The lure of the antique, by Walter A. Dyer;

Front matter

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Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I The Quest for the Old and Beautiful . . 3

II Old Chairs in Modern Houses 23

Chapter I The Quest For The Old And Beautiful

1 SUPPOSE there are plenty of people — good Americans — who can stand for the first time in the old market-place in Boston and read the inscriptions on Faneuil Hall or the Old State House without a hint of an inward thrill. The thought uppermost in their minds is that these famous old buildings look remarkably like 'their portraits on picture post-cards. But I have yet to find the American, however practical-minded, who can hold in his hand his great-great-grandmother’s Betty lamp, or sit in his great-grandfather’s Windsor chair, without some slight sentiment.

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The presence of these old relics of bygone days, reminders of the intimate home life of our forefathers, creates for most of us a sort of atmosphere that can be more easily recognized than described. It is easier for us to picture the pouring of candles into their molds than the gathering of the minutemen at Concord. The crackling of the back-log on the old fire-dogs is clearer in our ears than the ringing words of Samuel Adams. And to associate, day by day, with the household belongings of a past generation is a heart-warming and a heart-softening thing. Their influence is subtle, but it makes for joy and a chastened pride. It is good for us to set up our tabernacle among them.

Malign us as you will, we are a home-loving people, and the things of the home we understand. Our patriotism centers itself about our homes, and our reverence for the past around the hearthstones of our forebears.

Also we are for the most part descended from Europeans, and there is born within us a respect for antiquity. We have no Rhenish castles here; no Roman roads undulate over our hilltops. The oldest we have is just coming of age, but we are glad of that, and do our homage.

' Old houses and old gardens we love, and we come

When you are on a hunt for old china or furniture in the country' be on the look-out for houses like this

If the inhabitant of the house invites you to have tea in her old china, you are in luck honestly by our sentiment. Take a trip through the James River country and you will feel it. Or go with me some summer’s day to one of the many old New England villages which still bask comfortably in the sunshine of yesterday. The main street, with its noble elms and maples, is so generous in width, so comfortably expansive, that one hardly recognizes it as a street. Here and there are low-roofed white cottages with brass knockers and green blinds, nestling behind their lilac bushes and hollyhocks. Down by the town pump stands the white meetinghouse, with its austere spire pointing uncompromisingly heavenward. I heard Mark Twain call the New England village church a wooden box with a toothpick at one end. He had become enamoured with the mellower architecture of English abbeys, and I thought the less of him for it.

In one of the dooryards is a little white-haired old lady, busy among her hardy perennials. We ask her if she will show us her old china, and she leads the way with a smile. We seat ourselves in her rushbottomed chairs, with their black and yellow paint worn off in places. On a round pie-crust table she sets forth her treasures — the pewter porringer with its many dents, the Toby jug, the Lowestoft, and the . Old Blue. See how lovingly she handles them, brushing off the dust as tenderly as one would smooth the brow of a sleeping child.

Ridiculous little old woman ! Living here alone, part and parcel of an age before steam heat was invented or electric lights even dreamt of. Faded little old lady, whose ancient lace belongs somehow with the old mahogany and Sheffield plate. I see you smile, but I can see it is not a smile of contempt or of pity. Your city home was made beautiful by the most up-to-date decorator you could afford. You spent hundreds of dollars on “color schemes” and “vistas.” Your Mission den cost more than this woman ever had to spend. Then why do you covet the old candlesticks on the wooden mantel Why does your palm itch for the possession of her one magnificent Wedgwood vase? It is because they are real. They mean something. They possess atmosphere which age alone can give to old houses and old gardens. They are rich in associations; the little lady is rich. And not one of her treasures can all your money buy.

But be not discouraged. There are fine old things still to be had, in the shops, and here and there about the older parts of the country. And if I should meet you a year hence I doubt not I shall be shaking hands with a Collector.

QUEST FOR THE OI.D AND BEAUTIFUL

Hobbies unquestionably have their usefulness, and collecting is a harmless hobby, whether it be postagestamps or orchids. Old Masters or cigar-bands. Your collector is usually an amiable person, sometimes a bore, but more often interesting. Too much enthusiasm is better than too little. And the collecting of antiques begets something not unlike learning.

I have met collectors of Chinese porcelain or medieval armor whose vast knowledge and whose possession of a thousand bits of interesting information have awed me. But it is not with these that I have to do; they are beyond me. If this book is to have any value, it will be to the amateur collector, to the beginner who wants to start right and to know how to learn. Or perhaps the reader is simply the possessor of a few heirlooms that he would like to know more about. Perhaps if you poke about in the garret of the old home you will find something of value. That will be a start, and if you never become a collector, you may at least become the proud possessor of a few old things that will add distinction to your home.

