I have but a few general remarks further to make,
and all these are fairly embraced in the one expression, "Be
truthful." An obvious and true structure is always pleasant. Let,
then, the "tenon" and the "mortise" pass through the various members,
and let the parts be "pinned" together by obvious wooden pins. Thus,
if the frame of a chair-seat is tenoned into the legs, let the tenon
pass through the leg and be visible on the outer side, and let it be
held in its place by glue and wooden pins--the pins being visible. Yet
they need not protrude beyond the surface; but why hide them? In this
way that old furniture was made which has endured while piece after
piece of modern furniture, made with invisible joints and concealed
nails and screws, has perished. This is a true structural treatment,
and is honest in expression also.
[Illustration: Fig. 38.]
I do not give this as a principle applicable to one class of furniture
only, but to all. When we have "pinned" furniture with an open
structure (see the back of chair, Fig. 33), the mode of putting
together must of necessity be manifest; but in all other cases the
tenons should also go through, and the pins by which they are held in
their place be driven from one surface to the other side right through
the member.
In the commencement of this chapter on furniture, I said that after
the most convenient form has been chosen for an object, and after it
has been arranged that the material of which it is to be formed shall
be worked in the most natural or befitting way, that then the
block-form must be looked to, after which comes the division of the
mass into primary parts, and lastly, the consideration of detail.
[Illustration: Fig. 39.]
As to the block-form, let it be simple, and have the appearance of
appropriateness and consistency. Its character must be regulated, to
an extent, by the nature of the house for which the furniture is
intended, and by the character of the room in which it is to be
placed. All I can say to the student on this part of the subject is
this: Carefully consider good works of furniture whenever opportunity
occurs, and note their general conformation. A fine work will never
have strong architectural qualities--that is, it will not look like
part of a building formed of wood instead of stone. There is but
small danger of committing any great error in the block-form, if it be
kept simple, and to look like a work in wood, provided that the
proportions of height to width and of width and height to thickness
are duly cared for (see page 23).
After the general form has been considered, the mass may be broken
into primary and secondary parts. Thus, if we have to construct a
cabinet, the upper part of which consists of a cupboard, and the lower
portion of drawers, we should have to determine the proportion which
the one part should bear to the other. This is an invariable
rule--that the work must not consist of equal parts; thus, if the
whole cabinet be six feet in height, the cupboards could not be three
feet while the drawers occupied three feet also. The division would
have to be of a subtle character--of a character which could not be
readily detected. Thus the cupboard might be three feet five inches,
and the drawers collectively two feet seven inches. If the drawers are
not all to be of the same depth, then the relation of one drawer, as
regards its size, to that of another must be considered, and of each
to the cupboard above. In like manner the proportion of the panels of
the doors to the styles must be thought out; and until all this has
been done no work should ever be constructed.
[Illustration: Fig. 40.]
Next comes the enrichment of parts. Carving should be sparingly used,
and is best confined to mouldings, or projecting or terminal ends. If
employed in mouldings, those members should be enriched which are more
or less completely guarded from dust and injury by some overhanging
member. If more carving is used, it should certainly be a mere
enrichment of necessary structure--as we see on the legs and other
uprights of Mr. Crace's sideboard, by Pugin (Fig. 41). I am not fond
of carved panels, but should these be employed the carving should
never project beyond the styles surrounding them, and in all cases of
carving no pointed members must protrude so as to injure the person or
destroy the dress of those who use the piece of furniture. If carving
is used sparingly, it gives us the impression that it is valuable;
if it is lavishly employed, it appears to be comparatively worthless.
The aim of art is the production of repose. A large work of furniture
which is carved all over cannot produce the necessary sense of repose,
and is therefore objectionable.
[Illustration: Fig. 41.]
