Decorative Art. Albert JacquemartЧитать онлайн книгу.
would be difficult to fix a precise date for the introduction of modern marquetry; if we are to consider its first appearance as coeval with the use of woods arranged in panellings with bands of moulding and threads of light-coloured wood we must go back to the end of the Renaissance. We have mentioned the modest attempts at herringbone combinations in wood under Louis XIII and eventually under Louis XIV. We have seen André-Charles Boulle depict two splendid vases of flowers on the panels of an armoire. Once the momentum came about, the idea burst forth with sufficient brilliance for it to develop rapidly; from the time of the Regency until the end of the century, it increased and was applied in excess.
The progress of commerce had a considerable share in the development of marquetry work as distant countries contributed their brilliant products. Rosewood, brightly coloured in its grain but limited in the size of its pieces, originated the idea of opposing dispositions of the pieces in herringbone, squares and lozenges; the citron tree provided the white threads used for enclosing large spaces or heightening the frames of violet wood, and the field became open to caprice which took possession of it without restraint. Charles Cressent first inaugurated mixtures of rosewood, violet and amaranth woods; soon after, the natural tints still seemed too restricted causing the woods to be subjected to artificial colouring and employed in mosaic work to imitate painting.
Throne, late 15th century. Oak.
Once the method was adopted in full, it proceeded with unprecedented rapidity. First, bouquets of flowers appeared in their natural colours, their leaves varied with every shade of green. Next, trophies of musical or rustic instruments were suspended by brightly coloured ribbons. It was a small step from pastoral scenes to amorous emblems; quivers and torches surmounted by the customary doves appeared on all sides. More than this, the medallions enriched with garlands showed shepherdesses in satin robes reclining in sylvan groves. Pastoral scenes invaded the panellings of secretaries, sides of commodes, and covered the bonheurs-du-jour.
A strange aberration resulted, even at the moment of execution, in a certain approximation greatly inferior to the models, and which, from the effects of time, the action of light upon the dyes and the natural play of the resins during the drying of the wood, was soon to represent mere faded designs, and an ensemble without any other harmony than that resulting from the destruction of the effect desired to be produced. It is sad to reflect on the amount of talent and labour spent composing these scenes, now reduced to a sort of cloudy sketch. The once brilliant draperies are dulled and dirty, the faded roses lasted as long as roses last; and when we compare these works with the tapestries, seats and tissues which accompanied them, we cannot help saying that even when they first came from the hands of their makers, they must have been extinguished by their brilliant surroundings. But let us pass on from this accomplishment and try, by following the stages in marquetry work, to retrace the evolutionary history of modern furniture, the two subjects sharing the closest connection.
We have said a few words on Italian marquetry without dwelling upon it, for the inventions of brothers Giuliano and Benedetto da Maiano were rather intended to decorate the woodwork of cathedral choirs than to enhance private furniture. We find a few rare chests in which some rudimentary sculptures, on a painted background, are framed in a chequered work of brown and yellow wood. There are certainly the certosa works but these are not real marquetry. During the Renaissance, sculptural notions and the search for architectural forms bring furniture into a serious style, incompatible with the coquetries of tinted woods. When, towards its close, the want of a rather flaunting style of elegance begins to manifest itself, it comes in the application of engraved ivory and the addition of pietra dura. Architecture still retains its dominance and finds itself decked in jewels like the people of the court.
Under Louis XIII, furniture increases in size and weight in unison with other works of art. Ebony, which sculpture cannot enliven, seeks aid from chased bronze or even from the application of wrought copper; Flanders is already attempting to add tortoise shell to frameworks.
Throne, Île-de-France, c. 1550. Carved walnut wood.
Four-poster bed from the Castle of Effiat, c. 1650. Natural walnut, chiselled Genoa silk velvet and embroidered silks, 295 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Chairs with arms, early 17th century. Wood and tapestry.
But here we have Louis XIV and Boulle under whom wood becomes inlaid with tortoise shell and brilliant metals, so as to place itself in equality with the splendour of the palaces. Furniture continues to be official, pompous, and foreign to private life, or at any rate, encroaching upon it solely from the outside, as in the reception room and study of the magistrate or commoner. If we were to search for tokens of coming modifications, it is there that we will find them. The shelf of the bureau assumes important outlines; its front bends in convex curves, its feet are slightly bowed in the form of an S and repose on cross bars shaped like an X. There is general relaxation in the rigidity of the official furniture admitted at Versailles, which, first inspired by the precise style of Le Brun, was perpetuated by the rigid discipline of the Gobelins.
Under the Regency and during the first years of Louis XV, everything will change. Woods of every variety will introduce themselves to decorate furniture of new forms; small apartments will replace staterooms and the bedroom will become the nest of privacy surrounded by the boudoir. The study and a thousand elegant recesses so fitted for the comedy of surprise and concealment is about to play a large role in French society.
Additionally, new things come into being. The real commode with its multiplied divisions, the dresser with numerous drawers, the secretaire which can conceal so many things under its closing panel, can now serve as a writing-table. The bureau itself becomes even more important, placed near the filing cabinet which holds deeds and correspondence; it is topped with a lockable drawer behind which has a sliding shelf that can instantly be pushed back to conceal papers scattered over it from inquisitive eyes.
Form takes unimaginable licence; every object swells to assume fantastic curves, nothing is straight or regular. Angles become rounded or hollowed; unexpected curves line the surfaces. Bulging, twisted, caricatured forms alone are admitted; ormolu rolls along in fantastic borders or gathers suddenly in unforeseen clusters twisted in corners, or forms detached wreaths, and thus an eccentric whole is completed which, while always clever, is sometimes elegant, notwithstanding its singularity.
Caprice is carried to such an extent that the fundamental law of art, propriety, is totally forgotten. To create perspectives for the eye, the piece no longer has parallel sides; they describe an outward curve, attaching themselves to a background which is much broader than the front surface so that the drawers, necessarily of rectangular form, are left isolated in a vacant space which leaves useless cavities between their sides and those of the piece. Later, when cabinet makers wished to return to more sensible shapes, not to lose the picturesque advantages of these fan-like arrangements, they flanked with smaller pieces a species of quarter-circle shaped shelves which housed fashionable trinkets, objects of foreign origin, or rare Sèvres and Dresden porcelain were placed. By returning to the architectural logic of furniture, they added to its richness while satisfying the taste of the day.
Hinge chest, late 15th century. Hungarian oak, encased in iron.
Renaissance chest, 16th century. Carved oak.
Drop-front secrétaire, from the Louis XVI period. Veneer of water green lacquered wood, European finish with grisailles, chiselled and gilt bronze, and marble, 130 × 84 × 34.5 cm. Private collection.
Alsatian Renaissance chest, early 17th century. Inlayed walnut wood, intarsia decoration.
The greater or lesser degree of exaggeration in the creations of the reign of Louis XV affords a species of chronology for this period. First, the endive leaves in slight relief describe agreeable curves and mingle with palmettes