And so I shall confine myself to a consideration of such things as formed a part of the home life and household equipment of our American forefathers,

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either before the Revolution or immediately after it. As most of these things were imported from England or other countries, the information must contain something of their foreign manufacture, but there will be no attempt to cover the entire subject of old English china or silverware, for example. There are good books to be had on any of these subjects, if one cares to delve deeper. In the space of a single chapter or two I can hope only to touch upon the more important classes of so-called Colonial antiques, and to consider only the most important facts concerning them. The beginner is sure to ask the questions: '‘How can I know an old piece'?” “What are the essential features of it?” “How can I avoid being swindled?” “What is my old clock or my high-boy worth?” It is such questions that I shall endeavor to answer as specifically as seems practicable.

It is difficult to give any general advice about collecting; it is so largely a matter of taste. If you really mean to become a collector, and not merely a possessor, it is wisest to choose a somewhat limited field. To collect everything Colonial means to acquire a hodge-podge, unless you mean to stock a town museum. Also it is discouraging. The more you get the more you find there is to be gotten, and the farther you seem to be from a constantly re-

Heppelwhite secretary with tambour doors Date about 1770 Another Heppelwhite piece. Date about 1780

Worth about $^00 Worth about $200 ceding goal. Decide what interests you most, and then tackle a subdivision of it. If it is old china, try specializing on Wedgwood or Staffordshire. Or confine yourself to old mirrors or old clocks. In this way you may in time be able to assemble a collection that will really be worth while as a collection, in which completeness and continuity are always desiderata.

The day has gone by when a casual drive through the country will be likely to result in precious finds. The old villages have been scoured by collectors and dealers, and people who have antiques to sell nowadays have a pretty clear idea of their value. Still, this is the pleasantest way to collect. Old-china hunting is the most delightful of sports. There is more of a flavor of adventure about it than in taking a car to a shop. And of course there is always the hope of finding the thing the others have overlooked, and a bargain ’s a bargain the world over.

The other way is to buy at the shops, and this requires considerable caution, not to say knowledge, for the ways of the antique dealer are proverbially dark. There ’s a vast deal of faking in the business, and it ’s a dangerous venture for the uninitiated.

There are, on the other hand, honest dealers, who will not call a reproduction genuine, but will ask a fair price for whatever they sell. If you can find one in whom you can have entire confidence, you are indeed fortunate.

The shop of the dealer in antiques,, such as are to be found along Fourth Avenue, New York, is always a fascinating place to me. There is such a dusty disorder about it, such a herding together of ancients and honorables, with the dealer himself so utterly out of sympathy with his surroundings, and yet so strangely a part of the scene. Ten to one he is a man whose birth and breeding make it impossible for him to appreciate a single thing he owns, except as it represents cash, and who must look upon many of his effervescing customers with wondering contempt. Once in ten times you will find him a mellow old antiquarian who is worth knowing for his own sake, and who sits at peace among his andirons and girandoles like Abraham amid the flocks and herds with which the Lord had blessed him.

I fancy, however, that nine tenths of my readers are not collectors in the true sense, and never will be. They may be only mildly interested in the subject and may ask the leading question, “What are antiques good for, anyway

Take old furniture, for example. I suppose if I were a collector, with this as my great hobby, I might say that antiques existed for their own sake, to be treasured and admired. But I do not believe that. I believe that antique furniture can be made to serve a distinct purpose in the modern home, particularly the spacious country home. Let it be strong, useful, and beautiful, as much of it certainly is. No other sort of furniture can be more. But the antique means something. It interests and it charms.

But granted that we have the real antiques, and that we know how truly to appreciate them, how shall we best make use of them? Well, there seem to be two ways. One is to use a piece here and there in modern rooms where there is no attempt at consistent period decoration. They cannot help adding charm to such a room. The other way is to be thoroughly consistent and furnish the house throughout with antiques of a single style. I am not giving a moment’s consideration to the house that is turned into a mere museum. The only antiques I would give house-room are those which I can use every day.

Then why use antiques? If the fake and the genuine piece look alike, and what you want is usefulness and beautj^, why are n’t the fakes, which are cheaper, just as good? It is all a matter of taste. To one man nothing but the real thing will ever do, and you can never argue him out of it. Another man will tell you he would rather have good, clever, new things from Grand Rapids than all the old castoff things you could give him. And they cost less.