There may be an excess of finish in works of carving connected with
cabinet-work; for if the finish is too delicate there is a lack of
effect in the result. A piece of furniture is not a miniature work,
which is to be investigated in every detail. It is an object of
utility, which is to appear beautiful in a room, and is not to command
undivided attention; it is a work which is to combine with other works
in rendering an apartment beautiful. The South Kensington Museum
purchased in the last Paris International Exhibition, at great cost, a
cabinet from Fourdonois; but it is a very unsatisfactory specimen, as
it is too delicate, too tender, and too fine for a work of utility--it
is an example of what should be avoided rather than of what should be
followed. The delicately carved and beautiful panels of the doors, if
cut in marble and used as mere pieces of sculpture, would have been
worthy of the highest commendation; but works of this kind wrought in
a material that has a "grain," however little the grain may show, are
absurd. Besides, the subjects are of too pictorial a character for
"applied work"--that is, they are treated in too pictorial or
naturalistic a manner. A broad, simple, idealised treatment of the
figure is that which is alone legitimate in cabinet work.
Supports or columns carved into the form of human figures are always
objectionable.
Besides carving, as a means of enrichment, we have inlaying, painting,
and the applying of plaques of stone or earthenware, and of brass or
ormolu enrichments, and we have the inserting of brass into the
material when buhl-work is formed.
Inlaying is a very natural and beautiful means of enriching works of
furniture, for it leaves the flatness of the surface undisturbed. A
great deal may be done in this way by the employment of simple means.
A mere row of circular dots of black wood inlaid in oak will often
give a remarkably good effect; and the dots can be "worked" with the
utmost ease. Three dots form a trefoil, four dots a quatrefoil, six
dots a hexafoil, and so on, and desirable effects can often be
produced by such simple inlays.
Panels of cabinets may be painted, and enriched with ornament or
flatly-treated figure subjects. This is a beautiful mode of decoration
very much neglected. The couch (Fig. 37) I intended for enrichment of
this kind. If this form is employed, care should be exercised in order
that the painted work be in all cases so situated that it cannot be
rubbed. It should fill sunk panels and hollows and never appear on
advancing members.
I am not fond of the application of plaques of stone or earthenware to
works of furniture. Anything that is brittle is not suitable as an
enrichment of wood-work, unless it can be so placed as to be out of
danger.
Ormolu ornaments, when applied to cabinets and other works in wood,
are also never satisfactory. They look too separate from the wood of
which the work is formed--too obviously applied; and whatever is
obviously _applied_ to the work, and is not a portion of its general
fabric, whether a mass of flowers even if carved in wood or an ormolu
ornament, is not pleasant.
Buhl-work is often very clever in character and skilfully wrought, but
I do not care for it. It is of too laborious a nature, and thus
intrudes upon us the sense of labour as well as that of skill. As a
means of enrichment, I approve of carving, sparingly used, of inlays,
and of painted ornament in certain cases; and by the just employment
of these means the utmost beauty in cabinet-work can be achieved.
Ebony inlaid with ivory is very beautiful.
In order to illustrate my remarks respecting cabinets, sideboards, and
similar pieces of furniture, I give an engraving of a sideboard
executed by Mr. Crace, from the design of Mr. A. Welby Pugin (the
father), to which I have before alluded (Fig. 41), and a painted
cabinet by Mr. Burgess (Fig. 42), the well-known Gothic architect,
whose architecture must be admired. Both of these works are worthy of
study of a very careful kind.
[Illustration: Fig. 42.]
In the sideboard, notice first the general structure or construction
of the work, then the manner in which it is broken into parts, and
lastly, that it is the structural members which are carved. If this
work has faults, they are these: first, the carving is in
excess--thus, the panels would have been better plain; and, second, in
some parts there is a slight indication of a stone structure, as in
the buttress character of the ends of the sideboard.
To the cabinet much more serious objections may be taken.
1st. A roof is a means whereby the weather is kept out of a dwelling,
and tiles afford a means whereby small pieces of material enable us to
form a perfect covering to our houses of a weather-proof character. It
is very absurd, then, to treat the roof of a cabinet, which is to
stand in a room, as if it were an entire house, or an object which
were to stand in a garden.
