Oriental works, rich carpets and antiques therefore have a right to take their place amongst ancient furniture, in order to heighten its charm; this is evident from the preceding descriptions. In the 17th century, India and China mingle their products with those of France’s national industry. Under Louis XV, porcelain begins to intrude everywhere; it is time for its development in French manufactories, which is made possible due to the discovery in Saxony of a hard paste similar to that of the Chinese. Now, not only the table is composed of porcelain, but chimney pieces, furniture details, console tables, vases, and candlesticks of novel invention, which does not, however, cause oriental works to be proscribed. These novelties lose part of their popularity under Louis XVI and French porcelain tends to take their place, with its delicate paintings, and soft, varied colouring. Sèvres porcelain harmonised wonderfully with the rosewood veneering, and chasings rivalling jewellery, with matte bronzes and the fine goldsmith works emulating antique styles. Art, then, or to say more, science, consists of knowing how to choose these different elements, and combine them so that taste may be satisfied without injury to historical accuracy; the impression is then complete, and the visitor can imagine himself living during some other period.

      There is no doubt that attaining this is difficult. Not only great sacrifices have been made, but a combination of fortunate circumstances has enabled some connoisseurs to complete a salon, a bed-chamber, a boudoir, with things not only antique, but of a particular epoch. Thus everyone can remember the Louis XIV salon of Leopold Double, as well as Rosalie Duthé’s charming boudoir, in which the ceiling and painted panelling are accompanied by all the accessories of the same origin, patiently collected, purchased under the excitement of public auctions, or snatched from the hammer of demolitions. The sumptuous apartments of the Rothschild family are also much admired where every moment one expects to see the sympathetic forms of Marie Antoinette and Madame de Lamballe, who are most often recalled to one’s recollection.

      These difficulties need not discourage those who desire to borrow objects from the past to surround themselves with. If, from the severity of its demands, history should escape them, they can make use of a compromise, which taste allows, by composing a purely eclectic set of furniture.

      Let us here explain: among the connoisseurs of less contemporary times, there were some who, like their ancestors of the Renaissance and the following centuries, openly assumed the title of collector and their possession of an antique cabinet was well-known. In those days, as we know, the cabinet, which was an appendage and ornament to a habitation, contained, besides jewellery and other articles of personal ornament, silver coins, bronzes, weapons, marbles, medals, crystals, stones, pictures, in short, all that constitutes a collection. In the present day, however, many who collect relics of the past refuse, from modesty, to avow that they possess a cabinet. Are they less rich in rarities than the old connoisseurs? Not so; but what they acquire is not grouped in a single gallery, in the cabinet; it is scattered about everywhere, surrounding them wherever they may be, and their enjoyment of it is increased because at every moment they have within reach one of the thousand objects they love. This, therefore, is precisely what constitutes a set of eclectic furniture.

      Can it be concluded from this that it is sufficient to possess valuable things and bring them together by chance in order to come within the rules of eclecticism? A rich interior should not resemble the well-furnished shop of a dealer, as ill-assorted objects are always disagreeable. Works bearing the special date of their style possess obvious harmony; the credenzas[1] of the Middle Ages and the sideboards with their delicate Gothic tracery would be out of place, if placed side by side with tormented brass chests, glaring with twisted and intrusive brasswork. Solid French earthenware would look coarse placed in contact with the furniture of Louis XVI and Sèvres porcelain would appear insipid on a crystal cabinet of the 17th century.

      It will be asked, then, where is a rule to be found? We repeat, in taste. Let us declare to the credit of our artists that it is principally to them that we may go for advice on the scientific assemblage of these various objects. The choice of form, the true keynote in the assortment of colours, the supreme elegance of the whole put together as one all denote the experience gained in their daily studies and historical knowledge, bringing all the power of this particular talent to light.

      Examples of these particular talents include highlighting a tapestry from Arras or Flanders or displaying a lacquered cabinet of Indian piqué or of ebony inlaid with ivory in their best light. Including additionally, finding a suitable place for arms, porcelain and bronzes, exhibiting a terracotta work by Clodion, an ivory piece by François Duquesnoy, or the goldsmith work of Baslin. Furthermore, suspending in their right places a Persian embroidery, an Indian brocade, and a Japanese rouleau could never be the work of a newcomer. The anachronisms between two ill-assorted pieces may be as offensive to the eye as the mismatched parts of a complete set of furniture. The finest pieces of armour will assume the look of old iron depending on the background which serves to set them off. The true secret lies in finding transition pieces.

      Jean-François Oeben and Jean-Henri Riesener, Roll-top secrétaire for Louis XV’s inner study in Versailles, 1760–1769. Bronze, marquetry of a variety of fine woods, Sèvres porcelain, 147.3 × 192.5 × 105 cm. Palace of Versailles.

      Furniture

      Jean-François Dubut, Small Louis XV writing desk (from a pair) violin-shaped, close view of the feet in gilt bronze. Archives of the Didier Aaron Gallery, Paris.

      The furniture of the Middle Ages must be divided into two different categories. The most important examples are evidently those for religious use. Where else should the greatest splendour of art be exhibited than in the house of the Almighty? Were not the workmen established in monastic houses specially bound to devote all of their energies to the adornment of the Church? History proves it is amongst the choir stalls where masterpieces of art and the ornaments of the sacristy must be sought.

      However, we will dwell but little on this branch of furniture, which diverges slightly from the specialty of this study. It will be sufficient for us to point out the pieces in our museums which exhibit its characteristics. First, we will mention the sumptuous sacristy sideboard, preserved in the Musée de Cluny, taken from the church of Saint-Pol-de-Léon. Its triple-staged construction, the lace-like delicacy of its pierced canopies, its panels which hold the arms of France, Brittany, and those of a donor stand in relief; its beautiful locks of wrought iron, decorated with emblazoned woodwork bearing the same arms as the panels, make it one of the most interesting specimens of the cabinet work of the 15th century. A no less important piece of the same period is the carved woodwork forming the railing of one of the chapels of the church in Augerolles (Puy-de-Dôme). We should also mention a large refectory bench with the arms of France, probably taken from some royal abbey, and here we will stop on the threshold of the Renaissance when religious and secular furniture become assimilated.

      To discover the remnants of the latter, we must search manorial homes. The first craftsmen employed in the construction of various containers of all sizes destined to contain and transport an individual’s property were simply carpenters. It is interesting to review the various terms which have served to qualify this primitive style of furniture. The bahut was originally a covering made of leather or wicker and used to contain and protect a large box, in which other smaller boxes were lodged. Through the course of time, the name passed from the covering to the box itself, and served to designate even armoires and jewel boxes. The coffer is subject to a still greater number of variations; it is often confused with the bahut, or chest, and becomes synonymous with trunk, casket, and moving, particularly when considering its capaciousness. A very large coffer was used as a receptacle for other, smaller boxes when on

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