Personally, I find myself somewhere between the two. The old styles I admire, whether in the original or in reproduction. And I love the old things that have belonged to my own ancestors. But when it comes to other people’s heirlooms, purchased in a shop, my enthusiasm begins to wane, especially when the cost is high. And yet I cannot leave the decision there, for there is a beauty in old oak and mahogany and walnut that time alone can give, and a rare quality in the workmanship that our century has not equaled. Reproductions never have the charm of originality about them. “Copy” is stamped on their face by modern appliances for carving and shaping.

I still feel that a word needs to be said in favor of good reproductions. By this I mean, of course, frank reproductions, made, sold, and used with no intent to deceive. Reproductions are so much less expensive than antiques that they open up delightful possibilities to people who could never afford to own many antiques. Of course all this sounds like heresy in the ears of the enthusiast. It is all a matter of taste.

However, we were speaking of genuine antiques,

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Don’t expect to buy these old treasures for a song You are lucky to get them at all and it is in the possession of them, after all, that the real joy lies.

The matter of style remains for consideration. Antique is a broad and somewhat vague term. The average antique shop is a hodge-podge of unrelated styles. You don’t want your home to be like that. Choose some one style and follow that consistently, seeking for fine examples in season and out.

Now, the best styles for the modern American home, it seems to me, are those of the Renaissance period and later. I include here Italian, Flemish, and French Renaissance in one group, as the earlier period. Later are the styles of Louis XIV, Louis XV, Louis XVI, and the Empire; Dutch Colonial; Old English, including Tudor, Elizabethan, Jacobean, Queen Anne, and Georgian; and American Colonial. The later group is by far the most desirable for the average American country house. The contemporary styles are all more or less related and may be used together harmoniously, as, indeed, they

were in the American colonies from one to two cen-

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turies ago. Moreover, the best of our country houses are being built in these or kindred styles of architecture.

I would advocate the preservation or purchase of furniture of the Colonial period (using the term in its broader sense), particularly the English and American pieces. While Flemish and Italian antiques appeal wonderfully to the collector, it is in the furniture of his Colonial ancestors that the chief charm exists for the average American. And with his furniture let him possess some of the other household goods that went with it — candlesticks, dishes, old pewter, and old brass.

Now if this suggestion of old furnishings in modern homes appeals strongly enough to a man or a woman to create a desire for possession, the question of ways and means naturally arises.

For the wealthy, of course, this question is of little consequence, but a perusal of the following pages will show that antiques of real quality and beauty are not cheap. Knowing the importance of this side of the subject to most people, I shall try to give an idea of values, and to give, as nearly as I can, the prices at which such things can be bought at the present writing. But let not these prices discourage you. Visit old houses in the country, poke about among the shops, and buy one thing at a time.

I can conceive of no more fascinating pastime for a young couple furnishing a home for the first time. Perhaps one of your mothers has a mahogany work-table or a piece of old china that will do for a start.

Then add little by little, and in each piece acquired there will be a twofold value in association as the years go by. I fancy that the very lack of unlimited means will make the selection more careful and the possession more keenly appreciated.

Make your antique furniture a means, not an end. There is a charm and beauty in it, when it is chosen with good taste and good judgment, which the devotee can never adequately express, nor the Philistine ever understand. It is desirable only when it is real, when it is beautiful, when it is good for something, when it means something. In short, when it is good, it is ver)q very good, and when it is bad, it is horrid.

About such a home, in which antique furnishings have a part, there hangs an aroma of the past, telling of long winter evenings in the old New England kitchen, of the stately hospitality of some old Virginia mansion, or the stirring days of ’76 in little old New York. Above the mahogany stand hovers the form of a gracious dame in brocade and lace, pouring tea into delicate Lowestoft cups. In yonder roundabout sits the austere elder with his ivoryheaded cane between his knees. A demure, gray-clad maiden in kerchief and cap is lighting the candles in the gilt girandoles, while a sturdy swain sits on the edge of your Heppelwhite chair and watches her intently.

I know that every writer on old china has quoted Charles Lamb on the subject, but somehow the gentle Elia knew how to say things with such a tender grace that we cannot hear him too often. I urge you to read again the essay on “Old China.” Perhaps the time will come when you, too, will look back with fond recollection to the da}^ when you scraped together enough money to buy your first piece of Old Blue, and when the handling of it will produce a sensation not unlike the hearing of an old lovesong.

Chapter II

There is a certain class of collectors of old furniture and other antiques who seem to take a special delight in acquiring and displaying the hideous and useless monstrosities of an unenlightened age. They will give the place of honor to some battered and dilapidated old relic and call it “quaint.’’

Fortunately for most of us, however, not all antiques fall into that class, and there are plenty* of fine old things whose intrinsic beauty and sincerity of workmanship raise them to the high level of works of art. Like the Iliad or the Taj Mahal, they will abide when this generation’s fads have vanished.