2nd. The windows in the roof, which in the case of a house let light
into those rooms which are placed in this part of the building, and
are formed in a particular manner so as the more perfectly to exclude
rain, become simply stupid when placed in the roof of a cabinet.
These, together with the imitation tiled roof, degrade the work to a
mere doll's house in appearance.
3rd. A panelled structure, which is the strongest and best structure,
is ignored; hence strong metal bindings are necessary.
The painting of the work is highly interesting, and had it been more
flatly treated, would then have been truthful, and would yet have lent
the same interest to the cabinet that it now does, even if we consider
the matter from a purely pictorial point of view.
Before we pass from a consideration of furniture and cabinet-work
generally, we must notice a few points to which we have as yet merely
referred, or which we have left altogether unnoticed. Thus we have to
consider upholstery as applied to works of furniture, the materials
employed as coverings for seats, and the nature of picture-frames and
curtain-poles; we must also notice general errors in furniture,
strictly so called.
When examining certain wardrobes and cabinets in the International
Exhibition of 1862, I was forcibly impressed with the structural truth
of one or two of these works. One especially commended itself to me as
a fine structural work of classic character. Just as I was expressing
my admiration, the exhibitor threw open the doors of this well-formed
wardrobe to show me its internal fittings, when, fancy my feelings at
beholding the first door bearing with it, as it opened, the two
pilasters that I conceived to be the supports of the somewhat heavy
cornice above, and the other door bearing away the third support, and
thus leaving the superincumbent mass resting on the thin sides of the
structure only, while they appeared altogether unable to perform the
duty imposed upon them. "Horrible! horrible!" was all I could exclaim.
Some of the most costly works of furniture shown by the French in the
last Paris International Exhibition were not free from this defect;
and this is strange, for to the rightly constituted mind this one
defect is of such a grave character as to neutralise whatever pleasure
might otherwise be derived from contemplating the work. We see a man,
a genius perhaps--a man having qualities that all must admire; but he
has one great vice--one sin which easily besets him. While the man
has excellent and estimable qualities, we yet avoid him, for we see
not the excellences but the vice. It is so with such works of
furniture as those of which we have been speaking, for their defects
are such as impress us more powerfully than their excellences.
Respecting these works of furniture, this should be said: they are
more or less imitative of works of a debased art-period--of a period
in which structural truth was utterly disregarded--yet this is no
reason why we should copy the defects of our ancestors.
Infinitely worse than the works just spoken of, is falsely constructed
Gothic furniture, where the very truthfulness of structure is openly
set before us. Not long since I was staying with a client whose house
is of Gothic style. Being about to furnish drawings for the
decorations of this mansion, I was carefully noting the character of
the architecture and of the furniture, which latter had been designed
and manufactured expressly for the house by a large Yorkshire firm of
cabinet-makers. The structure of the furniture appeared just, the
proportions tolerably good, the wood honest, and the inlays judicious;
but, can it be imagined, the whole was a mere series of frauds and
shams--the cross-grain ends of what should be supports were attached
to the fronts of drawers, pillars came away, and such falsity became
apparent as I never before saw. How any person could possibly produce
such furniture, be he ever so degraded, I cannot think. I have seen
works that are bad, I have seen falsities in art, but I never before
saw such falsity of structure and such uncalled-for deception as these
works presented. The untrue is always offensive; but when a special
effort is made at causing a lie to appear as truth, a double sense of
disappointment is experienced when the untruthfulness is discovered.
In his work on "Household Taste," to which I have before alluded, Mr.
Eastlake objects, and I think very justly, to the character of an
ordinary telescopic dining-table. He says: "Among the dining-room
appointments, the table is an article of furniture which stands
greatly in need of reform. It is generally made of planks of polished
oak or mahogany laid upon an insecure framework of the same material,
and supported by four gouty legs, ornamented by the turner with
mouldings which look like inverted cups and saucers piled upon an
attic baluster. I call the framework insecure, because I am describing
what is commonly called a 'telescope' table, or one which can be
pulled out to twice its usual length, and, by the addition of extra
leaves in its middle, accommodate twice the usual number of diners.
Such a table cannot be soundly made in the same sense that ordinary
furniture is sound; it must depend for its support on some contrivance
which is not consistent with the material of which it is made. Few
people would like to sit on a chair the legs of which slid in and out,
and were fastened at the required height by a pin; there would be a
sense of insecurity in the notion eminently unpleasant. You might put
up with such an invention in camp, or on a sketching expedition, but
to have it and use it under your own roof, instead of a strong and
serviceable chair, would be absurd. Yet this is very much what we do
in the case of the modern dining-room table. When it is extended it
looks weak and untidy at the sides; when it is reduced to its shortest
length the legs appear heavy and ill-proportioned. It is always liable
to get out of order, and from the very nature of its construction must
be an inartistic object. Why should such a table be made at all? A
dining-room is a room to dine in. Whether there are few or many people
seated for that purpose, the table might well be kept of a uniform
length, and if space is an object it is always possible to use in its
stead two small tables, each on four legs. These might be placed end
to end when dinner parties are given, and one of them would suffice
for family use. A table of this kind might be solidly and stoutly
framed, so as to last for ages, and become, as all furniture ought to
become, an heirloom in the family. When a man builds himself a house
on freehold land, he does not intend that it shall only last his
lifetime; he bequeaths it in sound condition to posterity. We ought to
be ashamed of furniture which is continually being replaced; at all
events, we cannot possibly take any interest in such furniture. In
former days, when the principles of good joinery were really
understood, the legs of such a large table as that of the dining-room
would have been made of a very different form from the lumpy,
pear-shaped things of modern use."
In nearly all these remarks I agree with Mr. Eastlake, and especially
in his remark that, owing to the very nature of its construction, a
modern dining-table must be an inartistic object. No work can be
satisfactory in which any portions of the true supporting structure or
frame are drawn apart; and this occurs to a marked degree in this
table, as is shown in Mr. Eastlake's illustration, which we here copy
(Fig. 43).
[Illustration: Fig. 43.]
Falsities of structure, although not so glaring as that of the
telescopic dining-table, are everywhere met with in our shops, and,
curious as it may appear, the great majority of the works offered to
the public are not only false in structure, but are utterly offensive
to good taste in every way, and are formed almost exclusively of wood
cut across the grain, which secures to the article the maximum amount
of weakness. Figs. 44, 45, 46, and 47 are examples of utterly bad
furniture.
[Illustration: Fig. 44.]
[Illustration: Fig. 45.]
[Illustration: Fig. 46.]
[Illustration: Fig. 47.]
Another falsity in furniture is veneering--a practice which should be
wholly abandoned. Simple honesty is preferable to false show in all
cases; truthfulness in utterance is always to be desired. It was
customary at one time to veneer almost every work of furniture, and
even to place the grain of the veneer in a manner totally at variance
with the true structure of the framework which it covered. This was a
method of making works, which might in their unfinished state be
satisfactory, appear when finished as most unsatisfactory objects.
Since this time much progress has been made in a knowledge of truthful
structure and of truthful expression, yet this method of giving a
false surface by means of veneer is not wholly abandoned as despicable
and false.
A few months back I had occasion to visit a cabinet warehouse in
Lancashire, and the owner called my attention to the fine grain of
some old English oak, and remarked that certain pieces of furniture
were of solid wood. Upon investigation, however, I discovered that
while the furniture in question was made throughout of oak, the bulk
of the structure was of common wainscoting, and the surface was
veneered with English oak. I confess that I would much rather have had
the furniture without its false exterior, and daily my love for fine
grain in wood gets less. I think that this arises from the fact that
strong grain in wood takes from the "unity" of the work into which it
is formed, and tends to break it up into parts, by rendering every
member conspicuous. What is wanted in a work of furniture, before all
other considerations, is a fine general form--a harmony of all
parts--so that no one member usurps a primary place--and this it is
almost impossible to achieve if a wood is employed having a strongly
marked grain.