Fortunately, too, there are plenty of antiques that are as useful to-day as they ever were — and the best of them were originally made for use — and that possess features that make them better furnishings for

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our modern homes than the newer, and perhaps less artistic, creations, provided the architecture of the house and the other home surroundings are not too violently out of keeping. Can you imagine a more beautiful receptacle for a bouquet of roses than a Wedgwood vase, and does the subtle charm depart from an old chair when it is fit to be sat upon^?

Take the single subject of old chairs, for example. For delicacy of design, fineness of carving, generosity of curve, and perfection of proportion, the best examples of Chippendale’s mid-period work have never been surpassed anywhere, and as to the materials, the solid, fine-grained, rich-toned mahogany that he used is simply unobtainable to-day. The wise collector will think of these things. He will not buy an antique merely because it is old and rare. He will think of it, unless he is stocking a museum, as a possible addition to the furnishings of his home, and will apply to it all the rigid requirements that a modern piece would be obliged to meet to be acceptable.

In the brief account of old chairs which will follow— for the subject is too large a one to discuss exhaustively within the limits of a single chapter — I will ask you to search between the lines for such information or suggestion as may enable you to decide which of these types of old chairs is best suited

Carved oak Elizabethan or Jacobean wainscot chair; Charles I or Cromwellian chair; turned wood Excellent Charles II chair, Flemish type about 1600. Worth about $200 and leather. Worth about $100 Wortli about ipi25 to modern use. When you buy an old chair, determine if it be really old, genuine, and fairly priced. But examine it also for good workmanship and intrinsic beauty, and try to see if it be comfortable. Chairs to be seen and not sat upon are intolerable encumbrances. The following account itself will be chronological, for the most part, for the sake of convenience, but the purpose of it is practical.

To illustrate, let us first consider the subject of French chairs, a large majority of which fall promptly into the pretty but useless class. They were used to some extent in this country in George Washington’s day, but the pieces which have come down to us in their original form are for the most part in a frightful condition of dilapidation, with the legs and arms wabbly, the gilt knocked off, and the upholstery in tatters. Even those that are in good condition are out of place in any but the most pretentious drawing-rooms. They are fragile, and although the backs generally slant away from the perpendicular, they are not comfortable.

Among the early Louis XIV chairs there were some fairly comfortable armchairs upholstered in tapestry. In those dating from 1700 to 1715, however, comfort has given way to style, and rococo ornament has taken the place of good construction.

Some of the Louis XV upholstered chairs are not bad (1715-1774), but they are mostly gilt or painted affairs of fragile stiffness, though often of much beauty in the carving. Here we find luxury without comfort or solidity.

In the Louis XVI period (1774-1793) there was less ornament and greater delicacy and simplicity, though detail was never lacking. The chairs of that period are more useful and more tastefully beautiful. Much of the upholstered furniture of the period is fairly comfortable, especially the armchairs, but its appearance is generally stiff and weak, and it has not stood the test of time particularly well. For sitting purposes one naturally passes by these French chairs when there is anything else in the room.

There are old Spanish, Flemish, and Italian chairs of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries — chiefly carved walnut — that are both solid and beautiful, but they seldom come within the range of the average collector. For honesty of workmanship, and beauty combined with utility, the English chairs are not surpassed, and as these are far more numerous in this country than any others, it is with these that I shall chiefly deal.

' During the last half of the sixteenth century a turned-wood chair was in vogue, with a flat wooden seat. This style was Byzantine in origin, and was first introduced into Scandinavia, and from there brought into England by the Normans. This style disappeared about 1600, and turned work did not appear again until the time of Charles I. It then persisted for two centuries or more, to a greater or less degree, in the more modest types.

The year 1600 may be taken as a starting-point for the study of English chairs. The early Elizabethan chair was square, ugly, and uncomfortable, but interesting in the development of style. It was all of wood, and rather crude in workmanship.

Then there was the wainscot chair, truly Jacobean in type. This was made of hard wood — usually oak — seat and all. It was very heavy, with heavy underbracing near the floor. It may be interesting to note that as time went on the underbracing became generally lighter and lighter, until in Georgian days we find it frequently dispensed with altogether. The underbracing, therefore, is a more or less reliable indication of age. The wainscot chair had arms and high back, usually carved, and sometimes matching the wainscoting of the room. The vertical back made it possible to place the chair flat against the wall.

These chairs are very rare, but if found they are very decorative and frequently useful in modern halls. They are rather comfortless, but cushions were formerly used in them sometimes, and there is no reason for not using them now.

Somewhat later came the so-called Cromwellian chair, built on similar lines, but not quite so heavy. Instead of the solid wooden back there was a half back, usually upholstered in leather. The seat was also of leather. These chairs are far less decorative than the wainscot chairs. They always had turned legs and stretches, of the style shown in the illustration.

With the restoration of Charles II to the tnrone of England in 1660, there came greater luxury and comfort into English homes, and a new style in furniture, due perhaps to the king’s sojourn on the Continent, and to the influence of his wife, Catherine of Portugal, for in those days royalty’s right to set the fashion was unquestioned.

The chairs of this period, up to the close of the century, are sometimes called Jacobean, but Stuart or Restoration is a more accurate term, for the Jacobean period, strictly speaking, came to an end with the death of Charles I in 1649. It is also called bv some the walnut period.

An interesting feature of these chairs is that al-

Slat-back chair in tlie Waters collection. Originally Early (^ueen Anne fiddle-back, with Spanish foot Queen Anne bandy-leg chair, Dutch type,

had rush bottom. Worth about $65 Worth about $40 walnut veneer. Worth about ^73 most without exception they are decorated with carving representing either a Tudor rose or a crown supported by two infants, suggesting the restoration of the crown.

At first there was a development of the Cromwellian chair, with turned work, a square frame, and upholstery in leather or “Turkey work.” This latter was an imported Oriental fabric, woven after the manner of some Turkish rugs, and popular for upholstery at this time and later.

The real innovation of the period was the carved chair with cane seat and back. There were two types, both of which are graceful and excellent in modern halls where a chair chiefly decorative is desired. These two types have been called Flemish and Spanish, because of certain imported details.

The Flemish Stuart chair has a high, narrow back, the center of which is of cane in a splat effect, with spaces between it and the turned uprights at the sides. More or less elaborate carving — frequently scrollwork — appears at the top and on the broad underbrace. The seat is cane, woven much like our modern cane seats. This chair nearly always had S-shaped legs with scroll feet, usually turning outward — a Flemish feature. There are some variations of this chair, the work of English designers, and on some of the later ones upholstery is used. Walnut, maple, beech, and oak were the woods employed in both the Flemish and the Spanish types.

In the Spanish Stuart chair we find the Spanish foot — broad, turning slightly outward, and usually fluted. The legs are turned and the underbrace carved. The back is tall and narrow, but solid, with no splat effect. The backs and seats are sometimes of tooled Spanish leather — seldom Turkey work — though in the English adaptations cane was more often used. These chairs are rare and valuable, and many of them are beautiful.

In the reigns of William and Mary, and William III (1689-1702), these chairs underwent various changes. The splat effect was dropped almost entirely, upholstery became more common, and Dutch features became evident. Gradually the Dutch element came to predominate until the cabriole-leg days of Queen Anne (1702-1714), when the Flemish and Spanish features practically disappeared.

Four types of chairs were developed in Queen Anne’s time : the slat-back and banister-back chairs of the cottages, the roundabout, the Dutch bandy-leg chair of the better homes, and the universal Windsor.

The first was less distinctly an innovation than the others, being a development of earlier, simple, home-made types. Some of them are ugly and uncomfortable, but for the most part they are very quaint and picturesque, and, though hardly suited to our modern rooms, they are excellent for porches where the rest of the furnishings are reasonably in keeping.

The slat-backs had turned uprights, legs, underbraces, and frequently arms. Across the backs were three, four, or five horizontal slats, usually slightly curved.

The banister-back had also turned legs and uprights and sometimes arms. The backs were high and straight, occasionally with carving — a Stuart survival — but usually without. In place of the horizontal slats there were upright spindles, usually four in number, and generally flat, though sometimes rounded on the back.

Both of these types had rush seats and were of soft or hard wood, usually painted black. Similar chairs were made in New England, both then and later, which are not uncommon to-day, but the genuine English Queen Anne chairs are much rarer. It is often difficult, however, to tell the difference. They are frequently found with rockers, but these were undoubtedly a later addition.

While the roundabout or corner chair is usually placed in this period, examples of it are sometimes found in all styles, from the turned chairs of the seventeenth century down to the Chippendale period. It was a square chair, standing cornerwise, with round back and arms running around two sides, and the fourth corner and leg in front. The Queen Anne type had usually upright spindles in the back, or three uprights and two splats, as did Chippendale’s roundabouts later. The seats were generally rush or wooden, though the finer examples had upholstered seats. Sometimes a head-piece was placed on top of the back, in the middle, frequently with spindles and like a comb in appearance, giving the name of combback. The roundabout makes a good hall or piazza chair, according to its style.