With us a room is considered as almost unfurnished if the windows are
not hung with some kind of drapery. The original object of this
drapery was that of keeping out a draught of air, which found its way
through the imperfectly fitting windows; and the antitype of our
window-hangings was a simple curtain, formed of a material suitable to
achieve the purpose sought. Such a curtain was legitimate and
desirable, and would contrast strangely with the elaborate festooning
and quadrupled curtains of our present windows. We daily see yards of
valuable material, arranged in massive and absurd folds, shutting out
that light which is necessary to our health and well-being; a pair of
heavy stuff curtains and a pair of lace curtains being hung at each
window, each curtain consisting of a sufficient amount of material to
more than cover the window of itself. An excess of drapery is always
vulgar, while a little drapery usefully and judiciously employed is
pleasant.
Many windows that are well made, and thus keep out all currents of
air, need no curtains. If the window mouldings are of an architectural
character, and are coloured much darker than the wall, so as to become
an obvious frame to the window, and thus do for the window what a
picture-frame does for a picture, no curtains will be required. I have
recently had a wonderfully striking illustration of this. Two
adjoining rooms are alike in their architecture; one is decorated, and
has the window casement of such colours as strongly contrast, while
they are yet harmonious, with the wall. Before the room was
decorated, and the windows were thus treated, a general light colour
prevailed, both on the wood-work and on the walls of the room, and
curtains were hung at the windows in the usual way. With the altered
decorations, the windows became so effective that I at once saw the
undesirability of re-hanging the curtains, and yet not one of all my
friends has observed that there are no curtains to the windows; while
if the curtains are removed from the adjoining room, where the
window-frames are as light as the walls, the first question asked is,
"Where are your curtains?"
[Illustration: Fig. 48.]
[Illustration: Fig. 49.]
Curtains should be hung on a simple and obvious pole (Fig. 48). All
means of hiding this pole are foolish and useless. This pole need not
be very thick, and is better formed of wood than of metal, for then
the rings to which the curtains are attached pass along almost
noiselessly. The ends of the pole may be of metal, but I prefer simple
balls of wood. The pole may be grooved, and any little enrichments may
be introduced into these grooves, providing the carving does not come
to the surface, and thus touch the rings, which by their motion would
injure it. Whatever is used in the way of enrichment should be of
simple character, for the height at which the curtain pole is placed
would render fine work altogether ineffective.
As to upholstery, I would say, never indulge in an excess. A wood
frame should appear in every work of furniture, as in the examples we
have given. Sofas are now made as though they were feather beds; they
are so soft that you sink into them, and become uncomfortably warm by
merely resting upon them, and their gouty forms are relieved only by a
few inches of wood, which appear as legs. Stuffing should be employed
only as a means of rendering a properly constructed seat comfortably
soft. If it goes beyond this it is vulgar and objectionable. Spring
stuffing is not to be altogether commended; a good old-fashioned
hair-stuffed seat is more desirable, as it will endure when springs
have perished. As to the materials with which seats may be covered I
can say little, for they are many. Hair cloth, although very durable,
is altogether inartistic in its effect. Nothing is better than leather
for dining-room chairs; Utrecht velvet, either plain or embossed,
looks well on library chairs; silk and satin damasks, rep, plain
cloth, and many other fabrics are appropriate to drawing-room
furniture. Chintz I am not fond of as a chair covering, and in a
bed-room I would rather have chairs with plain wooden seats than with
cushions covered with this glazed material.
[Illustration: Fig. 50.]
With a mere remark upon picture-frames I will finish this chapter.
Picture-frames are generally elaborately carved mouldings, or are
simple mouldings covered with ornaments, which, whether carved or
formed of putty, are overlaid with gold leaf; they are, indeed, highly
ornamented gilt mouldings. I much prefer a well-formed, yet somewhat
simple, black polished moulding, on the interior of which runs a gold
bead (Fig. 49). A fanciful yet good picture-frame was figured in the
_Building News_ of September 7th, 1866, which we now repeat (Fig.
50).